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Curious Club Cruise - Part 6.
Tit for tat.
The floor manager darted toward the bar, elbowing through the crowd on the dance floor as if he were a bull on a rampage. I had cleverly stashed the pill in my jacket pocket, and with a swift motion, I pulled out a drinks coin instead, placing my hand confidently back on the bar. The manager’s face was a mix of fury and disbelief as he zeroed in on Antwan, practically sputtering like a shaken soda bottle.
“What did you just give him, Antwan?” he bellowed, his voice rising above the thumping music. “... I saw you handing out drugs again!”
His outburst sent a wave of curiosity rippling through the club, and the few patrons already inside began to glance over, captivated by the spectacle. Meanwhile, I took a leisurely sip of my cocktail, mirroring the shock on my face as I stared up at the explosive scene unfolding before me.
When the floor manager finally turned to me — with fire in his eyes — I set my drink down. With theatrical poise, I shot him a stunned glare that could cut through steel.
“What on earth are you talking about, Sir?” I retorted, putting on an act of astonished disbelief, “... I simply gave Antwan a coin too many for my drink, and he just handed the extra back!”
It was clear the man absolutely refused to believe me, even though the customer is always right. Right? The words rolled off my tongue with a convincing flair.
To seal the deal, I added, “... I’m not here to take pills from strangers, and I definitely didn’t! But seriously, take a look around — half the club is glued to this showdown! Chill out, man, or you might just get a heart attack before the night is through. Just apologize to Antwan!”
The fearlessness in my tone unleashed an exhilarating rush within me, igniting a fierce spark of confidence I had never experienced before. As I sat there, I recognized that the manager, with his salt-and-pepper hair and weary frown, was around my dad’s age. Until now, I had always considered age a marker of authority, believing I could never stand up to my father like that. But at that moment, the floor manager unwittingly taught me that I could assert myself, and still hold respect for him.
I could hardly believe the wave of boldness surging within me, a feeling that propelled me to stand my ground against him, ready to confront the unyielding attitude that had become all too familiar at home. The atmosphere crackled with tension, and with each word I spoke, my resolve solidified, emboldened by the unexpected power I felt surging through my veins.
Yes, the man was right. Antwan, indeed, just offered me an illicit substance. But I would not allow the manager to undermine this striking, ebony-skinned hunk of a man before me. I liked the look of the young bartender. And in a distant corner of my horny brain, I was already envisioning me hooking up with him. Shit, if he wanted me, I would let Antwan be my first. Even though we had only crossed paths moments ago, and I knew nothing of his backstory. Yet, I felt like there was an undeniable connection between us. Silly, really. But still, his chocolate-flavored appearance, in his leather wrapper, looked good enough to swallow down in one go.
I could feel the palpable tension swirling in the air between the floor manager and his bartender, a silent duel of wills. Yet, I stood resolute, ready to defend my newfound acquaintance with every ounce of courage I could summon.
As the final nail in his coffin, I revealed the coin that lay hidden under my palm. The floor manager instantly got red in the face, seeing the drinks coin next to my Blue Curaçao and the bottle of Coke. Realizing I had not been lying to him about the coin. The bartender smirked at me as the older man let out some nasty, inaudible stutters and swiftly turned away from us.
As I turned around on my barstool, I called after him. Quite loudly, I asked the manager, “... Sir! Aren’t you forgetting something?”
It was this that stopped the manager in his tracks. Standing halfway across the small ground floor dance floor, he turned back to us, and he hastily muttered an insincere word of apology to his bartender, Antwan.
“I swear that guy is out to get me. Thanks, Brian... I owe you one,” said the barkeeper worriedly.
“Well, let this serve as a lesson, Antwan. I won’t cover for you again. And... You owe me a blowjob! Is that even a genuine pill, or some fake shit?”
“Oh no... I work at a fertility clinic by day. That’s a real Viagra.”
“Ha... Well, thanks. But I am not paying you for it!”
But I smiled hornily at the ebony Caribbean dude, and Antwan winked just as impassioned back at me. Grabbing the aroused horse cock in his shiny black pants, showing off the size for me without anyone else noticing.
Saying, “... Really, thanks for covering for me, man... And about that blow? Meet me around two in the bathroom on the 2nd floor. Take the pill 30 minutes before. Then you’ll have the full effect as you... You know. I like the look of you, Brian.”
Antwan made a rude gesture with his elbow. But it was clear that this ebony hunk was not averse to having sex with other men. Nor with a twinky like me, it seemed.
“Ha... thanks. I’ve always wanted to try one. Though, the stupid thing is... I would much rather have you do me. So, should I hand it back to you?”
“Really?... That is fine by me, too. But are you sure you can handle me? You look pretty young.”
“I am 18. But yeah, pretty inexperienced. That’s where you come in, Doc.” I laughed, “... As long as it’s not too wide and you go in easy with plenty of lube... I think I might be able to handle it. It should be fun. Right? I mean, just don’t overdo it.”
I winked at Antwan as I said it, and he flashed an audacious grin back at me. Fuck, he is pretty. Taking another sip of the Blue Curaçao. The sweetness made my gums curl. Or maybe that was the thought of me giving the ebony bartender a blow job in the gent’s toilets. Wondering what he was packing.
I pulled the pill out and examined it for a second. It looked like the real deal. Stuffing it securely in one of the inner pockets of TJ’s old leather jacket.
I thanked the bartender. Leaving the half-emptied Blue Curaçao on the counter. I sneakily told him I would be in the toilets at two. Winking at the strong man in his leather biker vest and unbuttoned club shirt. I took the bottle of Coke with me and went exploring the club’s ground floor a bit more. Making a mental note of where the bathrooms were. Or what the best spots were to people-watch.
A blast from the past.
Curious about the rest of the club, I checked out the first and second floors. The higher I climbed, the kinkier and cozier the areas became. In the attic was a full-on adult theater. With a stage for floor shows. On stage stood all kinds of sex furniture. And I instantly knew what types of live performances were given there.
Making my way down, I heard the DJ on the first floor start a tune I had not heard in a long time. It had been popular right around when Tony had run away from home. He played it all the time, to the annoyance of our parents, of course.
It came with an obscene hip-thrusting and dick-grabbing dance routine TJ had taught me. So I rushed onto the dance floor and let loose. When the song was done, I mosied over to the DJ booth. He had started to play the regular music that was typically played up here. Trance, Pop, and House music. But he began to chat with me a bit. Saying that I looked fantastic and that he had not seen that dance routine in ages.
I joked around a bit with him. Asking him if he had gotten blown a lot behind the booth while he was playing. He grinned dirty at me and sneakily said, “... It does happen... Not a lot... The managers don’t like it when the DJ staff interact with customers that way. But they can’t be everywhere at once when it’s busy.”
He looked at me while I danced a little near him. Once the song changed, he suddenly moved closer to me, saying, “... I normally don’t let anyone up here... But if you want, you can dance behind me. Maybe sneak under the desk and help me out?”
I winked at him in thanks and gave him a small kiss. Whispering over the music, “... Thanks a lot. I’d like that... But first, I need to find a good spot to watch the people coming in.” I said rather hornily, “... I want to score a date tonight and get laid for the first time by a guy.”
The DJ had a quite comical ‘O’ on his face. It told me that he wasn’t gay. But he still winked hornily back at me. After the next song change, the DJ called me back over to him. Saying, “... Go downstairs... Sit down between the VIP booths and to the right of the stairs. That’s the perfect spot. All the traffic moves by there. You can take your pick and just follow them to see what they are doing.”
The DJ held out a fist, and I gave him a fist bump. Dancing by the booth a while longer. Watching more and more people cumming upstairs. The first-floor dance floors started to fill up with couples, and the music became a bit wilder and much louder. I waved goodbye to the man, and he stuck up a thumb. Humping his hips to the rhythm of the music as if he was fucking the air. Mouthing to me, “... Good luck hunting!”
Making myself right at home.
So far, my night was unfolding beautifully. I already had two guys offering to hook up with me, and the evening was just beginning. The club buzzed with energy as more and more people flowed in from outside. Each eager to embrace a steamy night ahead. From the youthful, spirited twinks to the seasoned leather daddies with subs in tow. Gay men and lesbian women of all backgrounds and colors entered, dressed in their finest leather and denim attire, ready to celebrate and connect. The atmosphere was quite different from ‘the Cottage’. The Mountain is much more my scene.
The older crowd gravitated upstairs to the second floor or down to the dungeon upon arrival. What my brother had shared with me proved true; those tough-looking men exuded a distinctive charm, embodying a wealth of life experiences compared to the lively younger guests that remained below. Some of them got chatted up by the leather men and dragged into the basement, too. The ones who ventured up to the first floor or the attic sex theater were the vibrant, seasoned twinks and couples, all set to savor the joy of dancing, chatting, or... full-on sex in the dungeon.
The spot next to the right of the stairs was excellent. I could see the steps leading down into the main hall from the entrance. The beams of light from the dance floor lit up the people coming in, which was much more my scene. Even though I had never been to a private club like this, let alone to one where the hunky male waiters were expected to sexually titillate the customers. Unlike the bar staff, these husky muscular guys wore harnesses, fake leather bow tie collars, and wrist cuffs over bare chests. Their sophisticated, pleated black pants had a few hidden secrets. Some had Velcro seams. Others wore pants with thru zips.
The longer the night went on. The hotter the guys and girls that entered started to look. I didn’t know if that was true. Maybe it was the beer. But my heart stopped when a good-looking, sexy guy entered the club. He stopped at the top of the steps, right in the path of the dancing light beams.
This twenty-six-ish dude was absolutely stunning, radiating an undeniable presence. He was clad entirely in sleek, black leather, the material hugging his toned frame perfectly, accentuating the defined muscles of his arms and bare chest. His outfit included a fitted leather jacket adorned with silver studs. The few glimpses of skin that peeked out from beneath the heavy leather were embellished with intricate tattoos. Heavy gold chains hung from his neck and wrists, catching the light with every slight movement, adding a touch of bold elegance to his rugged appearance.
Yet, as nice as he dressed, there was an air of nasty roughness in his dark demeanor. Was it anger or just an act? It was a little frightening. He frequently glanced over his shoulder, his piercing gaze suggesting that he was eagerly anticipating someone’s arrival, a mix of curiosity and anticipation dancing in his darkly made-up eyes.
When his date walked over to him, the brute grabbed her. Hooking an arm around her neck and bending her over backward. Driving his tongue into her mouth. Causing a bit of a hold-up on the steps into the club. Heck, one of his hands pushed up her red leather miniskirt and rudely slid between her naked thighs. But fuck if he cared. He owned her, and he was showing everyone. Driving several fingers in her eager cunt. Only releasing her after she staged a loud orgasm.
He looked like a cool enough guy. A bit of a brute. A pimp or a jailbird, maybe. But the leather goth biker look was a bit scary at the same time. My mind started to race, and my curious dick began to twitch. He was my kind of type. The girl he came in with did not stick close to him. She met up with some other lesbian girls. When she walked past, I saw who it was. It had been the slut who had tried to do me behind the bike shed at school. She still wore much too much makeup. And had an air around her as if she was an expensive hooker.
The tough hunk went straight down into the cruising area in the club’s basement. I was sort of curious to see it for myself. From what I heard following the brute downstairs, he called everyone, man or woman, a bitch, slut, or slave. Damn, that guy was quite the player. I passed him three or four times in the maze that lay down there. It had all kinds of dimly lit rooms. With sex furniture and prison bars. Glory holes and jack-off rooms.
Every time I moved on, I seemed to walk by a different room where this hunk was fucking around with someone else. Mostly guys. Every time he noticed me watching him at it. The one time I caught him with a younger woman, it looked like she wasn’t enjoying his attention. The hunk was choking her one-handedly and ripping the panties off her ass.
Fingering her with his nasty biker gloves. Not those thin ones I owned too. No, he wore thick motorcycle gloves. The kind with reinforced metal knuckle protectors. Fingering her struggling cunt with a crazed intensity. She screamed, but the woman did not enjoy the continued squirting orgasms he gave her. The scene repulsed me too much to stay and watch, so I left.
A toilet quickie in the club.
It was nearing two o’clock already. I had seen enough and left upstairs to the second floor. As I entered the bathroom hallway, the bartender, Antwan, moved up behind me.
Whispering, “... Hey there, Brian... Didn’t think you’d come. I can’t stay long. The manager is still on my tail.”
I laughed. Saying, “... Awe, I thought I could be on your tail instead. Quick blowjob, then? I want to see what you’re packing anyway.”
Antwan laughed and pushed me into the bathroom. A nice, clean place with blue lights. When I looked up at them, Antwan muttered, “... That keeps the needle pushers out.”
He took me into a cubicle at the back, stroking, hugging, and licking my face excitedly.
Antwan had his ebony cock swinging free before I had the chance to close the door behind me. I grabbed it while the barman pulled me in close to kiss him. The hot cock wasn’t too wide. But this 9-inch dick was quite enough to be getting on with. No, Antwan’s claims to fame were his free-swinging ebony nuts. The colossal sack swung low as I jacked him off. He had fastened a wide metal ring around the black hairless scrotum. It was at least half an inch wide and looked quite heavy.
I had no control over the proceedings, but it was enjoyable and not even that rough. I got pushed to my knees and pulled over the lovely veined black cock. The bartender held on to my head and wordlessly made me suck him off, just as he liked it. All the while, I stroked his hairless, free-swinging nuts. More to protect my face from the heavy ball-stretcher than anything else. He became a bit nasty near the end. But the Caribbean bartender emptied his balls with a prolonged dirty grunt. Giving me enough time to prepare for what was coming. I swallowed most of the hot man-juice down. This stunned and elated the guy.
“Damn... That was hot, Jackson. Didn’t know how much experience you had in this sort of thing. So, I took control... Sorry about that, Brian,” said the hot barman apologetically.
“Don’t worry about it, Antwan. It was a nice mouthful. Thanks for the free juice.”
Antwan had started to kiss me again. Playing with the few dribbles of cum that had escaped my mouth. After a while, I pushed Antwan onto the toilet and let him service me. The Dutch-Caribbean stud let his lips do the talking. But he looked shocked at my ten-inch white boy-toy. With all his experience, he just could not take me all the way down. Though, what he was doing was more than good enough for me.
Although, I didn’t allow him to take me all the way. I softly muttered, “... That’s for the date I take home tonight.”
Antwan grinned understandingly and sucked me off a bit longer. When he tapped out, I knew it was time for him to get back to work. And for me to go back on the hunt. Helping the ebony stud off the bathroom floor, I hugged him and slobbered his lips in thanks.
The evening was already a success in my book. I could not complain. I had sucked and got a hot blowjob from a charming guy. Sure, I wished Antwan had a bit longer break. I would have happily given my cherry to him. Maybe later, I thought. Washing my hands and face in the sink next to him. I was going to ask Antwan what time he got off. Instead, I was shocked into silence when the vicious leather-wearing hunk entered the second-floor bathroom behind me. The guy even noticed me watching him via the mirrors.
“What?...” he harshly asked.
“Not much... Just admired your leathers... Didn’t you wear a jacket when you came in?”
“What is it to you?... I was hot...” he said with a dirty grin.
“Yes, you are...” I very softly replied. Antwan sniggered next to me as I said it. But I left the bathroom before he could ask what I said. I think he had understood it, though, as I heard a booming laugh when the door closed behind me.
Even though the hunk was exactly my type, his rough attitude had started to scare me. But not enough to rule him out as a potential date. Even a quickie would be fine by me. As long as he dropped the bad-boy attitude. And gently opened me up before he would penetrate my virgin boy-cunt dressed in leather. The horny thoughts made me grin wickedly.
The club’s nasty basement cruising area, or the second floor, seemed to be the right spot for me to chat up a few guys. Expecting that I might score a hot date there with a car. I would let one of them have some fun with me there before inviting him — or them — over to my place.
The idea of doing it for the first time with multiple guys had come to me after watching one of the many porn videos playing all around the club. It seemed they did not believe in paintings or other artworks in the Mountain. They compromised by giving the TV screens gilded frames.
I slowly sauntered around the upper floor, observing some masters anonymously abusing one of the house slaves. I got scolded by one of them. Not for watching him play. But for distracting the club’s house-boy. The tied young man recognized me from my previous visit with Tony and Daniel. He served us our dinner last Sunday. Well, no, he swallowed my dessert.
He happily waved at me and gestured for me to come closer. Luckily, Scott, the other club owner, came to my rescue. Or I feared I would have been forced to take the place of the heavily tied-up house-boy. After berating the Alpha male and explaining the house rules to him, the tough man apologized and continued playing with the sexy house boy.
Scott and I watched the two getting hot and heavy for a while. The club owner draped his arm around my neck and whispered, “Thanks for sticking up for Antwan. Did he give you a hard time, Jackson?”
“Who, Antwan? I had the pleasure, yes.”
“Not what I meant, but good to hear. I was asking about the floor manager, Dwayne.”
“Not really. That man has anger issues, though,” I sighed to Scott.
“I know what you mean, Brian Jackson. Have fun. Be careful, though. Antwan told me you ran into Josh. Stay away from that guy! Daniel Carter and your brother would... Oh, well... You’re a big guy. And you look like you can look after yourself. Still, I'll tell my staff to look out for you, too. Nice outfit, by the way. I do love a twink in leather,” Scott said. Although, I did not understand the warning he gave me.
Scott squeezed my shoulder and gave me a peck on the cheek. Wiping a glob of cum off my earlobe. He winked, smacked my ass fatherly, and left.
After dancing with a few guys and having a drink or two, I went back to exploring. The Mountain is a friendly club. And the longer the night went on, the sexier — or should I say kinkier — the crowd seemed to become. By now, every playspace was occupied. Businessman got it on with slutty sissy boys. Bikers used guys like fuck-toys. Bullies played master to their slaves. Butch lesbians scissored their bitches.
I remembered the doorman from last weekend. Asking me if I wanted to become a cleaner. Now I understood why.
The leather hunk I had seen in the bathroom on the second floor was using one of the slaves. There wasn’t anything pretty or easy about how he handled the black dude. His 8-inch fat dick ruthlessly disappeared into the guy’s mouth as he smacked him hard. The guy tried to protect his head, but that made the fucker only more aggressive. Ordering the house boy to call him by his name and count the beatings he got. “One, Master Josh... Two, Master Josh... Thank you, master... Three, Master Josh...”.
So this guy was called Josh. And he was a Master. Well, that was me done. I didn’t need a Master. I wanted a leather lover. But even though Master Josh stood with his back to me, watching him from the hallway, I noticed his dark, frowning eyes flit around to the mirror opposite the door. For a few milliseconds, our eyes met. But that was enough for Josh to slow the facefuck right down. Even to start to play lovingly with the black dude. Was this for my benefit? Well, I think the first part of what I saw was more his style. I shuddered to think what would happen to me if someone like Josh took my virginity like that.
A hairy taco in stockings.
I left. Taking in the sights of all the kinky playrooms on the second floor. Even the smells and the sounds up there excited me as much as they frightened me. No, the dance floor one level down was much more fun. I chatted with a few people and got compliments on my outfit. They told me I pulled off the look very nicely. But I had no luck scoring a date there, either. Not that it wasn’t any fun up there. I danced with a few guys. And got groped so much my butt-cheeks started to hurt. My dick saw plenty of action two. But it lay protected behind the chinos and the leather jockstrap.
However, it seemed that everywhere I went, that Master Josh dude was nearby. He did not let me out of his sight. The stupid thing was that other people started to follow him as well. This stalking behavior did not feel comfortable at all. In fact, it made me angry as shit. Causing me to take a surreptitious face pic of the asshole.
I went down to the club’s ground floor and told Antwan about the stalker. And I didn’t know if that helped the matter any. By then, I had also picked up a tail of 2 of the enormous bodybuilder security personnel. But at least that Josh guy stayed away. I talked with two men at the downstairs bar. They had overheard me talking to Antwan. They came closer, sitting on either side of me at the bar.
These guys were Daniel Carter’s size. One was Mexican. The other turned out to be Antwan’s older brother. Both were around Dan’s age as well, in their early thirties. Dressed in camo army gear with some leather accent items. They started to pump me for information about myself. They were happily surprised that I was open enough to tell them I was looking for a first-time date with a guy. As we sat chatting at the bar, I swore I saw a familiar face walking nearby. But that young guy kept his hoodie up. He was obviously trying his hardest not to get noticed by me. Staying in the shadows. However, the way he walked was familiar to me.
The two guys invited me to sit on one of the many couches in the club. They started to buy me drinks and make out with me. After a while, I tipsily asked the Mexican stud to follow me into the basement cruising area. And he willingly did so. I thought he would be the one out of all the hot men I met and talked to. He looked pretty rough. But acted truly sweet. Rodriguez was his name. Or at least that’s what Antwan’s sexy ebony brother called him. They worked as patrol guards at the marine base where Daniel and Tony worked. But I had not told him this.
As we walked around the ground floor to the stairs, my eye now caught an entire entourage of people following me. Master Josh was fooling around nearby with an older guy. He had a hand stuffed into the guy’s ripped jeans. Making him wince in pain. The shadowy figure that acted so familiar and the two brick shithouses followed. They, in turn, were pursued by a group of slim twinks that wanted to worship the suited muscle gods.
Rodriguez and I snuck into the dungeon, though. He had a calming arm around my back. The lower down the stairs we went, the more Rodriguez’s hand sank too. Before long, his big hand firmly massaged one of my ass cheeks. Nevertheless, I had fun with the Mexican. We had found a secluded room with a vinyl-covered bed. He pushed me inside and pressed his big, hairy body to mine. At first, he took complete control. But I had figured him wrong. He wasn’t as buff as his appearance or his initial actions had made me believe. This dude was a power-bottom. All he wanted to do was to kiss.
Don’t get me wrong, Rod was great at that. He made me feel warm and fuzzy. But when he started to undress, it became clear what he was into. Rod wanted me to breed his hairy Mexican ass like a bitch. Nothing against hairy men, but he had a lot of it. And the worst thing was he flat-out refused to have me fuck him with a condom. And I just could not get myself to do him without one.
That was not all. Under the camo pants, the dude wore frilly-laced women’s underwear and net stockings. Again, to each their own thing. But the magic had gone for me. Heck, the dick in my assless leather jocks had wilted in shame. My look of surprise told Rodriguez enough. He thanked me for the fun. Pulled up his pants and left.
< Continued in part 7 of 7 >
Thank you for reading this story.
Please give it a 👍 Like or a Comment if you are inclined to do so.
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© StrykerJ - August-2022. Original series: Night-time Club Cruise
Edited, renamed, and re-uploaded: March-2025.
