++++The title is enough to make this story off limits to kids under 18. Please do not hang out here. Others are as welcome as a good suck.
Name is George Winter. I'm attending Ramapo College of New Jersey, a public college that offers top-notch courses at fair prices. I work my way through with a job as a bar tender in New York City. I just make the requirement of the law having turned twenty-one last month.
The bar I work at is in the 60's off Park Avenue. We get a clientele of older, wealthy guys, plus some younger guys who aspire to be CEOs of large corporations. The tips are great, but the best thing about this job is the attention I get. I'm slightly bi, and that part of me purrs at male admiration. I know that the straight guys are taken with me too. Naturally the older bi guys as well.. The other tender is an old fellow, Tom, who has been behind this bar for twenty-four years. He's a little miffed at my tips, but they go into the same jar, and we split, so I don't understand his beef.
Why all this attention? It isn't right for a man to describe himself in a too complimentary way, so I'll let you hear about it from Robert Wellesley when he shows up in this story.
Wellesley is an English bloke. As the joke goes, if he were any more English, he couldn't talk at all. Hah, not so funny, huh?
Wellesley, "Call me Robert," he says, has some sort of a club nearby. He stops into the bar every night at six o'clock for a Martini. I make it just the way he likes it, adding two drips of onion juice. He's a plump fellow, short, with a Toby Mug face, you know, pug nose, florid coloring and very smiley. He has taken a shine to me as evidenced by the outrageous tips he gives me.
After working here for two months, I know he is a regular and I have his favorite drink in the stirring glass as he nears the bar. "Good Chap. I am about to expire and this drink will bring me back to life like a vampire. I don't suck blood however." He winked. And for the first time I realized that Robert was a gay, but a dignified one. He has never come on to me, not even shook my hand, but his eyes sort of devour me. Sometimes I get a little uncomfortable.
Last evening things changed. First off Mr. Britannica waved his usual rules (funny huh?). Instead of stopping with one drink as he always did, tonight he beckoned me, "Mi Lad, set me up another one, a double this time."
I quickly mixed the potent drink and put two cocktails in front of him. The first, really his second, he drank down as if he was thirsty, and the second one he asked that I move it to the end of the bar. "Can you take a five minute break, I have something to tell you about, something that can make you quite well off."
Was I suspicious? Fuck yes. I figured it was the old toff trying to book the attentions of a young guy, the oldest story in the world. But as he talked, he presented a very different option of employment for me.
"George, this is no time for false modesty. Do you have any idea of how attractive you are?"
"I don't think it's manly to talk about that, even to think about it."
"Sure, sure laddie, but let me tell you. You're six feet of lithe, long muscle grace. I see the way to handle your body when you scurry about back there, and juggle glasses, even bottles. Your skin is the finest I have ever seen. I see you are not hairy. In fact, you are just the type of boy we are looking for."
"We?"
"The organisation I represent."
"And that is, Street Hustlers Anonymous, right?"
He laughed so long I began to get worried. He coughed and gagged. Finally he stopped and wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "Oh my friend, you really have us wrong, but you are in the right book, but the wrong page. Yes we do run a sex business I suppose, but it is like nothing else you have imagined. If you decide to join us, you might earn between $150M and $200M" per year."
It was my turn to cough and sputter. If I was anything, I was mendacious. That means I want money. I was sick of dorm living, of public transportation, meager meals and crappy cheap clothes. Providing this club was legal, I was avidly interested.
Robert could see the play of emotions on my face and when they came to rest, and I looked interested, he spoke in a soothing voice. "Dear Boy, I'll give you the address, it is in a high rise office building, better for keeping visitors identify secret. If you come, say tomorrow evening at 7PM, I will give you a tour."
He handed me a pink card. It just said "The Club" and gave an address in the west 50s, and in small type, "take the penthouse elevator."
He left after giving me a limp handshake and a shoulder grab, not limply. I went back to the bar. My partner Tom glared me and said, "Time for my break."
The evening was busy, but typical of the men who frequented this bar, they began to leave about ten PM. Only a few drinkers remained. I told Tom to go along home, that I could finish up for him. "I'm off tomorrow you know. Can you hack it?" He laughed and said he got along okay before I came on the ship.
As I cleaned up, after the last patron left, I thought of that strange conversation with the Brit. I had nothing to lose. Surely they wouldn't drug me and put me on a ship to China.
That night I dreamt of extra Terrestrials having their way with me and woke up to a soaked crotch. Geez, I hadn't had a wet dream since I was a teen. I took my bicycle off the hooks on the wall of the dorm and decided to pedal into New York City, bang around museums, treat myself to a nice meal and make the appointment at seven.
I forgot what a long trip by bike it was, but I made it okay. I headed to the park and sat on a bench. An hour must have passed as I fell asleep in the warm early spring air. I looked at my watch, it was already five thirty, I better eat and get up to the Club. After eating I biked up a few blocks to the high-rise building. In a corner of the lobby I saw the sign for the elevator to the penthouse. "Hey young fellow, you can't bring that bicycle onto the elevator. Do you have an appointment, the elevator is locked?"
I showed the old guy the card. He immediately softened. I bet they tip the life out of him. He checked and nodded that I was expected. Then he summoned the young bellboy to operate the elevator. I realized that I was breathing hard. I guess I was nervous. The bellboy, dressed in an old fashioned uniform (why in an office building? I will find out later.) The uniform accentuated his perky backside, especially the way the waist was high. I checked him out, short, but cute, and cute also was his face. If he were a girl, you'd say gamine. I realized that I was getting into a gay mode, because of the appointment in the penthouse that was fast approaching. This was one of those speedy elevators and my stomach caught up with my body as the floor was reached. As I exited the elevator, the kid called after me. "Have fun. I worked there for a time. We'll have to meet and compare notes."
Before I could reply, the door closed and he was gone. But like life, doors close and other doors open, this door was a heavy oak door held by a giant of a man. He looked like an ex wrestler, battered features and all. I guessed him to have been retired a long time. He was about sixty.
"Come in please. Mr. Wellesley is in the study."
He walked me briskly through the black marble foyer, our shoes clicking all the way. This place would defeat a cat burglar. The wrestler opened the door. There was Mr. Wellesley, "call me Robert" attired in a blue silk dressing gown. For a minute my mind raced to the thought that he wanted me for sex with himself. But no, he rose, carrying a snifter of brandy and holding a large cigar. "So glad you decided to come after all. I don't think you will be disappointed with the remuneration nor the, shall we say satisfaction." He chuckled wetly. "Now please sit down and I'll give you a quick review of the services we offer our clientele. Then I'll take you to see the "consultation" rooms."
This was fascinating and I was all-agog. I sat down and he continued. "The world is full of distinguished, even famous gentlemen who wish to satisfy their lusts, but they want no entangling relationships. For example, some are, excuse the expression, cum addicts. Others are lickers of arses or feet. There are other interests, but those are the main ones. What we do is provide rooms where the object's face and body is hided, except for the part they desire. The object person never sees the client and vice versa, of course."
I must have had a stupid look on my face, because he continued, "Each "treatment" you provide, you are paid $1500 dollars. So you see, depending on your schedule here, you can easily reach the annual income I described at the bar."
I asked a few questions, but he got up suddenly. "Better you see a "consultation" room. Back over that noisy marble hall and down a long carpeted corridor and into a room marked "Studio 3". Inside the room was softly lit. There were two objects in the room, a table, much like a massage table, except it was covered with padded leather. He showed me the hole. "You would lie here on your front and allow your penis and testicles to be settled in though the hole."
"Sort of a glory hole." I wasn't very experienced, but I knew about them, shit I've been sucked off in them. Why my false modesty before you, the reader.
"Yes sort of, but this is a more intense experience for our gentlemen. He lies under the table on a rolling cart."
"Like an auto mechanic."
He frowns at me. He was a serious guy and didn't like my wise cracks. I stifled my levity for the rest of the interview.
Next he showed me the "Wall". The wall had a larger opening. "One puts one's arse into this opening. This is for the arse lickers."
Toward the bottom were smaller holes at about two feet from the floor. "I see," I said, I could sit on a chair and extend my feet into these holes."
"Capital! You've got it perfectly, and I note you used the personal pronoun, so I suppose you are seriously considering joining our club."
"Yeah, I'll give it a try. Should I start tonight."?
He thought for a moment, "Yes, we can fit your in, of course I may have to displace another service person. Yes, righto. Now to the baths."
"What?"
"Oh yes, you must be odorless and germfree, we require that unless a client wants dirty feet and unclean anis. That might occur, but we have special boys for that. Come alone."
He brought me into a tiled room, nicely warm. There were tiled benches about and showers, the kind with six spigots. "Remove your clothes and stow them in a locker. They are perfectly safe. I stripped. Frankly I was proud of my body. It was hairless, with no pimples or marks of any kind. I allowed my five inch flaccid penis to sway as I walked to a shower."
Robert fanned himself. "Oh dear. I wish I were a client rather than the ringmaster of this establishment. Your beauty makes me almost faint. I think I better leave. Towels are stacked here. Wrap yourself in one of the terry robes and return to the Room Three. Put on the earphones and you will get further I instructions."
I stepped into the room, removed the robe, put on the earphones. Robert's voice came through. The sound was flat like he was right inside his ear. "What type of music do you prefer? We recommend music to distract you from any sounds that might distress you. Contemporary, classical, hah, bossa nova."
"Easy listening. Music to suck by," somehow my voice was picked up by some mic someplace. I settled down on the cushion. I put my stuff lined up with the hole. I was not hard. Some heater inside warmed the pad. The music began. I felt like my consciousness was drifting. There was the faint sound over the music of a panel opening below my line of sight. I was surprised that my cock began to harden. It began to descend into darkness below. my balls were rolling. Suddenly, I felt a hand gently touch my prick. I felt like a cow being milked as the hand tugged smoothly and stroked. I heard myself gasping with the sensation.
Now the hand was withdrawn. Then a warm, wet mouth slipped like a wet glove over my cock. A tongue began to lick the head, My foreskin began moving away as my prick lengthened and seemed to reach out toward the exquisite source of stimulation. I was moaning softly, almost plaintively. I knew that I was no where near climaxing; rather on a plateau, the pleasure swirling around my cock. Then I opened my eyes that had been tightly shut. The beginnings of an orgasm were upon me. It started in my thighs. They buzzed. Then my ball sac felt tender and it thickened and raised up to surround the base of my cock, one on each side. My whole prick was tender and feverish. Then my ass clenched, followed by it rising slightly and then returning to the hot mouth. Soon I was fucking the hole, trying to bring on relief in the form of a cum.
The voice in the earphones was soothing. It was Robert. "You're doing very well honey. Your sucker is a very famous movie star. Sorry I can't tell you who. But he is one of the handsomest men in America. He is out of his mind with pleasure that you are giving him with your perfect cock. Now boy, stop holding back. This isn't some girl you have to wait for her to orgasm. NOW, do it, Georgie porgy."
With a sob, I allowed my body to fall into a mighty throbbing shooting of sperm. I couldn't see it, but the pulsations were more than I ever remembered. As I began to return to normal, I realized that the warm mouth was gently staying in place and not moving, but I had had enough, I rose slightly and heard a plop as my cock slipped out.
I heard panel open and then close. I got up and put on my robe and sat on the edge of the table. In about five minutes Robert entered.
"Well we have a star. I never heard such raves. He wants to book you every night while he is in New York, but I told him, two days from today, that you only do this practically. Actually, I wanted him to get him pining for you and all excited in anticipation."
"What now?" I asked.
"Well you ought to take another shower. You can pick up your fee in cash as you leave, or...."
"Yeah?"
"You can take on another customer who is a foot man. This will give your prong a rest."
"Sure. I'll wash the garbage and get my feet ready to toe tap."
When I got back to the "Passion Room" someone had moved the "patient" table to that when I stretched out, my feet were just at the openings in the leather-padded walls.
I kept his robe on, after all my feet were bare and that were the objects of someone's affection. I pushed my toesies through and relaxed. Somehow I felt very vulnerable, even in danger. Of what? Who knows? These customers are weirdoes, no? My toes curled in protection, but then a soothing, smooth, warm hand grasped each foot. My feet were the subject of blissful and loving stroking. I almost fell asleep from the lassitude those hands produced. But then my right big toe became the recipient warm sucking lips. The tongue swirled around my toe, slipping into the crack between toes, finally moving on to ministrate to the jealous other toes, then on to the other foot, continuing to caress the foot not being licked.
The unseen mouth and hands moved to a new level as they caused me to jump in a moment of ticklishness. A wide tongue bathed the bottom of my feet, back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm, I felt sure the person was masturbating as the wall was vibrating slightly. Suddenly all stimulation was withdrawn. I lay there....nothing. I said to my feet as I withdrew them: "Tonto, our work is done here."
Robert appeared, bubbling with excitement. "By George, you have really done it. Mr. X was so overcome by your appendages and we found him in a dead faint. Cheers to you. Now let's get your feet washed and you may dress and stop for your cash, now $3000. Unless....."
"Unless what?"
"Well it's only 9:30. Would you like to go for one more customer."?
"Sure, but will they hate me in the morning."
"Oh, you are droll."
Back at the old shop, totally nude, standing against the other wall, my ass pressed into an opening that accommodated it perfectly, though I had not had a fitting. This particular operation seemed unlikely to be exciting for me, nothing compared to the suck off earlier. But as my ass stuck through, I felt a breeze, as a door must have opened in the adjourning cubical. Through the earphones I heard Robert say, "Good Lord, you the most desirable arse in the Western Hemisphere. Those side dimples, oh my, and that center of bliss, hairless except for a tender ring of light brown hair. I am almost overcome, but now I must slip away, your distinguished personage, titled too has rapped on the door."
Nothing happened for a few moments. He must have been enjoying the sight of my hinny, hung like a painting seen on the other side. Without any volition on my part, my ass hole was sucking air. I guess I was getting into the mood. Suddenly hands began to stroke my pear halves. It was very soothing and friendly. I almost purred with pleasure, but those hands were merely verifying the project. Next a saucy finger stroked between, up and down my ass crack. Now that we really nice and I began breathing nosily. Was I an "ass man" and didn't know it. I thought it was an efficient part of my body, excellent for sitting down on. But now, it had awakened from over twenty years of sleep to become a passionate participant.
Oh geez, his tongue that must have been six inches wide and ten inches long replaced his finger. It swept up and down my ass crack, stopping occasionally to pay special attention to the anis. I was trembling with the sensation. Next, to my surprise, but unexpected pleasure, the nobleman behind me wound up and slapped one cheek. The sting was exquisite and blended with the sexual feelings that his tongue had produced. Then being a fair man, he slapped the other side. My cock was really hard. I wished that I could turn around and shove it through, but I sensed that this fellow was ass centered.
What move could he do? I got my answer in a moment as he cock-like tongue entered my puckered hole and roamed around, finding my hot button and swiping it over and over. I was reduced to a mewling fool in an instant. He had a hand on the hidden base of my cock. He knew I was fiercely erected and he will know if I ejaculate, which, I believe was his way of finishing the session of lust. He could hear me, of course, especially when I began to moan louder and shout that I was cumming. Sure enough my cock vibrated right to my ass as I brimmed over and shot streams of cum over the immaculate carpeting. Shit, at these prices, the institute of sexual perversion could afford a cleaning.
I kept my ass in place, but the show was over. I heard a door open, then close. Sir somebody was gone. Robert's voice spoke through the earphones.
"Lad, I never heard so much praise. You are one hot chappy. Dress and come by the office."
I collected my fees and made arrangements for the next two weeks. I fulfilled my job and he was pleased and enthusiastic, but I began to tire of not being able to have a full relationship. Offering one part at a time, receiving, but never giving. I was getting irritable. Then something nice happened.
I stepped into the elevator. You remember the cute perky-assed, fresh faced boy who operated the elevator. Well he asked me how I liked my job. I remembered that he had done it for a while. When I told him of some of my misgivings he smiled and pressed a button on the control panel. The elevator stopped.
"You are hungry to have a real person in your arms, right?"
I nodded. He moved closer. "Have you ever kissed a man."
"No," I croaked.
"Well your time has come. Pucker up, I'm coming in for a landing."
He pressed his curly boyish lips over mine and held them there a moment, then we both caught fire. The tip of my tongue slipped out, his slipped deep in mine mouth and began making love to my tongue. Within another minute we were panting around each others' lips and I sagged against him.
"Whoa boy. Hold that though. They are buzzing me. Wait until I have the run and then I'll show you my little rest area off the lobby and we can 'speak in tongues' again."
His name was Billy. We continued to see each other for a long time. I quit the Gentlemen's Club, but I had a nice bundle to pay off my school loans.
End