Stories : Dancin’

Just a few years ago, before the gay clubs were bulldozed on Peachtree Street and made way for condo skyscrapers to house well-appointed Yuppies and Guppies, I loved to go dance my ass off all night at Backstreet.  This club had a special 24/7 liquor license and never closed their doors, always serving up drinks and house music for the local gay boys and visitor’s to stumble out at daybreak into the sunny haze of  HotLanta.  It was in a prime location where Midtown boasted high-rise hotels, the Fox Theatre, great restaurants, all within walking distance of just a few blocks.  You never knew who might show up at Backstreet to get drunk or dance with hot boys or move upstairs to watch Charlie Brown’s cabaret style drag shows.

On a blazing hot summer Saturday night, I was dancing and sweating off too many shots of Jose Cuervo 1800 when a group of hot, totally well-built, shirtless, African-American gents slid gracefully up beside me.  They moved around in precise, professionally trained, choreographed ease on the dance floor without the usual applause.  In my drunken stupor, I did remember that the Alvin Ailey American Dance Theatre Troupe was performing at the Fox for a two week stay. And, I just knew these fellows had to be part of the finest American dancing professionals to grace stages all over the world. Golden tequila shots always transformed my shy personality into a radiant, rosy-cheeked, over indulgent flirt of a dancer.  I was known for backing my ass up on guys when their swagger moved me to grind into a well-endowed crotch.  Dancin’ too close was more often the way of the Backstreet gay boy’s packed-in crowd.

Finding myself moving into the middle of this pack of glistening, sweaty hot bodies, I was grabbed by the first dancer who looked like the R&B singer Craig David.  His graceful movements turned into a more seductive grinding, hip bumping collision between us.  Most likely, I inspired that to happen since he seemed to enjoy my, “back that ass up,” freestyle moves which was creating a huge explosion in his tight jeans.  He leaned into my ear and spoke asking me if I always enjoyed dancing too close.

I laughed and said, “How else can I find out if that poke coming through your jeans is worth my time.”

Without much struggle, he twisted my arm around to his crotch and I grabbed hold of a meaty piece that was obviously hard to disguise in dancing tights.  He must have to wear an XXL dance belt to keep all he has concealed from the audiences who were not only there to watch his graceful talent on stage, but his fine physique, which could leap high off the stage in a split-legged jump, causing all his muscular meat to bounce heavily on landing.  My mind started imagining how I would like to spread out my legs, perhaps not in a split, but close enough, to sit on his hard dick and bounce until he needed to take control and wear my ass out.  We danced until our sweat was mixing together dripping off our chests making nipples harden like our cocks.  Suddenly, one of his fellow troupe members moved in behind me and sandwiched me between them.  He leaned in and told me to grind my ass in that Brooklyn, NY accent that I find so sexy.  I told him that he needs to take control of this dance floor threesome.  He reached his long arms out and placed them on Craig David’s shoulders, whose real name is Gerard, with a “G”.  We became a tight fitting, sculpted art piece, which drew stares from all those around us.  Our hips gyrating together seductively and slowly like an old school, seventies inspired bump and grind groove.

I loved being taken hostage on the dance floor by these incredibly gorgeous guys who had such confidence that only true native New Yorkers could lustfully display.  Squeezed between these two so tight, I could feel Gerard’s heart thumping below his perfectly pancaked-pecs and his friend’s dick rubbing up and down my ass crack in its own choreographed attempt at suggesting dirty dancing to the extreme.  He actually leaned in and suggested we take this dancing threesome back to their hotel room for a more naked display of lust that could linger until the early morning.  Gerard officially introduced us to each other trying to be a southern gentleman.  I guess living out the reality that when in Rome do as the Roman’s do.  I brought laughter to both their faces when I spoke in my deepest southern twang asking them what I had already figured out, “Are y’all part of Alvin Ailey’s dance troupe?”

“Yes, we shore is,” said Jackson, Gerard’s touring roommate and dance buddy.  His attempt at twanging it up did not work with his profoundly northern accent.  I suggested we leave the dance floor and go upstairs to get a drink and watch the drag queens.  Gerard smiled and started heading off the packed, strobe lit, dropped-down disco floor.  Jackson reluctantly followed us trying to conceal his bulge that looked like it wanted out of his tight jeans to stand proudly pirouetting up a hot tight ass.  Perhaps that would be mine, if the night played out like I was hoping it would.

We climbed the stairs to the second level as Jackson let me know that he did not drink while on tour.  Slyly, I warned him of dehydration and that he could be a cheap date in the cabaret venue.  As we say in the South, I asked him if I could buy him some water, or sweet tea or just me.

“You Atlanta boys know how to work me with that Southern charm oozing out of your pores.”

“Well, I just want to slow you down a bit by adding more sugar in your tank.  Our sex is sweaty hot down here, but our sweet tea is iced cold and SO sweet that it sweats sugary condensation on the outside of the glass.  You can just lick the large glass and get a sugar buzz.”

Jackson grabbed his button flied dick and told me rather succinctly that he would lick the sweetness off any glass if I swallowed whole what he had hidden behind his jeans.  Gerard interrupted our intense sexual flirting like a child who was being left out to pout.  Since there was a line to get into the drag show, I grabbed both of them and headed down a tight corridor where there was a single use restroom that most visitors did not know about.  I locked the door behind us and shoved both of them against the cool tiled wall, kissing Gerard first, deeply, until Jackson moved in for some tongue action.  Both were great kissers and I knew their talents were not just limited to the many stages they had performed on.  I stepped back watching them kiss each other as if I were a front row audience member.  Unable to control myself, I dropped to my knees and began to free two handsomely hard dicks from their jeans which were both free of any concealing boxers or briefs.  I love a man whose dick is tough enough and ass is fine enough to just wear tight jeans with a stylish tank top. It makes for easy access when I desire to suck on a hard nipple or fat cock.

Gerard was first to seek me out on the dance floor, so I slurped on his light-skinned dick first as Jackson started smacking his uncut meat against my cheek.  Swallowing G’s longer, slender cock all the way deep down my throat was made easy by the tequila shots which had my throat relaxed and almost numb.  He grinded his shapely hips into my face with a smooth and graceful gusto.  Once a dancer always a dancer, but this hot man was not a tiny dancer.  And I enjoyed getting face-fucked while trying to balance, squatting on my knees.  Jackson decided to assist me and moved behind me with those smooth, muscular dancing legs for me to prop up against while Gerard grabbed my head trying to make me gag.  His dick was the perfect size for deep-throating.  Slender head, slender shaft and did not widen out until the very base where his tight balls hung close, begging me to take all of him in my mouth.  In my hunger and lust for sucking cock, I opened wide placing both balls in my mouth while suctioning with such force Gerard moaned loudly grunting out, “You gonna make me cum real hard, man.”

That was Jackson’s cue to take center stage and he pulled me off G’s dick, slowly, enjoying the popping sound it made as the slender head slid out between my tight lips.  Jackson was a totally different pleasure seeking dance move.  His cock was deep, rich, dark chocolate fat with lots of foreskin hanging over the head.  So, I knew what to do with my tongue and teeth.  I nibbled on his skin, stretching it out and placed the tip of my tongue inside reaching the pink protected head, teasing it for as long as he could take it.  Jackson grabbed his plentiful foreskin and stretched it open wide and even longer telling me to tongue it deep.  I obeyed by slippery, slobbering his sheath as he pushed his sensitive head into my tongue.  It was like I was tongue fucking him ‘cause he had so much skin.  I’ve only played with one other dick like this before and loved the chance to do it again.

These dancers were no longer waiting to dance around the pleasure principle and they let me know, with one quick move, that they had discovered each other’s finer points during their tour together as roommates.  Gerard bent down grabbing my face and kissed me hard.  As he was doing this he slid beside Jackson and told me to watch and do what we tell you to do.  G stood up pushing his dick into the foreskin of Jackson’s wet smooth sheath.  They traded dancing for docking and I had front row seats to assist them in their alternative, if not bizarre, connection.

I was utterly amazed at how much dick Jackson’s foreskin could take.  G’s dick was thin but long, at least ten inches or more and when he was docking his dick inside J’s sheath it seemed to stretch even more and hide half of that long length.  My dick was aching to try this as I observed.   Suddenly both dancers’ hands grabbed my head and told me to wrap my mouth around their long continual docking station.  I figured out they needed me to keep their one long, lighter to darker, thinner to fatter, united dick, slippery and lubed up.  No problem with that as I tasted both guys dick flavors mixing together as one.  After just a few more strokes of G’s dick sliding in and out, he pulled out completely and told me to suck him like before, “Deep man, take it deep, real deep.”

I suctioned down to the base with his dickhead in my tonsils. He just tightened up his legs in a freeze frame pose and began to let his cum leak out in slow, pulsing shots as I struggled to swallow it down without any gag reflex.  Just as I was about to need some air, G pulled out from my mouth and jerked the rest of his load on my face and tongue.  Jackson bent down and licked it up and kissed me deep sharing in his roommate’s salty, tangy taste.

Jackson pulled me up off my knees and said, “It’s time for you to dock your dick.  My sensitive head needs more beating up by a soft fat head.”

“I thought you’d never ask me and my white cock was feeling a bit discriminated against,” I replied with a smile crossing my face.

“Oh no, don’t play that card.  We from the North and don’t practice discrimination, unless you have a wee little prick.”

“Mine should dock really nicely for you and it’s head is fat and smooth for your wet pink pole hole, so to speak.”

“Let’s have it then, before they start to break down this door on us.”

Gerard had my dick out of my khaki cargo shorts and in his mouth before I could say that’s just peachy.  He took my fat eight inches and lathered it up really nice like while Jackson and I deep kissed tasting the remnants of G’s cum on our tongues.  I pushed deep inside Gerard’s throat making him gag on my fat dick.  And this left lots of his spit dripping off when I pulled it out and went for Jackson’s foreskin.  G wanted to stay in control like he was the choreographer of this new piece.  He grabbed my dickhead and stroked it while he took his teeth and pulled on J’s sheath, stretching it out again.  Then he rolled it onto my fat dickhead docking us together for a hot wild poke inside a smooth, wet foreskin that felt really good.  I pushed and pulled out bouncing up against Jackson’s pink head as we both kissed fiercely.  If I slipped out completely, then G would take his turn sucking on our dicks keeping them sloppy wet.  I would not have thought I could cum a huge load like this, but was pleasantly surprised to feel my balls tighten up, getting ready for a much needed release.

I closed my eyes trying to hold out a bit longer with a deep sigh that let Jackson know this was working too well.  He told me to hang on ‘cause he liked what my fat spongy head was doing for him.  Gerard spoke up and said, “You both gotta cum at the same time to feel the full effect of docking. And I want both your hot loads spilling back out on my face.”

I took a deep breath and kept poking my dick in deep up against J’s pole.  He started to shiver and grabbed our docked dicks milking them back and forth in the middle where our heads beat together.  This caused my legs to start shaking and Gerard steadied me so I would not mess up this dance to the “little death.”  It was fucking amazing to feel this strangely different type of heads beating together in ecstasy.  We both blasted our seed out with passion in one long shot, hitting each other’s bull’s-eye perfectly on target.  I looked down and saw Jackson’s foreskin puffed out wider than ever holding our big loads.  Gerard separated us from the dueling demons we had become and allowed our hot cum to splash on his face and down his chest like a river dance waterfall.

(Would you like to lay bets on whether we made it back to their hotel room for round two?)


David W. Bradburn   aka   dwb42461


There are 8 comments

Add yours
  1. Hunter0500

    Lots of immagery.

    But I just couldn’t relate to the setting where gay men only seem to ever meet men through random, once-and-done, hook ups in clubs, where Beyonce’s voice is booming, in an urban areas, where everyone is trendy … and probably young, slim, smooth, and effeminate.

  2. goldenloverinmym

    truly a hot story would love 2 find a cpl hung bros 2 meet with n try a a 3 way dock,my uncut friend n i did a dou dock and we both shot big loads and enjoyed cleaning each other up.hope 2 find another uncut guy 2 do this again.DDDD

  3. Darryl

    Ah yes Hotlanta, I love the city, i’ve spent many a night dancing at the Backstreet in the company of many hot, sweaty men. In fact the city of Atlanta is a major hot bed of great sights and sounds all wrapped up in a cloak of southern hospitality.

  4. Bigun

    What?……….Another fantasy/fiction story from the same writer? LMAO!

    I hardly believe this is a true story. Total fantasy and fiction. This would NEVER have happened…..esp. on the dance floor or on any second level area at backstreet…and backstreet closed years ago.

    I used to work at Backstreet…the African Americans and touring AA dancers go to the Bulldog Bar….down the block from the old backstreet location.

    This is total fiction…..and tediously boring and lame.

Post a new comment

Like us to stay in touch with latests posts!