The Manhattan Gentlemen's Club

A week or so after my photo shoot with Vivienne, I got a message from her on my answering machine. (In the late Nineties, cell phones were just getting affordable, and no one had cut the cord to their answering machine yet.) She said the prints were ready, reminded me of the address for the print shop, and told me they'd cost $45. I decided to pick them up the next day after work.

The hours dragged by as I replayed in my mind what had happened at the photo shoot. But 6:00 finally came, and I grabbed my jacket and bag and headed out the door.

The old photo district was in the 20s on the West Side. I hopped the F train downtown and was at 23rd Street in minutes. I walked up to the address, and checked the directory. The print shop was on the fourth floor, so I walked in and got into a reasonably rickety, reasonably dirty elevator. 
The chemical smell of the fixers and developers hit me as soon as the doors opened. I walked over to a counter with a sign saying "Pick Up." Behind it was a young Latin guy reading the Daily News.

"Hi," I said. "Picking up for Peter Lynch, please."

"Just a minute," he said, without looking up. He walked towards the back.

Vivienne had told me this shop did not of work for porn magazines, so they wouldn't have any issue with the photos she'd taken of me. I didn't know what I thought this place would look like, but it was surprisingly mundane. There was nothing to indicate they made their money with hardcore photos of people fucking and sucking.

The young Latin guy walked back, said "gimme me a sec" and walked over to an office. Leaning in, he asked "Liz? You know where the Lynch job went?"

He nodded and told me "she's got it."

He disappeared into the back of the store.

Angie emerged from office holding a 9" x 11" envelope made of cardboard. As she walked over to me, she closed the envelope and sealed it with the hasp. She was attractive, a little plump and middle-aged.

She looked up at me and smiled.

"That will be $35, please," she said.

"Are you sure about the price?" I asked. "I think it might be $45."

"It was $45, but I'm giving you a discount.
 "OK. Thanks," I said.

She looked over her glasses at me.
 "I saw your photos, and I liked them. A lot."

I felt blood rush to my head.

"So I made some copies for myself. Is that a problem?"

"No — that's fine," I said.

"In fact, I'm going to get myself off to them tonight. Is that OK?"

I wasn't expecting this. I knew Vivienne was going to make copies for her girlfriends, but they were an abstraction. Here, in front of me, was a stranger telling me she liked the very hardcore photos of me. And that she was going to jerk off to them. 
 I thought this is what porn stars much feel. To meet someone fully clothed, but to know they already knew what you looked like completely nude.

"Sure," I stammered. "That's not a problem."

"Good," she said. "I hope to see you again."

I thanked her and put the envelope in my bag. I turned and walked towards the door.

"Hey, Peter?" she said in a loud voice. "I liked your cum shots the best."
 I blushed.

By the time I got back down to the street, my head was swimming. I was thrilled by what had happened, but it had left me very horny. I decided I needed a drink, and headed downtown to the Manhattan Gentlemen's Club, an East Village strip club which had opened up down the street from where I lived.

It was housed in an old bank building, but the bank was long gone. In the Eighties and Nineties, it had been a dance club called, unimaginatively, the Bank. But the Bank was no more, and the strip club opened up shop about six months ago.

I went several times when it just opened, and liked it. The owners had another, fancier club in Midtown. But with this club, they were going for something more "downtown." This meant a more relaxed atmosphere, and a much, much better music — a good mix of rock, grunge and rap, with an occasional club tune thrown in for variety. And the girls were great — very attractive, very sexy, but also very nice and fun.

In fact, when I stopped by after an absence of many weeks, they asked me where I'd been. I explained that I was spending too much money there, but they wouldn't hear it. They said it was fine if I didn't get any dances, and the bartender told me she'd put me on the 'Friends and Family Discount." Business was always slow at the beginning of their night, so she was running her own informal happy hour, just to get fiends of the staff to come in and drink. Just like a regular bar, but with a bunch of very lovely, half-dressed women always hanging out there.

The doorman opened the heavy, original door, and I walked in. I said hello to the coat-check girl and walked around the velvet curtain to the main room. At the far end of the room was a large, raised stage, and to the right of that a small-ish bar. In front of me was the sea of low tables and club chairs where the lap dances went on.

I saw that Angie was bartending, and Kim was sitting at the bar, with her high-heeled feet resting on the stool next to her. Angie was cute — short, auburn hair. With small breasts and a compact ass, she gave off a tomboy kind of vibe which I loved. She knew I had a crush on her, and often teased me, rubbing her ass against my leg, and touching my thigh. Occasionally, she'd give my cock a squeeze when I came back to the bar after getting some lap dances. But it was only for a second or two — just enough for her to let me know she knew I was hard.

Kim was a short, Korean-American girl. She was working in commercial real estate up in Westchester, but business was slow. So a couple of times a week, she'd drive into the city and make some extra money as a stripper. She was a little hottie, with a very good figure (and a terrific ass, for an Asian girl). But what I really liked about her was that she was a dirty girl.

When I got lap dances with her, she'd start by kissing my neck and face, her mouth hidden from view by her long, black hair. She'd usually end that part with a kiss on the lips, but if she'd been drinking with me for a bit, she'd slip me some tongue.

She'd remove her dress slowly and turn around, sticking that delicious ass right in my face. If the bouncers weren't around, I'd give her some soft kisses, flicking my tongue over her gorgeous butt. Then she would stand up and, looking coquettishly over her shoulder, slowly roll down her g-string over her ass. At first, she'd only go half-ways. But she got more daring over time, and now she'd roll it all the way down to her thighs.

Then she'd stand up and turn around, looking for the bouncers. If they were occupied, she'd roll down the front of her g-string, revealing a nearly trimmed bush. If she was feeling especially brave, she'd roll the g-string all the way down to her knees. Then she'd spread her legs and finger her clit. This was clearly against the house rule, so she'd roll her g-string up quickly. But then she'd put her finger in my mouth, so I could taste her pussy juice.

But even that wasn't Kim's best move. Having readjusted herself, she'd sit on the side of the club chair. With her back to the bouncers, she'd lean in closely, reach into my pants and adjust my cock so that it was pointing straight up towards my belly. Properly positioned, she'd slide into my lap and start grinding on my cock, wedging it between the cheeks of her ass. She never made me ejaculate, but she would make me soak my boxers with pre-cum.

And then she'd stand up, and we'd see Angie looking at us with a shit-eating look on her face. She always enjoyed our little shows.

I sat down and put my bag on the bar. 
 "Whoa," said Angie. "You look flushed. You feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I said. "I was just out running some errands."

"Where'd you go?" asked Kim, spinning around on her stool.

"Oh, I had to by the photo district to pick up some prints ...." I said.

"Are these them?" asked Kim.

I'd forgotten to zip the top of my bag shut, and the cardboard envelope was sticking out. Before I could say anything, Kim grabbed the envelope and pulled it out.

"Can we see?" asked. "Please? Pretty please."

"They're actually kind of explicit ...."

"That's even better!" said Kim, opening the envelope.

"Oh," she said, "these are photographs of you! I thought you were the photographer!"

She started flipping through the prints.

"These aren't too bad," she said, "and you look good."

The photos from the soft-core session must have on top.

"Oh, wait," said Kim. "Here we go."

"Let me see, let me see," asked Angie.

Kim handed her the stack of photos she'd already looked at.

"That's a very nice erection you've got there," said Kim. Then, looking at Angie, she said "you know I've felt it. But I've never seen it."

"Gimme, gimme" said Angie.

With Kim, it seemed like this was "turn about is fair play." I'd seen her naked, and had even tasted her. But with Angie, I'd never seen anything. And now she was scrutinizing photos of my hard-on.

"Oh, my," said Kim. "Handcuffs. Someone's a dirty boy.

She shot me a leering look, and kept flipping through the prints. I knew what was coming up.

"Wow," she said, bring the photo closer to her face. "What is that?"

"Show me," said Angie, pulling Kim's hand over to get a look. "Are those jelly beads?"

"Yes," I said, blushing.

"What are those?" asked Kim.

"Anal toy," said Angie, a swizzle stick in her mouth. "They're made out rubber, and the beads get progressively bigger."

Angie looked up at me.

"How many did you have up there?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "The photographer said about a foot."

"Nice," said Angie, nodding her head up and down. "So our Peter is into anal play. Dirty boy ...."

"So you had a foot worth of rubber — up your ass?" said Kim, grabbing at her crotch. "God — I'm getting wet!"

"Hey guys, what you looking at?"

Veronica and Alex approached the bar. Veronica was a tall, slender black girl, hoping to break into the music industry as a vocalist. Alex was short for Alexandra, and she was a leggy blond and work-out fanatic.

"Nude photos of Peter," said Angie, pushing the pile of prints towards them.

"Oh my god," said Kim. "You're cumming. These are pictures of you cumming!"

"This is incredible," said Angie.

She held out the photo so that Veronica and Alex could see.

"See how his back is raised?" she said. "And how the photographer caught just the right moment when his sperm was shooting out of his cock?"

I could barely breathe. Here were four very attractive young women, staring at nude photos of me. And not just nude, but cumming! I didn't know what to think. My head was swirling.

"Jesus, Peter, you look like you're going to stroke," said Angie.

She made me a scotch and soda, and placed it in front of me.

"Don't worry," she continued. "I like the photos. I think we all do."

"Shit, yeah," said Kim, rubbing the front of her panties.

"Ladies ..." said a male voice.

It was Tony, the head bouncer at the club. The girls quickly got the photos into a pile and turned them over.

"Can I get a pint of seltzer with two limes?" asked Tony, approaching the bar.

"Hey, Peter," he said, acknowledging my presence. "So what do we think, girls. We gonna do business tonight, or what?"

"Some," said Veronica.

"Not until late," said Alex. "It's a Tuesday. The bankers are home with their wives. But we should get some guys from the music industry. Or film. Those guys keep late hours."

"Alright," said Tony. "Angie — I'm going to go to the office and watch TV. Call me if you need anything."

He strolled off towards the office, which was downstairs.

"Show me the ones of him cumming," said Alex.

Veronica flipped over the stack and started looking.

"So Peter," said Angie. "What made you decide to do this, to get nude photos taken of yourself."
 "Well, Angie," I stammered, "I think it was just something that was on my bucket list."

"That makes sense," she said. "I mean, you're a dude, so you must like porn. You just wanted to make some porn of your own."

She squeezed my hand.

"And I like porn, too," she said.

"These are really hot," said Veronica.
 "Love 'em," said Alex.

She put down the photo she was holding, the one of me cumming.

"Any chance of getting copies? asked Veronica.

"Um, I don't think so," I said.

"Then how about we just keep one?" asked Angie. She pick my cum shot photo off the bar.

"I'll keep it behind the bar," she said. "And I'll make sure Tony doesn't see it. If he does, he'll make me get rid of it. So I'll keep it well hidden."

Before I could answer, Kim grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet.

"I can't stand this anymore," she said. "Follow me."
 I grabbed my drink, and she pulled me towards the staircase. Above the main floor was a balcony which had been re-made into a set of champagne rooms. She opened the door to one of them, and pushed me inside and onto a couch.

"Here's the deal," she said. "We're not going to fuck, but we're going to do everything else."

She shed her dress and g-string, and then started in on the buttons my dress shirt. I kissed her hard, only to find an open mouth, and a tongue darting to find mine. Her hands found my belt buckle, as I kicked off my shoes. She undid my zipper and started pulling on my boxers.

"Get if off," she ordered. "Get it all off."
 I stood up, and pushed my pants and boxers to my ankles. I awkwardly stepped out of my pants, and she pushed me back onto the couch. She ripped off one of my socks, and then the other. We were now completely nude in a champagne room — a huge no-no!

"Now we're ready," she said, as she threw her mouth onto my cock.

She was a little girl, so she had a small mouth. I filled it easily, but that wasn't good enough for her. I could feel her throat open as she tried to ram cock further into her. I saw her eyes well with tears, and then I felt her gag. She pulled her head off my cock, leaving stringers of spit hanging from her face and falling onto her tits.

"I'll get it," she said, and went back down.

I felt my cock start to enter her throat, but her gag reflex kicked in. She pulled away from me, looking like she was going to throw up. She didn't, but she gagged and coughed. Spit flowed down her chin. Her breasts were caked in saliva.

She repositioned herself, and went down again. This time, her throat opened, and she forced herself all the way down. I saw her bury her nose in my pupes, and then felt her tongue come out and licked my balls. I put my hands on her and head, and pushed her down further. She lasted a few seconds, but I could feel her throat trying to close around my cock. She recoiled off of me and fell backwards, gasping for air.

I stood up and stood above her. Then I grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her onto the couch.

I started licking at her clit, but now was not the time for niceties. I put one finger into her cunt, and started working her pussy.

"More, more," she said.

Her pussy was sopping, so I had no problem sticking another finger in. I slipped in a third, and now her cunt was full. I flipped my hand over, and started feeling around for the rough, spongy-like tissue which would be her G-spot.

"Oh, fuck," she said. "Oh, fuck. Yes, please. Yes, please."

I flicked my fingers at her G-spot, and she started to arch her back.

"Oh, God. Oh, God."

She arched her back so much I thought it might break. Then she shuddered, shuddered again, and dropped back onto the couch.

"Holy shit," she said.

But I wasn't done. I kept working her pussy, flicking at her G-spot with every stroke, and licking her clit. 
"Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit!"

Her back went up, and I slammed her pussy.

"Oh, shit!"

Her back arched further, and her breathing stopped. I curled my hand into a claw, to get at her G-spot as hard as I could.

She took in a tiny breath, and her back arched some more. Now I could feel her whole body was rigid.

"Fuck ..." she croaked, "ME!"

Her back flipped upwards, and she collapsed on the couch. My hand and forearm were drenched, and there was a sizable puddle on the couch.

"Mother of fuck," she said, wiping the hair from her sweat-strewn face.

She took a couple of deep breaths, and then reached for my hand. She led me down to the floor and had me lay on my back. Then she swung her hips over my face, and put that wonderful mouth back on my cock.

I licked her taint, and then spread her ass cheeks with my hands. I brought my head up and started to lick her asshole. She let out a moan, and I stiffened my tongue, forcing it into her asshole like a small cock. She moaned again, and her sphincter relaxed. I was now in her asshole, fucking her with my tongue.

I felt my cock enter her throat again. And then I felt the gag reflex. But she kept her head in place. She gagged, and I felt her warm spit flow down my cock and onto my balls.

There was a single knock, and then Angie stepped into the room.

"Sorry, guys, but ..."

Her eyes went big. I guess she assumed that Kim would be giving me some dirty lap dances, but did not expect to find me with my tongue up her ass, and with Kim deep-throating me.

Kim took her mouth off my cock and coughed.

"I'm sorry, guys, but Tony is looking for you," said Angie.

Kim jumped up and threw on her g-string and dress. She slipped into her shoes, shot me a last look, and was out the door. I sat up, but Angie came over and put her foot in my chest, pushing me to the floor.

"Where do you think you're going, soldier?" she said, smiling at me. "Your hard-on is telling me you haven't come yet."

She bent down over me, bringing her oh-so-cute face close to mine.

"Finish it. Finish yourself off for me. Just like in the photo."

I started stroking my cock again.

"Do you know what spit play is, Peter?" she asked.

I nodded yes.

"Then open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

With her tongue, she pushed some spit over her pursed lips. It formed a string which fell slowly from her mouth. Then it broke, and landed on my tongue.

"Good boy. Now swallow."

I obeyed.

She pushed a bigger amount of spit to her lips, and raised her head. It formed another string, which she pushed out of mouth at an agonizingly slow rate. I jerked my cock faster, but my eyes were on her spit. It hung out of her mouth, and that was all it took. I erupted, shooting my load over my chest, as her spit landed in my mouth.

There was a moment of silence as we each considered what had happened.

"Thank you," she said, looking at my cum-drenched chest. "Wait — hold on a sec...."

She reached into her front pocket, and pulled out a small plastic spoon. 
"I got some frozen yogurt on my way over here, and forgot to throw this away."

Then she leaned down over me and scooped up as much of my cum as the spoon would hold.

"OK, clean yourself up," she said. "I have to go, and you shouldn't be up here by yourself."
 She turned and walked out the door. I reached for my pants and boxers, and put them on, well aware of the gooey mess in my crotch. I put on my shirt, but decided against tucking it in. Then it was socks and shoes, and I hustled out of the room and back down the stairs to the bar.

Veronica and Alex were out on the floor with some customers. Angie was behind the bar, but Kim was no where to be seen.
 "Where's Kim" I asked.

"Tony said it was something about credit card charges from last night," she said. "But you look like a mess. Watch your face and try to do something with your hair."

I went to the men's room and threw water on my face. I looked like I'd run a marathon. Then I got a bunch of paper toweling and went into one of the stalls. I dropped my pants, and cleaned up the ooze of cum and Kim's spit which was plastering my cock, balls and pupes. Satisfied that I'd done as much as I could, I zipped up and exited the stall. I washed my face again, and combed my hair with my fingers. This was as good as it was going to get.