Date: Thu, 29 Mar 2012 16:01:40 +0100 (BST)
From: TomJon Smith <tomjonsmith@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Bouncer (Part 1)

THE BOUNCER (Part 1)
By TomJon Smith

Most of you will think that bouncers are knuckleheaded Neanderthals, only
interested in lifting weights, cracking heads and chasing skirts. You're
right, for the most part. But we have to deal with people like you every
night of the week. The kind of people who get a bit too big for their boots
when they've got a few pints in them, the kind of people who get a bit too
excited at the sight of human flesh, the kind of people who take too many
drugs in order to escape the drudgery of their sad little lives. So when
you are in the queue outside a club or a bar, and you look at the doormen
and make assumptions about them, have no fear, we are making assumptions
right back at you.

I liked being a bouncer. I was good at it. I had an instinct for sussing
out who the troublemakers are. Probably because I used to be one in my
youth. But that's a story for later. One of the great things about being a
bouncer is the other lads. In any given town or city, the doormen all know
each other, at least to nod to. Most of us work for security firms, so we
get thrown from job to job quite a bit. Some weeks you might be standing
outside a trendy hotspot, other weeks you'd be kicking your heels under the
neon lights of a titty bar. I'd done my time with the firms and was now
Head of Security at a special dive called Honkers. I think you can guess
what kind of an establishment it was from the name. And because you work
such shitty hours, after a while most of your friends are other
bouncers. We all tend to like the same things: crappy action movies,
sports, all you can eat buffets, gambling and birds with big breasts. I
score a four out of five on those points.

The other doormen knew I was a poof. It wasn't really an issue. Nothing was
ever said to my face. If a particularly `flamboyant' punter passed by,
Wayne, one of my junior doormen, would sometimes jokily ask `One of yours?'
I would wink and say `Maybe later, if he plays his cards right.' The only
bouncer to have a pop was Jan, a Polish brute, who, thinking I was out of
earshot, referred to me as the `Muscle Fairy.' I had him round the throat
and up against the wall until he sneered an apology. He kept his insults to
himself after that.

That was just after Steve left me. It had been a messy business and he had
moved out of the flat. I hated going back there. But working nights, I was
usually so knackered, that I had little time to dwell on it. Waking up
alone was hard though. Steve used to wake me up with his soft morning
noises, the rustling of his clothes, the burr of his toothbrush. But I
would fall back to sleep quickly. Now I slept through to midday and
everything was where I had left it, nothing touched.

Looking back, the split was a massive knock to my confidence. Being over
forty and single again was depressing. And being betrayed by my boyfriend
with my best friend did not do much for my self-confidence. I stopped
working out regularly. I was a bit of a mess. I grew a beard. Steve had
preferred my clean shaven, refusing to kiss me if I was scratchy. I liked
the beard. It gave me gravitas and authority which are not bad things when
you are the head bouncer at a strip joint. Being a poof is also an
advantage, believe it or not. I'm not likely to be caught round by the bins
with one of the girls giving me a gobble. Wayne, was always falling in love
with the girls and they toyed with him like a cat does with its dinner, the
poor fucker. Surrounded with gyrating flesh every night is enough to drive
any straight man wild, I imagine. But the girls are there to make money,
not find a boyfriend. When they look at punters you can see they are
scrutinising the size of his wallet and not the size of his packet.

The weeks since Steve left me turned into months. I threw myself into the
job, working every night, knowing I had only a cold, empty flat to return
to.

And then Danny started working at the club. First as a barman, and then a
few nights a month as a DJ. I knew I liked him straight away. He was very
different from Steve, who was curvy and fair haired. Danny was slim and
dark. I don't know what it was about him, but he began to occupy a space in
my thoughts. When I daydreamed, it was normally about Danny, about how that
t-shirt clung to his tight body, about the day's stubble on his face, about
the curve of his ass in his jeans. There was something about the boy that
got me hard.

He was a nice distraction to have in an otherwise demanding job. We'd
caught a lot of lads with drugs in the club and this was causing all kinds
of hassle with the police. One guy collapsed and had to go to hospital, his
friend telling us he must have got the drugs in the club, as he never
normally used. Steps had to be taken and I had to take on more bouncers
from SecuriFirm, a local security outfit, to keep an eye on the situation
and get the dealers out.

/

Running security in a strip club is tougher than you might think. You have
to have a sixth sense sometimes. Working the door is the easy bit. You can
normally spot a troublemaker a mile off. Most men are transfixed by the
girls and you realise how stupid a lot of the male sex are. We really are
led by our dicks. Outside, in the queue, you hear lads saying they are
going to do this and that with the girls but once inside the dark, sweaty
expanse of the club they just sit there and drool. The trouble always comes
when someone over steps the mark. Touching the girls during a lap dance is
a no-no, and tossing men out of the club is a bit of a hobby. We have a
sweepstake every week for who can chuck a punter the furthest.

But on quiet nights, sometimes you end up running errands for the bar
staff. On one particular night, Jenny, the bar manager, asked me to get
some spare glasses from down in the cellar. Danny had somehow dropped an
entire crate of pint glasses earlier, leaving shards scattered all over the
floor.

The helpful guy that I am, I trundled down the back stairs, trying to
remember in which of the several storerooms the spares were kept. I opened
the first door I came to and walked into the pitch black of the room.

I fumbled in the darkness, trying to find the light switch. Swearing to
myself, I felt along the shelves and behind the first stack, remembering
that the extra glasses were in a box somewhere at the back.

The door flew open. Spinning around, I could see through the shelves that
it was a couple of people locked in an aggressive embrace. At first I
thought they were fighting but then I recognised their urgent handling of
each other as something else entirely. My eyes were still adjusting to the
light so I couldn't make out quite who the pair was. And then the door
swung back shut leaving the room in darkness once more. At that moment I
had a choice, declare myself and awkwardly slip out. Or I could sit it out,
with the risk of being discovered.

As murmurs and groans of lust filled the blackness, I figured the moment
had passed in which I could really cough and sidle out the door. Besides
behind the shelves I was probably safe enough from discovery. I decided to
sit it out and enjoy the show.

Then a familiar voice, heavily accented in an Eastern European drawl, said,
`Turn the light on. I want to see you go down on me.'

A moment later, the light flickered on, bathing the middle of the room in
light. Luckily, I was obscured in deep shadows in my position behind the
shelves. But I was in for a shock when my eyes focused on the scene in
front of me. That Eastern block twang belonged to my fellow bouncer,
Jan. And kneeling before him was not some pole- dancing dolly bird. No. It
was the object of my own affections. Danny.

The Pole licked his lips lasciviously as Danny unfastened the flies of
Jan's black trousers. His hand slipped inside the fly and fished out Jan's
meat. He held it gently in his hand, as though it was a small pet.

`Suck it!' Jan demanded. Danny looked up at him, his eyes wide and
innocent. Jan slapped him lightly on the check. `Put eet in your mouth, you
leetle whore.'

Jan was getting off on the lad's reluctance, his pink penis stiffening
quickly in Danny's hand. Cautiously, Danny opened his mouth and took the
dick on his tongue.

`That's it pretty boy. Suck my big Polish dick!' Jan tipped his head back
in ecstasy as Danny wetted his dick with saliva and began to work the
cock. Danny had clearly sucked dick before, his lips slowly, almost
lovingly, caressing the soft pink skin of Jan's shaft.  Jan unfastened his
belt and slipped it off, his trousers crumpling to the floor.

His body was hairless, his underarms and groin shaven to the quick. A large
spiky tattoo covered his right flank and down to his hip and thigh. A
similar thorny design adorned the opposite arm and shoulder, the
green-black spikes, crossing and interweaving down onto his pectoral
muscle. It was expert work, nicely done. I felt a throb of jealousy over
how tight and smooth his body was. His muscles bulged in all the right
places. His tattoos made his body look like a piece of art almost. Tattoos
are a kind of armour. Most bouncers have them. My arms and chest are
covered in swirling tribal designs. I guess they are kind of generic. I
don't care. I think they make me look hard. But, looking at Jan, I thought
of my own body, subconsciously rubbing the belly that had recently begun to
form where abs had once been. I needed to get back to the gym. Since my
split with Steve I had let myself go. He would lovingly shave my body every
Sunday night, clipping my chest down to stubble, dragging the razor
carefully over my shoulders and traps and down over my shoulder blades and
back. Steve couldn't abide body hair and I had let him shear and pluck me
every week, as though I was some lapdog. In rebellion I had let myself
become a hairy, slobby mess. I avoided mirrors in case I caught a glimpse
of myself. No wonder Danny preferred the attention of the cruel-faced,
hard-bodied Jan. It had to be better than rutting with some tatty
forty-five year old like me.

As I watched Danny service Jan the only consolation I could take was that
Jan's dick did not match up to the promise of his body. It was almost
scrawny in comparison to the thick thighs that flanked it. This was one
area I was definitely a step ahead of the Pole. In fact a good few inches
ahead.

But watching Danny with his lips firmly clasping another man's dick stirred
my own. I couldn't help it. As he took Jan's hairless balls in his hand and
tugged, my little man began to grow and strain against my trousers.

Jan, having had his fill of Danny's mouth, pulled the lad up from his feet
and roughly turned him around, pushing him up against the wall. He tore
Danny's jeans down and ripped the white cotton boxers open to reveal the
smooth crack of Danny's pert arse.  Then, spitting on his two extended
fingers, Jan crudely stuffed them up his exposed hole. Danny bucked and
began to shout, but Jan grabbed him around the throat threateningly.

`None of that, you leetle bitch. Or I'll have to gag you. Understand?'

Danny nodded silently.

Perhaps I should have intervened. Jan was being really rough with the
lad. But I was trapped in my own hiding place. Barging in and levelling Jan
now would only show that I had been perving on them. And, shamefully, my
cock throbbed as Jan began to finger him, loosening his arsehole with short
stabs of his fingers.

Danny whimpered, half in pleasure, half in pain. Judging him loose enough,
Jan stood back for a second and admired the lad's spread buttocks. His dick
flexed menacingly.  Spitting down on his dick, he smeared its length with
the frothy grease. Holding his shaft between thumb and fingers he pushed
into Danny's puckered red hole and thrust it in, up to the hilt.

Danny whimpered again. Jan set off like a jockey at the Grand National,
giving the lad no chance to warm up, his arse a blur as he thrust hard and
fast in Danny's accommodating arsehole. With another pang of jealousy I
remembered that I used to be able to fuck like that, humping away like
there was no tomorrow. It was probably one of the reasons that Steve had
left me. My more luxurious and steady pace probably bored him.

Jan was enjoying himself no end, slapping the lad's arse cheeks until they
blushed red.  His smooth scrotum smacked against the top of Danny's
thighs. The pace was relentless, Jan pausing only to spit down on his shaft
before setting off at full tilt again.  Danny seemed to have adjusted to
Jan's vigorous tempo and was now letting out little groans of pleasure.

That sound, of Danny's gratification, struck through me and my straining
dick longed for him. Bold in my hidden spot, I slowly unzipped myself, my
knob immediately pushing its way out, like an animal from a cage. I took
myself in hand and began to wank, pulling my soft foreskin back and forth
over the engorged head, my eyes fixed on Danny's smiling face as Jan thrust
into him like an automaton.

Sweat poured down Jan's sculpted torso, splashing onto the floor. His body
was glowing from exertion. Tired, he pulled out of Danny and stood back to
admire his work. Poor Danny's arsehole was gaping open, his ring sore with
friction, his cheeks red with Jan's encouraging slaps. Wanting a rest, Jan
got down on the floor.

`Ride my dick, boy!' He said, laying down. He manhandled Danny down,
straddling Jan's groin and facing away from him. Putting his hands behind
his head, Jan sat back and relaxed as Danny inserted the dick back inside
his anus. He was lucky, really, that Jan's dick wasn't that big. He took it
quite easily and slid up and down the shaft with ease. Jan whistled with
pleasure as Danny bounced up and down on him. As I rubbed my dick, I gazed
at Danny's beautiful body. He was slim but well toned and quite hairy
compared to his smooth lover. Raising his arms to support his head, I
noticed the thickets of hair under each arm. They had darkened with
sweat. And beneath his smooth chest was a line of hair from his navel down
to the pubic hair, clipped short around his flaccid dick.  His balls had
tightened but the soft cock flicked up and down with every bounce. I longed
to taste him and feel that meat stiffen between my lips, to nuzzle into his
pits and kiss the line of fur down to his beautiful cock.

Jan began to fuck him hard again, pulling Danny back so he was supporting
himself on his hands, grabbing his hips and thrusting upwards.

`You like that, leetle whore! Jan's big dick in your tight leetle hole!'

He prodded Danny's hole with the same frantic pace as before, his balls
flying upwards with each stab of his dick.

Danny cried out in ecstasy, causing Jan to reach a hand up to cover his
mouth. But it seemed to spur him on to harder, faster thrusts.

I too was frantically working my hardened dick whilst trying to keep my
breathing low. I squeezed my head between thumb and fingers, really working
the pleasure points of my helmet until I could stand no more and I spunked
into my waiting hand, a large, white load of semen, all the time keeping my
eyes on Danny and the beautiful sight of him getting fucked, wishing all
the time that it was me burying my dick into his sweet, pink arsehole.

Jan too was close to breaking point. His body was glossed with sweat,
reddening his skin and darkening the thorny points of his tattoos. Quite
suddenly, he pushed Danny off him, scrambled to his feet and with a few
quick tugs of his wrist, exploded over his conquered body. Sperm flew
through the air, spraying the lad's face and chest. Jan blew air through
his teeth as the orgasm flew through him, jerking his body as each volley
of jism ricocheted from his bell end.

Climax over, Jan grabbed Danny by the hair and forced his dick down his
throat again.

`Lick me clean, leetle whore. Taste my seed on your tongue.' Gagging a
little, Danny complied sucking the softening dick until it was clean and
empty of spunk.

Jan, sated at last, relaxed his body, his knees bending slightly, his arms
dangling freely by his side. Danny reached for a toilet roll, right in
front of where I was hiding behind the shelves and began to wipe the
dribbling semen from his face and torso.

Jan, quick as a flash, had him about the throat and up against the wall.

`If you tell anyone about this, leetle slut, I will kill you with my own
hands. If anyone even thinks I've dipped my dick in your fudge factory,
they vill find your body face down in the canal. Understand?'

Danny, stunned, nodded. Jan, all aggression once more, silently dressed
himself as Danny trembled. Just as Jan was unlocking the door, he plucked
up the courage to say something.

`The money I owe you, from the drugs, we're all square?'

I had to stifle a gasp. It was Danny dealing in the club!

Jan turned to him and smiled evilly.

`All square. For now.'


TO BE CONTINUED