Good Old Boy's Club [Part 1] - Sex Stories

Good Old Boy's Club [Part 1]

... this didn’t happen often, and even this could be justified as a “business trip”, for Jack’s new strip club venture. One by one, they men began to leave, citing various reasons: wife was expecting them, plane to catch, mistress waiting at a hotel. Soon, it was just Jack. And just Oliver. The room was surprisingly quiet, and Oliver peeled the label off his third beer. Surprisingly he seemed to be one of the few who could still stand and function, aside from Jack of course, who was drinking whiskey like it was water. Jack’s fierce gaze had been muted somewhat, and with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened, he looked like a much less frightening individual. “So,” Olly began. “What…what was this all about?” Jack leaned back in his chair. “I like you,” he said simply. “I bought this club in order to remodel it, I’ve wanted to invest in something like this for some time. Adonis introduced us and I thought you would appreciate an evening like this.” The younger man tilted his head to one side. “So…you just thought, ‘Hey, look at that kid, I bet he’d love to play poker with a couple of my rich friends’? That’s a pretty bizarre thought process.” “No,” Jack corrected quietly, “I thought perhaps you’d like to have sex.” Olly blinked. “ Wow . I mean…wow. I’ve been asked bluntly before, but—“ “You’re handsome. You’re single. And if you’ve nothing to do for the evening, why not spend it together?” Jack asked, as though this were a perfectly normal request. “Look, I don’t know ...

... what kind of impression you got,” Oliver said firmly, “but the whores are in front of the bar. You know, the ones on the poles. The guys behind the bar are just trying to do their job.” “I’m not offering you money,” Jack said flatly. “It was a request.” Olly rubbed his eyes and then sat back. “I don’t do the whole…” he waved his hand ambiguously, “one-night-stand thing. I’ve never done it before. It’s just not that appealing.” “Why don’t you try it once, and then judge it from experience?” Jack rumbled. He had to admit that Jack was attractive. And rich. And powerful. If Candi or Sasha or any one of the other girls had been in his shoes, they would have spread their legs in a half second. But he wasn’t a stripper or a whore or anything of the kind, he was just a bartender, getting a request from a wealthy patron. There wasn’t anything odd or creepy about that, right? “Okay,” he said finally. [3] They ended up on the deep pile rug on the floor, because Olly had an aversion to velvet and wasn’t about to get fucked on that material twice in his life. Jack was shirtless, revealing an impressive physique for his age, which Olly was guessing to be close to fifty. He tried to turn his mind off—the age gap thing would drive him insane if he thought about it too long. The kisses though, they were something else. Kissing women was all about elegance and strength and respect—kissing men was like fucking with mouths, all teeth and tongue and angry panting breath, with hair pulling and ...