The Big Ones

Karl Thomas stepped into the dimly lit bar, the air thick with the scent of spilled whiskey and anticipation. He needed this job—cash in hand, no questions asked. Rick Donovan, the manager, lounged at a corner booth, his sharp eyes scanning the empty stage like a predator sizing up prey. Karl approached, heart pounding, and slid into the audition without a word. He stripped off his shirt first, muscles rippling under the neon glow, hips swaying in a slow, deliberate grind against an invisible partner. Rick leaned forward, intrigued. Karl dropped lower, ass flexing as he rolled his body in teasing circles, sweat beading on his skin. He palmed his hardening cock through tight jeans, thrusting forward with raw hunger, each movement a promise of filthy obedience. Rick's gaze darkened, lips parting as Karl spun, bending deep to flash the curve of his cheeks, begging for approval with every explicit twist. The bar faded away; it was just Karl's body on display, owning the rhythm, sealing the deal in sweat and seduction.