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Hot Nights at the End Zone

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 18 Oct 2000 1 comments
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by Jack Scorpio This is a true story. For the first half of 1995, there was a nightclub I'll call the 'End Zone' on the outskirts of Dallas County, Texas. It sat at the end of a long, winding, barely-lit road in a mostly-rural area.The club was a first-of-its-kind in the state, as it featured totally nude male dancers. The building, ironically, was a former Baptist church and was owned by two men whom I'll call Russell and Mike. It was a 'bring-your-own-booze' place. They sold water, soft drinks, and mixers, but not alcohol. Yet, no one visited for the b.y.o.b. feature. They came to see attractive, well-built young men dancing buck ass naked. And I had the pleasure of performing there a few times during the club's brief existence. I saw an ad in a local gay/lesbian newspaper advertising for dancers shortly after the club opened in February 1995. Almost overnight, it had become a hot spot for gay men - as well as straight women - in and around the Dallas area. In fact, word spread all over, and people even came from out of state. I was both intrigued and excited at the prospect of dancing naked in a nightclub setting and set up an "interview" with Russell at a coffee shop. He liked my looks, even fully clothed, and booked me the following Friday night. The club was only open on weekends. I beat off a little when I got home from work that Friday evening, already hot and horny from the mere thought of flapping my cock and big hairy balls all over the place in front of a large group of people. It wasn't much different from a long series of previous gigs I'd had at a Dallas bathhouse called Midtowne Spa. At Midtowne, I jacked off almost from the moment I went on stage. But at the End Zone, that wasn't allowed. I couldn't touch any part of myself between my lower abdomen and my upper thighs. Neither could anyone in the audience. The place didn't have a stage, but rather an assortment of large black boxes upon which the dancers stood and gyrated for the onlookers. We got paid a set fee, but earned cash tips also. Even though the dancers couldn't touch their butts or genitals, there was no rule warning against swinging our goods around, or bending over. Along with flexing my lean, muscular build for everyone, I would make my partially erect cock "dance" up and down. I do this by flexing my groin muscles. I can also hoist my balls up and down. Another dancer there had the same talents, and we became extremely popular. One evening, he and I stood atop two different boxes next to one another and displayed our unique skills. Everyone went wild. More than a few guys grabbed their crotches, and I thought for a moment it would turn into a no-holds-barred free-for-all j/o session. I once kissed a guy in the audience, as he sat at a table against a wall, and my cock almost became completely engorged with blood. His buddy and some other guys were amazed that a simple kiss could get me so hot. I stood there for a few more minutes swinging my thing in front of them, precum dripping from the tip, and ended up with a wad of dollar bills stuffed into my black combat boots. Another time I met a closeted married guy and made my dick dance for him. He had never seen anything like it, he said, and sported a boner through his khaki shorts. Yet another time, I met a straight couple. The guy had brought his girlfriend because it was her birthday. He asked me to kiss her, and when I did, I saw her nipples pop up from beneath her tight-fitting blouse. Then, she asked me to kiss him. He was reluctant at first, but finally gave in. Stepping away from them, I saw her reach down and grab his crotch. He had a woody and was still looking at me. That was about as hot as it got in the dance area. Back stage, however, was more exciting. Here all of us dancers would jerk off just enough to get a partial hard-on before going into the dance arena. On more than one occasion, it turned into a circle jerk. We stroked one another's manroots, sweating like the horn dogs we were, kissing, and pinching each other's nipples. One guy, Tim, turned around and bent over in front of me at my request, and let me smack my wood pipe against his sleek muscle butt. Precum streaked all over him and I got so hot I emptied my heavy-hanging bull nuts onto his left butt cheek. I then returned to the dance area, a stream of glistening sperm oil dangling from the tip of my dick. There was a very large mirror set on the floor against one wall, and everyone couldn't help but flex their muscles in front of it. Such flexing always gave me a hard-on and, on a few occasions, I had to spew a load or two. Once, another dancer and I were simultaneously whacking off, when I stepped over to the leather couch he was sprawled on and sat down beside him. He was ruggedly handsome and very masculine and let me lean against him. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn't tell if he was gay or straight. Still, his warm skin felt good, and I couldn't help but unload all over myself. He laughed and said, "Alright!" before firing a creamy wad all over his own hairy chest. I smeared my cum all over my torso, then rubbed some baby oil on top of that. I went back outside and danced some more. A few guys noticed the cum streaks mixed in with the oil. One evening, I had a boner that wouldn't go down. Of course, I couldn't go outside like that, even though I would have made a shitload of money. I had already danced one set and when I went back stage, grew a woody that wouldn't let go. I don't know why, but I decided I couldn't let a good boner go to waste and began whacking off. As I always do when I jack off, I beat the damn thing rough and hard, making it redder and harder. When I got ready to shoot, I picked up a plastic cup half-filled with red wine that I'd been drinking and stepped down the narrow hallway just outside the "dressing room." I went into another room where Mike was sitting alone at a table doing paperwork for the club. He was startled at first, but laughed as I stood near him and dropped my heavy cream cargo into the cup. I clamped down on the base of my moistened, rock hard cock and let the sticky goo fire into the cup. I shot about four or five thick streams. I kept stroking until I actually reached orgasm, whereupon my balls released some more fluid. "There," I said after squeezing out the last drop, as I lifted up the cup and swirled around the contents as if mixing a cocktail. I then swallowed it in one gulp. Mike was amazed and sat there wide-eyed with a hefty bulge in his pants. "Now, can I go out and make some money?" He laughed, almost embarrassed. "Yea, of course." In November 1994, conservative Republicans were elected to three of the four positions on the Dallas County Commissioners' Court, and sexually oriented businesses were among their targets for cleaning up the city and making it safe for grown people. The End Zone had to do away with the all-nude dancers. Russell and Mike tried to keep it open, hoping the club's b.y.o.b. aspect would keep attracting people. It didn't work. But, on the last night they featured the nude dancers, things spun completely out of control, as the evening turned into a mass jack off and fuck orgy. Russell and Mike had already told us dancers that we had nothing to lose and urged us to fondle ourselves on the dance floor unlike before. Of course, we took advantage of that, and as the evening wore on, so did everyone else. Todd and I ended up on a box in the center of the dance floor, each of us with raging hard-ons. He grabbed my dick first and began stroking it. I reciprocated, and a crowd gathered around. The spotlight beamed down on us, as the deejay played "Rock You Like A Hurricane" by the Scorpions. A lot of men were already shirtless, and some quickly became bottomless. Everyone was sweaty and hot; stroking their hard cocks, deep throat kissing, and sucking each other off. A few of them actually came. Other dancers followed our lead and incited more sexual frenzy. The place was packed, and a large number of people lined the walls observing the action. Later, Todd and I found ourselves back stage alone again, as the meat fest continued out front. He let me kiss him all over this time, including his hairy ass, as we rubbed our throbbing iron hard cocks together. I leaned against the couch when I got ready to shoot. Todd yanked a steaming, messy load out of my aching, overfilled balls, cussing at me in his deep southern drawl, as I shouted back with an equal stream of vulgarities. One would have thought we were about to start fighting. I then ordered him to smack my still hard and quivering dick, making a few droplets of cum fling every which way. When he got close, I jumped behind him and shoved him towards the large mirror. I grabbed his balls with my left hand and worked his big cock with the other, while chewing on his left ear. He yelled like a horse getting branded when he finally came, launching an incredibly powerful load from his reddened cock head straight onto the mirror. He had a tight grip on my wrists, as I drained him of every last delicious cum drop. We almost collapsed afterwards, soaked in oil and sweat, but managed to stumble back onto the couch. That was my last night at the End Zone, and I never saw any of those people again. The club closed for good, and nothing like it has come around since. But, just thinking back to those times still gets me wet and horny.