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“You got any Trojan Magnum XLs under the bar there?” Daw Boonchon, the late-night Bayside Bar’s small Thai pole dancer, asked.
“Got a big date?” the bar’s nighttime manager, Cory Anderson, asked and then chuckled at the pun he’d managed. It was 8:30, the tamer version of the restaurant bar on Beaufort, South Carolina’s, line of commercial establishments between the town’s main street and the Beaufort River front having closed down and the setup for the 9:30 opening of the late-night gay bar setup in full swing. The cute little dancer and rent-boy was already in just his red silk jockstrap, covered with sequins, costume.
“So he claims,” Daw said.
“You got your pole set up to make the 9:30 opening?” Cory asked, as he pulled a couple of gold-foil Trojan Magnum XL packs from under the bar and handed them over. “You’ll be back and ready at 9:30, right? I don’t see your john anywhere. You’re starting early, aren’t you?”
“Sure, I’ll be back. He’s waiting for me. And the pole’s in,” Daw said, gesturing off to the water side of the club space, where there was a small platform in one far corner for the musicians and another one in the other corner for the dance pole. In the dayside restaurant/bar configuration, there was another table on that platform, without the pole. The timing usually was a good question, as before he’d always had to go off location for his hookups, so there wasn’t really enough time to slip one in during the interval between restaurant bar and gay club. This one was just upstairs, on the second of three floors currently close to a total renovation under new ownership. He didn’t want to tell Cory that, because Cory hadn’t been upstairs yet and wasn’t going to be the first one auditioned by the new owner.
“You met the new owner yet?” Cory asked, not having done so himself, and a little antsy about whether this double use of the building would continue and whether he’d still have a job when the renovations were done.
“Yes, just now.”
“What do you think of him?”
“Big, black. Beyond that I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know when I do,” Daw said with as much evasion as he could manage, walking off with the Trojan packets in his hand. He actually was elated that he was the first one of the club’s two rent-boys to be auditioned by the new owner.
Cory busied himself behind the bar and didn’t see that Daw took the stairs behind the bar to the second floor rather than the door across from the bar to the side of the building, where a dining deck overlooking the Beaufort marina had been added replacing the restaurant’s original parking lot. Now those coming to the Bayside Bar either by day or night had to find their own parking.
The john was in the bathroom when Daw reached the room, one of two at the thirty-five-foot width front façade of the building. The rooms had recently been finished. Each was thirteen feet wide and eighteen feet deep, quite large enough for their purpose. There were two new bathrooms, one for each room, front to back, between the two rooms. Daw dropped the Trojan packets on the nightstand beside the king bed jutting out in the middle of the room; stripped, folding his clothes and putting them on the straight chair near the window looking out over Bay Street; and stood in front of the tall window overlooking Bay Street. A bottle of lube had already been sitting on the nightstand. There were other condom packets there, but the man had snorted and said he needed Trojan Magnums. The light wasn’t on in the room, the room being dimly illuminated by the street lights on Bay Street. There were no curtains on the window.
Daw looked down in the street, where there were few pedestrians this time of night. He didn’t really care if passersby saw his slender little berry-brown body, although he would have withdrawn if he thought someone was looking up at him. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead and the palms of his hands into the cool glass. He was a bit nervous–not just at the suggestion of the size of the man who soon would be fucking him but also because he knew this was an audition and that he very much wanted to pass. There weren’t many opportunities in Beaufort for a rent-boy like him, even though his Thai origin made him an exotic choice in the South Carolina low country, and he wanted this position, which would be an enhancement on what the club had been before.
The bathroom door opened, the light there was switched off, and Jayden Leggett, tall, big, black, and in full, magnificent erection, entered the room, drying himself off with a towel.
“They did a good job on the bathroom,” he said, as he split open a gold-foil Trojan Magnum XL, rolled in on his erection, and lubed up his sheathed cock.
“Yes,” Daw answered, not giving a shit whether the bathroom was done well or not, but wanting to be in the conversation. He didn’t turn though, waiting for the man, much taller and bigger than he was and chocolate brown to his berry brown, to come up otele gelen escort behind him and put his hands on him. He didn’t want to do more than glance at the naked black man, being frightened as well as exhilarated by the black mamba-sized snake of a dick the man had on him.
Leggett did come up behind Daw but it was to kneel behind him, to reach around to encase the young Thai’s pert little cock in his hand and cause it to engorge as it was stroked, and to bury his face between the young man’s butt cheeks. Daw moaned for the man. He’d do so for a john anyway, but this guy was good. He also was the new boss. The moans were a genuine response. He’d been a bit worried by the anticipation of a guy needing a Trojan Magnum, but he was being worked real well. He was opening and he wanted the cock.
The black bull stood, his hand still on Daw’s cock, stroking, and, covering the young, smaller figure closely from behind, and let his beefy black hand roam over the young Thai’s torso and thighs, making Daw, palms and forehead still pressed to the window glass, whimper and beg for the cock. Leggett’s lips went to the hollow of Daw’s throat and the Thai rent-boy inclined his head to offer the throat to the man’s lips and teeth. The black bull was enormous in what he had running, initially, up the small of Daw’s back, but then, crouching down, moved his Trojan-sheathed erection to between Daw’s thighs, rubbing on his perineum, dry fucking him. Moaning low, Daw rocked on the hard shaft.
“Fuck me. Put it in. Screw me,” Daw whimpered. He knew that was what the men wanted to hear. And this was the man who controlled his job.
Leggett laughed, grasped the small Thai by the waist, and raised his body. Bringing it back down, he positioned his cock head and slowly lowered Daw’s channel on the shaft, taking the time needed to penetrate and move up into the small-body channel with the massive shaft. Daw opened his mouth in a not-so-silent scream of full-stretch violation.
It took some time for the mammoth cock to be fully saddled. Daw writhed on the assaulting shaft, but he maintained the connection to the window with the palms of his hands. He turned his head for the scream-suppressing kiss while Leggett bottomed. When they came out of the kiss, he arched his head back into the big black’s chest.
“Yes, yes, fuck me good, boss.” Daw groaned, as, lifting the much smaller man’s feet off the floor, Leggett raised and lowered his channel on the cock. Daw panted hard, his eyes rolling up in his head, every fiber of him concentrating on the impossibly thick and long shaft working him deep. The shaft penetrated deeper, faster as the channel yielded to it. Daw’s whimpers and groans subsided into moans and sighs.
After a few minutes of this, Leggett pulled them both away from the window, carried Daw over to the bed without losing purchase of his cock in Daw’s hole, laid the young Thai on his back on the bed, grasped his ankles and wishboned his legs, slid inside, and continued fucking him in the missionary position. Daw was able to take him fully now and rolled with the thrusts. They finished with Daw lapped, facing Leggett, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Daw arched back, palms on the floor as Leggett pulled him on and off the cock.
Later, when Daw came out of the bathroom following a shower, Leggett was stretched out on the bed, magnificently naked, smoking a cigarette and playing with his mamba-sized cock.
“That was good. You’ll do fine,” Leggett said.
“Thanks, glad to hear it,” Daw said. And he genuinely was thankful and relieved. It had been quite a workout. He could barely walk, and now he had to go downstairs and dance the pole for a couple of hours–and then probably come back up here–he hoped back up here–with a john and give the guy a good time. But he was glad he was still going to have a job dancing the pole and having a place to hook up with johns.
“And if you’re satisfied with this room, this can be yours for business,” Leggett said. “The house gets 25 percent of your take. I have privileges as the mood hits me. You’ve shown you can manage me. If that’s good with you–“
“That’s fine, Mr. Leggett. That’s great. Thanks.” And it was fine. It was an improvement over his deal with the last owner of this place, who made him take the johns off site and demanded more of the take. This was just great.
Daw dressed, if pulling on his silk jockstrap could be called “dressed,” and checked out his face and hair in the mirror above the bureau, as it was just about time for him to climb the pole downstairs, and left the room. After he did, Jayden Leggett finished smoking his cigarette, contemplated his pleasure of how the small Thai had performed for him, the young guy managing to open up to take the Magnum-sized cock. With a groan of his own from what he’d had to do to test the small Thai, Leggett rolled off the bed and then went balgat escort upstairs to the third floor, which had been made into his own apartment.
Next would be that current bar manager, Cory Anderson. Jayden would put that guy through his paces, if that’s what Anderson was willing to do to keep his job. If he could take Leggett’s size and give him good sport, he could have the other front room on the second floor to conduct business. Jayden thought two rent-boys as a start for the club should be enough. If he added, there were a few rooms in the basement that could be set up.
If Anderson wanted to keep the job, he’d have to perform–and he’d have to give Leggett privileges. He’d have to be able to withstand the amount of privilege Jayden would want. Oh, and privileges to someone else too. Jayden couldn’t forget how important that was. He’d have to tell the cute little Thai piece, Daw Boonchon, about that requirement, but he didn’t think that would be a problem. Nice little bod, that Thai sweetie. Really arousing that such a small ass could managed such a thick cock, but he swallowed it right up. It remained to be seen if the other rent-boy could do as well–a cute blond. Jayden could wait to let the frosted blond hair of that one down and to get a good grip on it and jerk him around a bit–show him who’s the new boss.
* * * *
Standing behind the bar at the Bayside Bar at 8:30 p.m., preparing for the transition from a traditional seaside restaurant and bar to a late-night gay club, current club manager, bartender, and take-out rent-boy, Cory Anderson, pulled the chest-hugging red net muscle shirt over his head and onto his torso. At midnight that would come off and he’d serve drinks bare-chested, showing off his sculpted chest, one of his best features other than his movie-star handsome face under blond-highlighted curls. By the closing hour, with luck, he’d have a john for the next hour to take to the Scott Street Motel, a barely two-star motel a couple of blocks away that had enough amenities for his purposes and was good with providing him hourly services. There were rumors the new owner of this place was building in rooms here for that purpose. That would be an improvement that would make Cory want to stick around in this job.
Daw, the Thai pole dancer and the club’s other rent-boy, had said he’d had his audition with the new owner and was being provided a room here in the building to take his johns to. Cory hadn’t had his audition yet. When he asked Daw how his testing went, how good the new owner was with the cock, Daw initially just rolled his eyes and smiled. The smile told Cory not to fear the audition himself–much. He hoped he’d get a room assigned here as well. But more, he hoped he could keep his job here. He was a little ticked that Daw had been auditioned first. Cory was the club manager here, and he hadn’t even met the new owner yet.
He had to admit that the improvements to the place had brought in more guys at night. It was a good move to have added the outdoor dining deck to move most of the restaurant tables out there. The club guys didn’t come here to sit at restaurant tables. The bar, staircase, and entry were in the middle of the eighty-foot-deep, thirty-five-foot wide three-story building on a partially raised basement–what they called an English basement–with the entry at the side of a long range of commercial establishments, where the new deck overlooked the Beaufort marina.
The water side of the first floor was where there was a dance floor, and two platforms, one for the small live band and the other for the pole, where the flexible little Thai guy, Daw Boonchon, danced in a sparkly jockstrap and drummed up rent-boy business for himself. During the daytime restaurant version of the Bayside Bar, tables were set here. They were cleared out and the pole set up each evening in the 8:00-to-9:30 transition period. The biggest improvement Cory could see was to the section of the first floor facing Bay Street. In this thirty-five-by-thirty-foot section, which once was all dining tables, four pool tables had been set up. These had proved to be a crowd pleaser for both the early restaurant crowd and the later guy clubbers. They’d brought business in.
More business had its downside, though. Cory was afraid that increased business would heighten the club’s visibility and would lead to greater scrutiny by the authorities. His own rent-boy angle was more endangered by this than the club was, but the club had its threat as well. A lot of the Marines from the nearby Parris Island Marine training base came here to let their true, gay randy nature shine through. Cory had heard that there was a new sheriff in town who might want to flex his peacekeeping muscles. The club’s success might be leading to its downfall. He wondered if the new owner was on top of that.
And speaking of “on top,” when pressed, Daw had said that the new owner was elvankent escort quite the cocksman, was built like a bull, and demanded to have privileges. Cory was a little antsy on how that would work out with him. Daw wouldn’t say more when Cory pressed him about the Thai’s audition beyond saying he was gloriously sore and would be walking bowlegged for days afterward.
Cory was equally impressed with the updating that had been done to the kitchen in the basement, reached by the ornate wrought-iron open-railed staircase backing the bar that rose up the three floors from the basement. There was a warren of other storage and unfinished rooms down there, but now the kitchen was fully able to support the restaurant and the additional party space that was rumored to be on the floor above. Cory had yet to learn what had been done to the two floors above–beyond Daw having told him he’d been assigned a room and a bath at the Bay Street side of the second floor–but by the quiet that had descended on the building, he ascertained that the renovations had come to an end. Maybe they were in to the painting phase.
His time waiting to meet the new owner and finding what lay in the rooms above his head was also about to come to an end.
“You got any Bud beer back there? And Daw says you keep a supply of Trojan Magnum XLs behind the bar.”
Cory looked up, surprised. It wasn’t even 9:00 p.m. yet. The club didn’t open for more than a half hour. They were still putting the transition together. Jack, his backup bartender–there was a backup because Cory sometimes had to go off with a john with no notice–was still hauling in beer from the basement, and Daw was struggling in getting his pole set up.
“Sorry, mister, the club ain’t open yet. Come back in forty-five and I’ll be happy to serve you then.” He took a closer look at the man–big, massive, black. A real bull of a guy. Probably one of the Marines from Parris Island. Good-looking, though. Bet he had a big dick, especially since he’d asked about Magnums. “Would be happy to give you anything you like when we’re open, including a reason to use the rubbers,” he added. What he’d really like was to find out how good a cocksman the black guy was. Cory had a fetish for big, black bulls. He also was a well-used rent-boy. He needed a big man who was a little rough in sex to heat him up to enjoy the fuck.
“Hi, I’m Jayden Leggett,” the big black said. “You must be Cory Anderson, my current club manager.”
Ah, the new owner. “Sorry, Mr. Leggett. No one pointed you out to me yet.” Meaning that Leggett hadn’t bothered to present himself to club management before now.
“So, do you got that beer and a couple of condoms under the bar?”
“Sure, right here, coming up.”
“Get yourself a beer too and come walk with me. I don’t think you’ve seen what I’ve had done to the building yet. You have a backup who can take over the bar and the setup for the club session?”
“Sure. Hey, Jake, take over the bar and opening. I’ll be gone a while.” Fortuitously, the assistant manager had appeared from the basement with a case of beer and saluted his acknowledgment that he was being left in charge.
“So, I should bring the Trojans too?” Cory asked, giving his new boss a level look, both of them knowing he was asking an entirely different question.
“I think you know I’m reviewing the staffing setup, Cory,” Leggett said. “I need to be sure of whoever I keep on. That means I need to vet those in what they do here. So, yes, if you are interested in keeping your job and your usual function here, bring the condoms for our little walk and whatever. That OK with you, or should I start looking for a new club manager and someone to go on his back for the patrons?”
“It’s fine, yes,” Cory said, and from what he could see of his new boss, yes, it most definitely was fine.
“And now is a good time?” Leggett asked, fishing for whether this guy was going to give him a hint of trouble.
“Perfect,” Cory said, coming out from behind the bar, having handed a cold Bud to Leggett and bringing one for himself as well as a handful of gold-foil Trojan Magnum XL packets.
Leggett reached over and fingered the red mesh athletic T, his fingertips going to the hard flesh below. “Nice,” he said. “We will start on the third floor,” he continued, “and you can see the apartment they outfitted for me and then come back and end on the second.” He moved over to the foot of the ornate staircase leading up into the upper reaches of the building.
Ending at the second floor, of course, Cory thought. Hadn’t Daw told him about two rooms built out on the second floor facing Bay Street, each with a bath, and the two meant for the club rent-boys to turn tricks on the premises? Didn’t Daw say one was already assigned to him, the other awaiting assignment to another rent-boy. At the moment Cory was that other rent-boy. If he wanted to keep that position, he’d have to satisfy this black dude.
He moved to the staircase and wasn’t all that surprised when the big black boss, Leggett, palmed his butt as they mounted the stairs. He rubbed the two Trojan Magnum XL packets together in his hand as he climbed. How long would it be before the new owner would be mounting him? Would he provide the heat Cory needed to really get into the fuck?
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