Tag Archives: 30 minutes

Ideas for Swinging Richards… or Another Gay Male Stripper or Go-Go Boy Bar

Ideas for Swinging Richards… or Another Gay Male Stripper or Go-Go Boy Bar

I just earned Medallion status on Delta airlines. It’s one of those mile-markers I’ve been looking forward to achieving. I get on the plane earlier, I get upgrades, more miles, preferred seats and other perks. I’ve been Gold and Platinum level at certain hotels. I also love it when I book events places and I earn special treatment for that.

It’s great being recognized.

One town that does this well is Las Vegas, which provides VIP service at many clubs and hotels for the high rollers — also known as “whales.” These are people with money who arrive with the intention of spending money and expect to be treated with a little extra finesse.

I wish that Swinging Richards Opens a new window from this blog would consider doing the same. In fact, I have a few ideas to make Swinging Richards a much more upscale experience.

The True VIP Experience at Swinging Richards

VIP Concierge

In the front corner of the bar, there’s a “dead” space where a large screen TV sits. A small reception desk should be put here. All VIP members should check in here. Additionally, celebrations and other special requests can register here. A velvet rope seating area in the middle section could be set up for VIP members, their guests and those who choose to pay the one-time VIP admission for the night.

The VIP Concierge can also make arrangements for any dancer requests, a private dance or lap dance. As part of the service, anyone can come up and see who’s registered to work that evening and arrange for lap dances without the harassment or embarrassment of trying to find the dancer in the crowd, catching his eye and motioning him over.

Providing the Concierge with your credit card, you almost never need to pull any money out. Ask for cash — a stack of ones, twos, fives, tens or twenties — and the Concierge can provide for you to tip for the evening. Or can hand you chips which work just like cash. It’s charged to your account at the end of the evening when you check out.

VIP Main Room Seating

Part of the joy of sitting in the main room is watching the show with three to six dancers on the stage. While sometimes tables are reserved, the middle section needs a velvet rope area for VIP customers for the evening. Inside this area, there’s upgraded seating and tables, upgraded from the uncomfortable straight-back chairs. Bottle service along with top-shelf call along with a special server at your beck-and-call at all times (I recommend Jonathan, he does a particularly good job; but someone who can be shirtless would be nice).

In this section, getting up to use the bathroom or visiting the VIP room won’t cause one to lose one’s seat. Your space is always yours for the evening unless you inform the VIP Concierge that you’re leaving for the evening.

Lap Dance Lounges

Added in both the main floor and in the back VIP area would be new Lap Dance Lounges. These are arranged at the VIP Concierge (or at the entrance of the VIP area) and cost a little extra. Unlike normal lap dances, the patron pays for more songs, the lounges includes a slightly opaque shower curtain to obscure the dance experience and it lasts for five minutes. For only $50, it’s not quite heading into a private dance (where you break the bank starting at $140 for 15 minutes) but it’s a little more than $20 or $10 for a song.

Private Dance Experiences

The pricing process is just so confusing to newbies at Swinging Richards that a flat fee structure must be instituted. Like the Lap Dance Lounges and the Concierge Services, fees for the services provided will be charged to the dancers, but the dancers have to feel they’re fairly treated.

First, the private dance rooms should be gutted and reconfigured to accommodate only one dancer and one patron. This would allow for more rooms for private dance rooms as well as the Lap Dance Lounges.

[alert style=”green”]Standard 15 minutes: $150 (Dancer $90, House $40, Concierge Fee $20)

VIP 15 Silver Experience: $200 includes top-shelf drink for patron and dancer, t-shirt or calendar, free pass for next visit to Swinging Richards (additional Concierge Fee $20)

Standard 30 minutes: $275 (Dancer $190, House $60, Concierge Fee $25)
VIP 30 Gold Experience: $350 includes VIP 15 bonuses plus one Lap Dance Lounge pass with any dancer (additional Concierge Fee $25)

Standard 60 minutes: $500 (Dancer $375, House $75, Concierge Fee $50)
VIP 60 Platinum Experience: $650 includes bottle service or four top-shelf drinks, t-shirt and calendar, two free passes for next visits to Swinging Richards, two Lap Dance Lounge passes (additional Concierge Fee $50)

VIP Diamond Experience at Swinging Richards: Starting at $1,500 (Starting at Dancer $750, House $400, Concierge Fee $500)
Reserved front-row table in main room; Your private, selected dancer host with you all night; Reserved private dance room for you at your selected time; Full top-shelf and bottle service throughout the night; Included Lap Dance Lounges; Optional limousine service throughout the Atlanta or Fort Lauderdale/Miami metro area (optional for your selected dancer to accompany you to your door); Optional reserved dinner planned prior to your night with Swinging Richards (and your dancer may also accompany you to this dinner as well).[/alert]

This is just the beginning to expressing the new menu of choices at Swinging Richards might work.

More Training for Dancers

Some dancers know what they’re doing and some do not. If I take a shine to dancers, I sometimes help them out with the best ways to approach and how better to make things work. I recently took the time to write a little about how to improve making tip money Opens a new window from this blog. The Concierge could help with that training, especially the ones who show the most potential. I can walk in the door and see the new meat parading about. If I give them a dollar, I’ll know within a few seconds if they’ve got good instincts to survive.

Working at a strip club is not easy. If you’ve ever watched Jerry Springer and the female strippers how they get into cat fights, you ought to see what happens behind the scenes Opens a new window from this blog at a male strip club. Sure, they all seem like bros, but the testosterone will get the best of them. There’s no hair-pulling, scratching or weaves flying. I even expected a little gorilla-like chest-thumping.

Violence is abrupt, fisticuffs are brutal and broken bones are not unusual. And while there’s the unfortunate things like this recent rape  accusation Opens a new window from this blog that’s made the news, I think training would serve to reduce such events.

Most of the problems I’ve noticed comes from over-the-top clientele who miss the mark on what it means to engage a dancer. Touching doesn’t happen until invited and if you’re a little too tipsy, don’t get aggressive.

  

A Note of Consideration

To Swinging Richards or anyone else who takes my ideas and runs with them: 

Ideas cannot be copyrighted. Hey, I know that. I didn’t put my ideas out there to make money (although that would be nice). But here’s the thing: Do you think I would be stupid enough to put all my ideas out there?

You’re always welcome just to go with what I suggest and adapt to your own business situation, but I’m a (get this) marketing professional who knows a thing or two. I’m available for consultation or even hiring

But if you don’t want to do that, I understand. But a few VIP experiences or some other perks always makes me happy. 

Yours,

Mark's Signature in White

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Fuck Fuck Fuck

Breeding a Redneck Behind an Abandoned House

The last week or so kept me busy for a variety of reasons and, for whatever the reason, I’ve just not had the luck with getting ass. In fact, I’d been saving up loads for a potential good fuck visiting from out of town but that quickly turned into a bust when I didn’t hear from him. So much for being a good guy. So my balls are full and I’m about to fucking bust last night.

Making matters worse, a great case of insomnia kicks in. Sunday nights should be good since the weekend is ending. Most who are horny and wanting more seek it out Sunday night, especially tweakers (who aren’t my favorite but when you’re horny, you’ll take it). And considering the time change this weekend, I’m thinking it’s going to be especially good.

As I’m cruising online, the e-mails arrive steadily and the selections are pretty good. But when it comes right down to it, I just can’t get anyone to make the commitment to get out the door and meet. It’s soon 4 a.m. and I’m fucking screwed, so I finally try to find a little restless sleep. Even so, I’m up at 8:45 and find a dozen or more new e-mails waiting for me and continue on my quest.

I’m not jerking off. That would not satisfy. It takes a fuck.

Among the latest lot, we soon narrow down to a 24-year-old redneck up the road from me.

And when I mean up the road, I mean north. I’m north of Atlanta, so he’s way north, another 15 or so miles.

He can’t come down to see me since, it turns out, he’d recently lost his license and, as any good redneck, still lived with his folks. The distance was just too far to go and get him and bring him back home. But he knew of some “private places” near by.

Hitting the interstate, which ended not far from his exit, I headed his way. I texted him as I left the highway about 30 minutes later and within a few minutes, was turning down a one-lane road, barely paved at all.

A lone figure in the distance as I crested a hill could be seen walking along. Indeed, probably about 24 years old, shortly cropped hair with a reddish tint and a four- or five-day beard. He hopped in the truck with only the suggestion to turn around.

He was beefy but pale-faced with freckles. We headed back to the two-lane road and drove a couple of miles before he spoke again and suggested we turn down a dirt road distinguished only by an old, beaten mailbox.

The four-wheel drive took the rough road with ease as we came up to an unmarked railroad crossing and then a muddy patch before coming up to a clearing. The old house had certainly seen better days but someone had tried to revitalize it with bright paint on the exposed wood, now some of it peeling away.

Its old tin roof now red, jutting up from the crisp green bushes that hid much of the house from everything. Around back the crumbling , gray structure we’d still call a barn had never housed any animals. And on this warm day, the dandelions, swayed a little in the moist air that promised a little rain later on.

I shut the truck off but he didn’t want to get out. He just stared at my crotch. I backed up a bit and whipped out my half-hard cock and let him see it. He pounced on it and began sucking.

His exertion and the heat of sex soon got the greenhouse effect going and we were both sweating, even though I was just leaning back and letting him do the work. I suggested we step outside.

He talked more than he’d ever before as we got out and began looking around for a way into the old house. An old side porch off the kitchen offered the best refuge from onlookers — which seemed to have him paranoid. Obviously, this old place was used as a fuck house around here. I could have cared less, but he wanted some place. He dropped to his knees immediately and I whipped my cock out.

He sucked but a couple of seconds in said, “If you want to fuck me, just say so.”

“I want to fuck you.”

He didn’t bother to get up but turned around on all fours, pulling down his pants and exposing his white ass.

A huge ass with a deep crevice, his hole was an angry red, as he’d obviously scrubbed it before our meeting. I spit, adding to his and shoved my cock toward his hole.

He didn’t like it but took it like a champ. In a moment, with that country slur, he was begging for me to cum in his ass. I didn’t feel like prolonging the inevitable and I released my spunk into his big white ass. Several days worth. Our position didn’t allow me to push it deep, but the boy wanted it and he kept it.

We were back in the truck in moments and back at the two-lane, me driving him to his original destination — a gas station convenience store, where I left him.

He hopped out, thanked me. With great precision, he spit on the sidewalk. I drove home, moderately satisfied, but needing a nap.

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More Tips and Tricks to Get Some at Bathhouses and Adult Book Stores

Sometimes when you visit an adult book store or bathhouse or gay sex club, you strike out. It’s slow, a place full of attitude and lackluster people. Here’s a few more tips, as a companion to my previous pieces on Bathhouses and Gloryhole Etiquette to help out on dry days. More than anything, it takes patience but here’s more to help you out.

Notify the world before you’re going

I usually put a post on Craigslist and a bareback site or two that I’m headed to get some action. ALWAYS include a photo. I make it easier by putting out my phone number to text me.

You may be worried about this so consider a disposable phone or get a Google Voice number (http://google.com/voice) attached to your number. Problem with the Google Voice number: Can’t send or receive images. But it will allow you to hide your identity.

The other great reason to do this is you’ll get a lot of responses from people close by who will make offers but won’t meet you there. They’re your back-up plans if you don’t get what you want.

Make eye contact

You can always say “no thanks” later if you’re not into the guy, but eye contact is the key to getting action. People don’t always go alone, so you might be able to work up the chain from one mediocre looking guy to his better-looking friend or lover.

Hide for a while

lounging around at a gay bathhouseThere’s nothing worse than the same tired people wandering around and looking desperate. Go to a room or booth or somewhere and stay for 30 minutes to an hour. Don’t leave Don’t move. If you’re in a public area, just hang, relax and watch the world go by. Even if you see something of interest, DO NOT PURSUE (he’ll come back for you if he’s interested).

After a while, you get back up and wander around. You’ll have a fresh crowd. It’s even better if the place offers in-out privileges (most places don’t) and you can take a break.

Remember the best times to wander. Around lunch (11:30 a.m. to 2 p.m.), after work (4:30 p.m. to 7 p.m.) and after the bars close (your cities vary).

Pay attention to local events

I’m in Atlanta. I know when the Braves, Falcons, Georgia Tech, Hawks or Thrashers have a home game. I am more likely to get butch, horny guys after those events end.

The places will also be crowded after major gay-attracting events like a Lady Gaga concert or Kathy Griffin stand-up (bottoms! yay!).

Bring your own companion

Look, I am not a hot enchilada on my own. I’ve got a respectable size cock and on a scale of 1 to 10, I know I’m in the average area. So I have a couple of bottom and versatile friends, equally the same (slightly better looking in a couple of cases) and we buddy up. If we’re both striking out, we will start fooling around with each other in a room or booth.

THIS ATTRACTS ATTENTION. It has a multiplying effect. We’re not really there for each other. He’s had my loads numerous times. He wants others. So when I start fucking around with him, it’s a ruse to get others involved. If I’m a six (being generous) and he’s a seven, we don’t look like the average of 6½. We look more like an 8 to the people there, being there’s an exponential gain, especially since we’ll be playing bareback.

My job is not to occupy his hole but to offer it up to others. His job is to identify bottoms for me to fuck as well. It takes trust in one another and no egos.

Learn the Rhythms

Every city and every place has its own rhythms. I can tell you that Wednesdays in Atlanta will always suck, no matter what I do to try and minimize that. You have to invest the time and effort to figure out what works best for your city and your places. Ask people. Ask online. Try it out on your own.

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Travel Diary: Face of an Angel, Body Built for Sin

Travel Diary: Face of an Angel, Body Built for Sin

I’ve started posting some photos over at http://barebacking.tumblr.com. More or less, it’s an outlet of some fun photography I run across on occasion and now that I have a little time on my hands, I’m able to post more. Today, I was able to put up twenty-one examples of men I can only say meet with a kind of perfection with the face of an angel but a body built for sin.

Occasionally, I even get to fuck one of these heavenly creatures.

I’m not stupid enough to think someone in their youthful twenties would find me attractive, so when a 22-year-old student said he would come by for a fuck, I found it highly improbable, especially seeing his body photograph. I’d never seen his face photo, but his body proved one of immense beauty. On some beach splayed across a blanket, his tanned six-foot-four frame stretched with a kind of grace not usually found among such youth. You could just make out the goatee.

His chest developed with slight pecs and massive nipples seemed to just beg to be chewed. The only hair trickled down the middle and built in a cascade to the ties for his overwhelming board shorts.

After giving him my hotel room, I never expected his arrival. I waited, half hoping for about 30 minutes but then went about my business, checking for more ads and seeing if a Monday night might bring me any more hope. Usually Monday night ads never worked out.

Late, as I prepared for bed, a knock came at the door that almost startled me. I opened it to see him.

His face proved to be stunning. Standing taller than me — a feat not so easy considering my six-foot-three size — he stepped into the room, apologizing and muttering something about his brother and class.

Dark wavy hair and an ivory smooth face blinded me. I closed the door, wondering if he’d actually stay. Not only my age but the sheer beauty of this man made it unlikely to get anything off him. But he pulled his jacket off, turned around and motioned at my pants. I unbuckled and opened as my cock began to rise immediately.

He knelt and began a blowjob that defied his youthful years. It’s not often I can say someone blows well. I think most men are just grateful to have a mouth on their cock, especially the semi-straight/hetero-flexible who get the occasional oral relief from a “genderless” mouth. But I find it rare indeed to find a man who knows how to deliver fellatio of sufficient quality that it will arouse me beyond a certain point.

This young man could make me cum.

No teeth, as if he only had gums, although I’d seen his perfect smile (obviously, he wasn’t long out of braces). He’d bury his nose into my bush and relax his throat so even though my cock still stood upright, his oral cavity proved cavernous enough to accommodate my seven incher. Plus, he exercised enough control to flex his throat and tongue to provide stimulation.

Now came a moment I debated.

Was I getting a pity blowjob. Did the boy mean to go through with this little act to get me off and get himself off the hook for the fuck? Or was it a prelude and was he waiting for my move? Or, if it was a pity blowjob, could I even turn it into a pity fuck?

At this point, I just wanted to see this angel naked.

I reached down and lifted him up. He came with a little resistance but still he stood. His eyes closed. We moved toward kissing and he accepted my prying to get his shirt and pants off.

His chest turned into more perfection but less tan than the photo. Obviously, he’d worked out. But the photo failed to capture the bulging veins in his arms and the incredible guns he’d worked on. As he lifted off his undershirt, the wisps of pit hair, dark against his ivory skin seemed like puberty had only began in the last month for him. Of course his hairy muscular legs betrayed his age. And once his boxers were off, his bush covered almost all of what might have been any cock whatsoever.

Maybe a grower, I imagined.

He sucked me more and we made out. But his eyes remained closed. He was locked in a fantasy world in which I would be someone else. I knew I would need to find the key to unlocking what this man needed. He seemed perfectly content servicing me — and for fuck’s sake, I enjoyed the hell out of it — I knew I could sneak under the door of this man’s weakness and awaken something.

As I went to work orally on him, I discovered what would make him stir. My beard. If I would scrape against the most sensitive spots — his neck, his cheek, his underarms, the inside of his elbows, across his nipples — he would inhale deeply and suddenly. My gentle prodding began to take on some rough and tumble moments, where I would surprise him. His skin glistening, wet from my spit, entirely electrified by my soft attention, would suddenly be attacked and scratched by the hairs of my chin, nibbled at by my teeth, bitten and scraped. His cock head appeared finally from the dark shadows of his pubes, but I ignored it, instead focusing of his almost bald taint, giving it similar treatment and heading for the hole.

After massive tongue lashing and opening it up, watching it wink at me, giving it so much spit and love with fingers and lips and licking of all sorts, his sphincter seemed to throb.

I pulled away and looked at the circular perfection. Even this seemed just beautiful on this man.

Without warning, I closed my mouth and plunged in, woolly hairs standing on end. I attacked his hole, now ready for a soft moment, with the bristles like nothing else, with the prickles across my face, spreading his cheeks and coating my face with the spit I’d soaked him in.

His moans filled the room.

My attack continued and abruptly ended and I moved to where I was face to face with him, my face coated in spit-ass juice.

Green EyesHis green eyes stared at me, open wider than ever before.

He kissed me, his eyes remained open, looking at me like he’d never seen me before.

My hard, dripping cock, poised at his red, raw hole. And as we kissed, I felt a hand grab my cock, position it at his hole and push it just inside. We continued the kiss as I entered into him, and I never thought his eyes could open wider. They did, the emerald pools expanding so I could see the eternity of his brief but difficult life within them. He bit my tongue inside his mouth, sucked it deeper, and we kissed more. Soon I was buried. And a moment in time turned into minutes.

We would kiss and fuck and talk, literally for two hours. My cock would never leave his hole except for repositioning. We talked about our lives and I learned more about this man’s 22 years, his girlfriend, his brother, the accident and his years of school. Moments that actually would make me want to take him from this life and take his brokenness to another place and show him that outside this world in which he lived, a whole other world existed where he would be adored. But my cock inside him, I could feel how his life was tied to his home, how he could never leave the place and would never, ever take the risk to step away.

While I never said it to him, his brother would be his unrequited love of his life. When he spoke of the mysterious man, his eyes would sparkle. No other man would capture this man’s soul and heart like his brother, who had sheltered him and cared for him through such times that poured forth from him. When he dared speak of his girlfriend, it was more obligatory rather than anything else. But his brother would actually bring a twinge to his ass and give my cock a shock.

When we finally realized the time, we fucked in earnest, my cock in his ass. He rode me, seeming to add juices to his ass, the friction getting tighter and but the chute getting smoother. Like the question of barebacking, I didn’t mention I was about to cum. He just looked at me with those jewel eyes and he could see my pleasure and moment coming. As I climaxed, pushing myself into him, adding just a bit of myself to him, he took the opportunity to spray himself onto me and across himself. His cock, now at about five inches, seemed small. But his body just perfection didn’t deny the beauty of every inch of his being. And the load flew everywhere.

When he collapsed on me, my cock remained inside him and his juices were meshed between us. I managed to scoop a little and put it on my tongue to remember it, the metallic flavor muted by a hint of bitter sweet. He then looked into my eyes, those evergreen irises even in the iridescent lights of a hotel room. In post-ejaculatory moments, he didn’t even seem to mess him up. His perfection would not be denied by a little cum and sex mess.

After not wanting to look at me for so long, he now stared for a while and his large hands brushed against my rough face. He whispered his thanks, kissed me again and let my cock pull out of his ass.

He clothed himself slowly and silently. He left with a kiss.

I don’t expect ever being able to fuck him again. And even within all he did not tell me, I know more than he chose not to share.

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