Thong, Chest Feel, Executive, Meadowlark Club, Cherry



Inspired by “The Meadowlark Club”, a story by Sean Scott. Available for viewing at [updated link: http://musclestimulus.com]




David had been working at the Meadowlark club for almost a month, and the survival of the club was no longer in question, at least financially. David worked Tuesday through Saturday and every night, even the weeknights, the club was filled to capacity. By midnight there was a small line of men waiting at the door, eager to see a patron leave so that one of them could be admitted, but no one left the Meadowlark club until closing. The men in line knocked time and time again, whispering through the slot in the door and holding folded twenty dollar bills up for Ricky to see. But Manny had made it absolutely clear that the maximum occupancy rule was to be followed to the letter. He wanted word to get out that, once filled, the club was impossible to enter. It was good for business, and it was good for the cops to hear. On several occasions, Ricky had seen a squad car cruise by slowly, and once a police officer walking his beat had sauntered up to the line and asked why the men were waiting. “Fire laws. They reached their limit,” the man said. “There’s no more room until somebody comes out.”

One less reason to raid the place.

Two weeks into his run, Manny had non-chalantly asked David, “So…anybody from here ask you out yet?”

“Yeah,” David said. “But, uh, I don’t like to mix business with pleasure.”

“Good idea,” said Manny, imagining the frustration some of his employees must be experiencing, seeing David almost every night yet not being able to have him. It must have been something like a drunk being tied to a chair behind a busy bar..

Manny could always tell who the new patrons were. They went from table to table making small talk, but what they were really doing was asking their fellow patrons how David could be reserved for the night. The answer was that he couldn’t, unless the owner of the club worked something out, but they had never known that to happen. Eventually, some of these desperate souls would approach Manny.

“How much?” they would ask, their voices trembling.
“For what?” Manny would ask.

“For David. I uh…I want him.” They would say it as though admitting defeat, as if confessing, not to a want, but to an unstoppable craving.

“He ain’t for sale.”

“I gotta have him.”

“That’s what he told me to say, mack.”

“I gotta have him.”

“Sorry bud. I feel for you. He’s turned down half–”

“But I gotta have him!”

“Look, buddy–”

“I got money. Just tell me what he wants.”

“I don’t know what he wants because he always says no.”

“Just tell me what you want. Make him. You’re his boss.”

“It ain’t up to me, okay? He doesn’t fool around except for on stage.”

“I can get more money. Just tell me how much! Come on.”

“Sorry, buddy. Look, I’ve asked him again and again for other guys just like you. One guy offered five thousand bucks, and he said no. Me asking again…it’s no use. It’ll just piss him off.”

The man swept his hair back with one hand. He turned to see David who stood behind the glass, running one huge hand over his chest. The big man’s fingers skimmed his nipple and he tensed for a moment. Then he let his head fall back and let his hand sink down the front of his torso and slide under the waistband of his shorts. The desperate man turned back to Manny looking pale and feverish. He whimpered. Like a drunk in desperate need of a drink, he cried, “Oh god, please! Please!”

“Look mack,” said Manny. “I’ll take your money, but what it’s gonna get you is a ticket so’s you can stand or kneel in front of the glass. You can do whatever you want then. Cept I’m thinking about charging extra if you want to take off some clothes. If you’re lucky, he’ll stick that huge shaft of sex meat through the hole. You can look, lick, suck, or try and get him off in the allotted time. But that’s it.”

“Oh god. Oh god.. No. No, that’s not good enough. Come on!”

“What do you want me to say? Look, you want my advice? Go to the bathroom and jerk off. Don’t do it in here. That’s against the rules. Okay? I know he has that effect on people. Either buy a ticket and hope for the best or use your imagination in the toilet.”

The man gripped his erection through his trousers.

“Look,” said Manny. “Why don’t you write him a letter. Tell him how much you want him and what you want to do with him. Ask him how he wants to be compensated for his time and maybe he’ll write back. I’ll make sure he gets the letter.”

“Okay,” the man said, panting. “Okay.” Sweat trickled down his forehead.

It had to be all done carefully. If David was spending private time with patrons, that was his business. Money was flowing fast a furious through America these days and a lot of it was due to the mob and the clandestine sale of alcohol. But the stock market had been acting like a roller coaster lately. Some people were scared. Some people were stupid and continued to dump everything they had into stocks. Manny was being cautious. All it would take to shut the Meadowlark club down was for some nobody who didn’t like Manny to blab to the police with liquor on his breath, or someone in the mob to get mad.

Both scenarios were unlikely to happen now that David was here. The crowds loved him, craved him…were in awe of him. They welcomed the chance to, not only buy a drink, but to sit and watch this spectacular specimen of manhood pose and flex. The upturn in receipts meant that Manny was good with the mob. They kept the booze coming. He kept their payments flowing.

Still, Manny worried. What if someone from the police department, one who appreciated David in that special way, wanted some private time, or wanted something kinky? What if a member of the mob stepped forward and said that a “boss” wanted every Friday night with David? If David said no, the consequences could be disastrous. Lethal, even.

Happily, there were hundreds of men who were only too happy to ogle and stare. The hedonism of the roaring ‘20’s showed no sign of stopping. Men bought tickets to the glass walled feature box and Manny had no fear of having to pay the $1000 grand prize. David was a master of control. His cock was exquisitely sensitive and the only time he came close to cumming was when a dark-skinned man with a foreign accent and an obscenely thick billfold had purchased 30 minutes at the glass. Obviously a $1000 grand prize was nothing for a man who would pay $3000 to have David cum at his whim. Within ten minutes, David began to tense. His posing, which he often did to distract himself from the tongue and lips and hands caressing his throbbing shaft, faltered. He would unconsciously try to pull his hips away from the glass only to stop himself. Finally, he thrust his hips full against the glass, exposing all twelve massive, pulsing inches of his cock. The sides of his fists were pressed so hard against the glass that the flesh turned white. He gritted his teeth and whimpered and moaned. The crowd was on its feet, silent and awestruck. Several times his breathing quickened and the crowd could hear, from behind the glass, a desperate, “Ohh….ohhhh!….OH!…OHHHH!” but he managed to maneuver his cock away from the man’s thick, wet lips for a few seconds, just enough to barely restore some control. When news of the stranger’s almost having won leaked out, the club was inundated with big spenders, eager to purchase time at the glass now that they knew that the beautiful giant was not invulnerable.

Not everyone was so bent on winning the grand prize. There were many patrons who were content with just watching. They were not poor, but they didn’t have hundreds of dollars to spend on something when what they really wanted could be had for free. They were like afficianados of beauty in a museum. They didn’t want to own the work of art so much as they wanted to gaze upon it and wonder at it. One of these was long time patron Harry Callaghan. Harry used to come in every Friday night, but since David had arrived, he now visited every Friday and every Saturday night, and sometimes he’d pop in during the week. He was always alone. He always had a ready smile. He always nursed his drinks, and was never, ever drunk. He always gazed appreciatively at the dancers and bartenders and always let them know how happy he was with polite applause or generous tips. If someone spoke to him he was full of cheerful conversation in return. When someone said something exceptionally lewd about one of the dancers or models or bartenders, Harry would deftly turn the conversation to a tone that was more genteel. No one knew what Harry did for a living, but from the simple suits he always wore, everyone assumed that he was a business man, or maybe in sales. He was a good looking man, though past what most people would refer to as his “prime”, with a shock of brown hair that was now streaked with grey. He was 55 years old, but his devilish grin denoted a much younger spirit;.

One other thing that people knew about Harry that set him apart from the crowd was his fondness for cherries. He always ordered a cocktail from the bar and never felt entitled enough to actually ask for more than one cherry. Once, when the bartender was about to drop a cherry into a patron’s drink, the man had stopped him, saying that he didn’t want the cherry. “I’ll take it!” Harry chimed. The bartender was a keen observer and the next night he put two cherries in Harry’s drink. The look of joy on Harry’s face was only too apparent and from then on, no matter who the bartender was, Harry always found at least two cherries in his cocktails. As time went on, other patrons noted his delight and would offer theirs to him. He always accepted them happily and with thanks, a huge grin on his face.

Tonight, Harry had ordered a double. It was a special occasion. It was his 56th birthday. He had no family and just a few close friends, none of whom knew it was his birthday. He decided to spend it at the Meadowlark club, a place that made him happy. No one here knew it was his birthday, unless they remembered from checking his ID long ago. As usual, he sat at his table alone, watching David assume pose after pose. He’d seen one patron give Manny a wad of bills, so an attempt to make David cum was on the menu for later, but Harry felt that the whole show was almost too graphic. It left nothing to the imagination. Sometimes, when another man had his lips around David’s cockhead, Harry felt as though he was watching someone force themselves on a friend, not that he’d ever said anything directly to David. He wasn’t shy, but he had no need to introduce himself to David. He only hoped that David saw him in the audience and appreciated his well mannered yet fun loving presence. To have that recognition from David would mean so much.

David had finished his routine and had stripped down to nothing but a white, silk thong. He motioned to the stage hand to lift the glass wall. It went up, David waved a thank you, and the crowd cheered and applauded. David turned to exit through the little side door in the compartment but stopped himself suddenly. He turned around and grabbed his clothes and then crossed the tiny stage to grab a drink that sat on a little side table next to the brown sofa. There was also a full jar of maraschino cherries on the table. Deftly, David plucked the cherry from his drink and held it inches from his face. It dripped onto his chest. He popped it into his mouth and then reached into the jar to pull out another cherry by the stem. He held this one too a few inches from his face and it dripped sweet , red syrup between his pecs. He let his head drop back. He closed his eyes until he felt the last drop fall from the cherry. A thin trickle of liquid inched down the deep furrow between his massive pecs. The audience was silent, their mouths open, taking in the whole erotic procedure, wondering what it was like to be a drop of syrup moving down the central canyon on that huge, hairy chest.

David turned to the audience. “Hey Harry!” he said. “I hear you like cherries.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and his smile grew into a grin. Many people would be embarrassed to be singled out, but even though he was blushing, Harry thought it funny. Maybe not funny. More like fun. Through his gentle laughter, Harry said, “Oh if you only knew how–”

“Get up here.” David said with a sideways tilt of his head. He had wedged the cherry between his pecs. He flexed each pec alternately a few times which drew gasps from the audience.

Harry was laughing, savoring his own embarrassment. He was practically glued to his chair.

“I said get up here,” David said with a smile and a wink.

As if with one voice, the audience looked at Harry and said, “WooooOOOOOOOooooo!”

Harry turned almost as red as a cherry and continued to laugh. At himself.

David looked down at his chest and then at Harry. He called out to him, “You want my cherry?”

The crowd burst into laughter and then applause, never taking their eyes from Harry. Harry mouthed the words oh my god and buried his face in his hands, laughing all the while.

David was grinning.

Harry was many things, but he was not shy. Trying to stifle his laughter, he slowly made his way onto the little stage. The audience cheered. David was seated on the little sofa, his arms spread wide. Harry stood before him. He couldn’t hold it in any longer, He closed his eyes and laughed heartily at his situation. This only made the crowd laugh more.

David fought to keep his composure. He wanted to look stern, but it was hopeless. When the laughter of the crowd began to die down, he said, “You know, my mama said it was rude to eat standing up.” He patted his thigh. “Have a seat.”

Once more, the crowd erupted in laughter. Harry gasped. His mind was a mess of laughter and excitement. He wanted to say something clever, but he was laughing too hard. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever hope to be this close to the handsome mountain of muscle. Now he was invited onto the young man’s lap! He wondered if he could control his hands. That chest. That torso. Those arms. That face. That cherry.

From the side of the bar, Manny appeared, the only person in the place who was not smiling. He was shouting, but could not be heard above the roar of the crowd. “No touching! No touching!”

Harry seated himself proudly on David’s thigh.


The audience laughed and applauded.

“Go for it,” said David.

Harry reached for the cherry.

“No touching! No touching!” came the cry from the bar.

Harry froze.. “Well how am I supposed to eat it if I can’t touch it?”

Someone from the audience shouted, “WITH YOUR MOUTH IDIOT!”

More applause and cheering.

For a moment, Harry’s grin faltered. Of course he’d eat it with his mouth, but how would he pluck it from David’s chest? When it dawned on him, he mouthed the words oh my god, turned red, buried his face in his hands and laughed uncontrollably. When he gained just a bit of control, he uncovered his face to find David gazing up at him calmly, with barely any expression. He was waiting patiently. Harry was steadying himself by grasping the back of the little sofa behind David’s head. Finally, he released his grip on the sofa and grabbed David’s shoulder. He took a deep breath and let it out.

The crowd was chanting, “Har-ry! Har-ry!”

Manny shouted, “No touching! No touching!”

Harry bent down and gingerly grasped the cherry between his teeth.

David pushed the man’s face deep between his pecs and held it there. Harry slid off David’s thigh and then his whole body shook with laughter. There was only a few moments of struggle, and then, awkward as his position was, he seemed quite content to stay bent over with his face between David’s pecs. A few moments later, he realized that the deep, warm cleft was sweet with cherry syrup, so he began to lick. Gradually, David released his grip. Harry wiggled his face from side to side, as though he wanted to burrow deeper and deeper.

Deftly, David reached over and pulled a handful of cherries from the jar. One by one, he placed them along the top of his chest. His pecs were thick, protruding, hanging slabs of beef. They actually had enough horizontal space along the top to set things down without them falling off. When he had positioned a half dozen cherries under his chin and to either side along the top of his chest, he flexed his pecs hard. The movement surprised Harry and he withdrew and stood up quickly, a huge grin on his face. When he saw the additional cherries, he mouthed the words oh my god and covered his face with his hands, shaking with laughter.

David looked down at his chest. The cherry between his pecs was gone. “Where’s the stem?” he asked.

“I think I swallowed it!” said Harry. He could barely be heard over the roar of the crowd. Finally, he looked David in the eyes and beheld that beautiful face. For a moment he wondered how David knew, not that it was his birthday, but that this was his kind of fantasy. He felt wonderfully seen, as though this handsome man had sensed his gentle, fun-loving presence amidst everything that went on at the Meadowlark club.

“My mama also said it was a sin to waste food, “ said David. as he looked down briefly at his chest.

“I won’t argue with her! You know what?” said Harry. “Today’s my birthday.”

“Really?” asked David.

Harry nodded. “Thank you so much for this!”

David smiled. “Say,” he began. “If I tell you something, can you promise not to tell?”

Harry nodded.

“Manny’s got a room in the back. With a bed. If I buy a bottle of champagne to celebrate your birthday, will you give me a nice massage?”

“Will I! Oh my god!”

“Okay,” said David. “But first you have to finish your supper.” He leaned back, spread his arms wide, let his head fall back, closed his eyes, arched his back, and offered his chest up to Harry.