I'm in my room. It's about 11p.m. My cell phone rings. I answer. "I'm ready for you, Robert." "Right away sir." In my bathrobe, pajamas and slippers, I leave my comfortable suite of rooms on the third floor and head down to the second floor. I take a back staircase and proceed down a long corridor, where flat panel screens are mounted flush to the walls displaying all of the world's precious artworks in high definition, in rotations of 30 seconds. I come to the master suite, enter and proceed to the bedroom door, knock. "Come in Robert." I proceed in. There he is, on his giant sleigh bed, sitting up against the headboard, a few large voluptuous pillows behind his back. He is naked, except for a very soft looking heavy checkered shirt, hanging completely open at his sides. He has an erection and is gently stroking it. There is a 52 inch TV facing the bed and there is some internet porn, hetero, being displayed on it. The only sound however, is some soft pop music from an internet radio station or his digital audio library. He controls all this via a wireless mouse on his bedside console. I proceed to the foot of the bed, remove my slippers only, and lay down, propping myself on elbows, between his splayed legs. His stroking hand drops to his side. Time to get to work.
He is 25, lean and mildly muscled with a near perfect physique courtesy of his celebrity fitness trainer and the daily sessions in the fully equipped home gym on the first floor. He wears glasses, even now, currently has a goofy, short, tri-layered haircut, the idea, I'm sure, of his latest little blonde tart of a girlfriend, who I believe is a hairdresser, and a trim goatee, his own idea, I'm sure. His body is smooth except for a thin treasure trail' extending from his navel to his sparse brown pubes. His face isn't terribly handsome, but more nerdishly cute', intelligent looking. But his penis is nothing short of beautiful. Standing up, it's straight as a lead pipe with no hint of curvature, and no foreskin. It is the color of an orange creamsicle along the shaft with a bright cherry helmet on top. His dick hole is huge, with a deep crevice extending from it to the understitch, which, when he's erect, is prominent and taut as a violin string. The cock is about 6 inches long, the same size as 90% of the many thousands of them I've been in similar proximity to.
I lean into it now. Take a deep sniff up and down it, now lingering for an extra second at his golden scrotum, then pop it, whole, into my mouth.
I am his servant. I am not a cook, chauffer or butler. I don't clean.
I am a fellator. That is my job title.
My job is to pleasure him, orally, at his request. This is usually at 5:30 when he comes home from work, once, then two more times at bedtime, typically around 11pm, and three or four times a day on weekends, no set time, just when he feels like it. I do nothing else. I have no day off, but my daytimes are free, weekdays. I do not get vacation either, but I accompany him on all his vacations and business trips, during which I am given a generous spending allowance plus all my living expenses and lots of pre-agreed on free-time. So, I work about two and a half hours a day, providing him, typically with three orgasms a day. Sometimes more, sometimes less, but never none. A 25 year old man has a powerful, steady sex drive. He utilizes my services even when he has a girlfriend, though never during his intimate times with her. I don't believe he has ever revealed our arrangement to any of them, although a few of his male buddies know of my existence and the purpose for which I am engaged and he has, as allowed in our contract, even occasionally offered my services to them. All of them are, like him, completely heterosexual, but none have refused. I have been to Tokyo, Rome, Paris, London, Moscow, Cairo, Hong Kong and several wonderful ocean cruises. This is pretty amazing as I have to admit that prior to age 50, when I took this job, I'd been outside of New York City less than half a dozen times and only out of the country, once -- to Canada. I will not reveal my salary, but suffice it to say that I am earning more now than ever I did as a music teacher, waiter, or customer service representative, which are the jobs I've had since graduating college33 years ago.
I lay the flat of my tongue against the taut understitch, very lightly, and then, still lightly, brush it with a broad circular motion. He `hmmm's his appreciation and I proceed to apply more pressure, in a circular motion with my tongue, strumming it, until his legs lock and his back arches a little, then I concentrate for a few seconds on generating saliva and applying the wetness evenly all over the surface.
I am 55. I am thin and short, with salt and pepper hair. I have a trim mustache. I think I was a handsome guy in my youth. I got plenty of attention in the bars and cruising places I frequented. But, he could not care less about my looks. I don't think he's ever even taken a good look at my face.
Now, with sufficient wetness , I can bob my head up and down, letting my lips comfortably slide the length while I begin gently sucking and flicking my my tongue. I glance up to see his eyes euphoriously rolling back in his head.
It all began, innocently enough, five years earlier. I was single and bored, so for a few years, I used to occasionally visit a sleazy porn theater not far from my apartment that was a well known blow job house. It was dark and run down. The movie screen had been replaced by a projection video screen years earlier and VHS hetero porn was shown. All kinds of guys, gay and straight stopped in during the afternoon for some quick action before going home to wives, lovers or the TV. I had always received compliments on my oral ministrations, but it was in this temple of pleasure that I really honed my skills. At first, I was as likely to receive as give, but being an older guy, and getting to be a familiar face, it seemed that over time there were fewer guys interested in going down on me. I didn't mind that much since I was discovering that I got a profound charge from giving pleasure to men. It gave me a sense of power to drive them to ecstasy.
Typically I would wait until my eyes adjusted to the dark and take a little walk around the place and look for a guy who would be masturbating. If he was interesting enough, I'd sit behind him, lean in and invite him up to the front row, where I'd perform my magic on him. God, there were some hot times in that place. Like the beautiful man who became my first `regular.' The first time, while I was sucking him he got so excited he pulled my head off his dick and whispered to me "I have to take these off" and he completely removed his slacks that were around his knees and sat down on them and spread his beautiful legs wide with me between them and I finished him that way. Other guys had gathered and watched and this practice soon became the norm. I found it unbearably sexy. Soon, I'd gotten a reputation for excellence and I would be hard at work on one guy, on my knees on the floor in front of him in the front row, between his legs when I would see another pair of legs appear in the seat next to him. Then, I'd hear a whisper in my ear like, "can you do me next? Nobody else here can do it like you" and I would get to taste three or four ejaculations in a single afternoon. I sometimes got resentful glances from some of the other cocksuckers.
So, after a couple of years of this, I was there one day and there was this young college dude. He was a very wholesome looking, Midwestern type, with short brown hair and a fair complexion. He came along as I was doing a fortyish fully suited businessman who was not at all shy about showing his appreciation. Clearly he, the young man, was interested, hungry looking. I looked up into his eyes and read the question in them and nodded. He sat down next to the guy I was blowing to wait his turn. When I finished up with the business man, I sat back on my haunches and looked over to this cute kid who was rubbing the erection in his jeans and looking mainly by now at the action on the screen which was lesbian scene which was getting him very excited, pretty much the opposite of the effect they had on me. He looked at me and obediently, wordlessly unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans. I knew he wasn't a regular here as yet because he only lowered them to his knees. Then, his underwear, nervously, charmingly. And then I saw that beautiful dick. The very same dick I was feasting on now.
I would never have guessed that I was at that minute auditioning for a new job that would turn my favorite leisure time passion into a real career. While I was blowing him, I actually heard him laugh! I came to learn that it was a pleasure signal of his. He did "oh" and "ah" like most of the men I worked on there and uttered a "Wow!" when I deep throated him. I took my time, enjoying his appreciation and letting him enjoy the pleasure for a long time rather than attempting to rush him to orgasm, slow and relaxed like a sweet pleasant tune instead of the intense rush of a rock song. He seemed to understand what I was doing and was in agreement with it. I did this fully for 40 minutes before deciding that maybe it was time for him to come. With the slightest adjustment in pace, I very quickly brought him to orgasm, so I believe he too was very ready at that time. I took every drop of him, and kept his penis in my mouth, not moving my head a centimeter or applying any pressure to it, as it went down fully. I realeased the limp organ and gently blowed hot breaths on it, allowing him, after a minute to put it back in his pants clean and dry. Spent, flush and delirious, he leaned forward and whispered to me "You know, I'm totally straight but I'd let you go down on me any time! I came here today to celebrate a great deal I just made and you totally made this a memorable day for me" "What kind of deal?" I asked, curious about what kind of business this young kid was in. "I developed a computer program that crawls websites and indexes all of the different types of media on them into a quickly searchable database." I said "I appreciate that you're trying to make it simple for me but I still have no idea what you're talking about." "Well," he said patiently, "I set it up as a small service company and it's just been bought by " he mentioned a giant corporation even I'd heard of, "for more money than I ever thought I'd see in my life. I think my parents are finally going to forgive me for quitting college now!"
So we parted, but I would see him there, about once or twice a month for the rest of that year and he always approached me seeking a repeat. At some point I noticed that he wasn't coming round anymore and I wondered a bit at what he was doing for sex now. I didn't imagine he was having any trouble finding it, being rich, young and fairly cute.
One day I came home and found an envelope that had been slipped under my door. Inside was a note that simply said "I have something very important to speak to you about. Please give me a call, 5XX-XXX-XXXX . It's not bad news. Please call!" I had no idea who it was from. I called the number and a female answered and when I told her who I was, she said "Oh, Mr. ________, Mr. ______ wants to speak to you himself, just a moment." Then, I heard a man's voice, "Hi, we've met. I don't want to say where, but I have something I'd like to speak to you about. Can you meet me tonight at" he mentioned a little coffee shop near my house. I went, and was really surprised at who showed up. "How did you get my address and phone number?" I asked. He'd hired a private investigator to follow me. He also knew where I worked and what I earned.
He apologized for invading my privacy, but he told me the reason he did it was that he had to get in touch with me and he was hoping I'd agree to a proposition he wanted to make.It turned out that the deal he made was not only for cash, but for stock in the purchasing company and a high paying job as an executive/engineer. The stock had run up in value many times since the deal was made and he had sold it and was now one of the wealthiest men in the country.
He explained that he had always had a very high sex drive and that now that he could afford anything he wanted, he decided that what he wanted most was to never have to masturbate again. As a shy teen, then a poor computer geek college student, he'd never had much luck with girls and now that he was rich, he was enjoying the company of a lot more women, but he was too intelligent to fool himself about what they were after. He was terrified of impregnating any of them, and hated wearing condoms. Girlfriends that could be trusted to use birth control had to be carefully vetted and then the relationship didn't always work out as they were very demanding of his time and attention. He wanted children eventually, but on his terms and with a carefully selected partner. He wasn't above hiring a female prostitute on occasion, but when he found himself actually attracted to the girl, he experienced negative emotions about the impersonal nature of the relationship.
Basically, he wanted a reliable source of high quality, satisfying sexual pleasure with no emotional component or any other entanglements.. He didn't want to have to get dressed up, make conversation, leave the house, neglect his business to get it. He wanted to hire me as his full-time, live in fellator. He actually had a contract typed up, with the terms spelled out on it and I immediately saw this as my golden opportunity (I had absolutely no retirement savings and with this offer, I could essentially retire AND save for old age) and signed. He had calculated that he spent several hundred dollars for one act of sex with a female, whether she was a prostitute and he was paying her directly or just a regular girl he met in a club, taking her out and spending his valuable time with her, building a relationship to that end. My salary was based on those calculations.
I was finishing up with him now. I tasted the warm salty spurts of his semen, letting his penis proceed to relax in my mouth as he regained his breath. "Excellent as always, Robert" he said.
I swallowed and then got up to get a drink of water.
"Another?" I asked.
"Yeah, I think I'm good for a second go-round, in ten or fifteen minutes."
"Very good, I'll await your call." And at that I left the room, reaching in my pocket to make sure the cell phone was on.
Pick a career you love, and you'll never work a day in your life.