CONFESSIONS OF A RURAL STATE WHORE
Author's Note: Special thanks for Gary and Terry for their suggestions and proof-reading. Any inconsistencies, spelling errors, typos, or grammatical mistakes are therefore their fault.
Further note: While I only recently discovered nifty.org, the site has been around and archiving gay stories for more than 30 years. Running a website costs money, and nifty.org does not rely on ad revenue. If you enjoy this or other stories on this site, please consider making a donation of any size at https://donate.nifty.org.
CHAPTER 3
IN THE BEGINNING
It is important to remember that in 1995, AIDS was a deadly epidemic. There was no viable long-term treatment, and an HIV-positive diagnosis was essentially a death sentence. The only treatment readily available was a drug called AZT, which could delay the worst of the symptoms for a while, but the HIV virus that causes AIDS would eventually mutate to make the pill largely ineffective. There was no "positive but undetectable" in those days; there was only "positive and able to pass it on."
HIV was spread primarily in one of two ways: sharing needles and anal or vaginal sex. I was not going to be shooting up drugs, so I was not concerned about the first, and I was not going to be having sex with women. Oral sex was generally safe so long as there were no open sores or ulcers in your mouth (and if you hadn't just brushed your teeth and made your gums bleed). My biggest worry, then, would be butt-sex.
For decades, the only preventative measure that was available to the gay community was using condoms. The Centers for Disease Control preached it religiously. Men would often keep one or two in their wallet at all times, just in case they got lucky. Gay bars like The Underground would have bowls of them on the corners of the bar for patrons to take to protect themselves as well as tiny single-use packets of lube that were about the size of a postage stamp. Television shows would repeat the mantra over and over once or twice a season, "Condoms, condoms, condoms!" An entire generation of gay men would come of age feeling like they were committing a sin if they even considered sex without latex covering their cocks.
I was going to need rubbers, obviously, in order to protect myself from HIV and other sexually-transmitted diseases. No one liked condoms, but they were a necessary evil if you were gay. While a top might be less likely to contract HIV during sex without one than a bottom, I considered myself to be firmly in the "middle" category. I expected to be paid for both fucking and receiving. Besides, if I was going to start renting my body out for sex, it would not be a good business decision to limit myself to only one or the other. The HIV tests themselves, though, took time. There was no such thing as a "rapid test" for HIV then. Testing consisted of making an appointment, going in to have blood drawn, going home and waiting a week or two, then going back into the clinic or doctor's office to get your results. Many men found the wait to be nerve-wracking and tortuous. Since a positive HIV test essentially meant you were going to die, many guys would lose their nerve and not even go back for test results at all.
Regular testing for HIV and any other sexually-transmitted diseases was going to be needed, though, once I started whoring. While HIV could not be effectively treated, many other common STDs were curable. If I were going to rent myself out regularly, it would not do if I became known as "that clapped-out whore" that just passed along a germ that gave my clients burning urination and drippy dicks. If several days of antibiotics and a week off from sex would take care of it, I was willing to make that small sacrifice.
Luckily, there was a free clinic in town. I briefly considered going to my regular doctor, but I knew that he would be way too judgmental about even the idea of having sex partners outside of monogamy, much less the need for regular comprehensive testing for generally treatable diseases. I did not feel that I could trust him with something as socially sensitive Ð and illegal, to be honest Ð as exchanging sex for cash. On top of that, if my doctor performed a test that returned positive, it would mean that I would essentially never be able to get health insurance or life insurance going forward due to a deadly pre-existing condition.
Figuring the folks at the free clinic would be more used to such regular and anonymous testing (and probably more up to date on protocols for timing and such, too), I made an appointment. While the staff there warned me about the potential health risks of becoming as sexually active as I intended, they also did not try to argue me about it. Armed with information and a plan, my first steps down the road had been taken.
I even had my first client lined up. While Jeremy the bartender might have just been saying it to extricate himself after his apology, he had verbally promised to pay me for sex once I sobered up. I was going to hold him to that verbal contract. In fact, I was going to insist on it since it also would lead to other steps of my plan. I started visiting The Underground bar during happy hour, hoping to find Jeremy on a quiet late-afternoon. A few days later on a Thursday, I did. I slid up to the bar while he was finishing up with someone else. He turned to me and nodded in recognition.
"Hey, whorÑ" he caught himself. "Nathan." He picked up a rag to wipe the bar in front of him.
I winked at him. `Hi, Jeremy."
"What'll you have?"
"You."
Jeremy blinked, pausing. "Very funny. What do you want to drink?" He put the rag away.
"I'll take sip of that ass of yours if you'll let me." I licked my lips, staring directly into his face.
Jeremy leaned in, looking sternly at me, and he spoke in a low voice. He was wearing the same muscle shirt from before and a pair of cut-off shorts. "What are you doing? I'm working."
"So am I," I replied pointedly. "You made me a promise, and I intend on collecting."
"What?!" he exclaimed in a whisper.
"Your tip money was on the table," I reminded him. "You took it back until Ð and only until Ð we actually screwed." I reached out a hand and fingered the neck hole of his shirt lightly. "You thought I was too drunk to remember it later, but I did." I extended the finger to barely touch the skin just below his neck with the tip of my index finger. "I'm not too drunk now, am I? Get your tips and we'll take a quickie."
"NathanÑ" he gravely began before he was interrupted by a loud voice.
A squat rotund woman with short hair called from behind Jeremy. "What's going on, Jeremy?" It was the bar owner who sometimes took a shift mixing drinks during less-busy times. "You're on my time, not yours. Pick him up later."
Jeremy rolled his eyes. His boss's chiding seemed to have changed mind for him. He turned around to face her. "I couldn't hear what he wanted so I had to lean in, for Christ's sake. Get off my back already." He turned back to me, speaking in a quiet voice. "Go play pool. I'll bring you a soda in a couple of minutes." He paused dramatically. "And I'll bring my tips."
I grinned widely. We were going to fuck, if only to spite his boss for getting on his back. Jeremy was going to be my first paying customer, just like I had hoped, planned, and expected.
I put a few quarters into the appropriate slots in the pool table to release the balls and started shooting pool by myself, just working to clear the table with the least-warped cue stick that I could find. As I bent over the table to sink the blue-striped 10 ball in the side pocket, I felt another body come up behind me and rub close. "Your drink, sir," I heard a voice say in a half-ironic and half-alluring voice as he set it on a nearby high-topped table. "Or would you like to take this into the back?"
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jeremy looking down at me, admiring my ass. He shifted his eyes pointedly at the door leading to the dance floor and the other bar area. "I told the boss that I would do a quick check to see what bottles we need back there for tomorrow night. If you're quick and quiet, you can come on back with me."
I tossed the cue on the table and followed him to the door to the dance floor area. Jeremy glanced over his shoulder to make sure that his boss was busy before opening it and quickly slipping both of us in. Once we were inside, he slipped his fingers through my belt and pulled me to the empty bar. He swung a section up, ushered me though so that we were both behind the bar, and closed it behind us.
His hand slapped the top of the bar. When he removed it, several folded bills were left behind. "You want to be a hooker?" he said. "Then be one. Earn your money before the boss starts looking for me. What are you going to do for it?"
One of my hands immediately went to the front of his shorts while the other slid under the denim waist of the cut-offs from the back. My middle finger traced the skin between his cheeks, searching for the hole, while my other hand began kneading his crotch through the cutoffs. Jeremy's eyes bulged a little, as if he thought he had been calling a bluff and didn't think I would go through with it.
"What's your pleasure?" I asked, feeling him stiffen as I rubbed the front of his cut-offs. As the finger behind him curved and found his sweet spot, he arched his back into me reflexively. His body language told me that he was used to being a bottom.
I removed both hands from Jeremy and sank to my knees, looking up into his eyes as I lowered myself. Jeremy stared at me in amazement and shock. His mouth worked, but no words came out. I smiled as my hands ripped open the buttons in the fly of his shorts. Moving my hands to the side of the skimpy clothing, I yanked them down quickly, taking both the shorts and his underwear down over his skinny legs to the floor in a single movement. Taking one his calves in hand, I lifted his foot to free. His cut-offs now pooled around one foot while the other spread a little wider.
"Oh, shit," he said nervously, as I saw his semi-rigid cock pulse. I looked up at his face again and saw that Jeremy was looking at the door into the main bar area. I stuck out my tongue and slid it underneath his stiffening dick as I enveloped it in my mouth.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck," Jeremy breathed, turning his face to look down at me. Our eyes met as I pulled my head back, sucking hard enough to cave my cheeks in. I felt his member thicken in my mouth as it became stiff. He wasn't hugely hung, but it was still a good mouthful with a nice mushroom head. I continued looking up at his face as I drove my mouth slowly forward again, continuing to suck until he could get completely hard. My right hand reached behind his tight ball sack to finger the outside of his hole again.
Jeremy bent forward, reaching across the top of the bar for a nearby bowl of condoms and lube. His hand flailed a bit, fumbling as I continued to draw back and forth on his now completely erect cock. My spit started dribbling down his balls as my lips formed a tight seal around his rod, pushing toward his body as I sucked deeply. I moaned in appreciation.
Jeremy straightened after finding what he had been looking for. He twisted the top off of one of the tiny containers of lube and reached behind himself. I felt a blob of slick wet fluid touch the finger that had been fondling his hole. Reaching up, I took what had been offered and massaged that across his opening, sliding a finger in to make him ready on the inside, too. The distinct smell of the lubricant filled my nostrils as I breathed while continuing to slide my face over Jeremy's rod.
"Jesus," Jeremy moaned, bucking into my hand while I continued to blow him. "If we're going to do this, let's do this." He took a step back, pulling out of my mouth. My finger popped out of him. I looked up and he was holding a condom in front of my face.
I took the foil packet in my un-lubed hand and placed the corner of the foil packed between my teeth. I pulled, exposing the round, rolled-up piece of latex while my slicker hand worked to release my cock from my clothes. The rubber was moist from the spermicide used during packaging. I gave it a cursory look to see which way it was rolled before squeezing the tip and putting it against the head of my dick. With my lubed hand, I rolled it over the head and shaft of my cock, which was bobbing in anticipation. I stood, ready to enter Jeremy's back door.
As I was doing this, Jeremy had turned around and lifted one sneakered foot to rest it on a metal railing just below bar level. He arced his back and flexed his hole at me in the dim light. "Let's do this quick before anyone comes looking for me. Get in there!" he insisted.
"The customer is always right," I said under my breath as I stepped into position behind him. His sphincter had not felt particularly tight around my exploring finger, so I thought there should be no problem going in. As soon as he felt me, he took a hand and guided my cock to his well-used hole.
"You ready?" I asked, placing my hands on his slender hips.
"You have no idea," he replied as he pushed back against me. He opened around the tip of my dick, sliding almost half of the head into himself.
Silently, I held his hips firmly as I stepped into his ass, pushing steadily. He did not cry out, but he did sigh contentedly as I slid in and found that special place inside him. Jeremy was obviously an experienced Ð and frequent Ð bottom. His asshole seemed to come pre-stretched. He held there for a minute, pushing back against me as hard as he could to keep me as deeply inside as I could push.
"We only have a couple of minutes," he breathed over his shoulder. "Make them count."
I did not say a word, but instead pulled my hips back and then pushed forward swiftly. He let out a little grunt as I hit is prostate again. He steadied himself with one hand against the bar while he reached with his other to start working on his cock, pre-lubricated with my spit.
Jeremy began bucking against me, setting a fast pace. He was only looking for a quickie, and I was going to do my best to satisfy that need. I hooked my hands more firmly around his hips and I began to pound in earnest. Jeremy grunted appreciatively as his hand struggled to match my motions. He didn't want to ease into it, and I could accommodate that.
My cock disappeared onto him again and again, working at a near-frenzied pace. Jeremy started to lean upward, pulling his hips forward a bit. I tightened my grip on him and continued to pound, pulling him into me with near-violent force. The slaps of my groin against his ass almost sounded like a person applauding, as if someone else was appreciating the job I was doing on Jeremy's sphincter.
Jeremy let out a long moan as he exhaled, and it was punctuated repeatedly with my every thrust. I could feel his body start to tighten beneath my hands, and I picked up my pace. Jeremy was going to get off soon, and I was going to do my damnedest to make sure I did, too.
Jeremy's foot slipped slightly, and he pushed deeply against me, impaling himself on my cock. He flexed his hole around me several times. It felt like he was trying to jerk me off with his asshole, and it worked. His sixth squeeze was forced open by the first full jet of my sperm filling the condom. I released five strong pulses followed by several weaker ones as I gasped for breath.
"Did you justÑ" he began to ask, panting, but the first jet of white seed erupting from his own dick interrupted him. He leaned back against me, writhing as he finished himself off, bucking his hips against my groin with each spasm.
As we both struggled to catch our breath, I backed out of his ass while my dick was still stiff. One of the cardinal rules about fucking with condoms was "pull out right after you get off." No matter how much you might want to share the moment, such afterglow was not allowed because you did not want any of your fluids to leak out around a softening cock because that dramatically raised the risk of HIV being transmitted. It made sex somewhat less enjoyable and more clinical, but those were the rules of the time.
I bent down to kiss Jeremy's back through his muscle shirt after I pulled out. My client had gotten off, and so had I. Mission accomplished.
Jeremy turned around to face me. He reached down to remove the spent condom from me. "You're still hard," he remarked in a surprised voice. "I mean, you're not getting soft at all." He then looked down at his softening prick, with a drop of cum still dangling from the head.
"It takes a couple of times for me, usually," I said. "I've worn out more than a few bottoms because they could only get off once." I paused, thinking. "Tops, too." I grabbed a rag that looked clean and wiped the tacky lube off of my groin before I zipped and buttoned up.
"Nice," Jeremy said appreciatively. He tied a knot in the top of the condom before tossing it into a nearby trash can. "If you are really going through with this whoring thing, that'll be a good surprise for your clients." Jeremy threaded his free foot Ð still with the shoe on it Ð through the leg of his cut-offs and pulled them up. He began to button the fly.
"Too bad you don't have the time to experience the rest of it," I teased. "And too bad you still haven't done your inventory check."
"Fuck that," Jeremy said. He glanced at the stock below the bar, and I put my hand over the money he had left, claiming it as mine. His eyes scanned briefly the bottles as I slipped the bills into my back pocket. "Nothing unusual. We always need several bottles of the cheap vodka, tequila, and gin. I'll make the rest of it up."
Jeremy stood and turned to face me. Stepping in, he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. "That was pretty damned fun for a fast fuck," he murmured to me.
"I hope I provided good customer service," I said, grinning. I slid my hand covering the money across the bar to me. I picked it up, looking only to see if I had collected it all, and slipped it into the back pocket of my trousers, not bothering to count it.
"Honey," he replied, "I might have to see about being a repeat customer one of these days when I have more time."
"You might need more money, too," I joked. "I doubt that a Thursday afternoon's worth of tips would be a good rate for me to set."
Jeremy chuckled. He reached out for a pad and a pencil. "Give me your number," he said. "Maybe we can figure something out. Kind of a `I scratch your back and you scratch mine' deal."
"All right," I responded, reciting my telephone number. In the mid-90s, cellular telephones were still a rarity, so my land line was all I had.
Jeremy and I walked back to the door leading to the main section of the bar. Before opening it, he leaned in and gave me a quick peck on the lips. "Wait a second before you go out," he said in a low voice. "I need to make sure the boss isn't looking." He carefully opened the door, checking. Seeing no one, he motioned me to follow him out.
I slid through quietly and moved back to the pool table and my soda, which still had ice in it. While we had both fucked and bust our nuts, we were not gone long enough for the ice to melt or for anyone to claim the pool table. So far as anyone in the bar was concerned, I either hadn't left or had just made a quick trip to the rest room. I picked up the pool cue to finish clearing the balls off of the table as Jeremy took his position behind the bar again, scratching a few notes on a piece of paper for his boss.
I finished sinking the balls in the pockets, and then I took the soda and drained it. I fully expected Jeremy to call me soon, and we would arrange for him to pass the word around (like he had inadvertently done with George several weeks before) that I was available for a price. He would probably expect a few fucks or something Ð either at a steep discount or free, that would need to be discussed. I was open to negotiation, though.
I reached into my back pocket to fish out the money I had collected. I quickly counted it out. $38 was probably not bad for 5 minutes worth of work if you figured that on a "per hour" basis, but I would need to make more than that if I was going to be serious about turning tricks.
Still, it was early for me to be worried about that. Once I became a little more established, I could probably throw out two or more fucks per night and make a lot more money. I sauntered towards the exit, waving and winking at Jeremy, who had a big smile on his face. He served two patrons as he called out, "See you later, whore."
As I approached the people he had just served on my way to the exit, one turned to the other. "Did you smell Astroglide?" he asked in a quiet voice.
I grinned to myself. He probably did. I didn't notice Jeremy cleaning the lube off his butt after I got through fucking him.
Thinking about what happened behind the "back bar," I began to chuckle as I made my way to my car. That open condom wrapper and little lube packet was probably still on the floor behind the bar somewhere. Only the rubber went into the trash so far as I knew. I hoped Jeremy didn't get in too much trouble when those were found. Laughing, I turned on the ignition and drove home, having officially began my life as a male prostitute.