Andre The Reluctant Stripper Ch. 01

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Part 1: Dance Floor Moves

Davy wormed his way through the crowd towards the bar. I was wondering why I’d come, because this place always pissed me off. Not only was it suffocatingly warm, but the guys who came to it were mostly the loud, overtly hedonist kind of gay males that really turned me off. I stood there trying to avoid looking at anyone, when the glass I was holding was almost knocked from my hand.

I turned to swear at what I had already decided would be some stupid gesticulating half drunk teenager, but the first syllable was just out of my mouth when I recognised the face of the guy standing bedside me.

“Oh hello Andre. Sorry, was I waving my arms around too much again?”

I struggled to remember his name, but I seemed to remember him vaguely from a party I’d been to with Davy a few months earlier. A particularly drunken party when a game of ‘I dare you’ with him had gotten unprecedentedly out of hand and I’d ended up spending 2 hours in my underwear with my clothes locked in his car. Davy had always had a way of knowing just how to push my buttons and although we’d never been lovers, he’d had me out of my clothes more times than I cared to admit. Up to this one particular night it had always been in private though, or at least somewhere there was – as far as I knew – no one else around to see. Fortunately the guys at the party had all been his friends and I hadn’t seen any of them since. Until now.

“I almost didn’t recognise you with your clothes on,” he continued, smiling at his own joke. I laughed weakly, with a mixture of irritation, doubt and that mild sense of erotic embarrassment I always get when I’m called out on my secret longing to lose my clothes around other guys.

“Sorry it’s… I… sorry I don’t remember your name” I stammered.

“Peter, and this is Javier” he said, clapping the slight dark haired latin looking guy beside him on the shoulder. I half remembered having been introduced to them, but that particular night was a bit of a blur.

Davy had figured out early in our friendship that I was letting him catch me just coming out of the shower when he called round a few too many times for it to be coincidence. I’d been thoroughly convinced I was being very subtle, answering the door in just a towel, or needing to ‘take a quick shower’ when he called around. I’d leave the bedroom door ajar as I undressed knowing full well he could see me in the mirror on the closet door I had so carefully angled beforehand. Then one night he asked me flat out if I got off on it. I felt genuinely caught out. Despite my attempts at denial, and several transparent excuses, he finally got me to admit that I found it a huge turn on to be watched while I took it all off. The smirk on his face told me he had known all along.

As Davy returned from the bar he greeted the two guys as if they were best friends. As I stood watching them talking and laughing, I noticed Javier and Davy especially. There was an odd resemblance that was more to do with mannerisms than physical likeness. They both had an easy way about them, and most interesting of all, they shared a particular way of smirking I had come to think of as Davy’s ‘strip me’ smile. Any time I saw that look on his face, I knew he was thinking of some new way to push me, cajole or dare me into getting naked for him. Needless to say it was a look I’d come to love. Now I saw that same peculiar expression on Javier’s face as Davy stood, smiling beside him, speaking intimately into his ear above the music.

A few hours and quite a few vodkas later, the four of us wound up in a small club I had never been to before. It was a gay venue, in a basement under a larger and straighter club above. It had never occurred to me to go in, since the name of the place – Cokx – had always put me off. However although it was definitely cruisey, it wasn’t the sex dungeon I expected it to be. Usually I had to be physically dragged onto a dance floor, but the music was good, a mix of oldies and dance stuff. So when Peter & Javier tried to coax me onto the dance floor, I went without too much of a fight. It was pretty crowded and the heat was fierce. I could see Davy leaning in his corner, smiling at me as he chatted to yet another friend of his. Peter & Javier were being silly, and so we were soon laughing and bouncing around. Before long I felt the sweat running down my chest.

I like heat but I hate sweating, so in between moves I flapped my shirt a few times in a fruitless effort to get some air onto my rapidly overheating body. Javier, apparently blessed with a genetic resistance to heat, leaned over and shouted in my ear

“Feeling the heat boy? You look like you’re in meltdown” He was looking from me to Peter, who was dancing behind me, waving his hands theatrically and rolling his eyes in imitation of a version of me who was seemingly about to pass out from heat exhaustion.

“I know what’s wrong with him,” Peter shouted back. “This shirt is bursa escort far too warm,” he said, reaching around from behind me and flapping the front as I had been doing a few minutes before. Javier joined in, feeling the thickness of the material and shaking his head in feigned shock at just how thick it was before they launched into a chorus of “Far too thick. No wonder youre hot!” Javier kept hold of the shirt and I was barely able to keep moving. His flapping motions were getting more and more extreme, raising the shirt half way up my torso. After a moment, Peter joined in from the rear, so that they were essentially pulling my shirt half way up my body and pulling it down again. I felt a bit ridiculous, but since we we’d laughed so much already I let them have their fun.

This went on for a minute or so and I was just about to tell them enough was enough, when they both let go of my shirt and Peter danced his way around to my side. He had his hands over his head, waving them in a somewhat motorically challenged attempt at dancing, and gesturing at me to do the same. When I just looked at him pretending not to understand, he grabbed my hands and pulled them up over my head, until I was making the same lame moves as he was, and feeling pretty foolish for it. I closed my eyes and tried to tell myself I didn’t look like a total dick, when I felt them begin their flapping again. I opened my mouth and eyes at the same time, about to tell them to give it a rest, when in one swift motion, they pulled my shirt up and off me altogether. I looked at them too surprised to speak, but when Javier tossed the shirt over to Davy, the latters’ thumbs up and the laughs the guys returned made me begin to think I’d been what Davy had been talking to Javier about earlier.

The idea that this little move had been planned between them was both alarming and erotic. The fact that it was easily 35 degrees in the club and that I wasn’t the only shirtless guy on the dance floor made it seem pretty harmless however. I didn’t want to seem prudish by immediately demanding my t-shirt back, and I had a nice vodka buzz going anyway. Instead I just made my way over to Davy, ostensibly to finish the drink he had been minding for me, and thanked him sarcastically to see if my suspicions were correct. Not surprisingly my only answer was the famous smirk.

Peter and Javier joined us, but only long enough to demand I return to the dance floor. I wondered briefly if they had more little moves planned, but after a moment figured I might as well enjoy this, whatever it was. They grabbed me somewhat possessively by the arms and manouvred me through the heaving bodies until I was again dancing in between them. I stood there swaying a little, closing my eyes and trying to get myself back in the dancing mood again. Apparently this wasn’t fast enough of the guys, because I felt two pairs of hands grab my hips, forcing me to gyrate like an amateur belly dancer. As I picked up the rhythm, instead of releasing their grip, they simply shifted their hands; Peter’s sliding onto my still sweat slicked stomach, and Javier’s hooking into my belt. A little charge ran through me as I felt the heat from their hands brushing my bare skin.

Peter was stroking my stomach in little circles, and before long I felt his hands move slowly up towards my chest. His fingers kept circling, and I swallowed hard as one of them suddenly grazed the ring in my left nipple.

“Look at that” he said to Javier. “He’s got a ring through his tit.”

“Oh yes, so he has,” he replied, showing that oddly familiar smirk I’d noticed earlier. He reached up and tweaked it, making me swallow again. At this point I should probably add that my nipples are extremely sensitive, and even the slightest touch is enough to send a riot of erotic signals to the rest of my body. In this situation, conscious of just having my shirt stripped off me and surrounded by warm gyrating bodies, their toying seemed to be amplified by 10. They continued their comments and tweaking for a bit, the slight tone of sarcasm in their voices only adding to my growing arousal.

“These jeans look tight as well, don’t you think P?” Javier asked.

“Yeah they do,” Peter replied. Thats why he’s still sweating, look,” he said, swiping his palm across my chest and abdomen. I flicked my eyes open, instinctively looking down to where Javier had his hands resting on the waistband of my jeans. His fingers were hooked into my belt, tugging at it as if to illustrate his point. I watched the fingers of the other hand inching toward the end of it, where it was tucked into the belt loop of my jeans. With his index finger he began very gently pushing at the tip, sliding it out centimetre by centimetre, a loop of leather pushing out from the buckle until the end of my belt slid out from under the little strip of denim to hang loosely at my waist.

He grabbed it between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it taut and moving his hand to the bursa escort bayan left, making the buckle stand out from my waist. I watched as he kept up the pressure, continuing to pull it slowly until with a noticeable loosening around my waist, the metal pin on the buckle popped out of the hole in the leather. My pulse quickened as I noticed the waistband of my briefs now clearly slide into view. With an electric jolt, Peters fingers slid once more across my nipples, only this time with no pretence of accident. They lingered on my pecs, circling slowly and deliberately around and across the tips of my nipples, causing me to shiver with excitement. Javier was looking me straight in the eyes, smirking even more now as he slipped the belt out of my jeans and without breaking eye contact dropped it at his feet. Im not sure what he read from my expression, but I suppose the fact I made no attempt to stop him told him enough. With a practised hand, he grasped the top button of my jeans and with one short movement of his thumb, popped it open. I felt my jeans loosen even more, which together with the tingling caused by the relentless fingers on my nipples, caused 5 centimetres of black and white striped underwear containing the obvious shape of my erection to appear above the waistband of my jeans.

“Look P, same undies as last time,” Javier said.

“You did change them since the party I hope Andre!” Peter giggled in my ear.

“Always in those designer undies are you?” I realised that I had been wearing something similar at the notorious party. I had no idea what to say. My mind was struggling with what I was letting them do to me, aware that I was making it pretty obvious I was loving every embarassing minute.

“No, they’re not the same P,” Javier said, “Look,” ands he popped another button and pulled gently but firmly on my jeans until they slid down another few centimetres. He traced the elastic waistband of the briefs with his finger, reading out loud like a 5 year old; “Calvin Klein.”

“They look the same to me,” said Peter, his hands finally leaving my nipples and snaking around my waist, where they grabbed the 2 flaps of my jeans and gave a firm tug. I felt yet another button pop open and the jeans loosen even more; a feeling both alarming and indescribably erotic.

“Having fun there boys?” a voice beside me said in the familiar taunting tone that could only Davy’s. He appeared on my right, the smirk on his face only confirming my previous impression of its similarity to the one I could now see mirrored on Javier’s as they now stood side by side.

“Need any help with these bad lads Andre?” he asked. I nodded weakly, because despite how turned on I was by it all, I was worried how far I might let them go. I knew myself well enough to know I might be about to seriously embarass myself.

“Ok,” he said happily, and before I knew what was happening he ducked down on his knees and yanked the laces on my sneakers undone. He looked up at me with a wicked grin and without taking his eyes off mine, very slowly and deliberately undid the last button on my jeans. Peter, catching on quickly, tightened his grip around my waist and lifted me just far enough off the floor to allow Davy to slip my shoes off. My pulse shot up again as I realised what was going to happen next. Still looking up at me, Davy began giving short little tugs on the cuffs of my jeans, grinning at me as with each teasing little pull, my pants slipped down just a fraction lower. I knew it wouldn’t take much before they slid down by themselves and sure enough, the 4th tug was enough to make the jeans slide down to my knees, where Davy pulled them swiftly the rest of the way down, over my feet and off completely.

Despite myself, I felt my cock throbbing as I desperately tried not to notice the group of guys dancing right beside us pointing and laughing at the guy held dangling from the waist in only a pair of socks and an obviously bulging pair of briefs. I felt my face redden. Even though on the surface this seemed like the situation I had let myself be dared into at the party, it felt very different. Then I’d taken my clothes off myself and although Davy had known it would turn me on to end up in my underwear in front of a group of his mates, it had been my decision to do it. Now I had been more or less forcibly stripped, and in public too. And to make things worse, anyone who looked could see just how much I liked it. In fact I had to admit to myself that it was exactly that sense of humiliation that was the major cause of my now fully erect cock.

Davy threw my jeans, shoes and belt off the dance floor, where I could only hope I’d be able to find them before I went home. I realised that all jokes and teasing aside, these three were pretty much in control of just how much more of this achingly horny humiliation I was yet to undergo. That thought alone was enough to make my pulse go up a notch. They were all obviously görükle escort bayan enjoying the whole thing enormously, and laughing at me and each other, began dancing again, their hands on my waist, arse and chest to get me moving again. I felt incredibly conscious of the fact I was in the middle of the dance floor in just my underwear, but there seemed little choice but to go with it. Ironically, I was sweating more than I had been when this whole thing had started, with tracks of moisture running down my chest and stomach and making my briefs feel even more revealing than they were already.

I suppose we spent 15 or 20 minutes dancing, to the point where I was even beginning to get a little used to the feeling of being so exposed. I felt hands on me more times than I could count, and I was fairly sure they didn’t all belong to the 3 guys I was dancing with.

“Let’s go and get a drink,” Peter shouted finally over the music. He then leaned in and said something to the other two which I wasn’t able to hear. I took a step in the direction of where we had been standing earlier, where Davy had thrown my jeans and sneakers. But to my surprise, and with a vague feeling of alarm, I found myself being pulled to a corner on the opposite side of the room. There was a smaller and quieter bar there, ending on its shorter side in a corner with a couple of stools. I was manouvred into the space between the bar and wall, grateful for the fact I was now somewhat hidden from view, except for the guys pulling beers a few feet away.

“So Andre, there you are in your little undies again. How do you get yourself into these situations?” Davy asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

“Why, how often does this happen then?” Peter asked laughing.

“This is only the second ti-” I protested.

“Now, that’s not entirely true now is it? I seem to remember someone stripping off in my car a few weeks ago. And don’t make me call my mate Jason over. You remember him don’t you?” Davy nodded his head across the bar, where I could vaguely make out the guy hed been chatting with earlier. Slowly it began to dawn on me that Jason had been the unwitting participant in yet another of Davy’s dares to me. That whole subject was one I really didn’t want raised with me standing in public in my briefs. I nodded silently, my eyes begging Davy silently to leave it there.

“Let’s just say that Andre here doesn’t take much convincing to get his gear off,” he said, smirking at me.

“Yeah you said what an exhibitionist he is,” Javier chimed in. “And he certainly didn’t seem to mind us stripping him off just now either.”

I felt my face redden again, and with some shame, my cock stir in my underwear too.

“Just how much of a show off is he then?” asked Peter with a huge grin on his face.

“Why don’t you find out?” Davy replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, ask him if he wants all his clothes back.”

He dutifully turned to me and repeated the question.

“Yes guys, please go and get my stuff now.” I said as calmly as I could.

“You want all your clothes?” Davy asked.

“Yes of course. Please let me have them all back now”

He stood looking from me to Peter, Javier and back again before finally giving me a triumphant look I wasn’t sure I liked.

“Well we can’t do that unless we have all your clothes, can we?”

I stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“You’re still wearing some of them,’ he said.

I still didn’t see his point, but from the laughter beside me I guessed the other 2 knew exactly what he meant. He looked at me slyly.

“Well for starters, you still have your socks on. Take them off.”

Reluctantly, I reached down and slipped them off. Peter snatched them from me, wafting them under his nose and rolling his eyes. Despite the fact they were only socks, having to take them off left me feeling strangely more exposed than ever.

“Yes Andre,” Javier said in my ear “you have to give it all to get it back. That makes sense doesn’t it? And when we say all, we mean everything.” The tone of voice was so like the taunting condescension Davy had just used on me that for a moment I thought I was hearing double.

And what I seemed to be hearing was that they were seriously telling me they expected me to strip naked right there at the bar. I started shaking my head. While I had no issues with being naked in private, this was something else entirely. And horny as I still was, I suddenly began to feel very self conscious about the whole situation.

Davy stood, studying my expression as if trying to read my mind.

“Did I mention I ran into Marcus just now?” he remarked seemingly off the cuff.

“Marcus is here?” I was beginning to feel distinctly nervous.

“Yep. I told him we’d be over here having a drink so he said he’d probably come over to say hi.”

Marcus was a very nice guy, and in his early 40’s a few years older than me. Not that this was what was now making me feel extremely nervous. No, much more to the point was the fact that Marcus was my bosses ex. And they were the kind of ex-boyfriends who still went out for dinner and on vacation together. Called round to each other’s offices when they went for lunch. My office.

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