Dear Reader
This story, like many of my other stories, has elements that are based on real personal experiences.
However, the names and places are all fictitious.
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Simon
In London
By Simon Peter
I took a job in sales for a couple of years. I was trying to make some money to cover my tuition for an MBA. I was young and inexperienced, but I was able to pull my weight enough to be assigned a couple of trips to Europe for training.
The first trip was to England. I was very excited about it, not just because it would give me better chances of improving my position, but also because I had never been to London before.
After settling in at the hotel, I thought that maybe I should start exploring the city since my training wouldn't begin until the next morning. The first thing on my mind was Soho. I had heard a lot about it, being the red district of London.
Using a street map, I found my way down to Soho. I walked around looking at porn and sex stores with all kinds of sex toys and materials. I didn't intend to do any shopping there: the customs back home might find whatever I bought and confiscate them: very tight-assed about this stuff or my family/friends might stumble on something. As I strolled around, I was "invited" into bars and show rooms by door guys, who looked more like hustlers hooking men for pussy, promising hot action and what-not, all of which I declined. I probably looked very much the young tourist, with mouth gaping and eyes roaming all over the place (not to mention the bulging erection that I continuously sported.
Finally, I was standing in front of a sex shop for gays. Wow! I immediately walked in. This, I decided was not to miss. There were all sorts of magazines and video tapes showing men having sex together.
There was a long glass case of dildos and other toys on display. I was a little upset that all the magazines were in glued plastic covers and that I couldn't browse. After a while, the guy behind the counter approached me and said, "If you like, we have a video being played behind the curtain," pointing to the back of the store. "It'll be 5 pounds charge."
I was intrigued. I paid the five and walked into a small cubicle with a few seats and a television set playing hot scenes of guys sucking and fucking. My erection got even harder inside my jeans, almost painful. I had always loved porn, but this was gay porn. I noticed that there were stairs going down to what must have been a basement. A few men went down, a few climbed up, as I watched the action on the TV screen, discreetly rubbing on my bulging dick.
Wondering what was down there, I decided to explore. I climbed down the rickety stairs to discover an actual movie theater, not as large or fancy as regular theaters, but larger than the upstairs room. The screen was big and the movie playing was also hard gay porn.
Oh, my. I took a seat in one of the center rows and watched, rubbing my erection against the fabric of my jeans. A few minutes later, a youngish guy took the seat next to me. Without greeting me, he reached for my dick. Fuck! But I was by then too horny to push him away and my cock needed some kind of real attention other than the stupid rubbing of my hand. The guy unbuttoned my jeans, reached in, and pried my cock through the fly of my loose boxers. He bent down to my crotch and took me in his mouth. I kept watching the movie on the screen as the guy slobbered on my dick. Watching guys on a large screen sucking cock and fucking butt holes and having your dick sucked at the same time was a huge turn-on for me.
Actually, however, as horny as I felt, I wasn't very comfortable. Having sex for me was a two-way thing. What I really wanted was to get rid of my clothes and freely discover the other guy's body with my hands, my mouth, and my hard cock. But, needless to say, this couldn't be done in the theater with some 20 or 25 customers scattered around the seats, either masturbating alone or having someone sucking on their penises. There was some moaning and groaning. Singles, twos, and threes were going at it full force.
The guy blowing me must have sensed my hesitation. But he was so engrossed with my dick that he kept going up and down on it. I was enjoying the blowjob. He was pretty good, able to swallow all the 20 centimeters (8 inches) of hot cock, but I wanted more.
"Is there a more private place," I whispered to the guy, "where we can be more comfortable?"
He slid off my dick, looked up at me with spit glistening around his lips, and said, "Follow me."
I followed him to the back of the theater, into the toilet. Fuck! It was seedy and smelly. Two guys were standing at the dirty, yellowish urinals, their backs to us, with one of them noticeably jerking the other off. They didn't stop when we entered. Actually, they both turned around and resumed the stroking right in front of us.
The guy who was with me undid my belt and pulled down my jeans and boxers, mindless of the other two men. My cock was semi-erect, and he gobbled it in one move, all the way to my balls.
I watched the guys stroking each other as my guy bobbed on my cock shaft. I was breathing heavily, pumping into his mouth with steady and deep thrusts, when the two guys approached us. One of them started to rub his cock at my hip and the other was running his cock over the face of the guy sucking me, every now and then rubbing it on my own dick when the sucker let go of my shaft and did my balls. Dry humping my hip, the man at my right side bent over and kissed me on the side of the neck. I pulled the sucker's head off my dick and turned to him. We started grinding our cocks on each other. The guy who was sucking me was now kneeling and reaching under our cocks, licking and sucking on the balls and the ass cracks. The third guy was rubbing his cock at my ass cheeks.
We kept at this for a while, and I started to feel the juice building up in my balls. I wanted to ejaculate badly, but I needed a hole. I forced the sucker up back on his knees as the other two guys kept rubbing their cocks on my hip and butt, and shoved my cock down his throat. As he gagged with the sudden thrust, I exploded in his mouth. The other guys were masturbating on me. I felt their warm cum hit my hip and butt and trickle down onto my thighs. More cum was seeping through the sucker's mouth onto my balls.
With a final heave, I shot my last squirt and pulled out, with the sucker still licking my cock head and smacking his lips. The other two tucked their dicks in their jeans and walked out. I followed.
When I got back to the hotel, I directly went into the shower. I was sticky all over, and I smelled of man cum. My thigh hairs were glued together with dried sperm and I wondered if I would catch some disease or something, which I laughed off! After the shower, with a towel around my waist, I went into the room and lay on the bed. It was only a few minutes past 8 o'clock, and the evening was young.
I put in a call to my mom, said hi-I'm-fine-mom-goodnight-mom, and started rubbing my dick, images of the toilet room in the theater flashing in my head and instigating sensations in my balls. My dick responded with the inevitable erection.
I had bought a gay magazine, not porn, from a stall at the airport when I arrived. Picking it up now, I leafed through it, getting hornier and hornier. There were all sorts of articles about safe sex, condoms, what to wear, what to eat, and such. Then, I got to the adverts part. Wow! There were hundreds of advertisements for all sorts of things, from underwear to sex toys to gay and gay-friendly bars. Then there were ads for escorts and masseurs. Hmmm... Interesting! I went down the ads, none of them really saying much: just a short description of what the guys were willing to do and their telephone numbers. I picked up the phone and dialed a number at random, stroking my cock.
"Hello," British accent, very gay.
"Hi," I said. "Could you explain to me what you will do and how much it will cost?" I asked.
He started by explicitly describing how delicious he was and how he was ready to do anything for me, for a price, of course. But he wouldn't commit to any specific figure.
I dialed another number: much of the same thing.
By then, I was extremely horny, and I balked at the idea of masturbating alone right in the middle of London in a hotel room! I considered going back to the Soho theater, but it would also be much of the same thing as well. Shit! I was starting to feel despondent, thinking of a quick jerk-off and a night alone... IN LONDON, for Christ's sake!
On the fifth or maybe sixth call, the voice answered, "Hi. I'm Chris. What can I do for you?" My heart throbbed the second I heard the voice. It was sexy, a little throaty, but not too overtly suggestive or effeminate.
"Ah..." I hesitated. "See here. I'm visiting London for a few days and would like someone to show me some of the evening action that goes around this city."
"I see," he said, again the hot voice. "I can be your escort, if you like."
"Sounds like a good idea. Can I ask how much would that cost?"
"It depends, sir," he answered. "If just to escort you around a couple of places in town, the evening will be 100 pounds."
"Ok," I answered, thinking, wow, that's kind of steep!
"But, sir," he continued, probably noticing the hesitation in my ok, "I can escort you to your room for more private time. It wouldn't cost much more. If that is what you are looking for, that is."
Fuck, yes, I thought, THAT'S what I was looking for.
"Well, I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement," I said. "Could you tell me something about yourself?"
"Are you on the net, sir?" he asked.
"Yes," and I gave him my email address (the private one I used for emails that I didn't want anyone from my regular circle of friends and family to know about).
"I'll send you some photos, and then if you decide, please call me back," he said.
Opening the first photo attachment a few minutes later, I caught my breath. This kid was a dream. The photo was a face shot: blond hair, blue eyes, full lips, masculine features, the shadow of a fuzzy beard.
The second picture was of him on a beach, wearing sunglasses and tight Speedos. Fuck, he looked hot!
Slim, but not skinny, with a very light patch of hair on his chest, trailing down to his swim Speedos, hairy legs, invitingly bulged.
There was a third picture, but it was that of a cock: hard and uncut. Of course, it could have been anybody's dick picture but I assumed that he would be stupid to send a fake. The cock was fully erect, bending a little to the left, with skin partially covering the pink head. His pubic hair was brownish and thick and his balls hung under his cock nicely. The upper thighs looked very inviting also.
"Hi, Chris," I said when he answered the phone at the second ring. "It's me, again. Can you meet me at my hotel lobby? By the way, I'm Eddie."
"Sure, Eddie, if all is fine with you after you have had a look," I sensed a little of amusement in his tone. But I liked that. He wasn't going all gay-ish on me.
"Yes, all is fine, Chris," emphasizing the all-part. "How about in half an hour, say, around 9 o'clock? Is that enough time for you to get here?"
"Yea, that's cool."
"I wear eyeglasses, 26 years old," I started giving him a description of me so that he could recognize me in the lobby, but I heard him inhale through the phone when I told him how old I was. "I'm 180 centimeters tall and will be wearing jeans and polo shirt."
"Well," he answers. "Great. I don't think I would miss spotting you." I noticed that he had dropped the Sir!
I put on my jeans, sans underwear, and polo shirt and took the elevator down to the lobby. It was 8:45 and I ordered a beer, my heart pounding, my cock throbbing. This was a first for me: a fucking male escort!
At exactly nine o'clock, Chris walked in. Was he waiting outside to make his entrance at the exact time that we had agreed on? Hmm... he looked breath-taking, right out of a male model magazine. He was wearing faded blue jeans, a dark-blue sports jacket over a white t-shirt and a white pair of Converse.
He looked and walked just like any hot kid off campus. He had a backpack, strapped to his shoulders.
He moved straight towards me as if we had known each other since ages, with a cute smile on his face.
I stood up and we shook hands. "Hi, Chris," I said with my heart pounding in my chest.
"Hi, Eddie," he smiled back. I saw a surprised look on his face.
As we sat down, I said, "You seem to be surprised."
"Well," he blushed a little. "I don't often escort young men, especially hot ones like you."
I gave out a short laugh, embarrassed by the compliment. What? I am being complemented by a male escort! Of course, he was going to complement everything I did. There was a tip involved there!
Nevertheless, I beamed and commented that he looked hot, as well.
We chatted for a few minutes, and then Chris said, "Are you ready to hit the town, Eddie?"
"Sure."
We walked out of the hotel and he called a cab, one of those old, black London cabs that I loved a lot.
We stopped at a bar. Walking in, I noticed that the atmosphere was quite nice, with half-dimmed lights and not-too-loud music. We sat at the bar. I ordered a beer; Chris ordered a diet coke. I thought, oh, well, he must be ready for action without the effect of the alcohol and he must be careful about his physique if he was to be any good at what he did for a living.
The clientele were all male, some sitting at the long bar, some lounging on couches around tables with drinks. In the middle, there was a small dance floor and a few were dancing, males.
"Would you like to dance, Eddie?" Chris said after a while. It was a slow tune: something like "you are the wind beneath my wings" or something.
Boy, was I excited. I nodded my head and slid off my bar stool. Chris led the way and we held each other on the dance floor. Fuck! This was weird! I was actually holding a guy around the waist and dancing to a slow tune! Moments later, Chris moved closer and I felt a shiver run down my spine as our bodies touched. He had both his arms around my neck, with my arms around his waist. Encouraged, I responded by pulling him tight to me, our crotches pressing on each other. My erection immediately stiffened, and he felt it pressing at his belly. I was around maybe 10 centimeters (4 inches) taller. I looked down at his blue eyes, and he whispered, "This is hot, Eddie," grinding against me. I definitely had to agree to that, and I pressed harder at his lovely body in my arms. My lips brushed his neck and he inhaled.
We danced like this for two more tunes, and then we walked back to the bar. I was desperately trying to hide my bulging erection, wishing that I had worn tight briefs. I did get a few appreciative looks from a few of the customers as we walked by them. I didn't mind, of course. I was-still am-proud of the equipment between my legs.
We sat at the bar, resuming our drinking and chatting. He was telling me about the gay scene in London and I was fascinated. He had his hand on my thigh, and every now and then, would rub up and down slowly, teasingly. My cock throbbed all the while.
A little while later, after I had had my fill of looking at Chris's beautiful face, I glanced around the place.
Some of the men were still dancing, a few male couples were kissing on the couches, but there wasn't any open sexual activity: just men having fun together.
Chris looked at his watch and said, "If you like, Eddie, there is another place you might enjoy before we go back to the hotel. It opens at 11 o'clock, and it's 10:45 now."
"Whatever you recommend, Chris," I smiled at him. We were getting along superbly.
The second place was rowdy. There was loud music and a lot of dancing and swinging. It was also more crowded. Some of the men were shirtless. There was a lot of humping and grinding. It was a very hot, sexy scene in spite of the crowdedness and the rowdiness.
"There will be some kind of show in about 30 minutes," Chris shouted into my ear. "Let's get ourselves a nice table."
We spotted a small round table with a couple of chairs and headed towards it. It was situated quite close to what looked like a small stage. A waiter, naked torso and bulging silky pants, took our order and wiggled away: a scotch on the rocks for me, a diet coke for Chris.
We sipped and watched the action all around us. Chris put his hand back on my thigh and seductively rubbed up and down. Of course, this didn't help my raging erection, which raged even more, pressing on the rough fabric of my jeans. A couple of times, he even ran his hand over my erection, sizing me, and he looked somewhat appreciative, with a sexy smile on his pretty face. Fuck! How could this beautiful boy be a male whore?
Lights dimmed; music stopped. Then the speakers blared with the tune of "Just keep your hat on." A guy moved onto the stage under a spot light. Very nice! He was naked from the waist up with glitter all over his chest. Gyrating to the music, he did his stuff: the regular seductive movements with his hips and his butt. Then he ripped away his tight pants to reveal a bulging packet in very tight jocks. Lovely! I was becoming more and more excited, with Chris's hand still on my thigh. I noticed that the dancer was already erect. And sure enough, as he stripped off his jocks, his erection stood huge in front of him. I thought I was hung, but this performer was hunger than hung! There were whistle and hoots of appreciation and lust from the audience. A couple of guys jumped onto the stage and grabbed the dancer, now fully naked and hard, pressing paper money under his head band. Soon, he had a crown of all kinds of currencies and guys were taking turns holding his dick, kissing it, stroking it, sucking on it, rubbing his ass, and such.
It started to become too uncomfortable for me. I needed sex. Now. I whispered to Chris, "Let's go, man."
His smile told me that he felt my need and that he was excited, too, and that he was ready for some action with me.
It seemed to take forever to get back to the hotel. As soon as we were inside the room, we went at each other with vigor, kissing and rubbing and undressing. As we got naked, I was consumed with lust for this beautiful, extremely hot guy in my arms. I wanted him badly. He responded with similar vigor, and somewhere in the back of my head, my devil angel kept reminding me, He's a whore! Who gave a fuck? I would push the devil further back into my head. Chris was hot and I wanted him.
I sucked him. He sucked me. I fucked him. He fucked me. We went at it for a couple of hours. I must have cummed three or four times, in his mouth, on his face, up his ass. He kept himself in check, holding back his load by pressing on the base of his cock, until he realized that I was almost completely spent. With a hoarse, deep moan he shot his load on my face and chest.
We lay back for a while, with me enjoying my cigarette, until our breathing receded.
"Wow!" Chris finally exclaimed. "I'd do you for free any time, any day, Eddie."
I jumped with surprise at this. He was a whore! For money! How could he admit this?
I reached for my wallet, took 300 pounds and handed them to him. With a smile, still naked and gleaming with sweat, he handed me back 200 pounds. I gazed at him questioningly.
"How long are you going to be in London, Eddie?" he asked.
"Three days," I answered regretfully. "I'm leaving on Thursday."
"Well, then," he continued. "If you plan on seeing me again, and I strongly hope that you do, you will need the money for the next three nights! I'll just take the escort charge. Leave the fucking/sucking charge on me because I think I want a repeat of that."
And there were repeats. Boy! Over and over. For the following three evenings and into the nights. I couldn't get enough of him. I had him in all ways possible. And he obliged fantastically. I could hardly wait for the day training sessions to end at 6 o'clock. Chris was over at 7. We walked around holding hands. We kissed in one of the parks. Then we had sex in the hotel. A lot of it. At no other time had I enjoyed such uninhibited sex as during those days. Chris was delicious, answering to my every whim as if it had been his own.
On the plane back home, all I could think of was Chris: his blue eyes, his hot lips, his sexy body, his bubble butt, his bent cock. I masturbated twice before we landed!