Gay Erotic Stories

I was at the gym finishing my last set of squats when a friend of mine walked over to me and asked how things were going. I told him everything was going well but that as was the case with most people, money was a little tight. Saying, "Yeah, I know how that goes," he walked away. I finished my workout and headed for the locker room. I pulled my tee shirt off and stepped out of my shorts and jockstrap. I grabbed my towel and headed for the showers. As I opened my locker, a man whom I had never met before approached me and said, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear that you said you were having some financial difficulties." I stopped drying myself to reply: "Excuse me?" "Let me explain," he said. "I own a nightclub here in the city that features male dancers. We are always in need of dancers, and you have a look that our customers love. Smooth preppy college guys like you can make some serious money for almost no effort." "Oh, I don't think I have what it…" "What it takes? Are you kidding? Tall, toned, tanned, smooth, handsome, and hung like a horse? Trust me, kid; you've got it." "I just don't…." "Tell you what; here's my card. Think about. Why not come in for a look. Who knows—you just might like what you see. By the way, kid, what's your name?" "Josh." Well, Josh, think it over, and if you decide we can help each other out, call me. I accepted his card and put it in my gym bag. I caught a glimpse of my naked body in the mirror as I put my clothes on and thought to myself, "maybe I do have what it takes." I decided I would sleep on it. I returned home and started looking over my account information and realized that I was in desperate need of cash. Stripping down to my boxers and crawling into bed, I decided to call in the morning. The sun streaming in through the window fell across the bare skin of my chest, waking me from my sleep. I stretched and rose. I stripped off my boxers and traded them for a pair of running shorts. I laced up my shoes and began my morning run. Before long, my smooth, well-defined chest muscles glistened in the sun from the thin dew of sweat that covered them. As I thought about what I was about to do, I realized that people were looking at me and clearly enjoying what they saw. Returning home, I poured a glass of juice and dug out the card with the man's telephone number on it. I dialed the digits and waited for someone to answer. "Hello" said the voice that I remembered from the night before. "Ah, hi, this is Josh from the gym last nigh…" "Hello, Josh! I was hoping you might call. I trust you have thought about it a little more." "Yes." "Excellent. When would you like to come in for the audition?" "Audition?" "Yes, don't worry. We just like to see how you look and move, and we'll take a few measurements. Do you have some time today?" "I've got a one o'clock class" "Alright, how does eleven sound?" "I'll be there" "See you soon. Bye, Josh." Still unsure as to what I was getting myself into, I realized I had less than forty-five minutes to get there. I headed for the shower, undressing as I went. I adjusted the taps and felt the water cascade over my skin. I quickly lathered my chest and grabbed my razor. After a few swipes, I rubbed my chest to make sure I hadn't missed any. Then I shaved my face, and rinsed. I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and went to find something to wear. I pulled on a pair of tight white boxer-briefs that really accentuated my package. Next I pulled on an equally tight white tank top that hugged every muscle on my torso. I followed this with a pair of jeans. I stood appraising myself in the mirror. "Not bad," I thought to myself as I put on my brown leather bomber jacket. I made my way to Yonge Street and found the club. I entered the vestibule where a bouncer asked how he might help me. I told him I had an appointment for an audition. After making a brief phone call, a door to the left opened and a woman escorted me upstairs. At the top of the stairs, she escorted me into a room that contained two chairs, a desk, a black backdrop, various lights, and a camera. I sat quietly, wondering why I had come. Just as I was about to leave, the man from the gym came in, and closed the door. "Josh! Sorry for the delay. I'm glad you decided to get a bit of information at the very least. Let's get down to business. Show me some skin; get your jacket and shirt off." As I removed my jacket, he said, "nice arms. Not too big; just nice and defined. Flex please. Very nice." I crossed my arms and peeled of the tank. "Fabulous. Great abs, and your navel's pierced—I had forgotten about that. And that chest! Flawless, absolutely flawless, and you do keep it smooth. Well, Josh, let me tell you a bit about us. We provide all male adult entertainment for gay men. What you've probably guessed that means is that we feature strippers and booze. We are not a brothel or an escort service, but our dancers do reveal all. Also, we encourage "private shows" in our backrooms where the clients are allowed to touch you. The club opens at three in the afternoon everyday and closes at two A.M. We usually like our boys to work two or three nights a week,. You usually dance two numbers that feature two sets each; by the first minute of the second song in each set, you should be nude. We don't require that you get an erection, but a good hard-on never hurts your tips. We pay a flat fee of 150 dollars per shift, and all tips are yours to keep. Any questions? Good. Now, what we'd like you to do is to do a little bit of a strip for us. This is just to see how you move. Feel free to stand on the desk if you like. I took off my boots, and jumped on the desk. He started some music, and I began to move my hips, caressing and rubbing my smooth pecs. I began rubbing my dick through the denim; and it began to swell. I unbuttoned my jeans and slowly pulled them off my hips. I stepped out of my jeans completely and tossed them onto the floor. Through the thin cotton of my boxers, I worked my meat into a full erection, its head now peeking out of the leg band. I began sliding my underwear off my hips. I turned around, and as I bent over pulled them to the floor, exposing my shaved hole. I turned around again, exposing my cock and shaved balls, and grinned at my audience of one who told me he had seen enough to know that he was right—I did indeed have it. He called in his assistant, whose entrance into the room made me acutely aware that I was hard and naked before a pair of complete strangers. "Patti, this is Josh, our newest boy. Josh, we're going to take a few measurements. We'll start with height." He took out a tape measure, and his assistant readied her pad to take down the measurements. "Height, 6'2". Blond hair, blue eyes, preppy, collegiate. Chest: 44 inches. Waist, 30. Josh, flex your arm, please. Bicep: fifteen inches." "Pardon me, Josh," he said as he grabbed my erection and pulled his tape measure along its length. "Endowment: eleven inches, thick. Very nice." We would like your debut to be at our 'Virgin Friday' tomorrow, beginning at about five in the afternoon until close. You should be very popular with the after work crowd. Will that work for you?" I agreed. "Good. Now, we'd like you to meet some of the other dancers tonight and get a feel for what goes on here. So, I'd like you to tend bar tonight. No shirt, but you get to keep your pants on. It's a nice way to get used to being naked in public. I know you've got class, but do you think you could be back here by about six?" Sure, but I won't have time to change after class." "That's fine. The college-boy-in-tight-jeans look should make you very popular. Any questions? No? I'll see you later tonight. Oh, by the way, how old are you? "Twenty-two." Great—legal but still look like eighteen—doesn't get any better. My class ended, and at about ten minutes before six, I reentered the club. The bouncer in the vestibule called someone on the phone, and a man in a black shirt with the name of the club emblazoned across the front and back approached and extended his hand, saying, ‘You must be Josh. Let's head backstage, find you a locker, and introduce you to some of the guys." I followed him as we entered the main room of the club. It was long and dimly lit with the bar itself off to the left. The patrons, mostly older, were seated along the walls, their attention focused on the stage where a young, dark-haired guy sporting a full erection slowly danced. On the way to the back of the club, the rooms for the private dances were pointed out. As we passed them, one of the doors opened, and two men exited: one was an older, grey-haired man with a wide grin; the other was a redhead with great pecs wearing nothing but a pair of Umbro soccer shorts and counting a thick roll of cash. We entered through a door. I found myself standing in a large, well-lit room with mirrors and showers along the far wall that was full of guys in various states of undress. They ran the gamut of ethnic heritage but all were young, built, and hung. "Hey, everyone. This is Josh; he will be joining you as a dancer, beginning tomorrow night. So, play nice, and show him the ropes. Josh, you've got locker number twenty-seven." I sat down on the bench, and began to stuff my bag in my locker. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a figure walking in my direction. He was naked, carrying a towel in one hand. "Hey. I'm Jake, " he said, as my eyes worked their way up his body, starting at his firm thighs, past his meaty cock, firm abs, smooth pecs capped with pert little nipples, past his strong jaw, sensuous lips and straight nose to his dark brown eyes that gleamed with mischief. "Nice to meet you," I said as I pulled my shirt off and hung it in my locker." "Oh, don't worry; with a face and body like that, you'll be very popular here," he said with a wink before walking away. I fixed my jeans so that my hips and Apollo's belt were visible and then headed for the bar. The current bartender handed me the small white apron he had been wearing and left. I tied on the apron and, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, realized that I was half-naked in a room full of men so that I could watch how other guys take off their clothes before doing the same thing myself. In the interests of learning all I could about stripping, I watched as the dancer on stage slowly peeled off his tank top to reveal a broad, hairless chest accented by a pair of rings piercing his nipples. Just then, a customer approached and ordered a brink. He paid for his drink, then with a ten-dollar bill between his fingers, ran his hand down my chest and abs before depositing the money in the pocket of my jeans and giving my rapidly swelling dick a squeeze. And so, my first night continued, an odd mix of watching other young guys get naked and mixing drinks for older guys, most of whom tipped nicely for the privilege of caressing young, firm muscle. My research into the fine art of stripping allowed to summarize that there were two approaches, each with their own charm: there were those who danced and those who got hard and stood on stage showing off their meat. I decided that my own style would be a combination of the two. At the end of the night, I put my shirt on and headed for my apartment. I was tired and bleary-eyed from the smoke in the club. Arriving home, I flopped down on the sofa and took out the wad of bills I had in my pocket. Some of the patrons had been shyer about tipping me, simply handing me the bill or laying it on the table. Others were bolder, including one who slid a twenty down the back of my jeans and placing the note between the cheeks of my ass. Yet another wrapped his tip around my shaft. My addition revealed that I had made over three hundred dollars and hadn't even got naked. Besides, I enjoyed the looks of admiration I got, and the scenery at the club was certainly easy on the eyes. I was oddly looking forward to my debut. I stripped off my clothes and crawled into bed, where I fell asleep thinking of Jake.