RB 10

The disclaimers: This story is entirely fictional. Any resemblance to any real people is completely coincidental. This is not the real world we live in and the author in no way condones nor encourages acts which mirror the practices described in this entirely fictional story. Please remember to make a donation to Nifty which hosts my story and others you like. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Like what you are reading? Hate it? Have suggestions? rbrbrb163@verizon.net

I asked myself: Why was Ron so insistent that I think about this decision so carefully. What else did I have? What else could I do? I've asked that question before. Retail? No? Barrista? No. Crime? No.

Would it have an inalterable effect on my future? No, if I did things right. I had to be careful about my identity so I am not branded as a rent boy for the rest of my life. Don't want anything everlasting. Those people who put tattoos all over their bodies from head to toe. . . they are making that kind of never-go-back decisions.

If I aspired to be President or the head of some big company, this career would probably not be a good idea. But, really, President Tim? I don't think so.

So I would have to guard my identity. I might want a mate for life and I probably would not want him to know I was a rent boy.

Other than that, what was I missing? This felt like such a no brainer. Basically a free higher education in sex. Free room and board for several weeks. A hell of a lot of sex with unbelievable men. I thought about talking to Brandon about it. But was embarrassed to do this. I felt I might be stupid for not knowing what I should know. It is probably something looking me right in the face.

Who could I talk to? I am so alone, I thought.

I wondered whether I needed this academy, anyway. I got what it took. Cute, great body, sexually creative. What did I need from Ron and his peeps?

Well this was something knowable. I could try a few tricks on my own. Hmm, good idea, Tim. And that started a stream of bad ideas. Where to start? I put an ad in Craigslist. I struggled with the 60 words as if I was writing the bible.

Cute, of age (just barely), hot boy looking for nice and generous older men who are looking for a relaxing and sensual massage or just some company, someone to talk to. Brown hair, nice twinky body, great ass who needs experience from someone of older. Everything safe. Anyone who is under 30 need not apply, nor flakes or non-generous men. You host. Texts and calls only.

I held onto the draft until the next morning. I was generally happy with it but I made some changes to make it shorter.

Cute, of age (but just barely), hot boy looking for nice, and generous older man men who are looking for a relaxing, and sensual massage or just some company, someone to talk to cuddle with. Brown hair, nice twinky body, great ass which needs experience from someone of older. Everything safe. Anyone who is under 30 need not apply. Same for flakes or men who are not generous. You host. Texts and calls only.

I was happy with it and placed it on craigslist. Just as I was finished, Brandon came into my room. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Homework."

"What class?"

"American classic literature. We have to write an essay sketching in an additional character into Hucklebury Finn. Kind a weird but kind of fun, too."

"Sounds interesting. What have you been thinking about the academy?"

"I dunno," I lied. "I wrote to Ron saying I would get back to him in about a week. I hope that's OK."

"Yeah, it's fine. He told me."

"What did he say?"

"He was happy you were thinking about it carefully, but he really hopes you get with the program. He's a big fan. And it sounds like there's a guy there who is all depressed about you leaving. He was quite smitten with you."

"Yeah, Bo. Boris is his real name. He was one of the Eastern European guys. I had dinner with them and then afterwards a cross between dessert and homework."

Brandon laughed. "Yeah I had something like that when I was auditioning. It was Italian and French boys, two of them. It was very hot."

I told him about how the others shunned the Eastern European guys."It was really mean, I would feel sorry for them except for two things. They have each other. They have bonded like crazy glue. And Ron told me how well they are advancing in the program."

"They are probably jealous. The Eastern European boys are among the best in the business. It's no surprise that there's a big market for them in illegal trafficking. These guys are lucky to be at the Academy.

"Interesting. Maybe I could do my paper on sex trafficking for my AP political science course."

"Hmm. I'll let you get back to it. I am exhausted. I had two back-to-back threesomes, younger guys one of the jobs. They are so frisky." "Were they good looking?"

"They were OK. There was a tall one who was very well built."

#

I couldn't sleep thinking about what I had done, bouncing back and forth from fear that it was really stupid and stimulated about the idea of having my first job as a rent boy. I jerked off three times. I also found it hard to concentrate at school the next day because of little sleep and anticipating what would be in my new email address. I purposely did not open the emails because I was concerned that I would skip school to take my first job. Red eyed, I was proud of myself for being such a good student.

I practically ran to the Starbucks near school, though, and it wasn't to work on my calculus. I had 32 new emails on a new email address I set up on, you guessed it, hotmail.com.

I deleted most of them for different varieties of weirdness. Like this:

You are my pussy boy. You will be mine. Sound good? I am 1) generous 2) a great teacher, 3) very sexy, and 4) did I say generous. Early retired wannabe Daddy looking for his son. Let's talk on the phone and then meet, and then . . . Heh, did I mention I was generous.

That was just weird, but there were some that were unabashedly scary. But it didn't all scare me. Except for the whiny story of a recent break up which was supposed to make me feel charitable towards him, this one was the one I final decided to try.

Your ad was refreshing in what is a wasteland of terrible. I am 40ish (really), and actually 42. I just broke up with my first lover since I came out about 12 years ago. He cheated on me and it really broke me. I can't date again, just yet, but I am lonely and horny. Trust me, I am not a psycho killer and I am not so ugly I turn human beings into stone. The cuddling part sounds good to start, and who knows after that. Not hugely wealthy, but what I have I share with those special to me and those who do nice things for me. Love it we could talk.

He didn't sound like a psycho killer on the phone, either. Kind of gentle and nice actually.

Me: Hi, this is T. . . Michael. You responded to my personal listing on Craigs.

Him: Oh, hi. Wait a second, I need to go into my office to talk. (Noise of scuffling and a closed door.) Hi, Michael, or T. Michael, is it.

Me: It's Michael. So you are not a psycho killer? For sure?

Him: No, I am reformed. Only kidding. My name is Scott. I told you some of my story. Sorry to have told you about my break-up. It was more than a year ago. It was pretty pathetic I thought as I pushed send.I live about 20 minutes from town. I am a lawyer, but don't let that go against me.

Me: This isn't a contest or American Idol or anything. Just a date. (That might sound harsh. I used a nice voice.)

Him: Funny. OK. So what's the arrangement?

Me: Gotta meet at your place or a hotel or something. I don't have a place. It's $200 for an hour of my time. Anything above the ordinary is more, like fucking me or tying you up. Gotta be safe.

Him: OK, sounds good.

Me: Are you sure you're not a psycho killer?

Him: I don't think so.

Me: I'll take that as a no. When would you like to see me? It has to be after 4. I am still in school.

Him: School? How old are you?

Me: Don't worry. 18. Legal.

I got his address and everything, which was somewhat between where Brandon lived and my old house. It made me feel good that it was 1) familiar and 2) a good neighborhood. It was to be the next night

#

The next night came slowly and I took an uber out to Scott's house. It was a nice house. Competely dark, though. I texted him when the driver let me out. I did a once over in the car's window. I was wearing the same outfit I wore for my audition. I looked pretty good. This time, however, I didn't have a hard on. I had no idea to expect.

Rather than answer the text, he opened the door and looked out. He waved weakly, kind of like Queen Elizabeth. I approached the door. He really did look like he was 42. He was taller than me, wearing loose jeans and a bright white t-shirt. He held out his hand to shake mine. When the door was closed I pulled him to me to embrace him and kiss his cheek. I held on and could feel that he has a semi-hard on.

He directed me into the living room which had a spacious white couch. I asked him for a glass of water and he went away to get it.

He handed me the glass and sat next to me, not very close. "Have you had a good day," I asked.

"Yes, I guess. I was very nervous about this. So I didn't get much work done."

I moved closer to him and try to assure him. "Don't be nervous. Look at me. A little twink. What am I going to do to you? The worst that can happen is that we have a nice conversation." I pulled him closer and kissed him on the cheek again.

"I didn't think you guys kissed."

"We all do different things. If I like someone, I kiss them." I approached him and kissed him on the lips opening his mouth with my prying tongue.

When the embrace broke, and he pulled away, I saw that his eyes were wet with tears "I'm so sorry," he said, pleadingly. "I don't mean to cry. I don't want to be doing this. But it's been so long."

"What don't you want to be doing?"

"Paying for sex."

"You don't. You are a very attractive man. Sexy, fit. Nice house. I imagine a good job."

"I broke up with my lover of eight years a year ago. I just can't put myself out there."

What followed was an hour of not sex, but of psychotherapy, at least I think what I was doing was what psychotherapy was. I cuddled next to him and eventually put his head on my lap as he poured out his sad story to me. When he seemed to be tapped out of sadness, he told me he was tired, so tired.

"Close your eyes, lover." I caressed his nice head of hair and he fell asleep. Yes, he actually fell asleep. If I tried to move to leave I would have awoken him. I didn't know what to do."

#

"So what did you do," Brandon asked. I was back at his place. And like Scott was exhausted. Tell the story was also exhausting.

"I continued to caress his head and then I moved my hands down to his neck and then under his shirt. I lightly touched him all over his chest and lightly played with his nipples. He stayed sleeping, snoring very gently, almost like a cat purring."

"When I got down to his waist I felt he had a slight trail of hair leading down and into his underwear. I love that. I think it's so sexy. It's like a body saying, `heh, handsome follow me down this trail and the adventure will be even better." "And he was still sleeping," Brandon asked.

"Yes. And so I followed the trail. His jeans were very loose and I could gently move my hand down into his underwear. With my other hand, I returned to his nipple. I licked my fingers and massaged his nipples. The front of his underpants were coated in pre cum and he was semi hard. I ran my fingers up and down his cock. I milked the head of his cock which spilled out more pre cum. I used that to play with his nips. He finally stirred and rolled onto his back and I was able to slide out from under him.

"I could leave. I could wake him and ask for my money. Or I could do for him what I was being paid to do. I got on my knees and in front of the couch we were sitting on. I unzipped his jeans and licked the front of his underwear, full of pre cum, getting his dick harder and harder. I freed his cock from the underwear from their slit and licked the pre cum off the head of his cock and then started to suck him. I took it all in my mouth. It was not real big but it was pretty. Not too veiny or hairy. I moved my fingers around him to his ass and played with his crack.

"He started to moan, and move, almost shaking, and he put his hand on my head to control my sucking. I sucked him harder.

"He wasn't jarred or anything. He knew what was going on. I pressed my face against the side of his head and whispered, `Do you want to fuck me?'

"'Would that be OK?"

"That would be more than OK."

"He moved on to the floor and took me by the hand. He pulled down his pants and watched me strip all my clothes off. I was straddling his waist and helped him take his shirt off. I then moved my ass over his face. I didn't want to make him rim me if he didn't want to. But he did. After a few minutes of this, I pulled a rubber from my pocket and put it on him while I kissed him, full tongue, full French.

"I then pushed down on his dick and moved up and down and he was enjoying it so much it looked like he was in pain. We changed position so he could be on top and fucked me pretty hard, while he stroked me. I came. I clenched my hole to give more friction and he yelled as he came."

"So what does all this mean to you? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know that I am cut out for it."

"Are you kidding? Are you fishing for complements, bitch."

"You told me about your sexual experience. And you got me turned on, and I am a whore."

"But I was more a psychologist than a rent boy."

"Being a rent boy means being a psychologist sometimes. That's what separates the great, the good and the mediocre. You left him happy, I assume."

"I think so," I laughed.

We both went to our respective beds. I was stimulated by the day and retelling the story to Brandon and that Brandon was horned up from the story. After I washed up and brushed my teeth, I tiptoed outside his bedroom and heard him moaning. I wish I could have helped him cum, but I knew that would be wrong.

I had a lot to think about and Brandon helped me work through it. I did handle my first real trick pretty well and I liked it. But I needed guidance. Academy Rent Boy was right for me. I resolved to write Ron in the morning,

My cock was hard from the excitement of the day and listening to Brandon jerk off, apparently from my story. When I jerked off, my fantasies went back and forth between Brandon and Scott. I slid a glass dildo into my ass and stroked my dick until I exploded in 5 shots of cum.

Quite a day.

Like it? Hate it? Suggestions? rbrbrb163@verizon.net