WHEN WE WERE YOUNG
I met an old friend of mine at a party recently, and having drunk far too much, as usual, we started telling old stories about the time we worked as strippers in the 1970's. We were still students then, and earning extra money performing in a striptease show for an exclusive private Gentlemen's Dining Club. We lied about being over 21, not that they cared, and they gave us a 12 month contract. The choreographer nicknamed me "Skinny Joe", and although I was indeed very skinny, it was actually a reference to my foreskin, not my physique, which amused everyone but me. There were two other guys in the act as well, but we never became very friendly with them. They were quite a bit older than us, with a lot of experience of the business, and we should have taken far more notice of their advice. They deliberately kept themselves to themselves, did the shows and went home. They always complained that we fooled around too much and didn't treat the job seriously enough, but we never thought that taking our clothes off and waving our dicks around needed to be treated very seriously. We were always late for Saturday morning rehearsals too, which always made them, and the choreographer, furious. We always gave 100% onstage though, and the punters loved us, and the management loved us too because we filled the place every week.
The show's MC was a big, larger than life Jamaican drag queen, known as Sassy Sal, and he would invite us along to the gay sex parties he hosted, the first white guys to have been invited too. We had been advised to stay well away from them, but we just couldn't resist such an exciting experience, plus he made us delicious Pepperpot soup with Jamaican patties, and we'd do anything for free food! There would usually be around six other guys there, all much bigger than us and quite intimidating, and all wanting to spit roast the two "white bitches". We'd had no experience of group sex, so it could be a struggle to control some of their demands at times, but you didn't care when you had a hot cock down your throat, another one up your ass, and someone jerking you off, because it was totally awesome. Sassy was always the great entertainer and organiser too, and would bark out instructions like a camp sergeant major, and make sure nobody overstepped the mark. He was so hilarious that people would come along just to watch, so it became very crowded, very loud, and very hot. Reefers, rum, and covered in cum, is how I remember those fantastic nights, and we just couldn't get enough of it. We'd eventually stagger home around dawn, still high, still drunk, smelling like a couple of cum sluts, and totally exhausted. We'd arrive back at our horrible apartment, fall into bed, sleep late, share a quick bath, fight like cats over the last pair of clean underpants, and get back to the club just in time for the show, avoiding the manager, and the knowing looks from our colleagues. We knew it was all very immature and foolish, but we never cared, because we were just having a great time.
My friend worked in the act for another year, but as I'd always been pretty useless at it I decided to take a job in a bar where I didn't have to take my clothes off anymore, although several nice gentlemen asked me to. Sassy had become very ill with lung cancer by then. He still arranged the parties, but they were never the same, and it always felt a bit scary when he wasn't really able to control things anymore. On our last time there he hadn't managed to show up at all, so one of the guys announced they would now have a "Golden Showers" party, which they knew he would never have allowed, and was just the excuse they needed to piss all over us, which was horrible. He died very soon after that too, and the world was a much poorer place without him.
Our apartment had now started to smell so bad that we actually talked about opening a window, but never got round to it. I'd call it a cave, but it would be insulting to caves. We'd given up all hope of finding clean underpants by then, and just went "commando". Sadly, we'd also given up having sex together, and decided that perhaps we weren't really in love after all, and went our separate ways, but have always remained the best of friends ever since.
The stories seemed to entertain the other party guests anyway, so I thought I'd share some of them on here, although my friend tells them much better than I do!
The show's MC was a big, larger than life Jamaican drag queen, known as Sassy Sal, and he would invite us along to the gay sex parties he hosted, the first white guys to have been invited too. We had been advised to stay well away from them, but we just couldn't resist such an exciting experience, plus he made us delicious Pepperpot soup with Jamaican patties, and we'd do anything for free food! There would usually be around six other guys there, all much bigger than us and quite intimidating, and all wanting to spit roast the two "white bitches". We'd had no experience of group sex, so it could be a struggle to control some of their demands at times, but you didn't care when you had a hot cock down your throat, another one up your ass, and someone jerking you off, because it was totally awesome. Sassy was always the great entertainer and organiser too, and would bark out instructions like a camp sergeant major, and make sure nobody overstepped the mark. He was so hilarious that people would come along just to watch, so it became very crowded, very loud, and very hot. Reefers, rum, and covered in cum, is how I remember those fantastic nights, and we just couldn't get enough of it. We'd eventually stagger home around dawn, still high, still drunk, smelling like a couple of cum sluts, and totally exhausted. We'd arrive back at our horrible apartment, fall into bed, sleep late, share a quick bath, fight like cats over the last pair of clean underpants, and get back to the club just in time for the show, avoiding the manager, and the knowing looks from our colleagues. We knew it was all very immature and foolish, but we never cared, because we were just having a great time.
My friend worked in the act for another year, but as I'd always been pretty useless at it I decided to take a job in a bar where I didn't have to take my clothes off anymore, although several nice gentlemen asked me to. Sassy had become very ill with lung cancer by then. He still arranged the parties, but they were never the same, and it always felt a bit scary when he wasn't really able to control things anymore. On our last time there he hadn't managed to show up at all, so one of the guys announced they would now have a "Golden Showers" party, which they knew he would never have allowed, and was just the excuse they needed to piss all over us, which was horrible. He died very soon after that too, and the world was a much poorer place without him.
Our apartment had now started to smell so bad that we actually talked about opening a window, but never got round to it. I'd call it a cave, but it would be insulting to caves. We'd given up all hope of finding clean underpants by then, and just went "commando". Sadly, we'd also given up having sex together, and decided that perhaps we weren't really in love after all, and went our separate ways, but have always remained the best of friends ever since.
The stories seemed to entertain the other party guests anyway, so I thought I'd share some of them on here, although my friend tells them much better than I do!
6ヶ月前
