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Rip Skor

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About Rip Skor

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    Member

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  • Gender
    Male
  • Sexuality
    Bisexual, leaning male
  • Favorite Genres
    Everything
  • Location
    Northeastern United States
  • Interests
    Travel, beaches, music, movies, and anything else I'm willing to give it a try.

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  1. Rip Skor

    What Is It About Weddings?

    It was very uplifting to see how quickly my parents and Ginny and Bill became family. I guess when you are parents and you children are part of the same family, it gives you something in common to base things on. My parents and Ginny and Bill (I would say Parker's parents but Bill is actually his step-dad) became very friendly and started going on cruises together every other year to Bermuda or Aruba or any other Caribbean location during the colder months. Even Helen and John got in on a trip or two. They really hit it off even though I saw my parents as being very different from Parker's side philosophically, but nonetheless it all worked.
  2. Rip Skor

    College Wrap Up

    The controversy happened exactly as told. The thing that infuriated me was that my advisor, who was also Chair of the English Department, was the person directing my course choices. I was there the day she called the Dean’s Office and they told her that because of my enrollment date, I was grandfathered on the changing requirements. I’m sure that today that Dean has his own place in hell.
  3. Rip Skor

    Featured Story: Boy Story - The Road Taken

    Thank you Puppilull for such a positive review of my Boy Story. As some know, I had to suspend writing due to my mother’s diagnosis of brain cancer. So an unexpected review that was both enthusiastic and kind was comforting. Unfortunately, my mother passed away in April. It was through this event that I realized how many people were touched through the help of my mother whether it was advice, a few dollars here or there, or simply a ride to get groceries. I felt proud that she had left a lasting legacy on so many ppl who were thankful to have known her. And I will miss her dearly. Rip Skor
  4. Rip Skor

    Health Crisis

    Dear Readers, Due to a grave illness in my immediate family, my mother, I am forced to suspend further writing until an undetermined point in the future. Much time and added responsibilities will be required of me leaving little time for certain activities such as writing. I hope to return to writing at a later date. Thank you for your understanding and prayers. RS
  5. Rip Skor

    The “G” Word

    Very good catch. It's fixed. There's a good reason for my error and I thought I caught them all.
  6. Rip Skor

    Getting to Know You

    Getting to Know You “Do you think we should take a break and move to the bed?” I asked. Shawn smiled. I took hold of his right wrist and led him to the queen size bed. He immediately lay down before me with everything on display. He was absolute perfection. It’s difficult to explain to a beautiful boy that putting clothes on that body is doing the world a disservice. He was certainly in the correct field where he could share the magnificence of his body with the public. I crawled onto the bed. I was now punching my ticket to the pleasure park. It was like I was entering an amusement park…certain for my amusement. Do I start with the thrill coaster, the old tried and true wooden coaster, the dark ride, the flume, or one of the smaller spinning rides and work my way up? It was impossible to decide. I could kiss him all night long and not feel cheated, yet there was so much more of him for me to enjoy. I decided to finish what I had started several times, but never had the chance to complete. I wanted to give him ultimate oral pleasure and find out what the seed of a perfect 10 tastes like. As I previously alluded to, I sucked a few cocks in my time, but rarely to completion in my mouth. Usually the guy would finish himself off and squirt it on himself or me or sometimes a more interesting choice. But Shawn, I wanted to taste his essence. As I began my offensive, he swung around under me and we moved into the 69 position lying on our sides. My gag reflex has a hair trigger, so I tend to stay mostly near the head and occasionally visit the lower half and the balls with my mouth. Shawn started off on the upper half too, but then worked into deep throat mode. This forced me to verbalize with strings of unrepeatable language, and drove Shawn to suck even harder. Then he moaned and surreptitiously exploded into my mouth. I could feel the warm shots hitting the roof of my mouth. When he was done, his cock was getting sensitive, so he pulled out. I took my tongue like a rubber scraper and ran it across the roof of my mouth, gathering up the spunk that was deposited there. Never a big fan of semen, I uncharacteristically enjoyed this experience. I continued to roll his output over my tongue to savor the taste of an incredibly hot boy while Shawn continued to blow me. “Oh fuck, I’m going to come!” I warned after a short while. He maintained the onslaught. Ten seconds later, I announced, “Oh shit, I’m coming! I’m coming!” I felt my cannon release and I looked at Shawn eagerly extracting my load. I let out a long moan, and it was over. I watched transfixed as Shawn stuck out his tongue to reveal my cream on it. Then he made a dramatic swallowing gesture and stuck out his tongue again to show the deposit was gone. “Tasty?” I asked. “Let’s see, yours has…a nutty flavor to it,” he explained licking the inside of his mouth. “Well, we all know how you like nuts…and sausage,” I joked. “Two of my favorite food groups!” he shot back. He dipped his head and kissed my flat stomach. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lay his head on my abdomen just north of my pubic hair. He went silent, and I followed his lead. We had both been satisfied. I closed my eyes and drifted off. I woke up after a few minutes and Shawn hadn’t moved. He had fallen asleep as well. “Hey, Shawn,” I said softly as I tried not to scare him. “Mmmm?” he responded. “Why don’t you come up this way and make use of the pillow. He stirred and I helped guide him beside me. He rolled onto his right side and I slid the front of my body into the back of his. I wrapped my arms around him and held him like a large stuffed animal. We slept blissfully through the night. I stirred and noticed there was a small slit of sun peeking through the edge of the curtain. Without moving, I could see the clock reading 7:34. I soon realized I was in a heap of body parts. I could hardly tell in the dimly lit room which parts were his and which were mine. I ran my tongue across an arm and I could feel it, so I knew it was mine. I kissed the shoulder immediately in front of me. I knew it had to be his based on our current position. I’d have to be a pretty good contortionist to get my shoulder directly in front of me. That’s when I recognized, I had to pee. I held off as long as I possibly could. “Shawn,” I whispered, “I need to get up to pee!” “Wha—” “I need to piss,” I repeated. “And we’re…stuck.” “Oh, hi.” “God, you’re beautiful,” I said looking at his angelic face as it came to life. “I’m no God, but I’ll take the compliment.” “Dude, I need to pee.” “Hmm, me too. OK, let’s go.” It took the two of us moving in unison to break free from our entanglement. I got up and he followed me to the bathroom. We were both clothes-free, so there was no hindrance to the task at hand. “Here, you take that side and I’ll take this one…and for god’s sake, aim for the bowl,” Shawn said with a laugh. We were standing at either side of the toilet when my stream sprang forth with force. It felt soooo good, I gave a long sigh of relief. Shawn got his gusher going too. I’d never pissed into the same bowl with another human being, yet it felt so natural. He started to write his name into the water with his stream and the narration, “S-H-A-W-N.” “Marking your territory, eh?” I joked. “Good idea!” he said as he pulled his pecker up and tinkled on my leg. “Hey!” “I’m just marking my territory!” he insinuated. Then a short piss fight ensued. We both marked our territory with the utmost accuracy. “Now we belong to each other!” Shawn declared. Oh, if only. We grabbed the towels still damp from the night before and wiped the urine from our legs. We kept giggling at the thought of the poor maid who would have the distinct pleasure of cleaning up this bathroom. I grabbed the plastic bottle of mouthwash and took a swig. I handed it to Shawn and he took a mouthful. We both swished for a while, spit the remains into the toilet bowl, and flushed. We kissed to test the results and he was minty fresh. Heading back to the bed, Shawn got on at the foot of the bed and crawled up toward the headboard. I saw that hot little bum of his moving away from me, so I dove onto the bed and grabbed him at the waist. I pulled his hips, so his butt was pointed upward. I couldn’t resist as my face went full deep sea diver into his ass crack. Shawn couldn’t disguise the fact that he loved getting his ass rimmed. He was moaning throughout and his Johnson became as stiff as a board. After I was sure I got all his ass could give me, I came up for air, flipped him over, and pinned him face up on the bed. I guess my face didn’t smell like his ass because he locked lips with me again. “Hey Shawn, do you like to fuck at all?” I asked taking a pause. “Of course,” he replied like my question was totally illogical. “Are you more of a top or bottom or do you like to mix it up a bit?” I queried. “What would be your best guess?” he replied. “Hmm, with that body, I’d guess you are a bottom,” I stated. “You’re pretty close. I mostly bottom, but sometimes I like to, as you say, mix it up a bit too.” “Well, that’s convenient because I’m fairly versatile, but I tend to top most of the time,” I disclosed. After a short silence, I asked, “Are you good to bottom right now?” “I thought you’d never ask. But let me get you ready first,” he said as he went face first into my pubic region. It didn’t take long for me to go from firm to rigid. Still on the bed, I got on my knees and Shawn reclined back. I reached over and got a small tube of lube and a condom out of my shaving kit on the night stand. I proudly presented my full-on boner before my captive audience of one. “Wow, did you grow since yesterday? That looks huge,” he determined. “Are you backing out?” I queried. “No, no, I was planning on you backing in!” I tore open the condom wrapper with my teeth. “Would you like to do the honors?” I asked holding out the opened condom packet next to my stiffie. He took the wrapper in his hands and looked it over. “Do we have to use this?” he asked sheepishly. “Uh…you want to be protected, don’t you?” I advised. “Protected? From who? From you?” “Well, isn’t it like common courtesy?” I tried. “Do you have any diseases I should know about?” he asked. “No, of course not!” “No gonorrhea, syphilis, crabs…” “No.” “HIV?” “NO!” “Herpes? Hepatitis A, B or C?” “No.” “Chlamydia…or is that the clap?” “No, I don’t have any diseases or infections at all,” I declared. “In that case, we won’t need this, will we?” he said placing the opened condom back in my hand. “Um, well if you put it that way...I guess not,” I said unsure how to respond. I watched him lube his fingers and willingly stick them up his butthole. To be perfectly honest, my ultimate fantasy was always anal sex with no encumbrance, but I’d only managed to experience it twice when I was sure of the other party involved. When I’ve had anal with a condom in place, it wasn’t nearly as pleasurable. And that’s not me somehow getting off on the danger aspect. From my experience, a condom decreases the sensitivity felt during the act. If you’re bottoming with a condom employed, it may as well be a dildo? However, it is impolite to even suggest not using a condom during anal, but Shawn removed all the barriers on this one. Sure, I could be lying to him about having something like HIV and Hep C, but I think he had a very good read on me. “Would you mind getting me one of those damp towels from the bathroom? I think I might need it,” he stated. I did as he requested and placed the damp towel next to him on the bed. He was lying there with a greased-up butt and rock-hard erection. “Oh thanks!” he said as he wiped the lube from his fingers. When he was finished wiping, he simply said, “I’m ready when you are.” In my mind, Shawn had just fired the starter’s pistol, and I was off and running. I knelt between his legs and greased up my weapon. I raised his legs and wrapped my left hand around both ankles holding them high in the air while I led my cock to his boy hole with my right hand. When I got a little bit inside, he gasped. I grabbed his ankles with both hands and spread his legs in a big “V.” Then I pressed forward and began banging him. Some guys make a lot of noise when they are getting fucked, and it seems like they are not in any way enjoying it. If you’re the top, this breaks your concentration. How can you ramp things up if he’s yelling “Ouch!” and “Argh!” and making faces like he’s being tortured? Just as disconcerting are the guys on the other end of the spectrum who are completely silent during sex. This is a 2-person job, so the bottom has to participate verbally to give the top some direction. The top might think that he needs to pound harder and harder until he gets some response. That can result in the bottom finding it hard to sit the next day, which usually indicates injury. Shawn played it perfectly. He squealed with every major thrust and, just to let me know he was enjoying it, he’d add some verbiage here and there: “Oh yeah, fuck me!”, “Yeah, harder, harder”, “Fuck me deeper,” etc. His butt hole opened up enough to allow me to penetrate but remained tight enough to give me a good squeeze with each pump. Shawn remained on his back jerking his nice big dick faster and faster as I banged him. "Oh yeah, baby, just like that!" he groaned. "Yeah! Say it in French . Talk dirty in French!" I urged him. I think I heard it said that French was the language of love or something to that effect. That couldn't have been more true. I had no idea what he was saying, but it sounded so incredibly hot. I pulled out and flipped him over so he was on all fours. I reinserted my member doggy style, and soon the familiar “slap, slap, slap” filled the air as my thighs smacked against his ass. Shawn reached over, grabbed the damp towel, and opened it up beneath him on the bed. He soon announced, “Oh fuck I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.” And maybe 10 seconds later, he called out in French, “J'arrive!” His shots spurted out into the towel as he moaned. I lowered my body so my chest was sliding across his back as I continued my assault. Then I straightened back up as I got close and began moaning. Shawn urged me, “Oh man, give me your load!” “Yeah, you want to take it?” I confirmed with him. “Yes, yes. Shoot it in me.” “OK, here it comes!” I managed to utter before I grunted a half dozen times. I gave him every bit of my seed deep into his guts. We both collapsed in a breathless heap flat on the bed with my willy still in him. It isn't often that one gets to say a sexual partner “rocked my world,” but that's exactly what happened on that night. And here I am 20 plus years later to declare it was the best sex of my life. After the requisite period of regaining my senses, I finally pulled my dick out of him and said, “I think we've made quite a mess here.” “Time for another shower?” Shawn asked. “I think so,” I said in return. Our deed accomplished, we both climbed out of bed and staggered to the bathroom once again. There wasn't much washing at first. We just hugged each other for structural support more than anything while we let the warm water roll over us. We finally did soap up to clean any lube or semen that remained. As we dried, I said, “Shawn, will you permit me to take you out for breakfast this morning? My treat.” “Aw, you don't have to do that. I can pay,” he replied. “Look, you're saving for college. So I would feel honored if I could make a small contribution to your college fund by buying you breakfast,” I explained. “You drive a hard bargain, but I don't want to deprive you of your...philanthropic...uh...pursuits,” he countered. “Fine, call it what you will, but I'm buying the breakfast.” “On one condition,” he added, “let's go back to bed to get some more shut eye first.” “I couldn't agree with you more,” I confirmed. x x x x
  7. All it took was one bad experience to make a convert out of me. I didn't even know there was such a thing as anal douching before. You wouldn't invite company over if your home was a mess, right? And they probably wouldn't tell you to your face to spare your feelings. So you gotta be proactive.
  8. Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way Great, now I can go back to the hotel room and feel sorry for myself. I should have known this would never work. “But you know what?” Shawn began. “When I get out of work at 1:30, I’m going to be really hungry. I think I’m going to go to the donut shop on the corner across from the little park. You know, the one that’s open ‘til 3:00 am?” “Yeah, Monsieur Donut.” I thought a moment. “Ooooh, I see. I think I’m going to find myself with a sudden donut craving at 1:30.” He just smiled a knowing grin. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, this is starting to get interesting. I paid him for the dance. He followed me out and sat with me at a two-person table. I turned to Shawn, “Is it alright that you’re sitting here?” “Sure, I can sit all night if I want. I just won’t make any money. But I’m not busy right now.” The club was maybe half full, so the waiter came right over. “You want a beer, Shawn?” I asked. “No, I can’t drink while on duty.” “How about a Coke?” “Well…sure.” “A Labatt Blue and a Coke,” I said to the waiter, and he scurried off to wherever waiters go after taking your order. Shawn slipped his right foot out of his shoe and began rubbing it. He grimaced and said, “Argh, so sore today.” “Here, pop it up on my lap and I’ll massage it,” I offered. “No, you don’t have to do that,” he replied. “It’s fine. I want to.” He looked at my face and saw I was serious. He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his right leg so his foot was in my lap. He soon had the look of relief on his face. His feet were cute like the rest of him, so I didn’t mind rubbing them. I was fully enjoying this nonsexual but intimate connection to him. I massaged all parts of the foot and was mostly employing a circular motion with my thumbs with frequent downward pressure. The waiter came with the drinks and saw what I was doing. “Oh, will you do mine next?” “No. Sorry, I only do one pair of feet a night,” I joked as I paid for the drinks. “Darn,” the waiter said and I gave him a $2 tip. “Oh, thank you.” I looked over and Shawn was sitting with his eyes half closed with a look of relief on his face, showing that he was fully enjoying the foot rub. I slowly let his right foot down and motioned him to permit me to do the other foot. He silently followed my lead. “You’re really good at this. Do you offer this to all the guys you meet?” Shawn asked. “No, just for cute, Canadian, nude dancers named Shawn with sore feet,” I responded. “Wow, good thing my name is Shawn, huh?” he joked. “Mmm, you should come live with me so you can do this all the time.” “Don’t tempt me!” I smiled. “My feet don’t smell, do they?” I sniffed my hands. “Nope, they just smell like 18-year-old boy. And that’s a good smell,” I assured him. “If you say so,” he replied. After I finished massaging his feet and drinking my beer, it was time to leave. I could have stayed longer, but it might have started to get awkward. I asked him if he wanted me to stay so he’d have a victim for his public dance. “Oh, we stopped doing that at the end of June. It was a temporary thing.” “Oh, too bad.” “No freebies anymore, ha ha.” “Well then, I’m going to take off now. Perhaps I’ll run into you sometime,” I said hinting at our covert arrangement. “Maybe so, it’s a small city,” he replied and winked. I figured he was being careful in case someone was listening. We both stood up and he came over and gave me a hug goodbye. I left the premises with just over an hour to kill. Knowing that I might have a chance at getting intimate with a hot guy, I wanted to be as clean…everywhere…as possible. I wasn’t sure what Shawn was into—topping, bottoming, ass eating or fingering—so I wanted my back entryway to be as clean as possible. I went back to the hotel and got out my male douching kit. I did three rinses to ensure I was as clean as a whistle. I quickly jumped in the shower and washed the outside of my butt and legs cleaning any overspray from douching. I was never cognizant about the importance of anal douching until a guy I hooked up with one night in a club roughly three years before this Montreal trip. He was a tall, handsome college boy named Jesse. After chatting me up, I invited him home, and he had no problem with that. Though I lived relatively close, it was too far to walk, so I had my car parked nearby. As we drove to my apartment, we had a little conversation. “So Jesse, you said you’re in college?” “Yes, I am a Sophomore this year,” he said. “You’re a good-looking guy. I bet you get a lot of action with all those horny boys on campus,” I presumed. “I know, you’d think that, right? But it seems every guy—even the guys who are into guys—walk around campus acting straight. I guess no one wants to be singled out as ‘the gay guy’. So it’s actually more difficult to hook up when everyone is trying to appear straight. In the end, it’s just easier to go out to a gay bar where you know everyone is at least gay-friendly.” We arrived at my place and went straight to the bedroom. We got undressed and he immediately started to blow me for a good long while. Good start. Then he asked me to fuck him. A hot guy wanting to get fucked? He wasn’t going to get any argument from me. He repositioned himself on the bed and assumed the missionary position. I decided I was going to fuck him without a condom, unless he asked for one. I broke out the lube and he began greasing up his hole. I went to grease up my wand, which I was surprised to find already had a condom on it. Now, I know that wasn’t there since the last time I pissed at the club. This Jesse is one sneaky guy. He must have slipped it on my manhood while he was blowing me and I didn’t even feel it there. To cut to the chase, here I was fucking this hot guy in the ass and I started to detect a foul odor. And when you are fucking someone in the ass, the last thing you want to think about is his bowel movements. I came close to coming three times, only to lose it in the last moments when a dookie-scented cloud suddenly invaded my nostrils. There’s nothing more toxic to reaching orgasm than the smell of poo in bed. He came and I had to finish myself off with my hand. I retell this experience simply to underscore the importance of good hygiene when the anus is in play. Many bottoms figure that it is a hazard of the job. If you’re going to top someone, you sometimes have to expect some fecal interaction. I’m now saying, it isn’t so! If you’re a bottom and you plan to take it up the ass, don’t ruin the experience by being less than clean. And no, simply cleaning around the outside is not enough. With Shawn, I didn’t know if we’d even have anal (topping or bottoming), but I didn’t need any unwanted smells ruining the moment. You never get a second chance to make a first impression. Douching is a fairly quick bathroom procedure, so I completed the task with time to spare. I decided to go to the other stripper bar nearby that featured youngish guys. L’Adonis Club was smaller and a little more run down than Club David. The talent on stage was always unpredictable: one visit could be a complete bust, but other times, you wouldn’t want to leave. When I arrived, I decided to sit at the bar because I was alone and didn’t want to take up a table. I ordered a beer and watched a fairly attractive guy wearing a red jockstrap strutting his stuff on stage. The dance ended and everyone clapped as the emcee spoke in French and I understood “Valenteen.” I turned to the bar to drink some of my beer for a few minutes. One problem this club has always faced was a shortage of dancers, so they try to space them out a little. At Club David, it’s one after the other. I looked around the room and noticed a guy who looked similar to the dancer who just finished, except he was now wearing black shorts. He maintained a bare chest which drew my attention. I thought to myself, “That’s a nice chest.” He approached the bar to get an ice water. “Hi, I’m Valenteen,” he said looking at me and he stuck out his hand and I shook it. (His name was probably spelled Valentin, but I don’t want it to be mispronounced.) “Hi, I’m Glenn,” I replied. He started with the usual small talk as he sipped his water. The line of questioning began with “where are you from?” As I said, he was rather attractive. While he was talking to me on my right, I had my right hand resting on my outer thigh. During our chat, he very discretely pressed his crotch against my hand. Now, it could have passed as unintentional contact if not for the fact that he kept it there. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I nonchalantly flipped my hand around so I was cradling his block & tackle that was stuffed inside those shorts. From my initial assessment, I was quite impressed with his proportions in that area. “Are you staying around here?” he asked. I told him the hotel where I was staying. “Oh, I’ve been there before,” he continued. “It’s a nice place, right?” I ventured. “Oh yes, very nice.” After a few seconds, “Are you, uh, looking for some company tonight?” Then it suddenly dawned on me… “How much do you charge?” “Just a standard out call. But I’ll give you a discount.” “Oh geez, I appreciate the offer, but my boyfriend might not be happy about that. He was tired tonight and went back to the hotel early.” “Oh, I see. Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He gave me a peck on the cheek and took his leave. Wow, it’s either feast or famine…although this was a rather attractive young man looking to supplement his income. Maybe he asked everyone to go home with him, but I didn’t witness him making the rounds. Yes, I know. I lied about the boyfriend part, but I had to get off his radar. My guess was his rate would have been around $150. As I walked over to the donut place, I pondered whether I would have taken Valentin up on his offer if I didn’t already have plans. It’s quite possible. Then I began to wonder if Shawn was expecting to get paid. Just because there was no amount discussed, doesn’t necessarily mean it was going to be free. I wanted to give Shawn the benefit of the doubt, but it was still in the back of my mind. Truth be told, I would have paid him any amount he asked. It isn’t often that one gets to sleep with a perfect 10, even if it costs something …although it would certainly cheapen the fantasy. There’s a difference between a guy who wants me and a guy who wants me to pay him. I went up to the counter at Monsieur Donut (I love that name) and ordered a jelly stick with coconut and a large hot chocolate. I took a seat near the large window that faced the park. If Shawn was going to show up, he would be coming from that direction. But would Shawn show up? I hadn’t considered him standing me up. I didn’t know him well enough to discern if he was reliable. I felt a little twinge of apprehension as I checked my watch again: 1:24. I surveyed the park. I could see figures as they periodically passed below the lights in the park. First, I saw a woman walking a dog…definitely not him. Then I saw a figure with a backpack over his shoulder, but Shawn didn’t have facial hair. Things quieted down until a man with a cane made his way across the park. Then at 1:33, I saw a small figure in a blue tank top, jeans, black sneakers, and a gym bag over his shoulder walking under the light…blond hair…yup, that’s him. I tried not to panic. I was the only customer in the donut shop, so he’s not going to have trouble finding me. Shawn came through the door and walked about halfway to the counter and pretended to be surprised to see me. He came over, we exchanged pleasantries, and he kissed me on the cheek. He placed his bag on the other chair at my table and went up to the counter to place his order. He bought two donuts and an iced tea and sat across from me devouring the donuts. He advised me to look away at his display of scarfing down his food. I told him it was cute. We both easily dispatched the food and drink before us, and we headed out the door to Ste. Catherine Street. “Going my way?” I asked pointing to the right. “Should I be?” he asked. “It might be worth your while,” I ventured. “Hmm…OK, then I’m game,” he said as he turned to follow me. We entered the hotel and rode the elevator up to the eighth floor. All the while in my head I couldn’t believe this beautiful boy was with me…me! And he’s going to my hotel room. Then I thought, “Oh, maybe that’s where we discuss price.” I slid my keycard and we entered Room 822. I offered to take his workout bag and I placed it next to the TV on the credenza. I walked up to him, grabbed his shirt by the collar area, and I pinned him against the wall while we began a torrid make-out session. He was an incredible kisser. “I hope you don’t mind being up against the wall,” I said to him. “No way, I like it a little rough,” he replied as we went right back to making out. While we were kissing, I was thinking about all the men throughout the night who had touched him or kissed him or sucked him. I wanted any evidence washed away before we got too comfortable. I suddenly pulled away. “Where are my manners? You just got out of work, and I bet you would like a hot shower.” “Oh yeah, sure. That would be great!” He followed me into the bathroom and I ran the shower until the temperature was just right. There was a little cloth bath mat hanging on the tub surround, so I placed that on the bathroom floor next to the tub. “Here you go…there’s body wash, shampoo, and conditioner in those bottles and here’s a fresh towel,” I said showing him where everything was. “So I’ll let you get to it,” I added as I stepped toward the door. My forward motion was quickly stopped when Shawn grabbed the back of my belt. I looked back at him. “Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked quite innocently. “Oh right. What was I thinking? Of course I am.” We both started undressing. The vision of his naked body had become familiar to me, so there were no surprises as we stepped into the tub. However, I was a bit on edge as this was the first time Shawn was seeing all of me. He quickly looked me up and down with a smile on his face. He reached down and grabbed my cock. “Mmm, nice! It’s big,” he commented. “So you like it rough…but do you like it big?” I questioned him. “I love it big!” he proclaimed as he shook my growing phallus from its base. I reached over to take a wash cloth from the rack next to the tub. I wet it, soaped it up, and began washing his back. As I slid down to his buttocks, I washed with one hand and groped with the other. His bum was so compact, round, firm and slick, it was nearly impossible to resist squeezing. Shawn didn’t seem to mind because he was fully occupied fondling my meatpole. I took hold of his shoulders and turned him around, so I could wash the rest of him. Because I had seen him dance so often, the body before me looked familiar in its beauty. The only difference was that, glancing downward, he was now hard like me. I gently washed his face, his arms, and hairless chest. I could have spent all night running my soapy hands all over that smooth chest. I eventually decided to move on and dropped to a squatting position to wash his well-formed legs. As I ran the washcloth over them, I recalled seeing them dancing on stage at the club. I finished up washing the sore feet that I was rubbing just a few hours ago. Oh, right, I wasn’t quite finished yet. The pièce de résistance stood large and hard a mere 18 inches from my face as I crouched. It was a beautiful piece that I could stare at and admire for a lifetime and never tire. And the fact that it was a little too big for the frame it was attached to made it all that more alluring. I soaped up my palms and went to…uh… clean his privates. Once I could see that all parts were unequivocally clean, I removed my hands from his equipment because we still had a long way to go. The night was young. He offered to wash me and I asked if he could do my back. He ran a hot, soapy wash cloth up and down my back and then slid down to cleanse my ass crack. When he was done, I spun around to face him. “Don’t you want me to finish washing you?” he queried. “Well, this is actually my third shower today,” I informed him. “Oh, look at you being so clean,” he commended my attention to hygiene. “Don’t worry, I don’t take three showers every day. It was just the way things worked out today,” I explained. “That’s OK. I like my guys to smell fresh,” he declared. “So…do I get to be one of your guys, then?” I asked. “Hmm, we’ll see,” he said with a giggle. “You’ll have to earn it.” We stepped out of the shower and began drying ourselves. There was no hiding the fact that we were both visibly aroused. I reached out and pulled him into me, and I hugged him nude body to nude body. I felt our warm cocks press against one another, which sent a bolt of electricity up my spine. As we embraced he softly said, “You know, I was only kidding about having lots of guys.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied because it seemed appropriate. “But you’ll still have to earn it,” he whispered in my ear. “I always earn my keep,” I whispered back. I locked my mouth on his and we kissed deeply as only two boys in heat could. xx xx
  9. Rip Skor

    The Best Laid Plans...

    OK, so you all know where this is going.
  10. The Best Laid Plans… What made the Shawn situation so mindboggling was that it was so improbable. I’m not always up for sucking cock and I’m rarely into eating ass, so when I'm completely into it, it’s a special circumstance. Plus, overall, I’m kind of picky about who I have sex with. Some gay guys I know will suck any cock that’s offered to them. It doesn’t always matter whose cock it is, like the good old anonymous men’s room sex made popular by George Michael. They end up sucking and/or getting sucked anonymously and then go on their merry ways. Not really what I’m into. I’m not saying all gay guys are into that scene, but I know that everyone else in my Montreal group had at least a handful of quick hook ups. It doesn’t have to be in a restroom. It could be in the woods, in a car, behind a building, in an apartment, wherever. I’m just using the commonality of restrooms as an example. I’ve heard, “He wasn’t attractive, but he had a nice cock, so I sucked him off” enough times. I would be thinking “Eeew.” I need to be really, really attracted to a dude to consider sucking his cock. For instance, I worked with this guy Jon for 5 years who I thought was incredibly hot. Trust me, he was. We became good friends because we often worked together on projects…and I would be fascinated with anything he had to say…and constantly searching for bulges appearing from within his clothing. If he ever suddenly said, “Man, I could really use a blow job right now,” I would have dropped to my knees and opened my mouth. But alas, Jon was hopelessly straight… hopeless for me anyway. I was destined to admire him from afar. He had no idea that I would have done anything he wanted. The constant problem for many of us—gay or straight—is that the people we are most attracted to are often not similarly attracted. When it does come out in our favor, we feel incredibly lucky, so we take a leap of faith…and it often culminates in a divorce years later. But I digress. For me, little crushes are not uncommon…it’s a short-lived little fantasy. To think that it could result in something is implausible. However, when you have a fantasy that becomes a reality, anything can happen. I ran the scenario through my head over and over. The Evidence: I know Shawn performed 22 dances (according to him) for the guy before me in the far left corner of the back room because that’s where Shawn had left his red hoodie. Before he began my dance, he wanted to move to the near left corner, which had a little more privacy. · Why did he want more privacy? Because he anticipated doing things with me that he didn’t want to get caught doing. It was premeditated. · He was looking over his shoulder at the bouncer which proves that he was knowingly flaunting the rules. · When his cock touched my lips, that was all him. I hadn’t moved. · Then he let me suck him and he did a double take once he saw how big and hard I had unexpectedly made him. He was surprised at the result. · He kissed me on the lips twice, the last time with tongue. · Speaking of my tongue, he allowed me to eat and tongue his asshole with wild abandon during both private dances. · He chose me over everyone else at the club as the recipient of his public appreciation dance on the last night. · When he first saw me, he moved from talking across the table to coming over to my side and squatting down next to me. · He remembered my name when I returned. When you see it bulleted out, it’s quite a compelling list. There may be more that I haven’t even thought of. What was my take on this? The incredibly beautiful Shawn, the male nude dancer, liked me more than a little bit. There was no way to deny that I was smitten. I wanted him, but how could I push it to the next level? What was the next level? The impediment to going further had become the very reason I had first seen him—the club. We could only go so far in Club David. If we were going to do more, we had to take it out of the club. Therefore, I needed a plan. But how could I be sure Shawn wanted to do more? There was no way to know without taking a leap of faith. That leap could only come in the form of a return trip. Looking back on it now, it would be much easier today. We would simply exchange email addresses and things would progress from there. Back then, I gave Shawn my phone number but I didn’t have his, making any planning tenuous at best. But again, there was only one way I knew of to push whatever it was between us forward…or to find out there was no forward. I requested and was approved for a week vacation from work in late June. I planned to drive to Montreal alone and reserve a room in a high-rise hotel within walking distance to Club David. Sometimes the B&Bs are a bit restrictive about bringing in guests. The big hotels are impersonal enough to give you the freedom to come and go as you please…and with whom you please. Perfect, if my plan was to succeed. I made the drive straight through in four and a half hours. I planned to be in Montreal for three days minimum or five days maximum. I arrived at around dinnertime and decided to order room service because, after all, I was on vacation and I was going to treat myself. It was time to live it up a little. After dinner, I took a long walk around the city to work off some of those calories, plus it was still light out. I made it to Club David at around 11:30 that night. I spotted Shawn across the room with his back to me talking to one of the other dancers. I had no trouble recognizing him from behind or from the front or from the side. I stealthily moved over closer to my target. I stood behind him and a little to the side. He had stopped his conversation and turned a bit to face the stage. I leaned in closer to his ear and said referring to the dancer on stage, “That’s not what I would call dancing.” He casually looked over at me and it took a second to register. I suddenly found myself in a bear hug or as close to a bear hug as his skinny body could muster. “Glenn! Oh my God! Oh my God!” And he kind of bounced up and down while he hugged me. I thought, “I think I’ve caused him to jump for joy. This is a good sign.” Then he kissed me full on the lips, another good sign. “Can I buy a dance from you, and we can talk in the back room?” I asked. “You don’t have to pay me just to talk,” he replied. “I want to pay you, so we can talk in private,” I ventured. “Well, OK, it’s your money.” I followed him to our usual corner in the back room and I sat down. “Do you want me to take my clothes off while we talk?” he questioned. “Oh—well, I guess that would be OK,” I justified. He began removing his clothes, so I began talking. “Shawn, I am in town for four or five days by myself and I have a room at Hotel Des Gouverneurs right down the street.” I stopped to admire his cock and balls which were hanging in mid-air as he removed the red singlet he was wearing. I temporarily lost my train of thought. “Um, hmm. Would you be interested…” His cock touched my lips and I began sucking him again. Goddam, he had a beautiful penis. After half a minute or so, he withdrew. “Shawn, how can I talk to you with my mouth full?” I chided him. “And whose fault is that?” he asked back. “At this point, I don’t know,” I replied totally flustered. “OK, OK, now we’ll talk,” he conceded. “Like I said, I’m in town for like five days, I’m by myself, and I’m staying at Hotel Des Gouverneurs down the street. Do you want to go home with me tonight?” I could have beat around the bush, but I didn’t have the energy. “Go home with you? Oh. I can’t. I mean, the club prohibits dancers from going home with customers. Since the club has no control of any deal that may be struck between dancer and customer, it is not allowed. Like if there was an agreement of money to be exchanged, the club could be held responsible for promoting prostitution because the meeting happened in the club.” I felt my heart sink and the air rush out of my lungs as my plan went down in flames.
  11. Rip Skor

    Gotta Love Popcorn

    One advantage of writing in the world of nonfiction is the depth of real emotion that can be transmitted in the text.
  12. Rip Skor

    Sunday, Sunday

    It really is awful when geography comes between two people who seem to have the hots for one another and not the proximity to let it play out.
  13. Rip Skor

    Sunday, Sunday

    Sunday, Sunday The next day was Sunday and would be our last full day and night in Montreal as we planned to head home Monday after hotel checkout. One of the things that most of our group liked to do when in Montreal was to see some local music at one of the live music venues around the city. One of our favorites was called Les Foufounes Électriques (which loosely translates to Electric Buttocks) or just Électriques for short. From the outside the club looks a little like a fun house from an amusement park…although in need of some refurbishment. On Sunday night, a Montreal band that we had seen before and really liked was playing at Électriques, so that was on the agenda. I was hoping we would have some time to return to Club David after seeing the band. Shawn was now constantly on my mind because we kind of had sex the night before, didn’t we? I couldn’t imagine he gave all his customers the same attention. But he was a stripper, so are the rules different? I was still trying to process the goings on of the previous night, but I decided to just live in the moment and worry about processing it later. There were four people from our group who went to Électriques that night. After the music venue, we took the subway a few stops and ended up entering Club David at around 12:40 am. We found a table for four straight back from center stage against the back wall. We sat down and were immediately descended upon by a waiter eager to take our drink order. Once we ordered up a round of beers, Bob joked to me, “Hey, there’s your boyfriend.” I turned to look and Shawn was standing back near the bar eating a bag of potato chips. I laughed to myself at the sight. Here was this innocent-looking blond boy without a care in the world eating a snack surrounded by a roomful of guys with a single desire…and Shawn was the guest of honor. I said to my friends, “I’ll be right back.” As I approached Shawn, his face lit up. He looked at his hands all covered with oil from the chips and nervously said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back!” He disappeared out back to wash his hands. He reappeared a minute later wiping his hands with a paper towel. He threw the towel in a nearby trash barrel and jogged up to me and gave me a big hug. I hugged him back of course. “I didn’t want to get you all greasy,” he said explaining his quick exit. “I know, thank you,” I replied. It was difficult to hold a conversation with the music blasting for the current dancer. I did manage to get through that this was my last night in Montreal and I wanted to buy a dance. “Sure, but I have to do something first,” he informed me. I shook my head in the affirmative to indicate I understood. I pointed to where I was sitting and returned to my seat. “What? Are you not getting a dance?” Bob asked. “Yeah, but I think he might be going on stage soon,” I guessed. “Aren’t you going to buy a dance?” “Maybe.” “Don’t you think he’s cute?” I asked. “Oh, sure. But he looks too young and cream cheese for me. I’m old enough to be his father. It wouldn’t feel right. Plus, I’m more into ethnic types, like that Asian guy over there. I might hit him up.” The dancer on stage finished his dance and we all clapped. Then came a barrage of French words. He was explaining something and all the dancers got on stage and lined up. Then some more dialogue in French and a song came over the sound system. The dancers left the stage and went into the back room. Then they all came out carrying dance pedestals. Shawn parked his pedestal in front of me. He saw I was confused and leaned over to say, “Don’t worry, this isn’t your dance. It’s just something new we do at 1:00.” Apparently, each dancer picks a member of the audience and does a free dance in front of that person while all the rest of the audience looks on. The dance I received was hot and Shawn got completely nude, but it was totally above board. I don’t know, but I got a sudden urge to cover him up and whisk him away to safety. Of course, I didn’t want to be expelled forever and have Shawn think I was some kind of psycho, so I just sat in my seat admiring Shawn and looked around at everyone else admiring Shawn. I noticed my whole table with their eyes glued to Shawn’s cock and balls. It would seem to me that, universally, Shawn had the most sets of eyes on him, so if there was a point to this exercise, Shawn won. The dance ended, the emcee started speaking in French, and everyone clapped. The dancers were introduced individually and each one took a bow in appreciation. Shawn received the loudest ovation. I was pleased to know that I had him next. He put his clothes back on: sweat pants with snaps down the side, a solid blue tank top, and spandex briefs with an interesting pattern and interesting bulges from within. “Ready?” he asked looking at me. “For you…I’m always ready,” I announced. He was now holding the dance pedestal from the public dance he just performed. We passed by the same guy in the doorway and went to our usual corner. I had decided earlier that I would ask for two dances up front and permission to blow him. However, I thought better of it. If he lost his job because I pressured him for a bj at work, I would feel horrible. The good thing is that this time I knew the score going into it. Shawn positioned the pedestal in front of me and stepped up on it. He began dancing and periodically removing clothing. Eventually, he brought his flaccid boy bit and touched it to my lips. I knew my cue and immediately took it in and began working on it. Again, I felt it growing in my mouth. The more he grew, the more I had to work with. This time I dared to use my hand as well. Shawn pushed it away saying, “No, you’ll get me off. It will make a mess.” “Oh, right,” I thought. “It will be impossible to be inconspicuous if we are doing things and it gets messy.” I slid my mouth down to his scrotum and began working over his large grape-sized ovals. I caught Shawn moaning a couple of times. I moved my mouth back onto the shaft. He withdrew almost immediately. He had a look on his face like he was about to let go. I pulled back to get a good look at his stiff cut cock again as it stood at full attention before me. What a perfect specimen! He spun around once again offering up his small, round, luscious ass. I ran my hands over his smooth mounds and spread his checks to get a look at his little pink pucker. There it was all closed for business, but I planned to change that. I teased the rim of his hole with my tongue, which tickled him at first as he wriggled. I applied more pressure and spit all over the outside which allowed me to slide my tongue inside. I started to work my tongue in and out of that little hole. Of course, a dancer bent over with a client’s face buried in his ass was an obvious indicator of illicit behavior, so we couldn’t stay that way for long. Then the song ended and so did my dance. At this point, I couldn’t buy another dance. I had one free one that was fully legal and a second one that sent shivers up my spine. The dances were a nice introduction, but now indoctrinated, I needed to go to the next level. But is there one? I handed him a $10 bill and told him to keep the change. “Shawn, I want to give you this,” I handed him a folded piece of paper. “This is my name and phone number in case you want to come to Boston and go to the beaches. I even know where there is a nude beach.” He took the piece of paper and slid it in his pocket. “Oh thanks. I might want to do that this summer,” he enthused. “Anytime, my friend,” I replied. “Except winter, right?” “Yeah, I don’t think you’d be happy going to the beach in the winter,” I informed him. We left the back room and returned to the main area. My friends noticed my return and started to get ready to leave. “I guess we’re leaving. I hope to see you again sometime soon, Shawn,” I stated turning toward him. He gave me a hug and stood on his tip-toes to kiss me full on the mouth. He didn’t seem to mind that I slipped him the tongue as he pressed his against mine. Our lips parted, I gave him another hug and then strode off to catch up to my group. As we walked back to the B&B, I savored that kiss by repeatedly licking my lips. He was simply the cutest boy I’d ever messed around with. This left me wanting more…but as the Rolling Stones sing, You Can’t Always Get What You Want. We left for home the next day at around 11:00 after breakfast. Since I wasn’t driving, I had a few hours to finally process the events of the weekend…well, the events specific to Shawn.
  14. Secrets of The Back Room Noticing my nervousness, Shawn led me by the hand to the “back room,” which is only meant for customers receiving private dances. His hand was smooth and warm and he had a firm grip on mine. The entrance to the back was a double-sized doorway with no doors or curtains, just an opening to a fairly good-sized rectangular room. There was a staff member standing in the doorway who allowed us to pass. The four corners of the back room were set up for dance presentations. Each area was exactly the same with a rounded crushed-velvet sofa on which you could probably squeeze three adults. There were other chairs placed here and there, for what…I don’t know. Maybe they had functions back there like bachelor parties for gay men at various times. Shawn directed me to the far left corner and motioned for me to sit on the sofa. As he dragged a dance pedestal over and positioned it in front of me, I looked around and saw a handful of laminated signs affixed to the walls. The signs read: “Touching of dancers is prohibited. Violators will be immediately ejected and banned from club.” Yes, I had bought a dance once before, but I didn’t even consider touching the dancer. Sure, I wanted to, but it would have been very impolite. I figured that was common sense, so when I saw all the signs, it was curious. What was even more curious was that all of the warning signs were in English, when everything else was in French. Did English-speaking customers not know any better? That could be very true based on some of the guys I encountered in my college years. It was baffling how many guys in college had no common sense. Maybe that’s not so in Canada. Still, as I said, very curious. That’s when Shawn said, “Oh, that’s where my sweatshirt went.” He picked up a red hoodie that was hanging over the brass bar next to him. Shawn was wearing a gray singlet, which is the one-piece spandex outfit that is usually associated with wrestlers. I guess that could now be expanded to wrestlers and male strippers…or as they prefer to be called, male nude dancers. He put the hoodie on over the singlet and mounted the dance pedestal. He looked over his left shoulder toward the doorway, and then said, “You know what? I think over there is better,” as he pointed to the near left corner just to my right. “Let’s move over there,” he suggested. That’s when I thought, “That’s odd. He dances back here all the time. Shouldn’t he know which corner is best by now?” And if his hoodie was here, why was this corner fine when he was dancing for the client before me? Whatever…we moved to the near corner which was set up exactly like the area in which I had been sitting. He mounted the pedestal but then said, “I don’t like this song for dancing. Let’s wait for the next one.” He dismounted the pedestal, sat in the chair next to the sofa, and started to make small talk. As we conversed, it occurred to me that Shawn was fully bilingual. He could speak French or English interchangeably with no tip off that he was more comfortable with one or the other. “So what’s your name?” he asked. I can’t believe we got that far without such a formality. “Oh yeah, my name is Glenn. And I know you’re Shawn.” That was an understatement. The name Shawn was now seared into my brain for all eternity. “So, Glenn, where are you from?” “In the U.S. just outside of Boston,” I replied. “Boston? Is that near Cape Cod?” he asked. “Oh, you’re into the beaches?” “Yes.” “Well, Boston is maybe an hour and a half away by car. The Cape gets a little crowded in the summer, though.” “Isn’t that when everyone goes there?” he queried. “Yeah, that’s the problem. But sure, the beaches are quite nice,” I assured him. “So are you originally from Montreal?” “No, I’m from Ottawa. Do you know, Ottawa?” he asked “No, can’t say I’ve ever been there,” I confessed. “Ottawa is the capitol of Canada…you know, like you have Washington, D.C. in the U.S.?” “Oh, that’s right,” I remembered. “I’m in Montreal for college…well, eventually,” he added. “I noticed you speak both French and English. That’s so cool. I wish I knew two languages,” I admitted. “My father is originally from Ontario and my mother is from Quebec, that’s how I learned to speak both. I didn’t have to do anything special except grow up around it,” he replied. “Oh, I see. If you don’t mind me asking, Shawn, how old are you? I mean, you look young…not that it’s a bad thing,” I ventured. “I’m 18. How old are you?” he asked. “I’m 27,” I replied shaving off a year. Being only nine years older seemed a lot better than ten years older. It’s the whole “decade” thing. Sometimes people make small talk just to fill up empty space, and it really doesn’t matter what you say because the other person isn’t really paying attention. Even though it was small talk, Shawn seemed engaged. He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, and his mannerisms were really endearing…surprise, this boy stripper actually had a warmhearted personality! I was always on guard that he might simply be skilled at getting me to open my wallet, but he seemed truly sweet and never brought up the topic of money. Shawn turned his head away for a moment, “OK, I like this song. It’s much better for dancing.” He stood up, walked to the dance pedestal, and stepped up on it. He kicked off the style of slippers that all the dancers seemed to be wearing, and then began undulating that hot, skinny body encased within the gray singlet. My eyes were glued to his landscape as he removed his red hoodie. Within perhaps 10 seconds, he pulled down the shoulder straps of the singlet so they were hanging from his waist. It wasn’t long before his hands slid down over his hips shedding the bottom half of the singlet. He slipped it over his feet and he was standing in front of me dancing completely nude. Every inch of him was visible and breathtaking. I jammed my hands under my thighs, so I wouldn’t be tempted to do anything that would get me in trouble. After a few beers, who knows what might seem like a good idea to me? I sat on the red crushed velvet admiring all of him: the face, the chest, the stomach, the thighs, his feet, and his flaccid cock and balls. Interestingly enough, I did not detect a single blemish over his entire landscape. He had perfect skin in one solid skin tone, which is improbable without some time spent in a tanning booth…or a nude beach. He reached down and grabbed his cock with his right hand and began waving it in front of my face. I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds because he had it especially close to my face, and I didn’t want to accidentally come in contact with him and get thrown out. But my eyes didn’t stay closed for long because I couldn’t imagine that the privates of a perfect 10 would ever be this close to my face again. I was getting a super close-up that few patrons ever experience. He was so close I could feel a wave of heat from his body against my face. That’s when it happened. His dick touched my lips. I froze. It was his fault! I haven’t moved an inch. He then proceeded to push it against my lips. But no alarms went off. Shawn didn’t seem disturbed by this contact…wait…he initiated it! It was him, and it was on purpose! He waved his weenie around some more, and then came in again. This time I parted my lips and he slid it in my mouth. HE slid it in! Well, this was an interesting turn of events! I’ve never been a big fan of giving head, but this was like the Superbowl of oral sex. Sucking the pleasure pole of the cutest boy in the world is an offer that doesn’t come up every day, if ever. Therefore, I was “all in” on this opportunity. He was still mostly flaccid, so I was able to take his entire member in my mouth. I worked him with my tongue, lips, and mouth with varying amounts of suction. I could feel him growing in my mouth. I was getting more and more turned on as he was getting bigger and harder. I wanted to get him off. He suddenly withdrew from my mouth, and I was snapped back to reality. Oh yeah, we’re in a strip club. I can’t get him off here…well, I could but…that’s why he withdrew. I looked at his cock still glistening with my saliva. Wow! His phallus was fully erect, standing straight up, and pointing at the ceiling. It was bigger than I expected. Not the biggest cock I’ve ever seen, but when attached to his petite frame, it was impressive. This was a big cock on a skinny boy. He was certainly a grower. This was an unexpected bonus. Then came the most interesting moment of the evening. He casually looked down at his state of affairs and executed a double take, as if to indicate that this was the biggest he’d ever seen his Johnson. He was as surprised as I was! He looked over his shoulder again. I suddenly understood it. Shawn was checking to make sure that the staff member standing in the doorway was not taking notice. The guy in the doorway was in my field of view the entire time, and he had not turned around a single time to look into the back room—not once. I suppose if he did, he might be misconstrued as being a creepy voyeur, not a good idea if you have dancers back there trying to earn a living. Then I wondered if the laminated signs were posted to absolve the club from any responsibility of “stuff” that may or may not happen back there…things that might be against club policy and city ordinances. Then the club can just say, “Hey, we clearly state that any hanky-panky in the back room is prohibited.” But in practice maybe anything that goes on in the back is up to the dancer’s discretion. Maybe the guy in the doorway isn’t there to police what goes in the back room. But if it is a case of “out of sight out of mind,” why did Shawn keep looking over his shoulder? Maybe they are told by management not to mess about in the back room—again to cover themselves. It seems like the dancers are walking a bit of a thin line between what is “not allowed” and what they can get away with. I had been sucking Shawn’s hard cock. That most certainly wasn’t allowed, but it also can’t be something that Shawn does with every client either. Hmm, am I somehow special or is this a clever ploy to extract more money? Shawn then turned around and bent over sticking his cute little butt out at me. His amazing posterior was rising and falling to the music in front of my face. I reached forward and caressed his smooth bum. Oh, so nice, so smooth, so firm. Then I went for it. I leaned forward and ate his ass. Now ass eating was not something I was into at all. But this ass was different. It was so perfect and beautiful. I wanted to commune with that beauty. As I ate his hole, he hardly moved, except a slow back and forth pelvic thrust. He was allowing me access. And thank goodness he was incredibly clean back there. Although I suppose when you are a nude dancer, it comes with the territory. He was cute, he was hard, and he was clean. I was perfectly happy to please his port hole with my tongue. He pulled his butt forward again until my tongue came out. The song ended and he hopped down from the pedestal. “Do you want another dance?” he asked. “Do I, yes! But I’d better not,” I admitted. “OK, no problem. Did you enjoy it?” “Shawn, that was the greatest dance ever!” I exclaimed handing him a $10 bill. “Keep the change.” “Oh, thanks!” He smiled and began getting back into his singlet. Did what just happened between us really happen? It was probably the best sex of my life without reaching orgasm. The reason I stopped him is because I could feel pre-cum dripping into my underwear. I certainly didn’t want to unload in my pants. Having never been in this situation before, it was difficult to read. Did our encounter make an impression on him or was this business as usual with Shawn? As for me, I would remember this for the rest of my life. We walked out to the main room and stood toward the back watching the current nude dancer. Then Shawn tapped my shoulder and said, “Watch this.” The guy on stage moved to the pole and he flipped over and held himself upside down while doing almost a full split in the air. Everyone in the audience clapped. Shawn and I were standing side by side, so I casually slipped my right arm behind him across his back. He responded by moving closer so he was right up against me. My heart was beating out of my chest. “So this is what it’s like being with the cutest boy in the world,” I thought. This feeling was something I never wanted to end. Shawn had no customers waiting for a dance at that time, so he was perfectly happy sort of cuddling with me for these few minutes. When the dancer on the stage finished his set, I leaned down and gently said near his ear, “Shawn, I’ve gotta get going to meet my friends.” “Ah, the story of my life,” he lamented jokingly. “Are you working tomorrow night?” I asked. “Until 1:30.” “OK, I’ll come visit you tomorrow night then.” “Promise?” “Yes, of course,” I replied. He spun around and hugged me goodbye. I hugged him back. “Have a good rest of the night,” I said to him. “You too,” he replied and he pulled me down by the lapel and kissed me on the lips. We parted our bodies and I walked out. I decided not to make it any harder by looking back at him or I might never leave. As I walked over to KOX in a haze, I kept thinking, “He kissed me! I can’t believe he kissed me!” By the time I got to KOX, I remembered that this is French Canada and French guys often kiss other French guys, right? That’s kinda normal if you’re French and with friends, right? When I met up with my crew, I resisted telling them the full details of the private dance I received. If they knew I got to suck Shawn’s naughty bits, they would have lined up behind me. No, this dirty little secret was for me alone. It wasn’t until the next day that I figured out the role of the man in the doorway to the back room. He was basically a bouncer who was wearing a black STAFF T-shirt, again I found it odd that the word was in English. Maybe the word STAFF is more universally recognized. I deduced that his duties were as follows: Ensuring that any customers entering the back room are accompanied by a dancer Watching the main room for signs of trouble and intervening if necessary Protecting the dancers in the back room if pounced upon by overzealous customers (if alerted by a dancer) Observing who walks in the front door to be sure they look like customers (And this one I’m not 100% sure about) Ensuring that there’s nothing against the rules going on in the back room Since the first three points are self-explanatory, I’m going to elaborate on the last two. I once witnessed a young heterosexual couple walk in to Club David one night. The bouncer walked up to them and they had a short discussion. The bouncer escorted the couple to a specific table away from the stage. I don’t think I ever saw a woman in the club before. One or two of the other male stripper clubs have signs on the door stating: “Women Invited.” Club David was not one of those clubs, but they also didn’t want to turn away potential customers. Apparently, this circumstance is handled by inviting the couple to stay so long as they stay inconspicuous at one of the less visible tables. I don’t know if it was relevant, but from his vantage point, the bouncer would also be the first to detect if a police raid was under way. Based on what happened in the courts the last time the police raided bars, this was unlikely to recur. But never say never. And the last point. Aside from the signs hanging all over, I don’t know if activity in the back room is truly policed. I could see the bouncer in my field of view while Shawn was dancing for me. Not once did the bouncer turn to peer back into the room, yet Shawn did look over his shoulder a few times to gauge the bouncer’s level of attention…or in this case, inattention. I’m guessing if the bouncer managed to see anything untoward going on in the back room, he would probably be obligated to stop it. But if he doesn’t see it, he’s not obligated. Perhaps simply having him there was used as more of a deterrent than anything.
  15. Rip Skor

    Saturday Night!

    What does go on in those private dance rooms at every stripper bar? Does it vary by club? Does it vary by country? Does it vary by dancer? Does it vary by client?
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