Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Southern Republican Mess

I need to join forces with a therapist. I suppose I am a sort of therapist, providing a sort of therapy but when the client is flipping from lustful fantasy to disgusted self-contempt I'm not totally at ease with the situation. The rentboy scene - in my experience of it - is far less conducive to lies and distortions than I would have imagined. In general, more than in the dating scene, clients present themselves accurately. Why wouldn't they? They're paying for a service not seducing a stranger. Most don't seek anything unusual and the ones that do tend to be diplomatic about it.

This guy emailed me from his person email, which happened to be a gmail account, as a result of this I got to see his photos from google plus, I don't use google plus, by my email is a gmail and I half filled out a profile at some point, in brief, he unwitting sent me his face picture, his position and some personal infromation which he has published on google plus. I'm sure he doesn't realize this. Based on his Romney Ryan lawn flag, I'm sure he's a log cabin republican. Cute but tragic, four or five whiskies into the evening he emails me, looking for an anonymous scene, dark room, playing porn, no talking, just porn playing in the dark and my mouth on his cock. He said he'd "never done this before" which I assumed to mean a rentboy but may well have been a man. First he made a no-show, emailed to apologize, and promised to come later that night. I'd pretty much given up on him after the no show; in my experience one no-show is as good as ten. Then he called me, for reasons unknown to me I answered and thought he sounded sweet. I told him to come back and settled down with a book fully expecting another no-show extravaganza from him. Didn't shower, didn't pretty myself up in any way. Although, I suppose he didn't see that. Ha! When he came through the door, he was visibly drunk, he smelled like bourbon and cigars. He stood in front of the gangbang porn I had playing and unzipped. As disgusting as this sounds, I was totally turned on. I was rock hard before my lips touched his cock. His hands were shaking. I probably would not have agreed to something like this if I didn't already know that he was a harmless, churchgoing family man / CEO in his small rural town. He was a middle-aged dark haired white man with a trimmed beard. Looked the part of a southern republican. It was exciting I have to admit, especially feeling him get hard in my mouth, knowing that he was enjoying it in spite of himself.

He made me work that self-hating republican cock. He didn't want to cum too soon either. Each time he got too close, he pulled out of my mouth and made me lick his balls. He started getting verbal too. Calling me a cocksucking bitch. He didn't ask for permission to do this, but little did he know, the slutboy that I am I was totally into it. I think I got him to the edge of ejaculation four or five times. It wasn't difficult, he chose to lay on the bed and have me kneel to service him. At this point he was getting pretty full on with the verbal. He was referring to me as a whore by now. Dangerous move, on his part, to do that, without permission, you never know whether someone will take something lightly as meaningless sexual posturing and role play and what might really, genuinely offend, anger and upset someone.

He got lucky with me, I'm pan sexual with my fantasies. I like to try it all, I was always asked or expected to be dominant but it always made me want to be submissive, to experience the other side. This in particular, i.e. being called a whore out of left-field with no warning was exciting and serendipitous. I've wanted that to happen for some time. I mean, if you're going to have to ask someone to call you a whore why not just look in the mirror and do it to yourself? I am a whore, and I've been a whore for a while and had never been called one up until that point. It was hot, I think it was hot because I was drawing out the nasty side of his sexuality that he would never explore with his wife. My theory, admittedly based in part on my own experience, is that behind the desire to dominate is a latent desire to be dominated. Calling someone a cocksucking slut and a little bitch is the shaky drunken proof that you're not that yourself. Not yet... So yes, from that perverse angle I was totally into this with him.

Despite his surprising willingness to cross the line, so to speak, he did seem in the heat of the moment concerned and polite about the fact the he was going to cum in my mouth. I'm not sure if that was a learned reflex based on my firm assumption that his wife does not swallow or if he was genuinely concerned about the possibility of my now wanting that. I did want it though, badly and when the warnings did not stop me sucking he shot an obscenely large load of cum in my mouth. He was a spurter alright. After the first two shots, he pushed my head down on his cock and told me to keep sucking. It was creamy and a little sweet, the taste of an orgasm. He laid there in a state of pure relaxation as his cock slowly softened and I jacked myself off. That didn't take long, I shot one of the heaviest loads I've ever shot in my adult life. Huge streaks of it under the bed, silent wads of cum, shooting underneath him. I'm glad he couldn't see, I would have been embarrassed at such definitive proof of my enjoyment. It was intense, I was soft for hours afterwards, it was that satisfying, normally I stay hard. I'm famous for always staying hard.

In a way he was right, it was easier that way, to watch an outline put money on the table and mutter "thank you" before exiting discreetly. I emailed him to tell him I enjoyed it, I can tell when someone genuinely mean and he was not. I didn't want him to feel guilty. He wrote back briefly to thank me, says he'll be back in town again soon.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

The Shy Guys are the nicest

I don't know why but I have found this to be true. The shy ones are more work, at first in any case, they prefer lengthy email communications. This man was no exception. I could tell that he was somewhat 'straight-laced' since his rather laboriously detailed emails showed careful and considered punctuation. He was taking things seriously. Surprisingly, he sent me a full face picture of himself which was honest. He's late 50's white smooth military type. His masculine demeanour made it difficult for him to articulate his desires, which seem to be a more affectionate, tender encounter.

He's well maintained, the kind of gym goer who is basically in shape without being ripped. He has wonderfully smooth skin all over, blemish free, tanned and soft to the touch. His buttocks are perfectly round and pleasant to the touch. When I arrived to his hotel room he admitted to being a little tipsy on wine and apologized to me. He made it clear that he was happy with me "in the flesh" so I proceeded to kiss him. He was wonderfully responsive. I could taste red wine from his kiss, not at all unpleasant. He was dominant but gentle. We stripped item by item and made our way to the bed. Four hundred dollar bills were sitting by the phone.

I quite enjoyed kissing and licking his smooth skin and worhipping his large muscular body. His buttocks were so enticing, I would have enjoyed penetrating them but I knew from our conversations that he did not want that. He seemed to be in ecstasy as my tongue meandered along his inner thighs to his testicles shaft and back down. Impeccably clean and fresh, I couldn't resist the temptation to rim him so I went for it and boy oh boy did he like it. I'm guessing he'd never had it done before.  He shifted his body so as to kneel above my face and I pulled to the front of his thighs  to make make him flex back as I licked between his wonderful buttocks, I alternated slow and fast and I felt waves of contraction as he ejaculated down my torso. I ejaculated myself almost instantly. Nice finish to a long day. We showered together and I left him sleeping with a smile.

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Repeat Clients are the Best

I've been seeing this client for a few months now and he's become one of my most enjoyable and most lucrative customers. I had been hoping that our sex would evolve to encorporate some actual sex acts since he's such a handsome guy but he prefers to stick to the role play. We have become increasingly comfortable with each other, and with the fantasy. He spanks me, caresses my buttocks, fingers me, licks my anus sometimes. I adopt a role of total submission, embarassed about my erection, which for some reason, with him, maintains itself hard and heavy. When the sting becomes too much, I beg for mercy and when I'm "convincing" I get it. It's a beautiful contrast between the soft caressing and masturbation he gives me. He likes me to ejaculate on him whenever I feel it and he's been increasingly easy and quick to reach orgasm himself. He's always very respectful and polite in his communication and has never let me down.

I'm starting to build a wardrobe to his taste. He is quite a sulky bear when my clothing is not sufficiently tight and to his taste. I think he knows he's my favorite too. He coyly declines when I offer 'extras'.  I cancel personal things to make his appointments. He pays well, he cums hard. It's ideal really.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

The Perfect Client

It started out as a working dinner date at Busboys & Poets. I sometimes think the perfect scam for a straight guy would be to pose as an escort that insists on dinner only first dates. Many clients are happy to do dinner - and only dinner - as a first meeting. He was rather well dressed and fresh from the Kennedy Center piano recital. Tall, handsome, confident, imposing looking man with slicked back silver hair and angular features of considerable intensity. In his sixties at a guess.

Rather easy conversationalist, I must admit, I felt at ease with him very quickly. After some brief pleasantries and exchange of compliments he tells me that he's fascinated by my age limit. I will not accept clients under 45 years of age. I tell him the honest answer, that it wouldn't feel right, that I am, and always have been, attracted to mature men. He has a concentration to his gaze and as I sip on my smooth tasting Merlot I realize that I'm attracted to him. He takes what I say at face value, he's not shocked that I'm an ambitious graduate student and also pleasantly interested in my field without seeking out details of my affiliation. He's a retired IMF man, adult children and recently out of his first gay relationship. He's already talking about weekends in his West Virgina holiday home and his Fort Lauderdale time share. My interest is more than peaked. This is what the industry refers to as "The Boyfriend Experience" and I'm all about that, especially when I'm paid by the hour.

He offers to drive me home which I accept. I want a chance to talk business. He's a top which makes me a little uneasy. I can bottom, but I'm not naturally passive. I don't like to promise it to clients as I have to be in the mood, I can't always relax. I tell him that I have to get comfortable with someone in order to be the passive partner and of course protected only. He doesn't object. As we enter my neighborhood I tell him to pull over a few blocks before my building. He takes the hint and avoids the light of the streetlamps. He leans across and kisses me. He's quite sensual, not at all awkward. I reach down and he's hard, I ask if I can see it and he unbuckles and unzips to reveal his manhood with a mischievous grin. It's quite beautiful, the head mushrooms from the shaft. I unzip myself to show him I'm hard. He spits onto his fingers and begins massaging the head of my erection. I'm in ecstasy as he whispers to me "You're beautiful". I go down on him and he's very responsive, he reclines the drivers seat in deep moans of joy. I have to admit I'm thoroughly enjoying myself. He warns that he's nearly there and I intensify my efforts. He shoots three short spurts of creamy semen into my mouth which I eagerly swallow as a toke of my desire to please him. The two of us lay there out of breath for a moment.

"We need to do this properly next time" he says as he fishes out an envelope from his jacket pocket. I think I made the right move, he's a plumb client. I'm looking forward to more with this one.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Rentboy Express

I have been convinced for some time that clients pay rentboys not because they could not feasibly date one but because it's quicker and more convenient. If any of you have frequented the popular gay dating sites you will notice how jaded gay men have become. Spoiled for choice maybe, but nobody seems to hook up quick these days and if you don't have several pictures to exchange you can forget it.

Rentboys offer a hassle-free alternative. They save time and energy and therein lies their value. I am objectively quite attractive. Certainly above average but not - realistically - to the level of a fashion model. I have done some modeling work but nothing major. Of course, you have to be in good shape, rentboys can't be fat but I do firmly believe it's mostly about convenience. Generally my clients like my clean-cut image and ivy-league education too. However, as much as I would like to flatter myself, being willing and able to do what they want, when they want and where they want it is the key to success in this town.

Upscale hotel, discrete male early 50's with large cock seeks college kid with deepthroating skills. Must be orally talented. Upscale hotel across town asap. I make the unfortunate decision to drive, traffic sucks and parking sucks and by the time I arrive at the hotel room I'm running a full 20 mins late. As I knock on the ornately decorated door I see a flurry of emails coming through. My bad.

Client is not happy. He has to be at a meeting in 20 minutes. He's already dressed for it with an immaculate shirt and tie. He's giving me a bit of a chewing out as I notice just how handsome he is. Perfectly combed silver hair frames his nicely tanned face. Chiseled features, neat moustache, perfect teeth. The kind of silverdaddy I would date in a heartbeat really. I'm regretting my choice to drive as he talks of calling it off. I step closer and touch the soft fabric of his suit trouser. Based on his body language I don't think he wants to kiss. It's relatively common that, it helps some people to feel like they're not cheating, that a certain kind of intimacy is reserved for their wives or partners. It's not macho to kiss, at least not in some people's minds.

I unzip and fish out his cock, he's not wearing underwear. It is rather large, he wasn't lying and I'm not complaining. It's swelling quickly into a beautiful erection. His glans is a beautiful shade of pink even when erect, and it has a lovely texture against the tongue, smooth and hard. I'm rock hard inside my own chinos as I slowly stroke his muscular thighs and calves. "Get naked quick", he's in need of release I can tell. I strip frantically throwing my clothes, haphazard on the floor. This is the truly glorious part of my career. Getting paid to do this is like a drug, totally intoxicating.

I carefully untie his shoes and remove them slowly, left first then the right, safe for the socks. He drops his pants and grabs the hair on my head in his fist as he face fucks me. I notice he's manscaped, trimmed pubes, shaved balls. He knows he's handsome. His skin smells faintly like perfumed soap. He tells me to lie across the bed on my back. I know what he wants. I hang my head over the edge of the bed, the deep throat position. He cups my chin with his hand as he inserts his erection deep into my throat. He stops and revels at the feeling of the soft palate against his glans. He slowly pushes deep into my throat as I swallow, the head almost pops as it goes down. He's in ecstasy with this. He's gentle enough too. He removes to let me catch my breath and inserts again. This time he can't hold hit, he spurts as he withdraws, shooting some on my tongue, the rest across my chest. "Fuck yeah" he chuckles and throws me a towel.

Sometimes I think it might be fun to surprise a client and tell them I want a date. Of course, I would never cross that line but it's fun to think about. I wonder would he be flattered if he knew I would do it all over for free. Or would he feel cheated?

I'm right for this job.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

First Problem Client

So we had a lot of back and forth emails. Client seemed a little anxious. I was about to give up on him for asking my availability one too many times then not following through but then he emails me at just the right time looking for "now". It does involve a drive out to a beautiful Maryland country home. Nice winding tree-lined driveway. Must be pleasant to arrive home to such bucolic affluence after the day's work.

He's definitely edgy and he's been drinking but nothing threatening. Besides, he's a small chubby man, I would say late 50's, no taller than 5'6" or so. Bald, round face and features, not without a smidgen of cuteness to his short rounded stature. He does offer me a glass of wine but I politely decline. A few awkward questions are posed and I'm worried that he's got a touch of cold feet. He does eventually concede that "You're a goodlooking kid" so I express my desire to be shown to the bedroom and we're off. I move in for the kiss and it's well received, I can tell, however, that he's intimidated by me. I do enjoy that edge.

I unbuckle his belt and undo his fly but he's not hard. He proceeds to strip me too kissing and licking the newly exposed skin as he goes. So far so good but he's not getting hard. He sheepishly removes my sock and pressed to sole of my foot against his cheek before sucking my toes. He then switches to my ass and finger it gently before tonguing it vigorously. He's not holding back but he's still soft. Then he lays back panting, "do me" he says. I have to admit as I rub his feet, they're not manicured enough in appearance for my taste and I do not want to rim him either. So I drop his foot and lift his arms and begin to kiss and lick his sweaty underarms. He groans approval, a look of bliss on his face and I move down to his still worryingly flaccid penis. It's smaller than average and showing no signs of becoming erect. After what seems like a long time trying I tell him he's getting fucked instead which he reluctantly agrees to. I lube him up and put the condom on. He has nice round white buttocks, he's tight at at entry and soft and sweet upon penetration. I thrust into him hard making a smacking sound with my hips against his buttocks on each thrust. He's breathing heavily eager for my orgasm which I give him loudly as I spurt  out mutual satisfaction deep inside him.

As far as I'm concerned we're done at this point but my my client wants more and becomes indignant when I mention time. He's quite visibly drunk too. He eventually concedes, not without seriously irritating me. When it comes to the cash I can tell he's short. He admits it before I even say anything. I used to be terribly shy about the money part, but I realized that was stupid. I'm a whore and I know it. My clients are not shy about sex so why should I be bashful about my cash reward. I tell him it's not acceptable and offer to drive him to an ATM but as I suspected the nearest is several miles away and he's clearly too drunk to drive. He start with a litany of mutually exclusive excuses: he can't afford that much, (he clearly can), other guys charge far less. I'm furious at this point and questioning my policy of never asking for cash until afterwards. It reassures both parties that neither is law enforcement when sex is initiated before money is sought. Now, I'm learning why it's not always such a good idea.

I have never had an issue with payment before and I'm surprised at how furious I am. I drove for forty minutes late at night on this clients whim to be offered whatever notes were left in his leather wallet. I get the impression that he had no idea what cash was on him in the first place. He has certainly rubbed me up the wrong way.What pisses me off is that he's not apologetic in the slightest. He's screwing me over and he thinks it's amusing. I'm quite a bit taller and stronger than he is. I'm not a violent person and although I'm confident I could could take this white collar drunk in a single swipe I'm not looking to escalate this into something nasty. He could have a gun or something else, he might call the police. I'm trying to think how to play this situation so as to intimidate him a little without resorting to the kind of threat that could escalate an argument with a drunken executive in what has become the early hours of the morning. He's standing there chuckling to himself and I'm having a hard time keeping my cool. I don't think I can leave this situation as is. The idea of him waking up in the morning in his multimillion dollar home and laughing at how he got me to drive from DC for whatever chomp change was in his wallet is just not something I can tolerate. It's like being robbed, that money became mine as soon as his lips touched mine. That's the way it works. There are no negotiations after the fact. He's laughing at me because I'm standing there clueless like a deer in headlights and he knows I wont hit him. This is a total affront and I have to do something.

I walk to the beside table and and pick up his wristwatch. It's a Rolex, I slide it onto my wrist. There's an instant reaction.

"That's not funny! The worst thing you can do is steal from someone, is that what you are...a thief?"

His expression is a little more sober now. I have to admit as hypocritical as it is, it stings to be called a thief. For a split second, it bothered me to be though of as a thief. That surprised me, I thought he might call me a whore. That wouldn't have bothered me in the slightest. I would have even enjoyed that maybe. But he didn't and the calm and polite tone he took had quenched my rage entirely. It seemed unwarranted now and I was about to take it off under the shaming glance of this portly little republican when he left the room. He came back with more bills, fives, tens and twenties. He was still more than eighty dollars short. He said he took them from his sons room. I handed him the Rolex suddenly very ashamed of myself. For reasons I'm not quite sure of, I suddenly wanted to regain his favor. I thought maybe if I knelt down in front of him and unzipped his fly that it might remedy the situation. I have never known a man that was not softened and appeased by the sincere desire to fellate him, but it didn't seem right. The mutual satisfaction of consideration was destroyed.

I like to think of what I do as a form of unorthodox therapy. I'm unusual in my taste and I'm often attracted to my clients, even when I'm not, I can still enjoy bringing a man to orgasm. It's something you have to have respect for. The last time I felt like this is when I was a waiter in my teenage years and had clients skip out on their check. Maybe I'm not in a position to moralize, but it's hard to tolerate someone who relishes the prospect of taking without paying when payment is so obviously not beyond their reach.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Newly divorced, hearbreakingly sweet

I meet a man in a Chinatown Starbucks for a preparatory meeting. He's a talker alright, very forthcoming, he tells me all about his long marriage, then his depression and divorce. Needless to say, he's a right-wing DC hill type originally from the midwest. He's very endearing, he has a child-like quality despite his age. In fact, he's somewhat like a blonder, more nordic looking version of Andy Richter. The talking seems to relieve his concerns. He asks me to accompany him home which I gladly accept.

In the parking garage in the privacy of his car we talk about the sexual side of things. He has had no experience to speak of since his teenage years. He's been on the dating scene but has not been able to find the right match. He wants to be serviced by a young man. More specifically, he wants to be stripped and kissed all over, in his current semi-sweaty state. He likes sex to be sweaty. I lift his arm and press my nose and mouth into the moist patch of his underarm cotton shirt. A little manly scent, nothing unbearable. Next order of business, he wants to be sucked to completion. He says that he's well endowed and he wants to be sure that he can thrust and cum into my mouth without me wretching or gagging. I assure him that I will be able to calmly and quietly take his member with no violent biological reactions. He's worried that he's coming across as a creep but I reassure him that I'm happy to service him, that he's attractive and that I will enjoy myself too.

He's visibly hard through his trousers as he unlocks the door to his condo. In the hall we kiss deeply. He's really very sweet. I strip for him slowly as he caresses my body full of affection. We start in the living room, he's on the couch and I'm naked before him. He unbuttons his shirt as I undo his shoelaces. He instructs me to massage his feet and I comply, he begins to caress my torso with his free foot as I massage the other. His feet are large, wide, warm black-cotton covered feelers. He nudges them up my torso towards my face. I bury my face in his left foot, kissing the sniffing at the toes, they're moist and imbued with the pleasant scent of  new leather shoes. I whip off the sock and kiss the sole from the heel to the arch and the toes. He's in ecstasy, clients pay for these details really. The toes look neat and pedicured, he gasps as I suck on his big toe. I can feel the fingerprint like texture of his toe on my tongue. I haven't ever done that for a client before, but I know I've sealed his approval in those few seconds. He stands panting on one bare foot well covered in saliva and removes his remaining sock and trousers. He's fully erect, although, not quite as well endowed as he seems to think. Certainly no choking hasard. Each thrust into my mouth is a sprint towards orgasm and by the third or forth thrust he's shooting cum. Creamy and sweet in short bursts. I swallow and jerk myself off, shooting my own cum onto his bare foot. He giggles, I thought he'd like it. He looks so satiated. He fetchs me a glass of water and returns with a heartwarming smile to tell me: "I haven't felt like that since I was a teenager".

I know what he means, there's something very uniquely satisfying about having sweaty feet massaged and licked. It's great foreplay for fellatio. There is something satisfying about it. Maybe it's the power trip. Having someone so eager to please beneath your feet, sending soft and pleasant sensations with their mouth, lips and tongue. He didn't warn me about the foot play, but to be fair he only hinted at it and I jumped right in.

He's a little upset at not having lasted longer, but I think it's more his machismo than a real complaint. He wants to make it a weekly meeting. I'm more than happy with that, he's quite a handsome guy really. So easily pleased, I find that endearing. He's denied himself any satisfying sex for decades, I'm glad to provide him a little release if not some reassurance that his rather beefy frame is not without its charms. He offers to drop me home, but my Metro ride is a ritual by now so I take my generous wad of cash and head for the red line stop a few blocks over.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Newbie client turning the tables

The day began with a pleasant exchange of emails from a new client. Sometimes you can tell from a person's way of communicating that they're inexperienced. It comes across in subtle yet unmistakable ways. I have never before been asked if I have "done this before". Nor have I been asked if I would be comfortable stripping, if I wasn't willing to strip I think I'd have to find another past-time. This rookie John seemed to think he was pushing the limits by wanting to see me naked. I had to giggle, although I wasn't quite sure if it was role play; your standard corrupting an innocent young man routine. He did comment on how my ad was new, however, I would have thought it was obvious from the basic information and the pictures on there that I'm willing to do more than strip. A ping-pong of emails revealed his fears that I would be uncomfortable, I assured him that I would be more than willing. The reality is I drifted towards being paid for sex, being attracted to older men money is always floating on the horizon. I was offered it all the time, usually in the form of vacations, travel, etc. Then the "generous" phenomenon started and the first time I walked into a hotel room to see hundreds of dollars in a neat little pile on the dresser I was hooked. I have to be honest, it's a huge ego trip to be paid for sex. For those of you who don't know, the "generous" phenomenon is still prostitution but both parties just choose to ignore it. It's generally an arrangement between an older man and a younger man, usually on a regular dating site rather than an escort site. Amateur prostitution if you'll pardon the oxymoron. It's a hook, a kind of coaxing on the part of the older man to get his younger man at a time and place that is convenient for him. That's how I entered the game. I was amazed at how much busy professionals are willing to pay for a few minutes of lustful indulgence. It's far less intimidating than the real thing, you usually get to see your suitor and since everyone is pretending that it's a regular date, there is less pressure to be "on".

So I met him outside the hotel lobby as he smoked a cigar, visibly nervous, shaking hands, shifty eyes. He seemed like the married New England type. We clocked each other right away, conversation was awkward but he was eager to get back the room. The bellhop sensed his anxiety, looked at the John somewhat puzzled and then looked at me, back at the John and then he knew. He restrained a smirk as the elevator came to a smooth pause. I suppose I didn't fit the business colleague age range and given my John's casual chinos and polo shirt versus my shirt and tie, I wasn't the client. Hotels don't really care, at least not in my experience they don't. They just want discretion, as do I, and of course, the client too. A church-going old lady would never clock me like the bellhop.

The questions continue in the bedroom. By this point I'm fully convinced that I have found a newbie John. The shaking hands are not an act. This man is genuinely terrified. I'm fascinated by this, I must admit. I've never really been with a first-timer. I don't mean a virgin, of course, his wedding ring is visible. I mean he's never paid for sex. He looks like the kind of man that plays golf and owns a yacht, country club-esque. The kind of suburban executive with the silver edges and the spoiled blond daughter that gave me so many raging hard-ons in middle school. I'm already drunk on the rush of my first newbie John. My own private fantasy.  I step closer, he doesn't seem to want to kiss.

I'm rock hard and he sees though my trousers. I begin to unbutton his shirt and he unbuttons mine. I remove each article of clothing slowly and carefully, as if they were items of great value. He seems to be getting excited. He caresses my erection with an unsteady hand, gazing at it in awe. His trembling had caresses my torso circling my nipple slowly. He nods towards the bed and I lay down. He finishes undressing and joins me. He spits in his palm and massages it around the head of my erection. "Beautiful" he whispers. He's exploring my young body with his hands and his eyes. I lean across and kiss his chest and nipples imbued with the sweet and pleasant scent of cologne and his cigar. I work my way down his navel with slow and soft kisses, he's hard and standing to attention by the time I reach his pubic hair. He has a small but nicely shaped penis with full plump balls, neatly trimmed hair. "It won't take much" he warns. I masturbate him slowly as I kiss around his erection. I lick up and down the shaft and then take the plunge and suck his erection. I can take it to base and tighten my lips around the base, his hips are lifting off the bed to thrust deep into my mouth. Five or six thrusts and he withdraws to cum. Generous spurts one after the other of white creamy textured liquid. I have always found something terribly endearing about bring a man to the point of ejaculation. An orgasm is almost enfantalising. It's a return to the real, pure bodily pleasure unmediated by language.

As his stomach stops contracting from the ejaculation, there is a rather impressive little white puddle of cum on his belly. It's almost a pity, I thought to myself, that he didn't let it pop in my mouth. Of course, he was being a gentleman. It looked so pretty though, I would have enjoyed swallowing the first few spurts maybe let the rest drip out as I eased off. I kissed around the little white puddle admiring the fruits of my labor. He laid there catching his breath and then toweled it away.

He asked if he could touch my face as I masturbated, I said he could. He's was very gentle, the scent of cigar on his fingers was pleasant. He dipped his fingers in my mouth as I shot cum all the way the headboard. He giggled, thrilled by the sight of it. I've always shot far, five or six feet at times.

This is to be a repeat arrangement, he travels to DC at least once a month. So I made my merry way home with a thick bundle of twenties pressing against my thigh. The inexperienced executive is my fantasy, you could spend months looking for that in the dating world and not find it. I do love this gig sometimes.

Monday, July 16, 2012

A Bear with a Fantasy

"You're new"; text message from a DC 202 number. Interesting way to start a conversation, perceptive to boot. Why yes, I am, relatively new, I suppose. Another follows: "I'm a daddy bear with a fantasy." I'm already intrigued. The fantasy is father son discipline. I'm the son of course, and I'm instructed to wear tight fitting underwear and tight fitting shorts. No problem, the address is a large high-rise in crystal city. Dad will be waiting outside. I arrive a few minutes early, drive in somewhat concerned that I'm not supposed to be parking there without a permit. The engine of convertible Mercedes starts up. I'm relieved not to be stood up.

I approach the car with a wide smile expecting small talk. I'm cut off before even speaking by a sternly voiced question: "Chris?" "Yes" I reply and get in. "You're late": he's glaring at me with rather striking blue eyes. I glance at my wristwatch, I thought I was early, at least by a few minutes. "I am?" I'm somewhat confused, how silly of me, I should have realized that I was 'ON'. I'm instructed to turn over as he uses an electronic control to recline the passenger seat. I undo my belt buckle as he caresses my buttocks. He pulls down the shorts rather roughly and smacks my butt cheeks, "How dare you make me wait!" We park a few floors down and I'm instructed to pull up my shorts but leave my belt undone. We walk towards the elevator, he tells me to put my hands against the wall. He's muttering criticisms, furious with my disobedience as he molests my growing erection, inner thighs, buttocks and torso. I look around for cameras or people, it's late but there are still some cars in the lot. He's talking about how much of a disgrace it is that I'm hard, that I'm enjoying myself. I'm to address him only as Sir.

We take the elevator up to a large office suite, which he unlocks and directs me towards a large office. There is a large wrap-around sofa big enough to seat ten or more people. He sits at the corner of it. "Get over here" he says, as he spanks me and proceeds to strip my clothing from my body one article at a time throwing each item across the room as he proceeds. The spanking is getting harder but not at all unbearable. He unbuckles his own trousers and rubs his erection against my own. My butt cheeks are stinging and I'm instructed to beg for mercy. The first few times I'm told that I'm not convincing enough. This guy is a serious role-play participant. He finally gives in to my request and I'm instructed to stand naked in front of him, then to bend over. He pulls my buttocks apart and gently tongues at my anus with his warm moist tongue. It's a beautiful sensation, his goatee beard tickles and I'm in ecstasy as I peer through my legs at his erection. He lays back and starts jerking, I begin kissing his inner thighs and as I go to suck his erection I'm stopped. "No" he says, "I'm not into that." I'm dumbfounded but I comply. "I'm sorry Sir" and I climb back up and lay across his lap. He's masturbating me with his left hand and spanking me with the right. I ejaculate heavily across his stomach and crotch, "You've embarrassed yourself" he grunts as he switches to jerk himself off. I can feel drops of his cum fall on my stinging buttocks and lower back.

In the elevator down he's a different person, relaxed and soft spoken. "You have a great ass, very round and muscular." He hands me a huge wad of cash. It's $400 in $20 bills, not bad for a half hour after my gym routine. Not bad at all. "Next week if I'm not too busy and wear a jockstrap."

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Italian Business Visitor ... a primal fantasy

I get a text message in the early afternoon: "Italian executive at the Mayflower, drinks this evening?" Sounds promising, I respond immediately. Sometimes I dislike meeting for drinks, especially when meeting a client for the first time. Often, it means they're not quite at ease with what they're doing. It can become like an interview where they awkwardly and feverishly try to ask the right questions in order to reassure themselves that you're the right kind of rentboy. Not someone dangerous, not a cop, not a druggie, not a risk taker etc. Understandable, I suppose, except that those awkward conversations often lead to a series of questions which clients shouldn't ask and rentboys shouldn't answer. I will tell clients what city I'm from, it's big enough to remain anonymous, but that's never enough. Specifying the neighborhood, the high-school I attended, the university, my major etc... it's a slippery slope to completely revealing yourself. Of course you can always lie, or try to be vague but I don't pull that off well. I never understood why some clients want that. I doubt they are so inquisitive with their dentist. Does it make me trustworthy if I'm honest about which high-school I attended or is it about socio-economic background? In any case, there's nothing I want to do less than discuss my upbringing, my family and the specifics of my resume with my clients. It's not even about being discovered, it just zones me out of where I want to be mentally, which is a million miles away from the 'real me'.

So I'm somewhat apprehensive but the client wants drinks and is aware of my hourly rate. So I shower, shave, manscape and dress up a little. Skinny jeans and a polo shirt wont cut it at the Mayflower. I arrive 10 minutes early and instantly make eye contact with my client. He appears to match the description he gave; always a good sign. We exchanged pleasantries and decide to get a taxi to a gay bar in Dupont Circle to facilitate "frank conversation". Of course, the client always pays for extras like taxi fares and drinks on top of the hourly rate.

Fortunately, this client is not too intrusive with his questions. He smiles at me with pearly white teeth, leans back and unbuttons what appears to be a very expensive Italian suit. He tells me he was intrigued by my profile. He wants to know why I will only accept "mature" clients. I smile back at him, relieved that this is what he wants to talk about. It's almost redundant, I tell him. I'm rarely ever contacted by young men, but when I am, I turn them down. It wouldn't feel right to me to be with someone close to my age. "I see" he responds. "Girlfriend?" he asks sheepishly. "No" I respond softly and smile back at him. I can tell by his body language that he wants to be in control of things, I like that. That way I won't make a mistake, it's easier to be agreeable than to risk overstepping a boundary. The personal questions are limited to my course of study, no incisive follow-ups just a few polite remarks that serve the double function of demonstrating his interest and verifying that I have some basic knowledge of my professed field of study.

His hand slid down my thigh. His nails look manicured, perfect cuticles. He rubbed gently, as I get aroused he smiles. "I like" he says. Then he does something unexpected. "Follow me to the bathroom" he says. I wait 30 seconds and follow. He's at the urinal, I stand beside him admittedly feeling a little uneasy. He's very obviously aroused, yet still manages to urinate and reaches across to touch my semi-erect penis. "Very nice" he says. I gently touch his wrist to indicate he should stop.

The cab driver is busy speaking an unidentifiable foreign language into his bluetooth earpiece. The radio is also on. We're free to talk. "Have you ever...had fun with a man...outside...in the streets...somewhere quiet?" I'm a little taken aback. Certainly not a typical request. I'm a little concerned about the police but also interested. It's not something I've done before and I tell him so. He puts my hand on top of his erect penis, standing straight up in his trousers. "How do you like to..." he trails off, too embarrassed to finish. "With my mouth" I respond as I squeeze his erect penis through the sumptuous suit fabric. "Mmmm ... perfect" he looks content.

The cab drops us off at Constitution Avenue. He's on the lookout and I play up to my role of being concerned and unsure. I know that an important part of the excitement for him is feeling that he narrowly convinced me. Indeed, the excitement for me is fulfilling my clients fantasies. We find an administrative building with a long entrance, we walk to the end and there is a little alcove behind a raised flower bed that comes to an architectural point on each side of the buildings entrance. He steps close to me breathing heavily on my face as he unzips and exposes his rather thick erection for my attention. I can still hear the people talking and laughing from the nearby sidewalk.

As I gently pull his foreskin back and forth over the glans he kisses me deeply. I had been hoping he would do that, very enjoyable, I caress his tightly trimmed silver hair with my other hand. His cologne is pleasant. I'm thoroughly enjoying myself, I drop to my knees and gently take his erection in my mouth. He's rock hard, it's clear he's not going to last too long. I suck gently taking him as deep as I can into my throat, caressing his smoothly shaved testicles. He unbuttons his trouser, letting them drop a little. I look around, slightly concerned that he will not have time to redo his clothes if someone comes. He's lost in the act. I'm holding his bare buttocks as he thrusts his erection into my mouth. He slows down and begins to unbutton his shirt from the bottom, I take advantage and kiss and lick the exposed skin of his inner thighs, testicles and lower belly. He's extremely clean, not the slightest hint of unwanted odors. I began to suck on his testicles one at a time and licking beneath them. He went onto the tips of his toes to allow me deep access, I traced a line with my tongue from the bottom of his scrotum towards his buttocks. He groaned in ecstasy and turned to present his smooth round buttocks to me. I reached around with one hand and masturbated him slowly as I gently tongued his anus. Each stroke of my tongue on the anal area elicited a wave of stimulation and deep breathing. I knew he was close to orgasm. He spun around and began thrusting his erection into my mouth. It was clear he was going to ejaculate. I though I noticed a slightly sweet and milky taste in mouth and I knew there was more to come. Not unpleasant at all, I must admit, the thrusting slowed as spurt after spurt of semen squirted into my mouth accompanied by involuntary primal grunts from my client. I swallowed to the very last spurt. I didn't want to spoil the moment for him by spitting, it just doesn't seem dignified. It's not something I would usually do but it's a key moment and you don't ever want to give the impression that you're repulsed especially when you're not. I stayed on my knees with a raging erection in my pants and as my client buttoned and fixed his clothes I wondered if he was going to want to finish me off too. I felt we had pushed it enough already. Just as I was catching my breath my client turned around with a wad of cash in his hand. I stood up and he kissed me on the lips placed the cash in my hand and said "Ciao". He disappeared into the balmy Washington night. I sat there for a minute marvelling at the experience. The taste of sweet creamy cum in my mouth as I counted nine hundred dollars, nine crisp and fresh one hundred dollar bills. More than we had agreed. I love it when clients do that. I thought to myself, there can't be many like me, it must be rare that a young man like myself switches on instead of turning off doing what I just did with a man more than twice my age. I must be made for this I said to myself as I descended into the metro.


The persona of the prostitute is something that I have secretly revered for most of my adult life. Of course, it is not something that I would publicly admit too. I'm not a true exhibitionist in that sense, I dabble in my perverted calling from under the protective shroud of anonymity. More than this, however, I revel in it. I love it. I think I was born for it.

I cannot say that I entered this old and venerable profession based on need. There is no sob story, no childhood abuse, no drug addiction, no financial hardship. Indeed, I'm gainfully employed with decent health insurance, a comfortable apartment and a nice car. I'm a tourist.

The prostitute is not, as feminists claim, the victim of men, but rather their conqueror, an outlaw, who controls the sexual channels between nature and culture.
CAMILLE PAGLIA, Vamps and Tramps
Prostitution is not a state of abjection for me. Fore some, I'm sure it is, but for me it's more like a state of elation. I enjoy the sex, I enjoy the money, I enjoy the whole experience. My clients respond to this. Some refuse to believe that I am not reliant on "the little blue pill" to perform, but I am not. Prostitution itself is my "little blue pill". Some of the most exhilarating sex I have have ever had has been with clients.

Of course, I do pick and choose. I reject as much as 50% of the potential clients that contact me. All men of course. I do not sleep with women. My vetting process works well, I think, for myself and my clients alike. Everyone is looking for a match after all. This is all done online, that's the beauty of the Internet, it streamlines and accelerates communication of all kinds. It's wonderfully efficient. It's my vital link to the men that pay me upwards of $400 per hour to have sex with them.

As a matter of professionalism, I will endeavor to conceal the identity of my clients. All accounts published here will reflect real events, real encounters between myself and my clients.