All That Glitters

The club was beginning to fill up now, and all of the patrons I saw coming in were handsome and well built. The club has developed a winning clientele. The performers on stage were turning me on. Already one of the beefy satyrs had filled his glittering condom and had thrown it to the floor and was pulling another one down from an overhead hanger and sliding it on his hard, curved up tool. He quickly was ready to resume his dance with the younger nymph, who was contorting his body around the pole, seeking a new and interesting position to be taken by his partner. All of this for the enjoyment of those in the audience, most of whom were so absorbed in filling out their own glittery tubes to give full attention to the floor show.

I felt my tool pushing against the fabric of my trousers, and I reached down to stroke myself, only to find that I’d been so absorbed in the atmosphere around me that I hadn’t notice there already was a hand there. I turned to see a nice, square-jawed face with bedroom eyes. But I only caught a glimpse of the man who had taken interest in me when the bartender said something gruff to him and he was gone. I was a little annoyed, because I hadn’t asked the bartender to run interference for me.

And I was about to say something to him, when the lights went brighter on the stage and the heart-stopping golden blond who had invited me here appeared. He was decked out in leather, but it was all of a glittery gold color, from the chain criss-crossing his chest, to the boots, and arm bands, and a riding crop with a billy club-like handle—but no other body attire except for the glittery gold condom trying its best to cover his eight inches of horse-hung meat.