Date: Mon, 24 Jan 2011 13:29:53 -0800
From: marianasdeep3@hushmail.com
Subject: Fast Cash Stripper (Part 2, Enter Stage Right)

The author's complete set of stories can be found here:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#marianasdeep
Comments and suggestions are welcomed and appreciated.
You can e-mail them to
MarianasDeep3@hushmail.com

Fast Cash Stripper (Part II Enter Stage Right)

I made some fast cash, but it sure was more than I bargained for.
I ended up with a belly full of cum, a lingering taste of cock in
my mouth, and a sore, leaking ass as I rode my bike home...

Part II.  Enter Stage Right.

I arrived at the back of the club after 9 pm, a little late not
anticipating such a long bike ride, and I was exhausted.  The front
parking lot was jammed, and music was already going loud.  I had to
repeat my first knock with a pounding from the base of my fist.  I
heard a yell from within, "Scooter, answer the fucking door."  I
thought to myself "Scooter?"

"Get in here," Scooter said pulling me inside and quickly closing
the door, "what took ya?"

"Who called you Scooter, are the skaters here?" I asked concerned.

"No, that was my uncle."

His uncle?  I knew Scooter's Dad always called him Lewis, so how
would his uncle know his nickname?  I didn't have much time to
think about it, as a man I presumed to be Scooter's uncle, the
owner of the club, approached hurriedly out of a nearby office.

"Who's this?"

"This is Mark I was telling you about."

"Beautiful ...," as he sized me up and down.  I was already blushing
when he commanded, "... turn around."  I turned my backside to him.
"Excellent ... Scooter recruits another gem."

As soon as I heard the word "recruits" I was beginning to realize
that our gang may not have given Scooter his nickname.

"Get him changed, the second man act is about to go on," the uncle
commanded.  "The boys follow."

I was led down the back hall that T'ed into the middle of another
hallway.  That hallway had many doors on the back side toward the
back door that appeared to be dressing rooms, while the forward
side had a doorless wall, with music and crowd noise coming through
it.  The crowd through that wall roared, and suddenly the hall
became crowded with nude men entering the hallway from both the
left and right sides, and carrying what I assumed were their
discarded dance clothes.  Some were carrying cash in an underwear
pouch in their hands.  The same hall became doubly crowded as many
of the dressing room doors opened, exiting dancers lining up in
very skimpy shorts and shirts, waiting to go on.  We followed some
of the nude men into a locker room at the far left end of the hall,
where even more of the next set of dancers were leaving.  I felt
someone pinch my ass.

"I'd like to get me some of that."  I turned to look, but Scooter
pulled me into the locker room before I could see who it was.

Scooter and I were now alone in one section of the locker room,
though I heard boys' voices the next section over, and men in a
shower room.  "Here, put this on."  He handed me what looked like a
red jockstrap cup, only it had a thin black string for a waist
band.  And instead of straps running around each leg to the waist
band in front, it only had a single string running up the backside
to the other string.  "What's this?"  I asked.  "Your underwear for
the underwear dance.  Put it on under your whities, then put your
jeans back on."  I suddenly had a sinking feeling that I was going
to be in front of a huge crowd with nothing but two strings and a
pouch.

I protested, "Scooter, this is not what I had in mind when you said
underwear!"

"Jeez Mark, don't be such a prude.  The more you advertise the more
business you'll get.  Get my drift?"  He turned to leave walking
toward the other boys' voices.  I reluctantly started unbuttoning
my jeans.  Suddenly his uncle yelled into the locker room,
"Scooter, don't forget.  If he's got a bush, shave it!"

"OK!" Scooter yelled back, then turning back to me, "Oh yeah, I
forgot, let's see it.  You can't have any hair there."

That was not going to be a problem.  Though I had been jackin' for
well over a year now, I didn't have hair, and wouldn't until I
entered high school.  I was like those Russian pubers you can
sometimes find a nudie of on the internet these days, adult-sized
cock hanging from a boy, bald as the day it was born.  "You don't
need to worry about hair," I said ashamed.

"I've got to see it.  My uncle will kill me if he sees pubes."  I
hesitated.  "Come on, you're about to be live in front of at least
50 people in about 5 minutes," he said impatiently.

I reluctantly stripped nude in front of him, covering my cock with
my hands.  He matter-of-factly knelt in front of me, moved my
hands, and visually inspected my entire pubic area.  Then he
grabbed my cock moving it from side to side as he looked, then
lifted my balls to look under.  Such a turn on, I started growing
wood.  "Consider yourself lucky.  I've been having to shave for
almost a year now...turn around."  I turned and he spread both of my
ass cheeks.  "It always starts around the asshole.  Bend over."
Scooter grabbed a safety razor and soap on the sink basin and
returned behind me, rubbing soap up my crack.  He spread my ass,
and I felt a scratching sensation as he proceeded to shave some
hairs around my asshole.  I was definitely growing a boner.
"Believe it or not, it's most noticeable there when you dance.  The
string doesn't cover your asshole to begin with, and it moves away
from the backside of your balls when you bend forward," he informed
me, then yelled to the group, "You boys ready over there?"

While I was bent over with Scooter's soapy hand washing and shaving
my asshole, his uncle briefly stepped into the locker room, "Good.
You're cleaning him up.  Did you remember to clean him out too?"

Scooter replied, "He ate the chocolate I gave him, last night."
His uncle said "Good" and left, then Scooter asked me, "You DID eat
the chocolate last night, didn't you?"  I nodded yes while my brain
was trying to figure out what that had to do with anything.

Just then about 8 to 10 boys came into the room clad in jeans while
I stood there nude ("oh, this is just great") as Scooter was drying
my butt with a towel.  I stopped counting the boys when shockingly
I recognized many of them from our skating group.  "Matt, Tim,
Steve ... WTF?"

"Scooter the Recruiter!" Steve said, then added about my cock
sticking straight up, "Don't worry about boners.  We all pop them.
The crowd loves it.  Just keep it in the pouch if you can."

Scooter added, "Put the pouch on now and get dressed except for
your shoes.  We dance in our socks...Shit, I'm not going to have time
to train you.  Just copy what we do out there, lots of gyrating of
the hips and stuff.  Whenever you bend over, stick your ass up in
the air as high as you can."

It was weird putting that thing on.  I had to stuff my cock into
it, and the more I got into the pouch, the more the string pulled
against my asshole.  The rest of the string settled out of sight in
my crack.  I put my whities on over it, then my jeans.  Scooter
threw me a see-through fishnet t-shirt like the others were
wearing, shaped like a "wife-beater" but red and with the club's
logo on it.  And with that, we all left the locker room and were
lining up in the hall to enter the stage door on the other end.

As we entered stage right, I expected we would be behind a stage
curtain, but instead I was surprised to be greeted by a huge crowd
in a large smoke-filled room, and was overwhelmed with a crowd
roar.  Through bright spotlights, I couldn't tell how jammed it
was, but I could see a lit-up bar across the room, opposite the
stage, that I presumed to be near the front door.  The music
started, reminding me to look at Scooter for direction.  Scooter
was center stage in the middle of the group.  I was one of the last
to enter, placing me near the stage-right door to the audience's
left.  I had a strong urge to return to that door and leave, but it
was now closed.  We were just in a simple line, stepping sidewise
left, then sideways right, then the same shaking our hips, then
again lifting our legs to the side, the crowd excitement growing
with each new move.  Then Scooter pivoted, and the dancers
followed, all with their asses to the audience.  The crowd erupted.
 Copying every move meant I was of course late, especially on that
one, so I heard some laughter in the audience.  We all did the same
routine as before, left and right, only this time for an ass view.
Then Scooter backed up to the edge of the stage and bent over, ass
in the air, everyone following.  Again the crowd erupted.  Then
Scooter pivoted to face the audience, and lifted his shirt--crowd
erupted--then up--crowd erupted--then off.  Crowd insane.  We did the
same choreography over and over, each time a little more disrobed.
The next was, of course, our jeans, button first slowly, then
zipper fly slowly, then opening to expose white flashes of
underwear, then jeans off hip, then off the ass, having spun that
towards the audience, then down to knees.  We did our left right
routine with our jeans at our knees, then lifted each leg and
pulled off the jean at the ankle.  Suddenly we were in just our
underwear, the crowd deafening as we did our left-right routines.
I was going crazy knowing that this wasn't going to be the limit of
our exposure.

There we were, a line of 14 year old boys, some perhaps even
younger, standing in front of an adult crowd in our underwear...an
adult male crowd.  I kept straining to see if there were women and
found a token few, but I thought the "token few" was going to be
the men.  We were all shapes of thin, lanky, pubescent boys you
could find.  Some tall, some short, the tall ones looking like
colts, with over-proportioned long legs perking up a small under-
proportioned butt.  The shorter ones were more evenly proportioned,
but looked younger as a result.  Some of us were athletic, some
just thin, but even the athletic ones had a muscle tone under-
proportioned to the body, as if all growth, including muscle
growth, was devoted to keeping up with the bones.  Upon seeing this
for the first time, my attention was drawn to my growing boner.
Some of the others had boners too.  Our cock sizes all varied, and
not necessarily according to body size, a big cock just as likely
on a short boy, and a small cock on a tall one.  Ball sizes
factored into the pouch packet as well, some big, some small, again
not dependent on boy size or even cock size.

Now the routine changed in a troubling sorta way.  We all went to
the edge of the stage, crouching by the audience with our knees
spread.  In came the hands.  They were stuffing money into our
underwear, helping themselves to a feel in return.  No sooner and
we turned, bending over with our ass toward a groping crowd.  I
felt my ass getting felt up and pinched, when suddenly the rest of
the boys were in line again.  I couldn't even get up, unable to get
a few hands to let go of my underwear.  When I was finally in line,
my underwear was down below my ass.  It didn't matter; the rest of
the boys joined me in stripping off the whitey tighties.  Soon we
were all standing there in pouches and strings.  We were going
through the left right routine when Scooter came up behind me, "I
forgot to tell you.  You're not suppose to allow them to touch you,
especially NOW!"  He returned to his middle position to lead the
group.

When we got to the front of the stage, crouching with our knees
spread, my boner was a permanent fixture, straining against the
pouch.  It was all I could do to keep hands at bay.  The one's
putting money in the pouch were rubbing my cock through the pouch,
just below the cockhead.  As a result, I was adding sexual
stimulation to the sexual excitement, my pouch getting wet with pre-
cum.  I was about to fire, but then the group got up in line, and
then turned ass towards the audience.  We all backed up toward the
crowd, then bent forward, asses high.  The string slackened from
the backside of my balls, leaving my asshole exposed.  I felt my
ass getting rubbed, patted, and occasionally spanked.  A couple of
roaming fingers were running the length of my crack, and even
rubbing my asshole.  Then we were up and going for the stage doors.
 I instantly bolted toward the closest door stage-right, but got
redirected to follow the others off stage left.  I was thus the
last one off stage.