Best Friends At The Strip Club

This story uses some artistic license, although based closely on a very true story. Ben and I have been friends for over 20 years, we’re extremely close, like brothers. I’m gay (married), and he’s straight (also married) and both 28 years old. Ben has blonde hair, roughly 6ft tall and is quite athletic, I have dark brown hair, slightly taller, albeit not quite as fit. I apologise in advance for the length of this story, but I always prefer reading longer stories so thought I’d have a go at writing one.

On this particular night we’d been out drinking, just the two of us, which is rare but when it happens it usually ends up being a late one, and a little messy. We’d been out since late afternoon, just making our way around town from pub to pub, watching football, eating, and drinking plenty. As it often did when we’d had a drink, conversation turned to sex (of all kinds). It’s probably worth pointing out that although Ben is straight, he’d never been weirded out by having a gay best friend and would happily talk about anything, including what and who I was into. Time ticked on and evening became night, all the talking had got us both charged up and we joked about visiting the strip club. Neither of us put up much of an argument either way and as we left the pub to move on we didn’t really say anything but sure enough found ourselves gravitating towards the strip club. We decided to go in, just for half an hour for one drink before heading home.

We sat in the lounge of the club with our drinks making passing comments about the dancers who paraded around looking for their next dance. Ben reminded me of the comedic value of a married gay man sitting in a strip club. Now, I’m certainly not bisexual but I can appreciate the female form, and I think like most people it’s not always what you’re looking at but the situation I’m in that makes the difference.

After a while, two of the dancers came over to speak to us and we immediately made them aware that they were out of luck and that we weren’t really there for a dance, and the fact that one of us was gay. One of the dancers hung around just long enough to appear polite and then headed to get a drink (and find someone who was actually going to pay for a dance). The other dancer stayed with us, probably out of pure interest as to what the hell we were doing there, and working on the chance of still getting Ben in for a dance. She eventually asked if Ben fancied a dance, I immediately said in jest “that’s rather presumptuous, assuming that the gay lad doesn’t want a dance”. She laughed and replied with “you could join us, wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened in these rooms” - me and Ben looked at each other, laughed and then he said “why not? It’ll be a laugh”

We made our way into the ‘VIP’ room, its only distinguishable feature being that it had a small sofa, just big enough for two people to sit side by side - although, I imagine it was purchased with the view that one of those people would be the skinny dancer and not two men. We both sat down, our legs pressed snugly up against each other’s. For the first 10 minutes we continued to make jokes about the situation, whilst the dancer put on a show, and to her credit she made sure both of us got plenty of attention. As the dance went on we all got more into it, the talking stopped and we focused on what was happening before us. 

Twenty minutes in the dancer took a quick break, staying in the room, she made her way over to the small sideboard where her glass rested, along with the laced body suit she’d removed and placed on there, not before draping it over our faces making sure we got a good smell of her perfume amongst other things. At this point Ben turned to me and said “Are you having fun?” I laughed and said “Yeah, are you?” whilst simultaneously grabbing Ben’s crotch and giving it a light squeeze just long enough to notice his semi-erect dick. He just laughed it off, but was quick to assure me he “wasn’t actually hard”.

With only five minutes left of our dance, the dancer asked us if we wanted another 30 minutes. Ben left it up to me to answer, probably appreciating that the dance was mainly for his benefit, not knowing that actually being sat at the side of a sexually aroused best friend was making me hornier than any stripper could (male or female). Without hesitation I got out my bank card and said “yeah we might as well”, and with a tap of contactless we were back to it. The dancer clearly realised we weren’t just a standard quick cheap dance, and turned it up a notch, spreading my legs she began to grind up and down my body. I moved my hands, which had been in my lap, so as not to appear overly forward or ‘handsy’ and moved them to the side, conveniently placing my right hand on Ben’s leg just in the area that could be argued wasn’t his inner thigh, but certainly wasn’t the top of his leg -  he didn’t flinch, and it stayed there for a few minutes until she made her way across to perform the same move for him.

We’re now 45 minutes in, I have a raging hard on and all I can think about is what is happening in Ben’s trousers at the side of me. The dancer pulled both of our heads into her chest and across to her left nipple, “have a taste”. Ben and I made eye contact, and without saying a word both stuck out our tongues making equal contact with each other, as we did her nipple. After giving us what appeared to be the limit of what was allowed in close quarters, she retreated to the floor where she laid on her back, gently spreading her lips to give us a better view whilst she rubbed her index finger up and down, periodically bringing it to her mouth to taste. Ben leans over again, “okay, now I’m hard” he chuckled, and he glanced down. I placed my hand in his lap getting a good handful, feeling his rock hard length twinge against my palm. I expected him to push my hand away, but he didn’t. I held it there for as long as I dare before moving it away, to my surprise he grabbed my hand and with his other hand pulled away the front of his jeans just enough for my hand to slip down.

I couldn’t believe what was happening, just a few hours ago we’d been discussing the various ‘girlfriends’ I’d had at school before coming out, and now I was sat in a strip club with my hand down my best friend’s trousers running my finger over the tip of his pulsing penis which was dripping with pre-cum. I looked over at the dancer, half expecting her to be calling for the bouncers, but she just winked at me and continued. I ran my hand up and down Ben’s shaft for a few minutes keeping my thumb in the pre-cum that pooled as his foreskin teased his warm head with every stroke.  This surreal moment was broken by the sobering noise of a heavy curtain sliding open behind us as one of the bar girls came in with another round of drinks. I pulled my hand from Ben’s boxers as he turned around to collect his drink, taking my opportunity to secretly taste the pre-cum that covered my hand.

We finished up the dance, and then said our goodbyes - noting that at some point we did actually need to go home. We rode home in a taxi together, just chatting as if nothing had happened. I crawled into bed and had the most intense wank of my life, reliving every moment in graphic detail. I never really worried about whether it would affect our friendship, but I always assumed it would never be spoken of again… we’ve been back four times since that night.