My name is Rex.
I was twenty-one, homeless, and answered a handwritten note taped to a pole that said:
“Free rent if you fuck on command.”
I’ve been leaking cum 24/7 ever since.
Raw, unfiltered male diary • 21-year-old human cum-rag for an entire strip club • piss, squirt, anal, gloryholes, public use, no limits • 18+
I was sleeping in my car when I saw the note on a power pole: “Apartment for rent. $0. Must be 18–25, hung, and able to come multiple times a night. Ask for Candy downstairs.” I walked into the club smelling like gasoline and desperation. Candy (stage name, real name unknown) took one look at the bulge in my sweats, dragged me upstairs, and had me balls-deep in her throat before the door closed. She spat my load back into my mouth and said, “Rent paid for the month.”
They put me on the schedule like a dancer. 10 p.m.–6 a.m. “Special Services.” Girls finishing their sets would come upstairs dripping in sweat and dollar bills, shove me onto the cum-stained mattress, and ride me until the music downstairs changed. I learned to keep a towel under my hips because the sheets were never dry. By week two I was pissing clear from dehydration and coming dust, and they just laughed and poured tequila down my throat until I was hard again.
Private dances cost extra. Private everything cost nothing if you tipped me. I spent entire nights in the champagne rooms with my cock in one girl, tongue in another, fingers in a third, while a fourth filmed for her OnlyFans. One bride-to-be paid $5k for her whole bachelorette party to gangbang me on the velvet couch. They wrote “Just Married” across my chest in lipstick and took turns pissing on the words while I jerked off.
The bar closes at 4 a.m. That’s when the real party starts. Four bartenders — Raven, Jade, Roxxy, and Vixen — lock the doors, flip the sign, and drag me behind the bar. They bend me over the ice bin and take turns pegging me while the others squirt tequila shooters straight from their pussies into shot glasses lined up on my back. I drink until I’m drunk on pussy and liquor, then they flip me over and ride my face until last call for real.
Every Thursday is when the bouncers’ wives and girlfriends show up. Eight thick, tatted, mean women who’ve been watching their men grope dancers all week. They chain me to the pole on stage, no music, just the bass from downstairs, and fuck me with anything that fits—bottles, batons, the mic stand. One pissed in my mouth while another fisted my ass. I came without touching myself and they cheered like I’d scored a touchdown.
Tuesday is amateur night. Any woman in the crowd can sign up to dance—and to use me. I’ve been fucked by teachers, nurses, cops’ wives, pastors’ daughters. One 45-year-old soccer mom brought her book club. They took turns reading smut aloud while riding me reverse cowgirl. When the last chapter ended they all squirted at once. I looked like I’d been hosed down.
They built a gloryholes in the men’s bathroom wall that open into my apartment. I kneel there from midnight to close. Faceless mouths, pussies, and asses push through. I lost count at 300 loads swallowed. Some nights the wall drips so much cum it leaks onto the club floor downstairs and the dancers skate through it in their pleasers.
I’m twenty-three now. My knees are wrecked, my throat is raw, and I smell permanently like pussy and tequila. The girls tattooed “Property of 3B” above my cock in neon pink. I haven’t worn clothes upstairs in two years. I pay no rent, eat whatever’s left on their plates, and come so often I piss pre-cum.
I came for free rent.
I stayed because I’m addicted to being used like a cum dumpster.
And they’ll never let me leave.