These are short stories about male prostitution, "one night stands" involving guys. If the idea of that turns you off, or if you are underage, please read no further. Otherwise, please enjoy.
All characters and events are fictional.
You can reach the author at macoutmann@yahoo.com. He appreciates your input and will answer all your emails.
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HUSTLER TALES III
AIRPORT
by Macout Mann
Older guys say that airports used to be the best place to hustle, if you knew how to do it. Before 9/11 you could wander around the arrival gates, in and out of the bars, and attract johns when they got off their planes. Nowadays about the only place to hang out is around the baggage carousels. Like you're looking to meet somebody that's just got off a plane.
Signaling is important. Like they used to do in parks by blinking their brake lights. First, ya gotta know how to dress. Like you wouldn't get kicked off a plane, if that's what you were here for, but like you'd cause a dude to get up a boner, if the right one came along.
I was at Little Rock National a few weeks ago. It's located east of the city next to a pretty tough neighborhood and a run-down industrial district; but it has a freeway going by, some hotels and motels for travelers, and city bus service if you can't afford taxis or rent-a-cars. That's how I got out there.
I was wearing a tight fitting tan knit shirt with banded sleeves that clung to my biceps tucked into faded but clean beltless jeans. Full day's growth of beard. The hustler tell was a small triangle that I'd cut in the front of the jeans near my right hip. It let the right guy know I wasn't wearing anything underneath. Most folks, if they noticed, would think it was just a tear. Guys looking for action would sure think different.
I got out there about 7 PM. Lotsa flights coming in between seven and nine or nine-thirty. I wandered around the baggage claim area, went upstairs and stood next to the bar outside the concourse for a while with my thumbs rammed in my pockets or in my belt loops, then came back to baggage claim. Gotta be patient. Let my tongue slip out of the corner of my mouth if I saw a guy eyeing me.
It was about eight-twenty when he came down the escalator. Late forties. Black headed. Wearing an open collar dress shirt and tan jeans with brown loafers. The top three buttons of his shirt not buttoned. An ample patch of chest hair all the way up to his neck. A confident stride and a bod that showed he'd taken care of himself all his life. Not a trace of fat anywhere.
I looked him straight in the eye as he passed. He also took me in, especially the exposed patch of skin and the bulge next to it. I dug my thumbs into the top of my jeans, nodded slightly, and waited. He quickly found his rolling duffel on the carousel, picked it up, and turned back towards me. "You from around here?" he asked. His voice was deep and friendly, and the accent pegged him as upper Midwest.
"Nah," I smiled, "but I might be able to help ya." I tried to sound as Southern as I could, and I let my thumbs slip down to my front pockets so my fingers framed my bulge. His eyes followed my hands and I let two of my fingers swipe the tip of my dick.
"I thought you could," he responded. "I've reserved a rental car. Care to come with me? I'm staying at the Airport Holiday Inn."
"Don't mind taking a ride," I answered. "Want me to carry your bag?"
We walked from the terminal to the parking deck where the rental car counters were, and he picked up a four door Toyota Avalon. On the mile drive to the other side of the freeway we negotiated our deal. At the hotel he parked away from the entrance, and I remained in the car while he registered. When he returned to get his luggage, he said "I'm in 328."
I waited five minutes, then walked through the lobby and took the elevator to the third floor. He had already stocked up on ice and had poured us both stiff shots of Johnny Walker Black. "I hope you like Scotch," he said. "If not, we can go to the bar, but I like to get comfortable." He had already unbuttoned the other buttons on his shirt, showing off a fine, four inch wide treasure trail.
"Scotch is fine," I responded. "Whatever. As long as it's booze, I'll drink it.
"I like to get comfortable too." Saying that, I pulled my shirt over my head.
"Nice torso," he smiled.
"Thanks," I said. "You look pretty good yourself."
We sat at the table between the bed and the air conditioner and sipped our drinks.
"So you hustle full time?" he asked.
"Pretty much," I replied. "Beats working for a living. But I can do other things, if I have to.
"What about you?"
"I'm a business consultant. Specialize in retail merchandising. Tomorrow, I'm meeting with a big chain that's headquartered here. Then the next day I'm off to San Francisco."
"So you pick up dudes wherever you land?"
"Not always. I almost never go searching. But sometimes, if I'm super-horny I'll drive downtown and see what's happening. You were pretty easy to spot, though."
We chatted until we finished our drinks, and then he finished taking off his shirt, reached for his wallet and handed me my money. "I usually pay in advance, so you don't have to worry," he laughed.
Then he pulled me to my feet and held me close, kneading the muscles of my back as I grasped his ass cheeks. "I love to feel another guy's hard body against mine," he whispered.
"I love it all," I replied.
His tongue plunged into my ear and he nibbled my lobes. "Do you like to kiss?" he whispered.
"Sorry," I murmured. "I may not have a problem sticking my tongue up your ass, but I won't stick it in your mouth."
"That's O.K.," he said, and he started nibbling my neck, my pecs, and my abs. I did the same for him. The second time he did it, he unbuttoned my Wranglers, unzipped my fly, and pushed my jeans to the floor. "Nice dick," he said. "Unbuckle Me. I want to get really comfortable."
I pulled down his jeans and was surprised to find he's also freeballing. "I don't always," he admits, "but I was really horny this morning. Was hoping I might connect with a hot steward on the plane. Most of them are gay, you know."
He pressed his nakedness against mine again, said once more how much he loves that, and after a minute leads me to the bed. He again licks my body, this time kissing my feet and my legs and thighs, finally gobbling down what he really wants to eat. I moan, not just to make him feel like he's getting his money's worth, but because he's really turning me on. Big time. "Where the fuck did you learn to suck like that?" I ask.
He pulls off long enough to answer. "I started with my older brother before I could even cum," he said. Then he went back to pleasuring my tool.
I was getting close, so I asked, "You want me to do you?"
"What ever you want to do," he replied.
I tried to give as good as I'd got. I was thinking I coulda made a better deal, probably got top dollar, but he was a hot motherfucker, and like I said, he was really turning me on. I sucked him until he gushed five or six big spurts of cream down my throat.
"That was heavenly," he panted. He held me close and gently rubbed my chest and back. When he had calmed down, he whispered, "It's time I felt that thing up my ass."
He didn't have any gel, but Holiday Inn hand lotion worked good enough. I put him on his back, tongued his button, oiled him up and put my piston against his hole.
"Give it to me all at once," he urged. "You're just the right size."
I rammed my dick all the way up his colon, scratching his cheeks with my wiry pubes.
"That's the way. God, it feels good. Fuck me man! Fuck me hard!"
I looked into his eyes. I could tell he was in heaven. I didn't start off rough. I like to take it easy, and no matter what he'd just said, his face told me I was doing it right. He reached up and grabbed my pecs, and that's when I started to pick up speed. I lasted almost five minutes. When I blasted my load up his chute, I was pounding like a fucking battering ram. And he was moaning like some sweet thing that had never been fucked before.
"Oh...oh," he murmured. "That was so good. So good."
It was his call. If he wanted to fuck me, he could. Instead, after a minute or so he said, "Let's have a nightcap. Then I want to taste your cum."
Sitting back at the table naked, we again sampled the whisky and I noticed again what a hot bod he had. "Traveling around like you do, how d'ya stay in such good shape," I asked.
"I have an account with Bally," he said. "If they have a center anywhere I am, I can go work out. Makes it pretty nice. Not one here, though."
Then he asked, "How did you get started?"
"Hustling, you mean? Pretty early. I grew up in Augusta, Georgia. I was thirteen, maybe fourteen. Walking home one evening. Dude offered me a ride. Then said he wanted to suck my dick. I told him, No way!' He put a ten spot on the dash and said, Let me, and you can have that.' I found out I wasn't all that straight after all."
He laughed and wondered, "You ever fuck gals?"
"Sometimes," I giggled. "Not often."
We climbed back into the bed and he took my dick in his mouth once more. I'm rock hard as he shows his manly skill. Usually the second or third time around I can make it last forever, but after just a few minutes he sensed that I'm ready. He raised up so just my dickhead is between his lips, and his tongue pierced my piss slit over and over. I'm losing it. He takes my whole shaft, as my orgasm erupts, burying his nose in my pubes. The overflow spills out of his mouth and trickles down into my nest, as he swallows. I'm totally satisfied and so is he.
The next morning he told me he had a breakfast meeting with his clients, that he'd drop me back at the airport, if I want. I told him, if he's going downtown, he can drop me over there.
Before we left he gave me one of the motel business cards they stash in the rooms. He wrote his room number on it. "If you're back at the airport tonight," he said, "and aren't having any luck, give me a call and I'll pick you up. Night two won't be worth as much as night one, but if you're having a half price sale, I'll be buying."
Sure enough. That night, nine o'clock came and nobody had shown any interest in the dude with a little tear in his jeans. So I took him up on his offer. Something is better than nothing, especially if you get a free place to sleep in the bargain.
Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.