Date: Tue, 3 Sep 2002 23:14:20 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Stripper! Part 8

STRIPPER!

Part  8

By Pete Brown (petebrownuk @ yahoo.com)

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories


Dad didn't get home from Albuquerque until after it
was light.  If I'd been awake, I'd have been worried
sick about him, but after our fantastic bout of hard
sex Jase and I had fallen into a deep sleep, our arms
comfortably wrapped around each other in the big bed.


We didn't even wake up when dad's truck drew up, or
when he came in and took all his clothes off - it was
only when he got in with us and my body felt his
warmth pressing against me that I finally surfaced.  I
half yawned a sleepy "Dad... Good morning..." .

There was no reply, so I reached down to hold dad's
dick in the way he liked me to, thinking that after
that long drive he'd probably be hard already and need
a bit of  relief.   He was erect, but as I curled my
hand around his dick, feeling its moist warmth in my
palm, he grasped my wrist and pushed my hand away.

"Dad...."

"No, Steve, not now....", dad mumbled, and turned over
so that he was facing away from me.

I thought this was a bit odd, as dad usually liked me
to jerk him off in the morning.  But now his broad
back was solidly turned towards me, and so I put my
arm over him and let my hand lie on his muscular
belly, enjoying the feeling of dad's hard warm body
and the slight tickling in my palm from his nice patch
of hair there.  He didn't react, so I started to inch
my hand downwards, teasing his hair gently as I did,
and starting to feel it thicken into the big wiry
patch around his dick.  But as I touched his dick,
dad's hand again grasped my wrist to make me stop, and
I heard him mutter

"I said no, Steve!".

Jase was awake by now, too, and he was tucked
companionably up behind me.  I could feel his hard
dick stabbing at my ass crack, and I shuffled a bit to
make it more comfortable for us both.  I loved to feel
the warmth of his dick pressed between my ass cheeks,
and I thought I'd do the same for dad.  Somehow it's
so companionable to lie "spooned up" against another
guy, and to be able to feel his dick half  in you. So
I pressed myself even tighter into his back, and let
my erection poke gently at him.  My face was so close
to his back that my own hot breath was wafted back
into my nose, bringing with it that wonderful scent of
man  flesh.

Suddenly, dad turned around.

"Look, Steve, I told you no! Now, leave me alone, will
you!  I need to sleep."

"But dad... I thought it would relax you, and you
always say that you sleep better after you've cum..."

"Shut the fuck up, boy, and leave me alone.  Now I'm
not going to tell you again."

I was dreadfully upset, not only by his tone, but also
because he called me 'boy'.  He always called me
Steve, and it was a sort of thing between us - I knew
that he was treating me as an equal when he did this,
and not as his kid son!   I sort of clawed my way over
Jase, and went in to the bathroom to shower.  It's not
as if I was crying - but I didn't want either dad or
Jase to see how upset I was.

I made breakfast, and Jase came in and joined me.  We
were almost silent as we sat here forking it down -
Jase could tell something had happened.

"Hey, Steve... He's just tired, that's all.  That
drive from Albuquerque is no joke in the middle of the
night.... believe me, I know!"

It didn't cheer me up much, and when dad hadn't got up
by about 10 o'clock, I thought I'd better take him
some coffee.  But Jase reckoned it would be better to
let dad sleep until he woke up naturally.  He had to
leave himself, for his regular trip to Albuquerque, so
he wasn't exactly cheerful himself - I knew he hated
the humiliation he was put through, but, equally, I
thought I understood why he had to continue going.

So there I was, sitting by myself.  I tried to work,
but couldn't concentrate on my assignment - what could
have upset dad?  Was it something I'd done?

When dad did get up, around lunchtime, he hardly said
anything.   He just sat there, silently, and jut made
"polite" noises, answering questions with a minimal
"yes" or a "no" if he could.  You know the sort of
thing I mean....   "Dad, shall we have a sandwich for
lunch?".  "OK, then."

Normally he would have said what he wanted, or gone to
the fridge and got the stuff out, so we worked
together.  But now I fixed us both a ham sandwich.

"Shall I get you a beer to go with that dad?"

"No, thanks."

"Can I have one?"

"If you like."

We ate in silence, and I had difficulty in chewing my
food down.  What had I done?

When he was the same way about coffee, I finally said

"Dad... What have I done?  I'm sorry, dad - whatever
it is.  But if you don't tell me what I've done wrong,
I don't know what to do....."

Dad looked at me, and I saw his worried face get even
more strained.

"Oh, Steve... I'm sorry!  It's nothing you've done at
all.  I hadn't realised you'd pick up on this foul
mood I'm in, and think it was your problem!  Don't
worry about it."

"But dad..."

"No, Steve, it's OK."

But it was far from OK, as dad still looked really
miserable.

"Dad, you said we were going to treat each other like
buddies.  Don't buddies talk to each other when
there's a problem?  You're not usually miserable like
this... What is it...?"

"Steve, it's OK, right?  Just don't worry about
anything.  It's not your problem, and there's nothing
you can do about it."

"Well, you can at least tell me what it is... Maybe I
could help, or Jase...."

"No."

"Dad... Please....  Don't shut me out like this.  Ever
since mom died you've always talked to me, and since
we've been here we've been really great together...."

"Well.... Well.... It's like this......"

Dad gave a sort of sigh, s kind of shrug, and settled
back into his chair.

"I've been worried about your college fees.  You're a
really bright guy, and I know you can get into one of
the really good schools.  But there's no way I can pay
the fees.  And even if you get an endowment or
something, there are still lots of other expenses -
just travelling to Stanford from here is expensive.
Think about it!"

"But I could get a job...."

"And then your grades would suffer.  I want the very
best for you.  I want you to go to a good school, and
graduate top of the class.  Then you can pick and
choose who you go to work for, and really have a good
life."

"But I don't need to go to school, dad.  I can work
here, with you.  I can join you and Jase down the
mine...."

"NO, Steve!  Absolutely not.  I never got to college,
and so I'm stuck here.  And look what a fuck up Jase
has made of his life by not going to college - it's
seeing him turned into a plaything for that rich bitch
and her husband that really made me think.  You've got
to go to college, and a good one at that - not just
the state college here.  And that's going to take
money, lots of it."

"I started to think how I could possibly raise the
money.  There's no other jobs here, and  none anywhere
else that I'm qualified for that could possibly make
me enough money to pay for a really good college for
you - I'd have had to have been saving for years, and
it's too late to start now."

"There's only one thing I have got that's a real asset
- my body.  And I thought about how I could use that
to make more money.  Last night was the first
time...."

"First time for what, dad?"  I must have really
sounded alarmed.  Horrible thoughts were flashing
through my mind - had dad done something really stupid
like sold one of his kidneys to a rich man needing a
transplant?  Or - and now I was sinking low - had dad
gone out and sold himself for sex, letting some fat
gay guy paw him and fuck him?

"Look, Steve, don't worry.  It's nothing that causes
any harm...."

"Dad, what... You've all I've got... Dad....."

"Look, I've got a job - as a stripper.  It's just for
Friday and Saturday nights."

"A stripper?"

"Yes.  I have to dance around, and take all my clothes
off.  It's at a big place on the edge of Albuquerque
that specialises in nights out for women.  All these
women are sitting at little table, drinking away, and
me and the other guys in the show come of and do our
routines..."

"Routines?"

"We come on dressed as a fireman, or a cop, or
whatever, and we dance to the music.  We have to take
our clothes off.... And carry on dancing.  We go
through the audience, and they touch us - and they
tuck money into my pouch."

"Pouch?"

"Yes.  We don't get totally naked.  We strip down to
this little thin called a posing pouch - it's made of
white silk, and it's just big enough to hold my dick
and balls.  They can see the outline of my tackle
through it, but I'm not totally naked - that's not
allowed."


"And they touch you, dad?"

"Yes.  They can run their hands over my body as I go
past.  They like to feel my ass.  Some of them like
twang the string of my pouch when it comes out of my
ass crack....  Some of them even cup their hands
around my pouch to get a good feel of my dick...."

"String?"   I felt as if I was beginning to sound like
an echo, but I wanted to hear the whole thing.

" Yes - this little silk pouch is triangular, and had
these strings on it.  You tie two around your waist,
pull the third down under your ass and up your crack,
and tie it to the waist strings."

"Not all the guys let the women touch them", dad went
on.  "Some of them just dance on the little stage, and
do things like push-ups.  But they told me that if I
want to get big tips, you need to work your way
through the audience.  Those gals tuck a lot of bills
under the string - it gives them an excuse for
touching your body, and I guess they feel a lot less
guilty about it....  Anyway, I decided that if I'm
going to do this stripping, I want to make as much as
possible.  So I pass through the audience, and I got
just over a thousand dollars last night!"

"A thousand?"

"Yes.  There's big money to be made.  And the guy that
runs the place tells me that I'm a real hit - so many
of the guys that do this are young - college boys, men
like Jase in their twenties.  The ladies like a
change, and to see someone like me who's obviously
mature, and yet who has kept himself in shape..."

"So what costume do you wear, dad?  Are you a cop, or
a fireman...."

" Well, I thought about that.  The trouble is that
there are already a couple of the other guys who are
cops, and firemen.  They want something different - so
I go as a miner."

"When I go on stage", dad went on, "I've got my 'work'
clothes on - my hard hat with the light, a T-shirt,
Jeans, my heavy work boots, and my leather tool belt
around my waist with a couple of hammers and drills in
it.  I don't actually dance as such... More sort of
stand there, and sway to the music.  There's a chair
on the stage, and I put one foot on it, with my back
to the audience, and untie my boot - the jeans are
tight, so as I'm doing this they can see my ass and
legs stretched.  Then I do the other boot, then start
to push my Jeans down.  Some of the other guys told me
there's a real art in this - I start off with my back
to them, then turn around as I'm undoing my belt
buckle and fly , and push the Jeans down just a bit.
Then I turn around again so my back's to them whilst I
wriggle the Jeans down over my ass, and down to my
knees - they all go wild as my ass is exposed to
them."

"I turn back to face them as I stand on one leg, and
then the other, to pull the Jeans over my feet.  It's
sort of sexy, I'm told, to see a guy kind of hopping
around on one leg trying to get those things off.
Well, anyway, then I'm in my T, my belt, my hard hat,
and this little pouch thing.  You know, Steve, it's
much worse than being at the mine!  When I strip off
at work, I'm totally naked - but this dammed pouch
turns me from being a proud, naked man, with a good
dick and big balls, into a sex object.  It actually
emphasises my nakedness, somehow.  And of course at he
mine I'm only naked in front of other guys, who are
all my work mates, and all getting naked too.  Here
all eyes are on me, and I'm the only bit of naked
flesh in sight."

"I put the hat down on the chair, then strip my T off
- very slowly.  I turn around when it's up covering my
face, so they can see all the muscles in my back and
on my belly fully stretched.  And because my face is
covered for a bit, the whole audience feels able to
really take a good look at me.... Some of those
ladies, especially the young ones, don't want me to
see them looking at me.  But once my face is covered,
they think it's OK and take a really good look."

"So then I put my hard hat back on, and I go through
the routine of turning my ass back towards them and
potting one foot and then the other up onto the chair
whilst I put my boots back on.  Then I start to work
the room wearing just  them, my hard hat, my tool
belt, and my pouch.  The other guys say that having
the drills and hammer hanging down from my leather
work belt is really sexy, too - the ladies all like
the leather, and you know it sort of hangs on my hips,
and emphasises my belly.  They also see the drills and
the hammers as a sort of dick-substitute - they can
only see my dick outlined through the pouch, but they
have these other things hanging down, flopping against
my body, and I guess they imagine how my dick would
be..."

"Anyway, I got over a thousand in tips last night.
And I feel totally humiliated."

"Dad..."

"No, Steve.  Totally humiliated.  It's not as if I'm
ashamed of my body, as you know.  Jase has told you
that when I went to the mine I started to work totally
naked, so I'm absolutely used to being seen by all the
other guys all over.  You know, down in the narrow
seams down there we work real close together, and our
bodies are all twisted and turned every which way.
There isn't a guy on my shift who hasn't had his eyes
within a few inches of every part of me at some time -
and I've been that close to all of them, too.  But
having all these bitches baying and screaming at me,
even when I'm not totally exposed... It's different...
It's.. It's well.... Humiliating.  It's something a
guy shouldn't have to do."

"Dad - you don't have to!"

"Yes I do, Steve.  I'm determined you're going to a
good college.  And, anyway, I've signed up to the bar
owner - I've told him I'll do it every weekend for the
next six months, and I can't let him down.  That's how
long he reckons a new 'act' lasts - most of the ladies
who go there are hen parties before marriage, or on a
night out from the office.  They don't go every week,
but after about six months they might pay a return
visit - and they like to see fresh male flesh,
apparently.  Still, in six months, if this rate of
tipping goes on...."

"Dad - you can't do this.  Yo don't need to.  You hate
it..."

"Look, Steve, I've told you I'm going to do this for
you.  Let your dad do something for you, for once,
will you?  I'm absolutely determined you're not going
to fuck up your whole life, like Jase, or be stuck in
this one-horse town, like me."

"Anyway, there's no time for argument now", he
continued.  "Time to hit the road to Albuquerque.  I
asked Jase to stay last night, but obviously he can't
- will you be OK on your own tonight... Or shall we
call one of your schoolmates....?"

"Dad, I'm sixteen, almost seventeen!  Of course I'd be
OK here on my own.  You don't think there are male
rapists here, or anything, so you?.  Anyway, a male
rapist would get  bit of a shock - it might make a
change for me, and I might get to fuck him.....   But
anyway, I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, dad - I haven't seen you all weekend so far, and
we can talk in the truck.  I don't have to come in or
anything.. I'll bring a blanket, and doze in the cab
whilst you're inside... Then we can talk again on the
way home."

"No, Steve."

"Dad - I am.  It's not safe for you to drive home
alone.  After the drive there, and working, you'll
probably fall asleep at the wheel.  If I'm with you we
can talk, and you'll stay awake.  Let me come, dad...
I want to be with you.  You say you're only doing this
for me, and yet you won't let me be a part of it,
however small."

I could see dad wavering, but before he could say
anything else I just looked at him and said, firmly

"That's settled, then.  When do we leave?"

The parking lot at the big out of town bar was almost
full when we arrived, with more coming every minute.
Dad trove the truck around the back, and into a area
marked "employees only".  I was going to settle down
and sleep, as we'd agreed, but then dad said he didn't
like the idea of me being alone out there all night,
so I'd better come in with him.  He wasn't going to
let me into the bar, but I could wait in the changing
rooms around the back, with the other strippers
between acts.

The changing room was just like a lot of locker rooms
- sort of slatted bench down one side with pegs above
it, some lockers along the other wall, and a shower
area at the far end - not big, but completely open.
There were already four guys in there in various
states of undress when we went in, and dad introduced
me to them.  It was just like being in the locker room
before a match, really, except that all these guys
were exceptionally god looking.

You could hear roaring and screaming faintly through
the walls, and they told me that the first act had
already started - it was the youngest guy, and he was
just warming them up before the rest, they laughed.

"What do you mean, warming them up?"

"Well, kid, the first act out there of an evening
really has them baying.  Most of the women are a bit
nervous, so they're more extreme in shouting and
catcalling, to kind of show off, to make their office
mates think they're not nervous!  It's a real ordeal
to be the first act out there, and we always send out
he youngest, newest guy."

The noise reached a crescendo, and the guy who had
been explaining to me went on

"He must have taken his pants off, and they've seen
his ass and his dick under the pouch!  And, knowing
Frank, he'll be blushing all over!  He's been here
four weeks, but he still hasn't stopped blushing when
they all cheer at his dick."

They carried on chatting, quite unconcerned, and dad
started to undress.  As I said, he's got a fantastic
body, and he's not at all embarrassed at showing it
off in front of other guys.  So he stripped completely
naked, and then bent down and pulled on his tiny silk
pouch.

Now he did look a bit uncomfortable, but the other
guys didn't seem to regard it as anything unusual.  I
could see his long thick dick quite clearly outlined
by the thin silk, and when he turned around to rummage
in his sports bag for something, I thought that the
way the thin white string came up out of his ass crack
looked sexy.

Just then the door to the changing room opened, an a
young guy of about 24 came in, wearing a tiny silk
pouch, just like dad's.

"Heeyyyyy...." All  the guys chorused.  "It's Frank,
back from the war zone!  How they doing out there
tonight, Frank?"

He was very flushed - he was one of those quite
slightly-built guys, very wiry, and not particularly
tall.   You could tell he was flushed because he had
very white skin, and the patches of colour in his
cheeks, on his shoulders, and down his chest, stood
out.

"Bitches!", he said.  "Watch it, guys, they're trying
to grab your pouch and pull it off!  There's a big
wedding party in there, and they all say they want to
give the bride something to take home to her fiancee!"

"You mean like this....", one of the other guys said,
laughingly:  he was standing behind Frank, and he
reached forward and pulled the strings around the poor
guy's waist, pulling the pouch down to his knees.

"Ha fucking ha!", Frank said.  "Anyway, yes, just like
that!  But I wasn't erect for them, not like for you
studs!"

If it wasn't for the conversation, it was jus like the
locker room after the match - there was often a lot of
mild fooling around , pulling at guys' towels, and so
on.



I could see that Frank's dick was now standing out
rigidly in front of him, rising from its next of wiry
red pubic hair and almost over balancing him - for a
slight guy, he did have a really big dick.

Dad had been watching all this, and was laughing, too.

"You watch it too, Joe", another guy said.  "You're
old enough to make them think they're safe with you!
You know that they think that us young studs would
fuck them until it came out of their ears, but with an
old guy like you they probably think they'd be quite
safe.... So they probably want to get a real eye full
of that tackle of yours."

The guys were all laughing, and Frank moved over to
dad and cupped his pouch in his hand.

"Well, I'd like to get a proper hand full of this", he
said, "Whether or not you're safe!"

"Quit it, Frank", one of the other said, "That's Joe's
son there!"

Frank turned to look at me, still erect, "Well.... As
handsome as his daddy.  Is your dick as big as your
dad's?"

"Bigger, in proportion, actually....", I blurted out,
without thinking.

"So you and your dad compare dicks, do you....
Interesting!"

Dad looked very annoyed, and snapped "Quit right now,
Frank, OK?"

"Only joking... I think....", Frank replied, and
sauntered off towards the shower.

I looked at dad, and Frank's attention to him had made
him half erect - his dick was now really straining at
the silk of the pouch, and there was the faintest
suspicion of dampness at the tip of his dick.  I
realised with a shock that dad had had to cut some of
his pubic hair off - there was still the thatch on his
belly and the trail leading down to his pubes, but
just where it used to bush out on top of his cock,
most of it was missing.  He must have had to trim the
length dramatically to stop it bursting over the top
and sides of the pouch - it was, as I said, only just
big enough to hold his tackle.  Perhaps that's one of
the humiliations dad had to put up with, in order to
get this job.

A guy in a tux then poked his head around the door.
"Hurry up, Joe, five minutes and you're on.  They're
all refreshing their drinks, and looking forward to
you...."

Dad pulled on his tight Jeans, and put his boots back.
He buckled his leather tool belt over the top of his
Jeans, pulled on a tight white T, popped his hard hat
on his head, and said

"Wait here, then Steve...  Back soon, a lot richer!"

End of Part 8.  To be continued