After Bar 69
"After Bar 69" is the second story in a series of four. It is drawn from experiences of a white American male nude art model, Tom, from Cleveland. He becomes a dirty naked sex-model publicly engaging in sex and rimming a naked black Jamaican female, Angela, in an open-to-the-public live-sex-peepshow on the Reeperbahn in Hamburg, Germany. Characters and places have been rendered fictional from interviewed real experiences.
It was noon on a hot summer Saturday in Germany. I had become a low-life publicly naked piece-of-ass. That was what I was.
In America I had been a slavish sissy white cuckold who watched while five black bulls fucked my white wife. And she had to lick-out and tongue fuck their black assholes before they would fuck her. In fact, she usually had to lick the black guys' unwashed black assholes clean.
She had gotten pregnant by one of them. After the biracial baby was born she had left me and gone to live with her mother.
Now I was getting even with her. I was a public asshole-licking naked white male slut in sex-shows on the Reeperbahn in Hamburg. I relished the disrepute and mockery from being one.
I now had to go to work as a naked public piece-of-ass. I took off my wristwatch, shoes, socks, shirt, tee shirt, slacks, and underpants.
When I was naked, I pulled on a tee shirt, shorts without underpants, and shower shoes without socks.
Down the street I would strip legally naked and perform sex-acts in live-sex peepshows with a black Jamaican girl named Angela. "Legally naked" is when sex-organs, buttocks, and anus are on display for public viewing. I did not want to bother with taking off a lot of clothes to be legally naked for my gig.
I put on a chrome-studded black leather slave-collar, chrome-studded black wristbands on each wrist, and chrome-studded black ankle-bands on each ankle. All of their sex-models wore these.
The black Congo peepshow manager's black Haitian wife had designed this fetish apparel. Its only purpose was to call attention to their pieces-of-ass lewdly exhibiting their bare buttocks, anuses, genitals, breasts, and nipples.
Their shows featured black-dominating-white interracial sex. Naked subdued white sex-pigs like me wore black ones, and the dominating naked black sex-performers wore white leather ones.
"It is so you whores look like dirty slave-sluts instead of arty nudes," she had smirked with a French accent. "Customers pay to sneer at our debauched slave pieces-of-ass."
I had been one of her debauched naked pieces-of-ass in that peepshow on Thursday.
During breaks between those shows, Angela suggested that since I was the only male nude art model named Tom in Cleveland, her art-student pen-pal and distant cousin Susan might have drawn me in figure drawing classes.
Susan, she told me, was a black eighteen-year-old Army brat. Susan's father now worked in recruiting office in Cleveland. But he had been stationed in Germany before that and hung around with Angela. Angela and she had been exchanging e-mails since she left.
Next door to the peepshow was one of the many sex-show bars on the raunchy Reeperbahn. I stopped and peeked in. I called the joint Bar 69.
All day Friday I had been the naked male half of the public sex-act with a naked blond blue-eyed Ukrainian woman named Marina on top of that bar.
Being naked in the peepshow had been different. It was like being inside a private little room because I could not see anyone looking at me behind those dark viewing-windows.
Bar 69 was utterly public. I had been a naked public piece-of-ass in the open-to-the-public bar and exchanged conversation with spectators, often while rimming, eating pussy, or getting my cock sucked. It had seemed strange only for a few minutes.
I relished the disrepute and mockery from being a naked public piece-of-ass there, too.
And I now had a guaranteed future gig to be a naked public slut on-camera in some porn videos in Nuremberg in a couple days. After that I would come back and again be a very public and heckled naked piece-of-ass on top of the bar at Bar 69 for three more weeks, more if needed.
Freya, the Bar 69 proprietor, looked up from behind the bar counter, noted my sex-show costuming, and could see I was about to appear as a naked public piece-of-ass next door.
On Thursday, she had gone to the peepshow to tell the manager that her black African male who usually performed with Marina had to go to German immigration the next afternoon.
Freya picked me instead of two younger more attractive guys because she had seen me publicly performing anilingus on Angela for customer amusement. "I need a really dirty naked male piece-of-ass for Friday, and you're that dirty bitch," she had told me.
She waved cutely this time. "Hello, bitch," she hollered to me with a grin that had a hint of a sneer.
During the time that I was naked and rimming the naked Ukrainian woman on top of her bar counter, three rich upper-class Zulu girls from South Africa had come in. Freya had pimped a white asshole-licking Croatian male to them a few days earlier. So she had pimped me to the three Zulu girls as their asshole-licking white male whore.
They all had large black buttocks that completely surrounded my face while I was rimming their assholes.
Like most pimps, Freya had kept my whore money.
"Hi," I waved back to her. It was best to stay on friendly terms. I would be a naked white male bitch on her sex-stage again. I continued on to the peepshow.
I sometimes glanced at passers-by on the sidewalk wondering if they knew I was one of the depraved Reeperbahn strip's low-life pieces-of-ass. When I was doing nude art modeling the students would sometimes meet me on the street and mock me by snidely saying, "Oh, I didn't recognize you with your clothes on." It happened to all of the nude art models I knew in Cleveland.
But none of the passers-by seemed to know who or what I was. I passed them without getting any response and got to the storefront of the peepshow.
It was liberated Germany. Behind the glass of the peepshow advertising case facing the sidewalk were six large color photographs of all of their sex performers, including me.
These large-size glossy color photos were lined up in three pairs under printed times for our live-sex-shows. All six of us sex-models, including Angela and me, had been photographed totally naked except for our chrome-studded leather slave-collars, wristbands, and ankle-bands.
All six photos had been taken while we sex-models were on our hands and knees on the office desk. The manager's wife had photographed all of us from behind our bare asses and slightly below the desktop level while we looked back toward the lens of her camera to reveal our facial identities.
"Spread your legs lewdly wide apart and look back at my camera," she had commanded all six of us nude sex-models while she crouched behind our naked buttocks.
"They're advertising photos. They'll show you naked pieces-of-ass sluttishly touting your asses, assholes, and sex-organs to people on the sidewalk like dirty whores."
While Angela and I had stood naked after getting down from the desk, the manager's wife had picked out the two Polaroid shots that were now in the sidewalk ad case and showed them to us with a contemptuous sneer. "Customers come in to see our defiled naked whores like you," she had told Angela and me with an insolent laugh.
Now, several days and twelve live-sex-shows later, I started in from the sidewalk. For some reason I looked back.
Two eighteen-year-old black girls stopped at the advertising case facing the sidewalk. They began chuckling and snickering at the photos of us sex-models sluttishly touting our bare asses, assholes, and sex-organs to everyone on the sidewalk like whores.
One black girl had a pencil-row hairstyle, wore a white tanktop, green shorts, white socks, and white name-brand sneakers.
The other had straightened blond-dyed hair, and wore a blue blouse, short white shorts, white socks, and brown loafers. Her short white shorts fit snugly and revealed some of the bottoms of her shapely round black buttocks. She carried a video camera.
Did I see her somewhere before? Maybe it was because both her pretty face and ebony ass resembled Angela's.
The blond-haired black girl pointed to my photo and giggled, "I saw his bare ass, asshole, cock, and balls in..."
A noisy large truck went by on the Reeperbahn, and I missed the rest. But I noted that it was American English.
The truck went past, and I could hear again. The tall black girl answered, "Yeah, let's watch your whore-cousin degrade the white male whore," she grinned while she tapped at the photo of me.
"They're on in three minutes," the blond-haired black girl said while pointing to photos of Angela and me.
They snickered and sneered for a few seconds at our scandalous photos and then rascally swaggered inside.
"Your cousin looks a lot like you, Susan," the tall black girl with pencil-row hair wisecracked. Then I knew that the blond-haired black girl was Angela's cousin from Cleveland, for whom I had modeled nude many times.
"Two of us can fit in a booth," Susan suggested to the other black girl.
"We gotta see him actually doing it," said the tall black girl. Both were obviously American military brats and knew from experience that they could both get into a viewing booth.
There was another advertising case just inside the door. They stopped and looked at it. It had close-up photos of each of the three female faces on the outside bulletin board giving blowjobs and each of the male faces on it eating pussy.
Beside these were a mixture of photos of coital sex acts, photos of white females rimming black males, and white males rimming black females, including a close-up of me with my white face turned sideways between Angela's bare black buttocks to clearly show my tongue licking her ebony asshole.
The black girl with the blond hair patted her video camera and pointed to it. "Sure likes his face in her black ass. Be fun to get comments when we show our video," she sneered to her girlfriend with a nod at her video camera.
The other girl nodded approval and snickered. They were caught up with the photos for another few seconds and did not see me.
The peepshow joint had a green terrazzo floor. Large ceiling fans turned slowly in the sultry summer air. Several houseflies buzzed around them. I was hot and sweating.
Way in the back, the pretty ebony face of Angela smiled as she waved to me. She was same five-feet-five-inch height as the teenage girl with the blond-dyed hair, but about five years older.
She was barefoot and ready to go with her chrome-studded white leather slave-collar, wristbands, and ankle-bands on. She wore red lipstick lightly applied, lightly applied mascara and faint purplish eye shadow.
Her straightened black hair was cut in a short female style and fastened back with a blue plastic hair clip. Her red tanktop only partly covered her fairly flat female breasts and revealed she had no bra. Her cut-short tight white shorts that revealed more of the bottoms of her shapely round black buttocks than the ones the teenager was wearing.
Video booths lined both walls. Customers would watch videos of naked sex-performers engaging in coital sex, fellatio, cunnilingus, and anilingus while waiting around to watch naked real live-sex-show performers like Angela and me perform those same sex-acts.
Male biology limited coital sex in live-sex-shows. Angela and I had to do five or six forty-five-minute shows every day, seven days a week. I might fuck her in one show per day. But usually we didn't fuck. We mostly did cunnilingus, fellatio, and anilingus, which we performed in a variety of sex-act poses and positions for forty-five minutes each show.
I would lick her tits. She would lick my balls and then briefly suck my cock, long enough to entertain the spectators with public cocksucking, but not enough to cause me to ejaculate into her mouth and then be sexually done for the show.
Then I would eat her pussy. Then I would lick her asshole. Then she would lick my balls and slowly suck my cock in a different position. Then I would lick her asshole and her cunt in a different position. Then she would lick my balls and slowly suck my cock in yet another position. And so on for forty-five minutes.
The turntable continuously rotated us. Spectators in the booths could gawk at our sex-acts, naked bodies, sex-organs, bare asses, and assholes. Along with these, they could scrutinize our facial identities and expressions from all angles. No part of our facial features, bare flesh, anatomy, or sex-acts was ever out of spectator view for long.
A red neon sign pointed to fifteen booths arranged in a circular pattern a dozen steps back into the joint. These had been constructed specifically for gawking at naked sex-models. They had been built for a single standing customer in each booth, but the management tolerated couples squeezing into them.
They even tolerated three college-age students squeezing in. At five German marks for about two minutes of viewing in each of the fifteen booths, they made about two thousand marks, or around a thousand dollars, for each forty-five-minute live-sex-show.
On other words, they made up to seven to eight thousand dollars per day. Since they paid naked Angela and me the Deutschemark equivalent of between sixty and eighty dollars a day, they lost little and gained repeat customers by letting extra spectators squeeze into viewing booths.
The two college-age black girls were giggling just in back of me.
"See his slave-collar and stuff? He's your piece-of-ass model that we're going to watch," the one with pencil-row hair shrieked with glee.
Before I could turn, the manager saw me and glanced at his wristwatch. It was two minutes to show time. "Get naked, Tom!" he barked.
I nodded to him that I would. Then I turned around. The black girl with the blond-dyed hair and the nice ass looked me over and grinned lewdly.
"You're the whore who's gonna lick her asshole while I watch, and I've seen you naked before," she told me with a smirking sneer. I knew that it was Susan, Angela's cousin, and an art student who had drawn and painted my nude body many times. She had seen me naked in her art classes in Cleveland. But I kept quiet.
She patted her video camera to let me know that she was also going to videotape me doing it, but said nothing.
A sign said: No Cameras.
No one paid attention to it. Management never said anything to the customers. But the black college student clearly did not want to test her luck.
"The management makes their naked sex-models sign model releases because videos and photos can get shown and published," the tall black girl said to Susan. "You can show and sell the videos of the filthy white whore's naked body and his filthy rim-jobs, and he can't do anything about it."
Susan shot me a dirty wink and held out the video camera to assure me of what she was going to do and shot me a wink and a contemptuous grin to confirm it.
I felt a hand feeling my ass. I turned. It was Angela. She had told me on Thursday that she relished the feel of my face in her ass and my tongue on her anus. "Face-in-ass time, Tom," she told me in a Jamaican accent.
"Face-in-ass time, Tom?" Susan taunted. I shrugged.
Angela began pulling off her tanktop and I began pulling off my gym shirt as we hurried five steps to the door to the peepshow turntable. In back of us, the two teenage girls were snickering and laughing. Other customers were leering lewdly and sneering at us two sex-model sluts who would be on naked public exhibit engaging in sex-acts for them
We got to the door bare from the waist up. Angela and I glanced back. The black girl with the blond hair was right in back of us. She was videotaping the scene. She winked and stuck her tongue out at me.
"Is that your cousin, Susan?" I asked Angela. She smiled at her cousin and patted my ass.
"Yeah," Angela nodded. "You modeled naked for her a lot."
"You remember?" Susan asked me.
I had modeled nude for thousands of different students by then. But Susan had been one of the few black art students. And I remembered her.
"Yeah. You're a first year," I said.
"Just for Susan, first thing you're going to do is lick my asshole, bitch," Angela told me loudly, for her cousin's benefit. "Best way to show you licking my black asshole is I'll get on my hands and knees and you get on your hands and knees behind my black ass."
"Okay," I told her as I opened the door. Susan was videotaping us. She winked dirtily at me as Angela and I and stepped into the access door.
"You modeled naked for her drawing class six times last spring," she said.
"Yeah, I vaguely remember her," I said. I glanced back at Susan. I did not clearly remember her. But I did recognize her.
"She didn't have blond hair when you modeled nude for her in art classes," Angela told me. "She just started that blond stuff. Wants to think she's German or white or something."
I followed Angela in and shut the door. Neither she nor I minded anyone seeing us naked. But the manager's wife wanted the door shut for some kind of quirky legal reason.
The access area to the turntable was small. I kicked off my shower shoes. Angela and I bumped against each other as she and I slipped off our shorts. Neither of us had worn underpants. I glanced at her tuft of kinky black pubic hair and the split ebony bulge of her fleshy cunt.
It was a hot day and even hotter in the heat of bright peepshow spotlights. Our naked flesh was already moist and slimy with perspiration. And our skin had gotten wet and sticky under our leather slave-collars, wristbands, and ankle-bands.
The red-rug-covered turntable was two feet above the floor and eight feet in diameter. Surrounding it were the fifteen peepshow booths.
There was a narrow one-foot-wide access area on the green terrazzo floor between the turntable and the wall of fifteen viewing booths. It had not been cleaned. A few candy bar and cigarette wrappers were scattered around on the floor, and there were shoe prints in the dust where one of the maintenance people had walked to repair shutter-raising mechanisms on viewing windows.
When a spectator put five marks of coins into a coin box inside each of the viewing booths, a small electric motor raised a shutter for about two minutes and allowed views of naked sex-models like Angela and me. If no more coins were dropped in, the shutter eventually dropped over the window until more coins were put in.
The center of the slowly rotating turntable was only six feet (2 m) from any and all of the viewing windows. The edge of the turntable was one foot from any and all of the windows.
Sometimes some part of the bare body of a sex-model might extend some beyond it. So Angela's and my naked anatomies were always on view from distances between a few inches and a few feet from spectators.
But to us naked sex-models, it looked like a tiny private room. The slowly turning turntable was two feet above floor, and the customers stood on the floor-level.
The spectators were looking straight out ahead at Angela's and my sex-organs and bare asses. But we naked sex-models had no idea who was looking at us or who might be videotaping or photographing us in those dark booths.
We were either looking down at the windows when were standing, or we were slightly below the viewing windows when we were lying or kneeling on the turntable. The glare of seven bright quartz spotlights shined in our eyes and glared brightly off the dark booth windows.
Angela put a foot up on the slowly turning turntable and got onto it. She immediately got on her hands and knees and spread her ebony legs. She did not even look back at me. I glanced at her shapely bare black ass.