If you a high schooler you are not invited to read this story, unless you have turned eighteen. Please leave if not.
I had kept to myself during high school, but in my senior year at Dooley High in Tuckerville, Tennessee. I finally made a friend. Sometimes he was more than a friend, often more like a lovesick admirer. I know that I am outstanding: curly red hair, pale blue eyes, with the body of David. Wayne says I'm better than David because there is no fig leaf big enough to cover my pride and joy.
Wayne is also seventeen. He's not ugly but just gangly. It's a little touching but one takes him as a comical kid rather than serious.
"Hey Prentice, stop looking in the mirror. You know you're hot and handsome. Didn't I tell you the first time we met?"
It was true. The day he transferred last year he came up to me in the cafe and blurted right out, "You are some hot dude." He would follow me around school and after school. He made his wishes quite plain. Wayne was geeky but not shy. "Last night I dreamed we were naked together and I gave you a hand job."
"Wayne, stop the shit. You sound like a fag."
"I am when it come to you. Come on. Let me feel it."
I slapped his hand away. I was flattered to have an adoring stooge but I didn't want the other kids to think we were out of Brokeback Mountain. I had never had sex with girl, boy or beast. I didn't plan on Wayne as being the one who would be my first."
That was the status quo, he loved me, It puffed up in ego and there was no way we would "do it," that is until one day Wayne said the most intriguing thing after wheedling me for an hour as we lay on the grass behind my house. I had told him "no" for the nth time and was getting impatient. Until he uttered those words, "I'll pay you to let me touch it."
"Are you serious? That would make me a male prostitute."
His voice changed and he got up on his elbows to look at me. "You're considering it aren't you?"
"Just for the frinstance what would you pay?"
He thought for a minute. "Ten dollars."
This was 1990. My family was poor and I was even poorer. The list of things I wanted and couldn't buy could stretch from Memphis to Mobile.
"Okay. But give me the money first, and don't act all gooey and stuff and get it over fast."
He got up on his knees, his hands were shaking. He opened my button jean with one fast pull. Inside I was wearing light blue bikini briefs. He pushed the leg opening aside, reached in and drew my long cock out. I wasn't hard, just slightly full. He was breathing audibly, his face was red and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. I looked down at his hand. I had never realized what a nice shaped hand he had, smooth, white and at the wrist a few shiny black hairs. That was a turn on and I could feel the familiar stiffening and rising of my prick.
I had never had another person touch me before. It was outstanding. The feelings were a hundred times more exciting than when it was my hand.
The deal we had made was for him to touch my dick. But we both knew we meant more and I sure as hell wanted more.
He picked up my now almost completely hard cock and rested it on one palm and looked at it as if it was a piece of rare jewelry. It was this reverence he always showed toward me was the turn on and insurance he had that I would keep him around.
"It's so beautiful. The perfect unmarked cover, the cherry red head inside. And those big balls, moving around in your sack. It all makes my head dizzy."
He leaned down and sniffed. "Ah, it's Prentice perfume."
I was getting pretty high on all of this and when I tried to speak my voice came out strangled and hoarse. "Stop drooling. I'm getting antsy, do something or let's quit this stuff."
He shook himself into action. He moved a finger over the covered dick, he slowly moved the foreskin back and petted the piss slit. I was beginning to spin and a let out a couple of grunts which he acknowledged. "Yes baby, enjoy this, let me hear your love sounds."
On any other occasion I would have laughed at this nutty talk but it seemed to make me hotter. Now he began a feather touch stroke. When he moved upward I was afraid he would move completely off and my hips lifted, trying to maintain this delicious contact. He caressed my cheek. "Don't worry beautiful boy, I won't leave you. You will enjoy this right to the happy ending."
He stroking became a little more insistent. I was completely in orbit, my mouth hanging open and spit drooling off my puckered lower lip.
"Oh shit Wayne, I'm going spill. Get something to catch it."
He leaned forward and put his lips over the head. I knew he meant for me to shoot in his mouth and avoid a mess. My knees bend and rose, I let out a choking sound, almost like I was upchucking and delivered a big load of seventeen year old cum into his sucking mouth. When I stopped shooting, he swallowed noisily, then lay on his back beside me. "That was the best thing that ever happened to me. Let's do it a lot."
"That's the last time. Besides you don't have another ten dollars."
"I'll hold up the convenience store to get another taste of you."
We never did it again but the incident put a big idea in my head. The fact that I had wasted my outstanding face and body all these years and that it could be turned into an instrument for money overcame all my thoughts for the next week. I had a shitty home life. I was failing in school. I had no friends--except hot mouth Wayne who was not really a friend but a plumbing fixture.
I was determined to try out the power that I had. I skipped school the next day and got out on the highway to hitch into Memphis and try out this thing in the big time. This June day was hot and muggy. The late morning sun beat down. The road was empty. Suddenly a big rig was coming at me, its image shimmering in the heat. With a scary squeal of brakes it stopped just alongside where I was standing. A young guy, fuzzy faced, tattooed arms leaned toward the passenger door. "Need a lift?" he grinned as if we shared a secret.
"You going near Memphis?"
"Better, I'm going to Memphis. Hop in, it's cool inside.....and hot at the same time." He snickered.
I climbed up to the steep passenger side, falling into the seat. He had grabbed my arm to help me and kept his grip after I was seated. "You are one unbelievably cute dude. Before we get started, do you fool around?"
"If you want to feel me up, it'll cost you $20.00."
He laughed for a long time. "How old are you?" I told him seventeen. "How long you been gay whoring?" I told him I wasn't gay and that I only ask for money as this is the way I get to pay for food and clothing and rent. I explained patiently that it was just a business with me.
"Okay, you're hired. I'll just pull in to that rest stop up ahead and give you $20. You say that's for feeling you up?" I told him yeah, but if he stroked a bit, I would throw that in."
"Lean back." He pulled a lever and the seat reclined so far that I was almost laying flat. "Open your belt and slide your pants down to your ankles."
"Wait a minute. That's not the way I usually do it. You can get my thing out and just do it."
"But that's not the way I do it. If you want the twenty, you gotta do what I say."
Well it's funny, he was the boss at this point but then my power kicked in. As my pants slide down to my ankles he whistled. "Oh my fucking back. Those balls, that cock, your great legs. I gotta touch."
His hands were a little rough, not like Wayne's, but it felt exciting. He had become just as transfixed as Wayne in looking at me. He tentatively touched the head with a finger, he felt my dew and licked his finger. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He was a drooling idiot and I wasn't out of it the way I was the first time with Wayne. I even smiled with superiority as he began to stroke. He kept asking if this was good, if I liked that and so on. He seemed terrified that I wouldn't like something and would make him quit.
"Do you want me to get you off?"
I stayed non-committal. "If you want."
He let out a cry of surrender and leaned down like he was going to suck me. I put a restraining hand under his chin. "That's an extra $20." He took my long cock into his mouth and on into his throat. I had never felt anything like that but I kept myself from crying out. He was slurping and mewing as he sucked. Finally I tapped him on the head. "I can cum now if you want." He nodded his head urgently. I could have help back but I had my money, I just relaxed my cock and let it fly. The taste of my cum made him go nuts again. Finally he sat back on his side of the cab.
"You want to give me a hand job?"
"Okay. That's another twenty."
He groaned. "Do it fucker."
I took hold of his small fat cock and rubbed the head. It was covered with slimy sperm but he loved that move. He was moaning and shaking. He was circumcised so I just concentrated on the space behind the head. He was now jumping uncontrollably. "You cumming?" I asked in a bored voice.
"Soon," he choked out. "You want to suck it?"
"You wouldn't be able to afford my price. Just give get a tissue ready." I began a fast vigorous jacking. He seemed to love it and in a moment to shouted, "Here it cums." I must say he shot a tremendous load, I'll give him that.
I jumped down and headed for the rest room, Wayne's twenty and more from the trucker. I felt rich.
As I opened the door to the rest area men's room there was lots of activity as guys rushed from where they were to sinks and urinals. This place must be fuck central. I ignored everyone and opened my fly and relaxed into a nice heavy long piss. I sighed with satisfaction. One guy two urinals away said, "Felt good huh?" I shot him a look that could dry up his balls for two weeks. I had no intention of being one of those rest room fairies. I was a businessman. I left, and can you believe it, several of the denizens of the smelly place let out sighs of disappointment. I am hot, I am cock of the world.
I got a lift from a nice older couple and they dropped me off in Memphis Town Center. They were worried about me, which was sweet, even invited me home for a home cooked meal. I thanked them with my most rural politeness but to myself I said, 'I don't do home cooking, I do man sauce',
There was one of those chi chi coffee houses right across the street. I had never been in one but I've seen them in the movies. This one was called Coffee Clutch (cute!). When I came in, all eyes turned to appraise me. There were about six, mostly scruffy looking dudes there, two playing cards with a peg board beside them, one was reading a magazine. He was kinda interesting, very short shorts with long hairy legs, but I am not here on Earth to get ga ga over anyone. I picked up a large coffee and a bun, it was super size, could easily have fed a family of six down my way. There was only one easy to share table in the corner. It was occupied by a gentleman, I'd say maybe sixty. He was reading a book and had one of those tiny cups of dark coffee at his elbow. I could have finished it in one small gulp, but he sipped it then put it down. That way, he could have been here for a week. He nodded politely and went back to his book. He was a nice looking gent, white hair, thick and wavy and though you could tell he was no kid, he had an unlined smooth face and his body looked pretty lean and athletic.
I slurped my coffee and wolfed down my bun. I was pretty hungry and the bun now didn't seem so large. He glanced at me in amusement, almost in a fatherly way. Finally he spoke, "Names Wesley." He put out a perfectly manicured hand. I shook it. I told him mine. He held the grip a moment longer than a man does. And then he said the most surprising thing, "You selling?"
Wow, did he mean dope? Or me?
"What you mean exactly mister?"
"Well, Prentice you have that look. The look of a boy who knows he's got 'it', 'it' being that thing that other men desire. I am a buyer, I have an apartment around the corner. You up for it?"
I gulped. This guy looked rich. I was hitting it right. "I'll just finish my snack and you can lead the way. Don't you want to know the price?"
"You can tell me when we get there. If I don't like it, I will give you ten bucks just for walking there. How's that?"
"Fine," I said, wiping the last crumbs off my lips.
We stood in the shade, outside a classy apartment building. "Well?" he said, his face set in a nice smile.
I got all serious, this was my business now. "I get $20 for a hand job on me and same on you. If'n you want to be fucked, okay but I never done it. That will be, let's see, $40? I don't suck and don't get fucked for no money."
"Sounds good to me. My only requirement is that we do what we do naked."
"I never did that. Okay, I guess, I'm not shy."
"I'm sure you got nothing to be shy about."
His apartment was really spiffy. Great leather furniture, lots of books, bottles of expensive liquor out. I whistled in appreciation and he laughed. He had a nice smile with perfect teeth. It was hard not to think that he was a young buy with white hair. Especially when he took off his clothes. He body was smooth, no hair, no hickies, just perfect and a good build. I took off my stuff, just a shirt and jeans and kicked off my shoes. I noticed my clothes smelled a little and figured I better get them washed up.
"Kid, you have the most gorgeous body I have seen in a long time, and those golden red pubes and that faultless cock. There are probably not more than twelve young guys in the country that could compare to you."
During this speech my cock started to grow. I just love to be fussed over. He noticed it. He reached for his wallet on the table next to him and extracted a ten. "I like to pay first. This is for me to give you a hand job."
"Okay boss, I'll sit here on this couch. Is that good for you?"
He came over, sat next to me and pushed softly on my shoulder so I was forced to lean back against the cushion. He had some kind perfume on, it smelled great. I lost myself in that smell as he reach down and took hold of my cock. This was the third time someone had done this and this was the best. He was a master. The way he varied the pressure and the speed of his stroking began to drive me nuts with feeling. I tried not to sound like a bitch in heat but before long I was 'oohing and cooing',
"That's it boy, let the feelings come over you. Don't try to block them. You like when I do this?"
He slipped my foreskin back and forth over the head. I shook my head fervently, "Like," was all I could get out.
Suddenly he stopped and withdrew his hand. As soon as my head cleared a bit I said, "I guess you want me to work on you? Just give me the other $20."
"No I stopped because I have to talk to you. You smoke?"
"You mean dope? Sure."
"No cigarettes."
"Okay," I said, probably sounding disappointed.
We lit up and sat there friendly like smoking like two friends except we were naked. I noticed his cock was huge and pointing up at his belly button.
He cleared his throat. "You're inexperienced. I bet I'm not more than the fifth guy you been with for the money."
"Third."
"I'm going to give you some advice. You are not charging enough. A boy like you, seventeen you say, gorgeous curly red hair and golden pubes. Incidentally never trim them, men will go nuts over the wild growth of that color. And your hot cock and balls, not to mention your body which could be a statue in a museum. I'd say you could ask for $100 for getting a hand job and another $50 to do the guy. As for allowing him to suck you, another $100. They'll pay that gladly even if they have to quit eating for a week."
I gulped. "Wow, I'd be rich if I got that kinda dough."
"Yes, you could, if you know what you are doing, make six figure income annually. You have to know that men think of fucking and sucking but they really want a thrilling experience. You can stick to your menu of hand jobs and getting sucked and still give them great charge."
"How I do that?"
"Acting."
"Acting?"
"Yes. First of all you have to understand why men pay boys for sex. In my case I prefer it to free sex. You get a better experience, the whore is devoted to your pleasure not his. I see you are frowning. You don't like me calling you a whore. You are. You might as well be real."
"Isn't there another word?"
"You like rent boy, or paid companion or other pallid expressions? All right with me but the acting is very important. You got to forget about your own self and your own pleasure. When you are getting a hand job, gasp, moan, tell the John how much you love it that he's giving you the best you ever got. Same when he's blowing you. When you jerk him off, tell him what a hot cock he has, how you love doing it for him."
"You mean it isn't just the cum that want. They want an experience, a heavy one which builds up their ego?"
"You got it kid. Now I'll blow you and you can try it out."
He leaned forward and help my cock in his hand, then he licked the tip. I was going to continue smoking like a sophisticated gentleman but pretty soon I had to put it out in the ashtray because I had trouble holding my eyes open and I was beginning to get dizzy from his licking. I remembered what he said and croaked out, "Wesley, you have the hottest tongue I ever felt. Please take it into your mouth, stop teasing me, I want you lips around my cock. Oh yeah, that's right. You do it so good, I never felt like this before." Of course this was mostly bullshit but Wesley sure knew his business. I was trying every trick not to shoot off too soon. Finally he wiggled his lips and kept moving them deeper until the root of my cock was against his nose. He held it there, swallowing, I let out a howl and stiffened and shot my load right down his throat.
He sat up. "You have delicious cum. Another important and valuable fact. It could be worth more money to you.
"Did I do good?" I asked. "I know you did."
"You did great. I almost believed your words and they made me work harder to make you cum."
Wesley took me in hand, became a sort of sponsor. He never asked for a penny back even though he paid for a new wardrobe for me, got me a small apartment in a good building, furnished it and taught me how to make contacts that would pay big bucks. Wesley was apparently a very rich man living on a family trust fund. He traveled in society circles and was willing to get me entry into that world. All he asked was free sex twice a week.
I loved my new apartment. Each time I entered I got a thrill in seeing the masculine but taste decor. I never took a John up to my place, only in hotels or their digs.
My income now was over one hundred thousand dollar s year and twice I was invited to take a week's vacation on tropic islands once to Paris. I was really living. The squash club I joined at Wes's suggestion turned out to be a gold mine of potential customers. One of the side benefits is that these guys were younger and fitter so that I didn't have to suffer sex with some physical wreck.
Wes complimented me on the improvement in my acting ability. "That new wrinkle where you put a hand on mine and say "Wait, I'm too hot. Stop a minute." That's good." He also liked the way I prolonged my orgasm.
Everything could not have been better until I saw Dan. He lived in my building. I encountered him in the elevator a few times and he smiled pleasantly after awhile. "I guess you live here," He said.
"Yep, 1510." I said hopefully that he might visit. But gradually I could see that he was very straight sexually. While that didn't necessarily preclude male sex, it made it very unlikely. He sometimes came into the elevator with different girls. I had the feeling that these were professionals. He hugged and kissed them right in front of me while riding up to his 14th floor exit. I could see his big bulge and the sappy face, smeared with lipstick. But in spite of this I was falling in love with the guy. He was really my physical ideal: 5'10", tight muscular built, slim waist, broad shoulders, crisp dark curly hair cut short, heavy eyebrows and impossibly long lashes. His naturally full red mouth curved into a winning smile, exposing gleaming white tee4th. He was just perfect. If I jerked off, which I didn't because of business, he would have been my dream guy.
One day he suggested that we get together for coffee at the Coffee Clutch.; I introduced myself, "You can't call me 1510. It's Prentice, Prentice Wakefield." His name was Parker Danniger We found we got along fine. He said we might watch the big game on his 50" TV. At first I thought he said 50" cock and had to shake my head to clear it.
We drank beers and he was so into the game, charmingly cheering his team, now getting a little slurry after four beers. He was wearing pull on shorts exposing his muscular hairy legs. I tried not to look but he caught me once and threw me a questioning look that I ignored. Later we ate an ordered in pizza. He asked what I do and I lied that I was in commodities. He remarked that he always saw me well dressed so he figured I must be in a profession where appearance is important. He explained that he was two years out of law school and first had a job with a good firm but they were having problems keeping clients and he was last in, first out. "I haven't worked for two months and already I am really broke. "That TV is going back, repossessed. My rent is past due. It's really a mess." He ran his well cared for hands through his hair, "But I don't want to lay this on you." Suddenly he turned to me and fixed me with his eyes, "You gay?"
I took a deep breath. "I am not, I think, but I earn my living by catering to gay men."
"You're a male hooker? That's funny. You see me with girls--hookers. I always use hookers, they're the best. They want to please, not like the usual bitch who is only interested in herself. Of course, no hookers lately, they are a luxury I can't afford."
"What do you do for sex?"
He curved his finger and made the old gesture.
"Have you ever had sex with a guy?"
"Not since I was fourteen, not interested at all pal."
"What if I offered you a thousand dollars to have sex with me?"
Oh shit, here I was, the proud rent boy, not asking for money but paying just like an old auntie.
His mouth worked. I think he was tempted. But finally he said, "You're a nice guy, good looking too, maybe if I changed sides you might be the one, but I am straight to the end."
I told the story to Wesley. He said, "It never fails, you hard hearted boys eventually fall for a guy who won't come through. If I was in your shoes, I would have had him. It's too late, but you should have used drugs or maybe chloroform or shit, tied him up and fucked him."
"Hey Wes, I didn't know you had that in you. You never asked to tie me up and fucked me."
"That's coming soon. I notice that you have a little streak of compliance in you and I think you want to be dominated. I also think that the sex you have been getting is getting "old", you need more intensity.
End of Part One
Did you feel this was coming, that he was a secretly bottom? Is there a chance with the guy, Parker, in his building?