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 9
THE LAST HOORAH
Thursday evening rolled around, and I showed up at a house just outside of Bridgeport, Connecticut, at the designated time. I didn't have particularly high hopes, but if this was the only real chance I had of getting the money I was owed from the debacle that was the party earlier in the week. If nothing else, it would give me a chance to thank the bartender that had helped care for me in its aftermath.
I still seethed when I thought about how I had been treated at the party a few days before. Even after more than a decade of being a whore, that was the only time I had really been violated against my will. True, I had needed to fend off sleazeballs before, and I'd cut engagements off early because they were straying from the agreed-upon terms. That was the first Ð- and only Ð- time that gang rape had been a realistic prospect. I still felt that things would have turned out very badly for me if not for Charlie the caterer and Daniel the bartender stepping in to help me.
As I rang the door chime at the modest home, I made up my mind that I would return the $100 bill with the address written on it that Daniel had given to me that night. He had acted in my best interests, and it would not have been fair to him if he lost some of his income for that evening. He hadn't been a part of the assault in my person, and he had helped remove me from danger and clean my (admittedly minor) wounds. I fingered the $100 bill with his address in my pocket, fully expecting to return it with my gratitude.
The door opened, and Daniel, the handsome bartender from a few nights earlier, stood before me in a plush bathrobe and slippers. He grinned. "I hoped it was you," he said congenially. "Come in."
I stepped inside, noting that the house was tastefully, if minimally, decorated. There were few pictures on the walls, but everything was spotlessly clean. He walked over to a small side table in the hallway, motioning me to follow him. He picked up an envelope and offered it to me.
"This is what we were able to get for you," he said simply. "This should cover your fee for the night, with a bit extra." He looked into my face, no longer smiling. "That should never have happened to you. It shouldn't happen to anyone."
"I've been meaning to thank you," I said, not reaching for the envelope. "You two probably saved me from a pretty terrible time. If you guys hadn't shown up--"
"That's bullshit," Daniel said. "You looked like you could defend yourself from what I saw when I got there. You were about to kick some old-man ass all over that room, and they would have deserved it."
Under other circumstances, I might have grinned at the sentiment, but the memory was still too fresh in my mind. "I don't know," I said, my voice beginning to tremble a little. "There were so manyÑ"
My voice was cut off by an unexpected hug. My face was suddenly enveloped by the shoulder of the fluffy robe as he took me into his arms and pulled me in tight. I did not cry, but I did return his comforting embrace. One of his hands reached up to stroke the back of my head soothingly. He nestled his head on my shoulder, turning it slightly so that I could feel his warm breath on my neck.
"It's O.K.," he reassured. "I know that couldn't have been easy for you. I'm glad I could have helped, but I wish I had been there sooner." He pushed his head forward slightly and gave me a light but unhurried kiss on my neck.
At another time and in another place, I would have taken that kiss as an invitation to something more, but that was not the reason why I was there that night. I was not "on the clock" anymore and did not want to overstep any bounds with one of the men who had come to my rescue only a few days later. Still, I tilted my head slightly to give him better access if he wished to proceed.
Instead, he straightened up, still holding me. "There's better than $1,500 in this envelope," he said. "We Ð Charlie and I, that is -- took up a collection from those old fucks that tried to molest you after you left. We took a small cut of it for our silence, but you earned everything in there. That's all for you."
I pulled back, shocked. "That's a lot more than I was supposed to get," I said. "I was only expecting the $550 I had negotiÑ" Something occurred to me. "Wait a second. Did you guys blackmail those fuckers?"
He smirked slightly. "Blackmail is such a dirty word, isn't it?"
A smile tried to force its way onto my face. "Nothing less than they deserved," I conceded. "But I can't take all of that."
"Yes, you can. Consider it payment for services rendered above and beyond the call of duty."
My shoulders slumped slightly. "I was just a whore paid to serve food and drinks in a jockstrap," I reminded him.
"And you said you were giving that up, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then consider it severance pay."
I shook my head. I liked the clever response, but a bit of cash wasn't going to fix what had happened to me or make me feel better.
He paused thoughtfully. "If you were still going to sell your body, would you take it?"
I hesitated. "Maybe," I acknowledged. "I took money for a lot of things over the years, not just for sex."
"Look at it this way, then," he said, releasing me from the hug. His hands dropped to the cord holding his robe together. "I've seen you naked, or mostly naked, anyway. You've got a great attitude and a nice body, and if I saw you out at a bar I'd probably try to pick you up." He tapped the envelope filled with money on the end table. "Can you make me your last job? Fuck around with me, take the money, and call it even?"
I took a moment to consider. This man was obviously desirable, and he thought I was, also. Unless I made a break for the door, he was going to keep insisting that I take the money that had been collected, and that amount of cash was always nice to have around. Did I want to end my career as a prostitute having one last wild time with a sexy man, or did I want that part of my life ending with my jockstrap being ripped off of me by more than a dozen horny, drunken men in their 60s and 70s?
"You're serious?" I asked.
"As a heart attack."
I knew that I shouldn't. If I was ending that part of my life, then I should end it and be done. My hesitation was being taken as acquiescence, though, and he was slightly pulling at the knot holding his robe together. I could see a bare leg, his hairy chest, and those gorgeous green eyes.
In the end, it was really no contest. Hormones and "whore moans" are homophones for a reason. The former was about to elicit the latter from me for one more time.
I reached for the envelope and took it. As I slid it into the inside pocket of my jacket, I said, "You don't have to do this, you know. I mean, if you're serious, then I'm going to take you up on it because you're sexy as fuck, but it's really notÑ"
My speech was interrupted by Daniel's tongue entering my mouth. He gave a final twitch to his robe, and it opened as he stepped into me and pulled me into a passionate kiss. His body pressed against my clothing as I reached under his robe and around to his bare back with my hands. I felt his impressively large and stiffening cock press against my leg as I kneaded his back. Our mouths slid across each other's lips and tongues, and our breathing began to come heavier.
After a few moments, he pulled back, panting. He turned from me, sliding his robe off of his shoulders and onto the floor. A pair of lightly furred and taught buttocks faced me as he began walking away. "The bedroom is this way, and you're wearing too many clothes."
Taking the hint, I began unpeeling my clothes from my body as I followed him. My jacket ended up on a chair. One shoe was kicked off in the hallway and other in the kitchen. My shirt ended up on the door handle to his bedroom. When I entered the room, I was stripped to the waist.
My host had made it into the bedroom several seconds ahead of me. He had climbed onto the bed and taken position on his knees, with his shoulders on the mattress. His legs were splayed, and that beautiful ass was pointed directly in my direction. His feet dangled over the edge of the mattress, with the soles greeting me.
I hurriedly removed the rest of my clothing, staring and admiring the orbs of beauty that were being shaken ever so slightly at me as a temptation. I fell into that temptation face first as I began to hungrily gorge myself on his hole. There was no subtlety or foreplay with my tongue; my desire was so strong that I began lapping and tasting his depth as quickly as I could.
A long moan erupted from the bartender the instant he felt my warmth on his skin. He hunched back into my face as I continued to lick. His hole almost had a sweetness to it, and I could have happily buried my face in there for hours at a time. His ass literally made me drool, and spit began to coat my chin and the back of his ball sack as I generously lubricated his hole with my saliva. I used one hand to pull back one of his cheeks while my other hand reached down to my cock.
He felt what I was doing and reached back with his own hands to spread himself open as far as he could. His ass was slight and muscular, but every little motion seemed to let my tongue probe deeper into his insides. Hungry growls escaped my throat as I tongue-fucked his hole. Now that he was spreading himself, I reached underneath him to feel his impressively large cock.
He was already dripping precum, even though I hadn't spent much time working his ass over with my mouth, yet. As I slipped my hand around the head and massaged it with the natural lubricant, he gave a needy whine. Once I could feel my fingers were completely slick with his juices, I switched hands, using his precum to lubricate my own dick as I continued to masturbate myself. The hand that had been on my cock continued to massage and milk more and more precum out.
"My God," he panted, grinding his ass against my face. "I haven't had my ass eaten like this in years. Guys around here don't want to do it." I couldn't understand that, as rimming was one of my favorite sexual activities. This ass was spectacular on both taste and touch. I should have been eaten lovingly, frantically, and often.
For a solid half-hour, I made my face at home between his cheeks. The muscles of my jaws and tongue were beginning to tire and ache, but I was reluctant to give up this glorious bounty. My entire face was now covered in his assy musk and my slobber, and there was a wet spot on the blankets of the bed where my drool had dripped down onto it. That night, I had been a messy eater, but a happy one.
Eventually, panting heavily, Daniel shifted position and rolled onto on his back, with his huge cock slapping against his belly. His long, thick dick was shiny from the precum I had been massaging into it with alternating hands. He lifted his legs, pulling them with his hands on the soles of his feet, and pointed his asshole up at the ceiling. "I need you," he said breathlessly, "to get inside of me and fuck me. My ass is just as hungry as your mouth was."
Big-dicked bottoms were a rare treat in my experience, and I was with one that night. A little voice in my head howled in joy.
I fumbled for a few moments to find my jeans. I had learned to have a few condoms with me at all times. One never knew when a client would present themselves without much time to spare. Pulling one out of the pocket, I tore open the package and rolled it over my dick, which still was slick from my final client's precum that I had been using to masturbate myself. Fully sheathed, I mounted the wet hole that was being offered to me.
"Christ!" he exclaimed as I pushed into him. He let go of his feet so that his legs were braced on my shoulders. Using his now-free hands, he grabbed my butt and pulled me into him. "Keep that thing inside of me for a minute. Let me enjoy this."
"The customer is always right," I said. I reached my own arms under his and wrapped my hands around the top of his shoulders. I continued to push my way in deeper as I rolled him up into a little ball underneath me. Our faces met, and he leaned his head forward to kiss me. The taste of his ass was still strong as he eagerly licked at the inside of my mouth.
After a few minutes, his hands relaxed a little on my buttocks and moved to the sides of my hips. Without saying a word (since our mouths were too involved in kissing each other), he began to guide me by pushing my hips back from him and then pulling me back in. We set a rhythm, and we both began moaning as our breathing came harder and faster.
In and out, back and forth, thrust after thrust pushed against his insides. His body began to relax, and his legs fell from my shoulders. I pushed myself up with my arms and looked down at his face. His eyes were closed, and he winced in pleasure each time I pushed in. Both of our chests were slathered in his precum, which continued to leak from his prodigious cock. I repositioned myself slightly so that my arms were free, and I reached down to slide my hand on his dick.
"Don't jerk me!" he exclaimed. Apparently, he wanted to focus on the pleasure in his ass more than having me pleasure his dick.
However, his dick was long. Bending over him with my cock planted firmly inside his butt, I extended my tongue and licked the salty tip. A tremulous gasp escaped his throat. Bending further, I took the head of his dick into my mouth, and a loud whining groan erupted from him as he writhed against me on the bed.
He put both hands on my head and grabbed two fistfuls of hair. I expected him to pull my mouth off of him, but he instead held my head as still as he could. My final client then started carefully thrusting his hips, simultaneously fucking my face and also fucking himself with my dick. While my back muscles would not be thankful to me if we kept this up for long, it was worth the anticipated discomfort for this experience.
It did not take long for his thrusting to begin to take on more urgency. Apparently, he would get off quickly if you gave his dick too much attention, and that's what it was getting as it pushed into the back of my mouth. "Oh fuck. Fuck me. Fuck." He kept repeating the same sentiment over and over as he simultaneously rode both my cock and my face.
Suddenly, the hands gripping my hair forced my head even further down as he ground his hips against mine, pushing his ass as far down my cock as he could get it. At the same time, my head was being pulled uncomfortably lower into position with the top half of his dick between my lips and laying across my tongue. He shuddered for a frenzied moment and gave out a yell.
I felt the first shot of his jizz land comfortably along the back of my tongue as he began flooding my mouth. His asshole flexed against my cock, pulling me along into his orgasm, and I began to silently fill the condom with my own sperm. We held in our ecstasy as I swallowed every drop of the load pouring out of that enormous cock.
With a final gasp, my head was released, and I straightened up, licking my lips. I pulled out of him and lay on the bed next to him, breathing heavily. No sooner had my back hit the mattress than my client was sitting up and removing the condom from my still-erect dick. As it came off in his hand, he put the open end in his mouth and began to suck on it while wringing it from the reservoir tip to his lips. He gave two big swallows, grinned, and sighed before he lay back on the bed again.
As I lay there in afterglow, I heard his breathing become slow and regular. Looking over, I saw that he had already fallen asleep. That was good enough a signal for me to make an exit.
I got off the bed, jostling it as little as possible and began to collect my clothes. As I neared the front door, I dressed. As I put my jacket on, I felt the envelope with the blackmail money in it. I hesitated, but left it where it was. Closing the door quietly, I went back to my car, got in, and drove back to my hotel.
After I finished my "day job" work the next day, I drove home to Maine. Over that weekend, I began calling and dropping in on all of the people who had been referring clients to me over the years. I thanked them for their help and informed them that I would no longer available in that way. My time as a male prostitute had drawn to a close. I had enjoyed the work, but the time had come to give it up.
Over the dozen years when I rented my body for others to enjoy, there had been a few adventures, some spectacular sex, a good amount of fun, and a reasonable amount of money made. I had avoided HIV, and the only physical problems and ailments I had encountered had been easily cured with a course of antibiotics. I had even avoided dangerous situations until the very end.
It was not a life or lifestyle that would suit everyone, and not everyone could do it well. I was good at my job, though, and it was one that I enjoyed for many years. While my career may have been bookended by unfortunate events, I have no regrets about my time as a rural state whore.