He Is In For A Different Thing

AT six feet, he is a towering figure inside this otherwise small strip bar somewhere in Quezon City.  Tall customers are a rarity in Metro Manila’s macho dancer bars and this one is no exception.  He is an expatriate connected with a Makati-based company and a “regular” client, says one female manager, by virtue of his “weekly” or “monthly” visits.  Oops, so you think daily appearances don’t make one a regular guest?

And whether this blue-eyed, fair-haired stocky guy in his late forties or early fifties is a Yankee, a Brit, an Aussie, a Dane, or a Pole, it does not matter.  Virtually all Philippine islanders consider all white Europeans as Americans, as if the pale-skinned Americans are the only white Caucasians in the world.   But that’s another story.

He prefers an area far from the stage, one that’s obscured by a partition, a stairwell, or a column, because he is in for a different thing, as is his wont.  He settles for the company of boy-next-door type of dancers, whose almost identical heights barely reach up to his shoulders.  Tonight, he gets two young-looking strippers, who can pass for sixteen year-olds, to join him at his table.  He does not look intimidating to them.  Fact is he comes off as a friendly individual, no different from most local guests.  He buys them drinks of their choice, which is always light beer (and you know the brand), and some finger foods.  He gets to know them using simple English words so they can understand him.  He knows there is a language barrier but they get to understand one another somehow.  Another round of drinks follows.

The boys try to engage their guest in a simple talk, employing gestures to drive home their point.  He says “yes”, “no”, and “I see”, unless he needs to explain his point.  He nods in reply to their questions.

After a while, the customer unzips, lets out his semi-erect dick and strokes it in full view of his dancer-mates, the waiter assigned in his area and several guests sitting nearby.  He increases the intensity of his strokes till his huge cock reaches full erection.  The young men grin and appear kind of shy as they find themselves in an awkward situation.  But then they realize this is “kind of normal in here” and regain their composures.  The big guy motions for them to do the same thing.  They are kind of hesitant.  His left hand reaches for the crotch of one of the strippers, fondling his cock.  The boys decide to unzip, too, and show him what they have got.  They, too, start masturbating.  He strokes their balls while he stimulates his own penis.  He winks at them and they respond with their innocent boyish smiles.

Guests at nearby tables turn away, murmur a thing or two, or break into a loud laugh.  “Grabe!” (unbelievable!), quips one effeminate indio (Spanish colonial term for the islanders), as if to say he abhors the sight of a masturbating macho dancer or homo customer.  While they comment negatively on the scene, one floor manager, who is used to witnessing it, simply shrugs it off as “pretty normal.”

After what seems like twenty minutes, they ejaculate, almost simultaneously, squirting their rich, thick loads onto the table, save one dancer whose cum shoots on the wall.

“Did you enjoy it,” he asks them.

“Yeah,” one responds, half-grinning, while the other nods his head.  Actually, they are feigning it.

The strippers excuse themselves as they need to wash up.  He says “okay.”

On the way to the employee restroom, they can be heard laughing and cursing, which cursing is part of many islanders’ every day conversations.  One muscled dancer teases them.  “Enjoy ba?” (Did you guys enjoy it”?).

On their return, their white Caucasian guest hands them what look like several one hundred pesos bills.  “Naku, akala ko naman tig-iisang libong piso!”  (Oh, my!  I thought these were one thousand peso bills!).


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