The locker had a strip of tape that read simply "JIM".
He seemed to hang suspended in the darkness. He couldn't speak or
move. He just hung there mute. It was quiet and dark. He hung there
for hours. Then he heard music. The loud incessant beat of a dance
club or strip club. At last the locker door swung open. A giant face
loomed before him. He was talking to another guy, whom Blaine could
not see.
"Sal, this is the best job I've ever had. I mean I get paid," he says
peeling off his tight black t-shirt and exposing his smooth sculpted
tanned chest, "For taking my clothes off. My tanning sessions and
waxing are business expenses that I can deduct on my taxes. And the
tips are unreal." He unbuckled his pants, then slid them off along
with his underwear. Then, he reached for Blaine.
"Yeah, but wearing that tiny thing, you won't be able to hold that
many tips," said the other man. He reached out and flicked Blaine
with his index finger.
Blaine's mind screamed. He was a male stripper's g-string. Then he
saw the male stripper's bare size 14 foot descend through his left
opening, and now came the right foot. Blaine stared up from the
giant's ankles at the huge behemoth looming overhead. "That" was
going to fit inside him. He tried to close his eyes, but couldn't.
All he could do was race upward toward his doom with the stripper's
thumbs tucked into his waistband. He tasted the salty sweat of the
man's balls. The stripper tugged his pouch forward and tucked his
massive cock and balls inside.