Punished at the Strip Club

Finally making my way to the front of the strip club, I was having trouble catching my breath as I breathed in the sight of the muscle god in front of me. This was my first time in a strip club, and I was already in love.

Holding out my stack of bills, the stripper just shook his head and gestured down to his crotch... he wanted me to place them in his jockstrap with the rest of his tips. My heart was practically thumping out of my chest now, but I knew that I couldn't pass up this opportunity. Usually a shy, reserved guy who kept his head down at work most days, I wanted to prove that I could be fun tonight.

One by one, I began slipping the bills behind the minimal amount of fabric covering the last bit of real estate that this man hadn't shown off. Minutes earlier, he'd leaned over and grabbed his ankles as he practically instructed us to stare at his pink, puckered asshole. I could smell the musk oozing off of his body, and those pheromones drew me closer and closer.

For my last bill, I knew that I had to make it count so I slipped my digits a little bit further this time. Pushing the bill inside the basket of his jockstrap, my fingertips made contact with his thick, sweaty shaft. Before I could even pull my hand away, he'd grabbed onto my wrist, and I knew that I'd fucked up. I thought that I was about to be thrown out for indecent activities, and all of the worst scenarios began flashing through my mind, but I wasn't being led out. Instead, I was being led up.

As if I weighed nothing at all, he lifted me up on stage, and I stood there with uneasy footing as the bright lights shone down on me. The DJ paused the music, and I heard the MC speak out from backstage.

Well well well, looks like someone couldn't resist getting a little handsy. You know what that means, don't you?

Everyone but me apparently knew what that meant, and the crowd cheered and yelled catcalls my way. Turning to the man behind me, I tried to ask what was going on, but he just gestured to a sign at the side of the stage. Before I could squint and read it, the MC answered my question for me.

You know the rules- if you get a little too close, then you lose the clothes. C'mon man, let's see what you've got!

Oh fuck- oh no. Written in bold font, right at the bottom of the sign was the statement:

All patrons who cop a feel must get up on stage and find out what it's like to get naked for strangers

I was about to become the encore performance. Turning around for any guidance, I saw that I was alone now on stage, and some of the guys in front of me were starting to get a little rowdy.

Let's go man!

Lose the shirt!

I definitely didn't want to give in to them, but I also had no idea what would happen if I didn't. The only thing worse would be having that MC come and take my clothes off of me because I knew that he wouldn't be able to do it without ripping something.

So, against every bit of judgment and logical thinking that I possessed, I began lifting my shirt. As my torso revealed itself, I took a small reprieve from the stares as the red fabric covered my face for just a second. Fully lifting the shirt and dropping it to the stage below me, I realized that my face was probably just as red as it had been.

There was no point in trying to dance or ham it up, so I just began unbuttoning my jeans and revealing whatever underwear I'd put on this morning. As the cheers got louder than they had since I'd been pulled on stage, I realized in horror that I actually hadn't put on underwear before I came here...

With my jeans around my thighs, I couldn't even look down at my cock since I knew that I would start to get hard if I even let my brain realize how insane this was. Turning around for a bit of a break from the spotlight, I finished taking off my jeans as the front row rushed forward to get their hands on me. Grabbing my ass and sliding their fingers across my quivering rosebud, I could barely stay standing as pleasure sent my nerves into overdrive.

What the fuck, guys? I thought you couldn't manhandle the performers.

Ignoring me, the MC, who had snuck up behind me, pushed me down onto my knees at the edge of the stage.

Sorry man, but you're not one of the performers. You're dessert...

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It may just be one photo, but head over to the server to see the photo that inspired me to write this in one sitting.