The back room at Lucky’s was the place to be. Most of the customers would have given their left nut to be allowed back in the inner sanctum. It was in the back room at Lucky’s that the boys got dressed, or undressed to dance. The boys were picked for their body types, their handsome faces, and their packages. There were all sorts. Small dark Latinos, big muscular blacks, one guy who had had a centerfold in Inches magazine, lithe blonds and tough dark-haired Italians, and several Asians.
The boys at Lucky’s did not get paid to dance. They danced, and if they were good enough, hot enough, dirty enough, the customers shoved money in their G-strings, or thongs, or Speedos, or briefs or whatever their chosen costume might happen to be. The boys at Lucky’s did not dance bare-assed. Often their young tight hard-cheeked asses showed. Usually, the asses themselves were bare. Sometimes you could easily see the balls on the larger scrotumed boys when they twisted and gyrated or stretched out on the little dance platforms with their legs spread and raised in the air. The boys who were the fucking filthiest got the best tips. They knew that, and night by night as their pride slipped away and the lure of rent money just beyond their grasp grew greater, the boys’ dancing became more sexual, more degenerate, more perverted.
It was the first night at Lucky’s for eighteen-year-old Carlos. He was still in high school. He had moved to Chicago from New York and to New York from Puerto Rico with his family. But his father had died in on the job construction accident, and his mother and little sister and brother were literally starving to death. Carlos tried working at a regular job, but being a fast-food server just did not bring in the bucks, and his grades at school started to fall off. He knew he needed decent grades to get a college scholarship, his only hope for a future.
Another Latino kid Carlos met at a nearby pool hall recommended the job at Lucky’s, and although Carlos was straight, shy and rather conservative in his lifestyle, the money was tempting.
“Fuck man, you can make two hundred bucks a night, and you only gotta dance on weekends. All’s you gotta do is wiggle your ass and dick for the faggots,” his friend had said.
It sounded too good to pass up, so one Saturday afternoon, Carlos had applied with Joey, one of the managers, and that very evening he started his new career. Carlos was hired at once because he looked good enough to eat. He was about five foot nine, slender but well-muscled, a tight tummy, youthful pecs with large pouty nipples, a high tight bubble butt, and strong legs with large feet. His package was a winner, throwing out a nice fat bulge in any kind of underwear. Carlos had recently streaked his short choppy black hair partly blond, he was not sure why, and he wore a single silver earring. He looked every inch the tough young street fag, even though he was not.
Carlos stood in the shabby back room with the other guys and listened to the straight dancers talk about the cunt they had fucked the night before, and the gay boys gossip about which wealthy club patrons had sucked their dicks. If he had not been so desperate, he would have left right then. The guys were polite and pleasant to him but did not know him, so there was not much said until it approached the time for the dancing to start.
Each boy danced fifteen minutes in the front bar and then fifteen minutes in the rear bar in a random rotation. Most of the boys began their routine dressed in jeans, or sweatpants, or shorts, and then stripped down to something much sexier that showed off their teenage dicks and balls to the best advantage and brought the money in.
Carlos watched the first few dance sets. He was not sure he could do what the boys did. It was not the dancing so much, but when a customer raised a dollar bill, the boy would wiggle over to him and squat with his prick and balls right up against the customer’s face. The guy, more often drunk than not would shove the bill into the boy’s underwear, feeling as much teen dick as he could. Then the boy would kiss the dude while getting his ass cheeks rubbed. These boys were fuck dreams for the customers, and Carlos was not ready for that at all. Then again, watching the boys count their take made him determined to try. So if he got felt up by a queer, so what?
Jeff, a big muscular blond jock type, came up to him.
“You’re on next. What are you wearing?”
Carlos smiled at the handsome dude.
“Well, I thought I’d start with these sweatpants and then strip to these Speedos.”
The swimsuit fit the boy nicely. It hugged his nice tight fuckable ass, even going a bit into the crack. And the fuck bulge in the front was impressive.
“Naw, kid, that’ll never do, I got something better for you. Jeff was gone and back in seconds with something in his hand and two more of the dancers wearing shit-eating grins.
“Here, kid, put this on.”
Jeff held up what appeared to be a pink mesh posing pouch with strings attached. One of the dancers rested a hand on Carlos’ shoulder. He gently rubbed the boy’s soft, smooth brown skin. Carlos felt all dry-mouthed and funny.
“No, really, my Speedo will be fine.”
“No, really, put it on. We got this thing, see, kind of an initiation for all the new dancers. You gotta dance the first night dressed in this to get over your shyness.”
Jeff smiled. The other boys smirked. The hand rubbed down the small of Carlos’ back. Carlos, while not a scrapper, was not afraid of confrontation.
“And what if I don’t want to?”
“Simple. You don’t work here. Don’t get us wrong. We wanna be your buddy, and we wanna have you with us, but you gotta meet the test.”
Jeff held up the pink pouch. Carlos eyed the pouch. It was fucking obscene. And Carlos, who’s eighteenth birthday had been only two weeks earlier, had a huge fat prick. Then he thought of his mother, sister, and brother. He sighed and smiled bashfully.
“Well, if I gotta pass the test, then I guess, I gotta pass the test.”
He tried to make light of the whole thing.
“Way to go, man,” Jeff shouted, smiling and shaking the boy’s hand, while the hand of the other dancer patted and squeezed his ass.
“Just so you guys know, I’m not gay,” Carlos said.
“No problem, man, most of us aren’t.”
The hand on his ass squeezed again. Jeff came back with glasses in his hands.
“Shots all around in honor of our new dancer Carlos.”
Carlos could use a drink to steady his nerves. He knocked it back. He did not know, of course, that there was something in the drink. He only knew that the room started to spin, and he got very hot, and his body began to sweat.
“Try on your costume.”
Six guys were now around him watching. Carlos shrugged and ran one hand through his short choppy hair. His handsome eyes sparkled.
“What the fuck,” he said, and the guys cheered.
Eighteen-year-old Carlos hooked his thumbs inside his Speedo and slid it down over his slim hips. He stepped out of his trunks and shook one leg to free up his nuts. He had a nice big full sack covered with black hair. His fat uncircumcised dick swung. He reached for the posing pouch, but Jeff held it away.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s this, my man?” Jeff balked.
“Hey…hey…hey…what?” Carlos asked, the room spinning.
“You didn’t shave your balls, man. All the dancers here got shaved balls and assholes.”
All the guys nodded and agreed. Carlos did not understand.
“But I’m not dancing naked, no one will know.”
“No, but when a guy slips the money in your pouch, he sometimes likes to brush up against your bag. I’ve seen kids fired for having hairy balls. It makes a kid seem old, and the customers like to fantasize that we are just boys. And shit, man, when you dance in that pouch, your ass crack will show. And nothing is more gross than a hairy ass crack. Tony, why don’t you go on and dance this round for the kid while we shave him down.”
Before poor young Carlos knew what was happening or could protest, he found himself seated legs spread on a wooden table. Jeff and the others got some shaving cream and a razor and lathered up his big fat teenage nuts. It was humiliating as hell because the boys took turns stretching out his sack skin so Jeff could scrape the hair off. Carlos tried to protest but found himself hardly able to talk.
“Good, that looks much better. Somebody fix some more shots for us. Now, what about the stomach hair, what do you guys think?”
“Get rid of it, he’ll look a lot hotter. We want you to make lots of money, boy.”
So they shaved off the thin trail of tummy hair he had.
“What about his bush?”
“Guys, leave my pubic hair alone, okay?” Carlos slurred.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll just make it nice and neat. Trim it a little. A nice sexy triangle of prick hair.”
So they began to hack away at the teenager’s prick bush.
“Fuck, Jeff, do you know what you are doing? That’s not even. His pubic hair is higher on the right side now. Chop some off there.”
Carlos suddenly felt like crying, something he had not done since his father died.
“Oh, shit, now I really fucked it up, Carlos,” Jeff said with a sheepish grin. “Oh, well, we better shave it all off, it looks stupid this way.”
So at eighteen years old, cute hunky Carlos lost his prick bush. He looked down at his naked crotch. His dick looked enormous now.
“Here, Carlos baby, drink this shot. It’ll relax you. Now be a good boy and get up on your hands and knees so we can shave your asshole.”
“Do I really have to?” the pathetic kid asked.
“Yeah, you really have to. We can’t let you dance like that.”
Carlos, with the help of six or seven pairs of groping hands, crawled to his hands and knees. Hands cupped his ass cheeks and spread them. Hands forced his legs farther apart. Hands gently slapped his big balls to set them swinging. Hands started to rub his nipples. Carlos began to grunt and groan. He felt the shaving cream in his ass crack, and then the cool razor. He felt it scrape around his puckered asshole. He had never felt so naked, so vulnerable. He curled his toes and twisted his torso, moving his hunky ass from side to side like a whore in heat.
“Hold still, punta. I’m just working on the asshole now, and I don’t wanna nick your hole lips.”
Sweat dripped from the boy’s body. Nervous sweat. He could not focus. He could not see clearly. He could not hear. Somebody in front of him wiped the sweat from his face, and then kept on stroking his cheeks and tracing his full lower lip with a thick finger.
“How do you feel, baby? Nervous? Let’s relax you a bit.”
The thick finger inserted itself between his lips and began to saw in and out of his mouth. At the same time, a large male hand encircled Carlo’s dick and began to pump.
“Fuck off, man. I told you I’m not gay,” Carlos tried to say, but the thick finger was pushing down his throat.
Jeff stroked and patted the boy’s smooth, hard ass, then ran one finger up and down the boy’s ass crack, sending shivers through the Puerto Rican youth. The fingers on his chest started to flick his nipples as he did to the chicks to get them hot and wet. He wanted to bite the finger fucking his face, but another hand grabbed his jaw tightly. Spit bubbled out around the invading finger. Then he felt another finger at his asshole. He tried to buck to throw his attackers off, but there were eight of them now, holding him down. On his hands and knees, like a fucking cow they held him, while one hand milked his big fucking dick, and another tugged at his plump nut sack, and a finger drilled his asshole.
Carlos was in agony. He tried to scream for help, but some fucker in the bar had turned up all the music. The finger in his asshole withdrew to be replaced by two of them. Two thick fingers spreading and stretching his rectum. He wanted to fight. He tried to fight. The hand working his nuts started to slap his ball bag harder and harder. Carlos screamed and farted around the fingers up his ass, getting a big laugh from everyone.
The hand on his dick had given him a fucking hard-on. Why the fuck was he hard? What had they given him? Carlos was choking now on the finger in his mouth. It was probing deeply into his throat.
Jeff stripped off his dance thong and stroked his throbbing ten-inch prick. He climbed up on the table behind Carlos and rubbed his prick knob against the boy’s pink rosette.
“No…not that...not that,” Carlos tried to scream, but all that came out around the finger were gagging sounds.
Two more guys had stripped and were rubbing their leaking dicks on the side of his face. Carlos tried in vain to raise an arm to slap them off. He was held immobile. Jeff’s drooling dickhead massaged the pucker ass ring. Then the muscular jock pushed the fat cock knob into the boy’s asshole.
Carlos bucked again, trying to pull away. He gagged in pain. The hand on his dick started to yank roughly. The hand on his balls grabbed the sack and pulled down hard. A popper was shoved up each of the boy’s nostrils. Fingertips grabbed his nipples and twisted. Two guys were rubbing their dickheads in his ears. The dude with the finger in his mouth was stroking his dick into Carlo’s eyes, sealing them shut with pre-cum.
Jeff’s fat cockhead literally popped into the boy’s cherry asshole. The ass lips sealed themselves around the fucking stalk. The ass lips were stretched to their limits. Jeff fucked the boy like a cheap whore, shoving his monster dick in down to the balls in one even hard, steady push. Carlos thought he would die. He started to pass out, but the finger in his throat jabbed and prodded, and the dicks at his face slapped him awake. Somebody, not the boy pumping his prick, peeled back his foreskin and was stretching it this way and that.
Jeff slapped the fucked ass as hard as he could with his big hand while he pulled his dick out to the very knob and then shoved it back in balls deep. That is how he fucked his cunts, and that is how he fucked boy ass. He loved how the inner asshole flesh was pulled out a bit each time he withdrew his dick. There was blood on his cock now, which meant it was the perfect fuck.
The probing finger was withdrawn from Carlo’s spit-filled mouth, only to be replaced moments later by a fat dripping penis. Fingers pried his mouth open so the cockhead could rub up and down his tongue drooling prick spooge.
Carlos was choking, coughing up spit, and dick slime. The fucker in his ass pounded harder and harder. Carlos could feel the goddamn thing in his belly. He could actually feel the prick swelling and throbbing against his asscunt lips. He could feel Jeff’s big fat scrotum slapping against his flesh with each thrust. Oh, god, he was being fucked. Like a girl. Like a cunt. He was being fucked. In a million years, he never imagined this could happen to him.
Jeff grabbed the Puerto Rican’s slim teenage hips and punched deep. He screamed and arched his back and shot a powerful heavy load of fuck up the boy’s ass. He unloaded his sperm into the boy’s belly. The handsome straight high school senior became nothing but a fucked twat. Jeff unhitched, his prick still hard and drooling fuck slop, and another dancer climbed up onto the table and rammed his dick into Carlos.
For an hour and a half, they fucked him in both mouth and asshole. They dumped their scum across his pretty face, shot up his nose and in his ears. They gave him more drugs to keep him out of it and fucked him again. Thirteen dancers fucked the boy two or three times each. Then the manager and three bartenders fucked him.
His asshole was bright red, like a monkey’s ass. Cum bubbled from it. His lips were swollen double their size from sucking dick and looked twice as sexy. His slender tight young body was covered with dried cum. Somebody had put a leather strap around his nut sack, stretching the balls down and making them look even larger than they were. His raw and sore nipples stood out a half-inch, swollen and puckered like a sows tits after birth. They put a cock ring on him, so his hard-on bobbed and weaved and slapped his tummy, leaving dick drool all over his shaved pubic area and stomach. Then they helped him to unsteady feet. He could hardly stand. Jeff steadied him. Jeff kissed the dazed boy on the neck and then sucked, leaving a black and blue mark.
“The drugs we gave you are really addictive. You’re gonna need some every day. Most of the money you make will go to us for drugs, but we’ll let you keep some.”
Carlos’ ass hurt, so he sobbed as they tied the pink mesh pouch onto his throbbing drooling prick. It was truly obscene. The dick pushed the material out so far that his balls were clearly visible. Because of the cock ring, his hard-on would not go down. The pouch was almost see-through, but not quite, just enough to tease the perverts out front. Jeff shoved a small butt plug up the kid’s raped ass.
“Let them see the plug. They’ll love it.”
“Should we wash some of the slime off him? He looks a fucked out mess.”
“Nah, the drunken dudes will like him all the better. They’ll wanna lick the crap off his body. We got a real star here, boys. Well, Carlos, there’s your music. You’re on my boy. Go on out there and make us proud of you.”
On big broad naked feet, with an unsteady, slightly bowlegged walk, cute young Carlos staggered out into the bar to begin his career. He hardly even knew where the fuck he was, but in his head, he heard the word “addicted.” With each step toward the dancing platform, cum squirted out of his ass around the butt plug. Fuck slime ran down his legs. Cum and drool hung from his sexy mouth. His big fucking hard-on tented the tiny pink pouch so much there was an inch of space between material and the boy’s shaved groin. Everyone could easily see his dick and fat sweat-slick shaved nuts.
He tripped once and fell into some customers. Hands massaged his ass cheeks and came away covered in fuck slime. He climbed on hands and knees onto the platform. Customers roared their approval and thrust dollar bills in his direction. Cum ran from his nose, and he licked it up with his tongue.
“Dance, you fucked out cunt!” somebody yelled, and the boy dragged himself to his feet and began to gyrate.
More hands, this time clutching money, started to violate his teenage body. Jeff watching from the rear of the crowd, smiled and turned to the other dancers.
“Anybody up for a Puerto Rican piss party tomorrow night?”