The Lonely Male Escort

Transcript

It's been a long day, and all I've been looking forward to is a drink and a few minutes to myself. A bit of time for my mind to wander instead of being always on guard. Life as a male escort can be tough, especially if it feels like, you know, being more of a carer than a gigolo these days.

I went with the old lady Fairview this morning to M&S to help her do her weekly shop. She doesn't like it when I comb my hair or shine my shoes. I like to act the gentleman and wear the neckerchiefs and striped jackets she prefers.

I smile at her with some sexual promise, even though that's not the way I inclined. I pretend I give a shit about the products she's buying and the meals she's going to prepare. All the while the other rich people remark on how amazing it is that she's got a young man in her life to make her feel wanted again.

And after that I hoofed across town to visit Maximilian von Borme at his office. I swept in under the guise of his tailor, still in Lady Fairview garb. But once I was ensconced safely inside his dark office, I changed into latex and he bent over the footstool.

Trousers down, my trusty paddle helping him work out his tension. He never gets hard, neither do I. Though he always looks like he's high as a kite once we're done.

There's a couple of other appointments that were more sexually charged in the afternoon. Kathleen, the stylist of the stars. Her preference is for me to give her a full body massage while wearing a tiny thong.

Then she always wants to blow me after, which is fine. She's no good at it, but it's fine. She slobbers like a St Bernard, but whatever.

I think of England and dribble a bit into her mouth. After Kathleen I shoot across town to meet another woman who likes to be seen flirty with me in a coffee shop near her ex-boyfriend's building. We sit in the window and I laugh at her jokes.

They're not funny. I have to bring out my cable knits and cords, loafers and leather jackets for meetings for her. Not to mention my game face.

Once she got what she wanted, her ex's new girlfriend, the PA, having spied us allegedly enjoying a date, I jump into a cab and make it just in time to catch my final appointment of the day. Kirstie. Kirstie likes to have her pussy spanked with a whip.

Then she has a play with a wand while I wank off. Sometimes she'll want her ass spanking too. Sometimes her tits.

She never wants intercourse, only a slice of pain to get her aroused. My appointment with her is always the least taxing. Sure, it's perfunctory, but that's no problem.

Better, in fact. She and I barely speak. They all seem to think they're the only clients in the world that exist to me and I'm always the person they demand me to be.

100% of the time. What they don't know is it's really tough altering my demeanour, voice, gait, even my style to suit them. Which I do.

Every single one of them. Which is why right now all I want to do is drink, sit back with a dirty magazine, drown out the noise, just be with my own dick. In my own space.

Think about my own needs for a change. Might have come twice already but this one will be different. It'll be mine.

It'll be my own. My time. My imagination.

Running riot. None of their demands on me or their needs to cater for. Only mine.

My dirty thoughts. Not theirs. And only pleasure to myself.

The liquor takes the edge off and I sit in a comfy chair trying to relax. Flush out all those thoughts of my day and forget how tired I am. I need to entirely vacate and think of sex only.

Guilt free. Thoughtless. Fucking nothing else.

Summing in Playboy would help with that. Just a quick wank to ease the strain. The lack of a woman in my life.

No easy burden. I flick through and appreciate every model. All with the supple flesh and bouncy tits.

Perfect arses. Full lips for me to dip my cock between. It's not long before I'm imagining them all in one room.

Nearly naked. Staring at me in anticipation of a long night ahead. My cock stirs.

I wonder which one I'd fuck first. Doesn't take long for me to find an image that really captures the eye. A brunette with big breasts.

Come to bed eyes and curvy hips. I'm buttoning my shirt to let the air touch my skin. I buckle my belt and open my trousers.

My cock already hard at the thought of her arse astride me. Cock is out. I wet my fingers.

Sliding them around the plush head. I'm fully erect. Imagining her and maybe some slighter blonde jockeying for position on the floor between my legs.

Ready to compete for access to my cock. Both of them hungry. Their lashing tongues occasionally brushing each other in their fight for me.

Yeah. That's it. Swift strikes mimic the sensation.

Their eyes are glued to mine. They want my attention as well as my spunk in their mouths. I close my eyes and within seconds someone else is fighting for attention.

All my attention. My playboy girls are thrown out of the room by their hair. A talent older woman.

Snarling with predatory intent as they scarper and flee. Tall and fully clothed. But the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

She stares at my raging erection and shakes her finger. I open my eyes again and I stare at the image in my magazine. At the beautiful female shape before me and the gorgeous shaved pussy beckoning.

But she and her imaginary companion are thrown out of the fantasy by the woman determined to have all of me. The woman I didn't see today but goes with me everywhere. Even though I have one appointment a month.

Stalking my dreams. Every waking hour. Even when I'd rather be thinking of anything anyone else.

A woman I can't have. A woman too good for me. A client.

It'd be crossing the line. I can't bear it because it could never be. And yet I want her so fucking much.

She only sees me the first Saturday of every month. That's it. I've never even seen her naked.

Yet I want her more than any other woman I've had. Not just once a month. My cock becomes just that bit more rigid at the thoughts of her plump blood red mouth.

What would she do if she could see me here wanking off all alone. No playmates. I'm not sure.

But I think she would hate it if my attention wasn't on her. She would burn this magazine perhaps. That's why she's invading my thoughts right this second.

When this is supposed to be my time. Damn her. Fuck.

The more I try to resist her the more she pushes her way into my head. Staring at the image before me on paper suddenly everything's become clear. I pick this model to ogle because of who she reminds me of.

This particular client only ever wants me to paint her fingers and toes. Always different colours. But she unfailingly sets out the tools in order of what they should be used.

Everything is in its right place. Take your time she says. It's just us.

She invited me to the kitchen table where she showed me where she wanted. Her long talons. Clipping.

Filing. Buffing. Painting.

She drank tea while I worked. I refused to drink because I was nervous. Is Ricky your real name she asks.

I look up from trimming her cuticles. When she saw me she expected me to be honest. It is actually.

Everyone in my life calls me Richard however. A small smile crinkles in her eyes. I'm not really good at lecture but it sounds fancy.

It does. I agree. Girlfriend or boyfriend? Not right now I said.

What about the past? I look at her sympathetically. She wanted to chat and enjoy some company it was obvious.

But information about my personal life wasn't of the service. I just like to know people she said. Noting the look in my eye.

Nothing underhand I swear. I was married I told her straight and I found myself gulping. I'd never offered up anything about myself before with any other clients.

Nothing about my real self anyway. I let my former career wreck my life. And nearly hers too.

I kept working on her nails having got to the soaking stage. She made a noise like she was sorry for me. Sighing.

Then she said. Similar thing happened to me. I look into her piercing blue eyes.

You nearly get put in jail for trying to help an ill-fated client skip the country. We looked at one another like we'd both overshared. It wasn't comfortable territory for us anymore.

Better keep our curiosity to ourselves. It was so clear without words. Just eye contact that we understood one another.

And there was an instant connection. It made something tighten in my gut. She always wore silk blouses tucked into crop leggings whenever I visit.

A few buttons left open to show her cleavage. Her round breasts are generous and the suit's silk. She's a great arse for a woman her age.

Full, billowing hips. The shape of her pussy is also delicious. She always smells great.

And fuck if I can't help but get harder at the thought of how she'd look if she was watching me right now. She always smells great. And fuck if I can't help but get harder at the thought of how she'd look if she was watching me right now.

Ricky, she said the last time we met. How nicely you do my nails for me. Such a good boy.

In the beginning, I was naive to think she didn't know what she was doing. I even considered that maybe a woman like her only wanted me to carry out this routine because she might be too well known to hit a nail bar without being mobbed. Over the months, I've learned not to underestimate her.

Every time I open my eyes to stare down at who I'm supposed to be waking off to, all I see are Electra's eyes gazing back at me. Hers are the only eyes I ever see in my dreams these days. Big blue eyes rimmed with luscious lashes.

Ink black hair. And that mouth. Oh, fuck.

How it would feel to have her climb into my lap, take me inside her drenched pussy, and ride me until I came shooting up into her belly. You're so good, Ricky, she tells me. And such a good big boy.

I've seen her lick her bottom lip suggestively dozens of times, and I always interpret it the same way. She aches to ride me, I know it. She wants to be in charge, I want that too.

You know just how to treat me, Ricky. So tenderly. I've never had someone take care of me like this before.

I watch her with near disbelief as she strokes her newbin and comes forcefully around me, nearly yanking me to the edge with her. Then she smiles with feline delight and starts unbuttoning her blouse, unhooking her bra next. Oh, fuck.

I think to myself. Her breasts fall free, tipped with deep red nipples to match the lipstick she always wears, not so dissimilar to the pigment between her legs. She sees my eyes stray there to where we're joined, and she shudders, shaking her long dark hair out before she suddenly clutches my abdominals and begins riding again.

I'm nearly coming at the thought of her sheathing me so tight it hurts. She's toyed with me for months. I stroke my hands up and down on her bare legs.

That's good. That's so fucking good. You are so good at that.

She's always been free with the compliments telling me how good I am, how handsome. Now it's my turn to tell her. I don't know how I let it happen, but I think I must have fallen for her.

The head of my cock is fully engorged, and it's almost unbearable to hang on for a second longer. She's riding me hard, rubbing her breasts and writhing. The trembling walls of her pussy have me in a frenzy like never before.

There's nothing like seeing a woman in such a delight in my body, and her own too. I can almost feel that orgasmic throbbing as she begins to cry out, her depths crushing around me, drawing in deeper, those voluptuous curves driving me wild, as she bounces athletically and calls my name, so close to coming. I hold on when she demands.

She tells me to be a good boy and don't come yet, so I take myself elsewhere entirely to stop the inevitable. Images of our meetings, the time she was making tea in the kitchen, her lacy thong visibly beneath that thin material, a shot of arousal flooding through my dick instantly. I can't help it.

Her throat in those blouses, elegant and feminine, the long lines of her torso and those tainty hands of hers, half-baked teas upon her buns, kiss her breasts, warm and soft against my mouth. Fuck. I am getting so close.

The tension in my spine and the backs of my thighs threatening to revolt against me. I want to keep her image in my head for as long as possible. Just like this, before I come and lose her all over again, I'm trying not to come.

However, one image after another just fills and fills and fills my mind. She's still dripping with my milk when she gets on her knees and licks me clean. Just as I think we're done, she lies back and I'm hard again, pinging her to the carpet and ramming right into her.

She screams as I fuck her to orgasm. Then she's flipped over and I'm fucking her hard doggy style, my hands gently holding her breasts, the velveteen softness of her tits rocking into my palms. She's on her knees again and I'm fucking her mouth.

Her eyes are wild and she's touching herself. Then we're up against the wall, her long legs around my bum. As I pummel into her, complete submission, her calm and mine exploding down her legs.

Flames of desire lick my spine as I cum, spurting all over, the strain in my thighs, buttocks and balls finally released. All the tension of my hidden desires unleashed. God, that feels good.

So good. So right. This time I still feel her here with me, even though the deed is done.

I drain the last of my drink, clean up and recline back in the cushions, imagining what could be. My thoughts drift. She's really into cuddling, gentle kisses and connecting in the aftermath.

Then it's just me here I realise. I'm alone. My cock's softening.

Euphoria is gradually ebbing away. I pick up my phone and check my appointment calendar. Seeing her name next to the date will next meet till after due.

For now, at least. This is my job. After all.