Date: Sun, 2 Dec 2018 16:21:10 +0100
From: Michel Kuksuger <michelkuksuger@gmail.com>
Subject: Michel - V: The White Lion

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The White Lion

It has been a while since my last post, for which I would like to
apologise. I've just been very busy with exams and projects, but now I
really need to tell you about my summer job that I had during the endless
summer holiday -- it would be a shame to keep my adventures all to myself
now would it?

After a few years as the resident cocksucker in the "brotherhood", I had
built up quite the network of like-minded people. One of my online friends
contacted me during spring last year, and asked me if I would be interested
in a summer job, working on a cruise ship catering exclusively to gay
men. Now that certainly caught my attention. I asked him what the job was
about, and he mentioned I would provide some entertainment in the ship's
main venue, inconspicuously called "The White Lion". He mentioned the job
paid really well -- 500 euro a night, and I had to work only from 11 pm
until 2 am. After a few mails adding some more detail to the vacancy, I
took a leap of faith and signed a contract, meaning I was supposed to
travel within a few days to meet my new boss in Lille, Northwestern France,
and start my summer job lasting for a period of 10 weeks.

And so it happened that, on a beautiful day in mid June, I met Paul at the
central station in Lille. He introduced himself as Director of
Entertainment on the MS Gaylord, and he didn't even wince as he said it. He
seemed like a really friendly guy and he told me a bit about the ship en
route to the docks. Apparently, the ship catered to well-off gay men, and
it normally carried around 2000 passengers plus 300 staff. The vessel would
cross the Atlantic and then spend two weeks in the Caribbean before
returning to France. Life onboard was one of luxury, with excellent food,
and every thinkable form of entertainment -- from sunbathing or playing
chess in the swimming pool on the upper deck, all the way to nocturnal
excitement of the sleazier type in some of the ship's bars. Paul told me he
wanted me to have a great time onboard and that he would take good care of
me, and that he would make sure I would not suffer any bodily harm. The
last phrase worried me, but he seemed sincere. He had planned a meeting
with the rest of the team, consisting of two guys about my age, Noël
and Lars. That sounded just fine to me.

Paul carried most of my luggage for me as we boarded the ship, and we made
our way into a rather spacious cabin on one of the upper decks. There were
clothes shattered here and there, so someone was obviously staying in the
cabin already. Paul put my baggage on the floor and told me that
Noël and Lars were on their way. He had not even finished his
scentence as the door opened and two guys entered. "Ah! Our new roomie!"
said the tallest of them, a blond, Scandinavian looking guy with glasses
and a killer smile. "You look perfect for the job" he said as he give me a
kiss and let his hands touch me without the slightest of hesisation or
restraint. Noël was a bit more reserved, with the most astoundingly
beautiful bronze complexion and mysterious green eyes.

"Why don't you guys get some rest, then you can talk about your act and
I'll see you for dinner at 20:00, OK?" Paul said and was already on his way
out of the cabin. Sure, that sounded like a good first day at work. It was
not even 16 in the afternoon, but Noël opened a bottle of champaign
that he had confiscated from one of the bars, and poured us all a
glass. "To our new friend" he said and we sat down on the couch. An awkward
silence set in as we took a few sips, then I noticed that there was only
one large bed in the room. That broke the ice - Lars laughed, and explained
that the three of us were going to share so much together, that usually the
three guys who did the famous White Lion act ended up sleeping in the same
bed as well.

We listened to some music and talked a bit more about our backgrounds, and
it was clear to me that we would probably make a good team. Both guys
seemed smart, down to earth, open and friendly human beings. Lars studied
medicine in Lund, Sweden, and this was his third season aboard the MS
Gaylord. Noël was born in Hungary, raised in Paris, and he now
studied philosophy in London. He had one year of experience in the White
Lion. Both guys said repeatedly that I would make a great White Lion, but
they didn't want to divulge just yet what exactly that meant. They also
mentioned that the previous star of the show quit after 4 seasons, now
pursuing a career in politics. We took another glass of champaign and I
peaked out of one the portholes, where the passengers, some dozens of
meters below, had started to embark.

Then Noël finally thought it was time to discuss some more serious
matters. He looked me straight in the eyes and said "So, Michel... I just
have to ask... I assume you really like sperm, right?". Well, that was an
understatement. "I don't like sperm, Noël. I love it. I crave it,
more and more each day. I don't know why but I really, really love that
stuff. You can call me weird or creepy if you will, but it's the plain and
simple truth". A sigh of relief, a good laugh and a refill later, Lars
decided to tell me more. "Well my new friend", he said with his sexy
Scandinavian accent, "you came to the right place. You really did". He told
me that the MS Gaylord was famous for its main club -- The White Lion. Or
to be precise, not so much for the club itself, but mostly for the show
that had been attracting many of those 2000 passengers for decades
now. Without going in details yet, he told me that Noël and himself
would be acting as "fluffers", whereas I would be dressed up as a lion, and
I would be sucking of scores of guys during the act. That sounded pretty
bizarre, to be honest -- but the guys assured me that the act had been
upgraded and perfected throughout the years, and it had developed into a
well-orchestrated celebration of lust. I was contemplating this new
information -- before I signed, I had of course understood that there would
be blowjobs involved, but this sounded like I would be having my hands, or
rather my mouth full this summer. Paul would take the three of us to the
club after dinner for a dry run. We decided to rest a bit and take a shower
before going to dinner.

We actually slept for an hour or two before some loud noises awoke us, and
we figured out we could as well have a shower together so we would be could
get better acquainted. Surprisingly, we just had a shower, relaxing and
enjoying the warm water and the sight of three young, handsome men who had
begun to relax completely in each other's company, well aware of all we
would be sharing soon. We went to meet Paul and had some great food
together -- oisters as a starter (yes, of course I did like that taste),
delicious cod, dessert, a cheese platter... the French know their food you
see. It was almost 22 o' clock when we finally approached the infamous
White Lion club. There was a golden plate on the front door, stating in
very stylish, oldfashioned letters "Welcome to The White Lion" and
underneath it said in italics "Gentlemen's club". That made me laugh -
"gentlemen" was not what sprung to mind first, but rather "sleazy pigs". I
soon found out that the effect was intentional -- humor was simply part of
the equation.

We entered the bar through a small darkish corridor and I noticed how big
the place was -- it must have been at least 5 meters to the ceiling, and
Paul told us there was room for up to 350 persons. There were two bars
where the bartenders were busy washing up and preparing for the grand
opening that would be the next day. The décor was really posh,
reminiscent of an old cruise ship from the early 20th century, but with a
modern touch. There was, of course, a large dance floor, but also ample
space on some balconies and plateaus where people could relax. Or do other
things, as I soon found out. Paul guided us to some hidden door that lead
to the dressing room. There he handed a khaki suit to Lars, and some very
flimsy clothes to Noël. Then he smiled from ear to ear as he handed
me my attire for the next evening: a fake lion's tail attached to a butt
plug, some sort of mask or head gear that I couldn't really figure out just
yet, and knee pads in a greyish color. The expression on my face was enough
to make the three of them burst out in laughter, but soon enough, there was
a sense of professionalism that descended upon us -- this would be our job,
as a team. We would be making some serious money, but we would have to do a
great job. Our smiles disappeared and we went in planning and practicing
mode until it was suddenly well past 2 AM. "Ok guys, I think we got
it. We'd better go get some sleep and prepare for the grand opening
tomorrow. See you tomorrow at 22:00 -- I'll be busy with other things most
of the day", Paul said.

We returned to our cabin, and slept all three in the same large bed, as if
we had known each other all our lifes. The next morning, we left port and
set sail towards the the Canary islands -- our first stop. We had the whole
day to ourselves. Lars and Noël mentioned that they would usually
try to get some shifts as cleaners or waiters to make some extra cash
instead of spending the days waiting for the evening, but for now we needed
to prepare our minds for things to come. We just had a swim and watched a
movie together, already attracting a lot of attention. We were among the
youngest guys on board, all in our early twenties, and prime specimens at
that.

As night fell, I started to feel some anxiety. I was not worried about the
job itself, but being the center of attention was something new to me. We
tried to relax a bit during the evening, while Lars and Noël kept
telling me it would all work out fine and we'd be having fun together --
they would take good care of me.

At 22:00 sharp, we entered the dressing room. We stripped, and Noël
slipped into a jockstrap and a tank top -- he was looking gorgeous. Lars,
in his khaki outfit, explorer hat and glasses, looked strangely out of
place, but it was to be part of the act. I made sure the butt plug with the
tail was inserted snugly so it wouldn't be bothering me too much for the
next couple of hours. We tried to relax a bit and shared a bottle of
Pernod, of all things. The make up expert knocked on the door and helped me
put on the head gear. My long blond hair was left hanging semi-loose, then
the head gear was attached to my head. It left my face exposed, but my head
now looked a bit more like a lion -- with the manes, ears, and the right
color. I had developed some nice muscles due to all my efforts in the gym,
and my body was now sprayed in lion-style. I put the knee pads on and sat
down on the floor on all four as we had practiced the night before, and
things actually started to look somewhat more convincing than I had
expected. Finally, I put on those small shades that people wear in a
solarium, so my eyes would be protected from incoming fluids, but I could
still see through them.

Then, suddenly, it was midnight, and we could hear the crowd cheering as
Paul welcomed all and announced the start of the main event. And so the
curtain fell, and the prelude began in the crazy, hilarious style that was
the club's trademark. Lars stepped confidently into the limelight, and
presented himself as Dr. Jones, a zoologist hunting down... a Namibian
southern lion. A rare and gentle creature, that in captivity could survive
only on one single food source only: sperm. I told you, this would be
bizarre.

As Lars played a bit with the public, Noël joined him on stage so
they both frolicked around for a few minutes, until they discovered a
sleeping lion in the distance. That was me, lying in the bushes on the far
edge of the stage. As the music changed into The token's "In the jungle,
the quiet jungle, the lion sleeps tonight..." things reached their
theatrical nadir as Dr. Jones and his charming assistant managed to
tranquillize and capture the lion. I will spare you the details, but I
ended up where everybody wanted me: on a small plateau, my tail happily
dangling, sitting on all fours, my hands tied and my mouth waiting for
things to come. Dr. Jones explained the public that in order to keep me
alive, I would have to be fed copious amounts of cum -- so he asked the
public to help save an endangered species. On a more serious note, he also
announced that for every load, the MS Gaylord would be donating 5 euro's to
a good cause. And by saying that, he opened the ball. We had been
practicing the routine the night before: Lars and Noël would make
sure that there was some sort of queue forming, and they would prepare my
visitors for an efficient release. They would also keep a close eye on me,
making sure I was OK, they would send away drunks or those with doubtful
hygiene, and they fortunately did a great job.

As tradition dicates, Noël and Lars were the first to unload their
sperm -- they managed to come simultaneously, so that each of them aimed on
one side of my nose, hitting the solar shades. As the sperm trickled down
into my mouth, I noticed how both guys tasted differently -- I would learn
to recognize those tastes during the rest of the 10 weeks, I realized.

The first dick to enter my mouth was there only for a few seconds before it
was pulled out and exploded, and I heard a chalky sound a meter or so above
me indicating 1 on a school board. Then things continued for 15 minutes or
so, at which time I noticed the onset of what I would describe as a high,
trance, or a delirium. My mind was completely devoid of any thoughts, I was
in an animalistic state where I just focused on dicks and sperm as one
after the other was presented. Some were small, some big, some guys took my
head and made me deepthroat them while others hardly needed any stimulation
to come. I drifted further and further away into this trance, until
suddenly hands untied me, and literally carried me off stage. A voice
whispered my name, and said "Dude....Dude!... it's 2:30.. think you had
enough now". I couldn't see anything, my face was covered in multiple
layers of cum. I now recognized Lars' and Noël's voices, telling me
the counter had stopped at 148 loads of cum before they decided this was
really quite enough for a first evening. Noticing with surprise that I had
had an erection ever since midnight, they decided to remove my clothes and
just sit me down on the floor in the shower, where my hands finally
produced the last, enormous ejaculation of that night.

I spent a long time in the shower, getting rid of all the cum, then Lars
and Noël supported me as we staggered into our cabin together. I'm
not sure if it was the exhaustion or joy, but tears filled my eyes as we
crashed onto the bed in each other's arms, and we fell in a deep sleep only
to wake up by noon the next day.

None of the following evenings would have quite the same effect on me, but
what an intense experience that was, that crazy first evening on stage. I
will never forget it.