How to Make DJ Rob Fuck Up

DJ Rob was finishing up his daytime shift when I arrived at the club on Friday night. I went in to say hello.

Rob’s usual greeting for me involves some some boyish squealing, a bear hug and a very thorough butt squeeze.

Not everyone is allowed to squeeze my butt every time they greet me, but I like Rob so much that he is one of the few exceptions. This is how DJ Rob greets most of the dancers, really. The club pays their deejays so little that Rob is basically being paid in butt squeezes.

“You have the best ass in this club,” Rob informed me.

“Really?” I asked, very skeptical. He probably tells this to all the dancers. “I’m surprised you think that because there’s a lot of good booty in this club.”

“It’s more about the way it feels,” he said. “A lot of the butts that look good in here don’t feel the way yours does.”

That made more sense. You know those balls you squeeze when you get stressed and they feel like they are full of jello or slime or something? My butt is basically a giant version of one of those balls.

Just then, a beautiful, dimpled daytime dancer named Angelica entered the booth.

“Have you felt her ass?” Rob asked her.

I stuck my butt in her direction and wiggled it. “Feel it, feel it!” I squealed.

Angelica began massaging my butt and did not stop.

“Can I just be real honest wit chall, and ya’ll won’t judge me?” she asked. “I would like to have a dick for, like, half a day.”

“Isn’t that what a strap-on is for?” I wondered.

“No, like a real dick. I stuck my finger in a pussy for the first time a few months ago, and it felt so good. I cannot imagine how much better a dick, which has hundreds more nerve endings than a finger, must feel.”

She was enjoying my butt a lot. On the other side of me, I saw Rob begin to sweat.

Angelica grabbed my butt and began dry humping me. “I just don’t know how you men get anything done at all! I would never get anything done! I’d just be fucking all day! I’d be such a man whore!”

Rob wiped his brow and tugged on the collar of his shirt.

Angelica began flicking my butt cheeks back and forth with her long, spiked thumbs. “Look! You could just put a dick right here and it would feel so good!”

Rob began unbuttoning his shirt and melting into his stool.

All of a sudden, the door burst open and Darren, the night shift deejay, burst into the booth.

“Rob,” he shouted, “there haven’t been any girls onstage for the past three songs! You can’t go that long without a girl onstage. Call somebody up there now!”

Angelica and I left the booth laughing. Darren was pissed. The night shift manager was pissed. But for me, it was the beginning of a great night.

One thought on “How to Make DJ Rob Fuck Up

  1. Pingback: I’m Back, but I’m Not Happy About It | Tales from Da Club

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