Loading...Let me first introduce myself. My name is Marcus Sinclair McManus. I am twenty-five years old, single and I live in Los Angeles. I work in advertising for a relatively small, but very successful and profitable agency called Sinclair McManus, which I also happen to own. I became the sole owner of this agency, founded by my parents Andrew McManus and Jennifer Sinclair, some three years ago, at the tender age of twenty-two, when both my parents were killed outright in a truly horrible automobile crash.
I had not wanted to go to College and aged eighteen and had entered the family business as a junior trainee. As an only child, I inherited the business, lock, stock and barrel on my parents’ deaths.
What the staff thought about a young man of twenty-two, still wet about the gills in the view of many of them, becoming their boss, I do not know. Suffice it to say that in the last three years, under my direction, the business has gone from strength to strength and now employs about fifty people. We have a faithful core group of clients who provide us with a regular basis of our business, but I discovered that I have the knack of getting on with potential clients and so I have been successful in increasing our turnover by some 25% a year in the last three years since I took over.
On the unfortunate deaths of my parents, I also inherited the family condominium in a really nice residential area of Los Angeles. This is a huge – and I mean really enormous -penthouse apartment of some 5000 square feet, with large and sunny, non-overlooked roof terrace. I had, in fact moved out from this, my family home, shortly after joining the company as a trainee, as I wanted to be independent of my parents, But when the accident happened, making me owner of the place, I moved back in and that is where I have lived for the past three years.
All in all, I earn a very handsome living from my business and with a sizeable legacy I also inherited from my parents I live a very comfortable life. Not to put too fine a point on it, I am what is crudely referred to as “stinking rich”. Bred and born in Los Angeles, I cannot imagine living anywhere else than in the city which I love. So there, in a nutshell you have a quick rundown on me, a super-well-heeled young bachelor for whom life is apparently everything it should be. But as ever, things are not always what they seem to be on first sight.
Let me tell you something about my personal life and you will then understand my problem. I am not going to indulge in false modesty about my physical attributes; nor am I bragging. I just want you to understand fully the situation in which I find myself.
I am physically a highly attractive looking fair young man. I am just over six foot tall; I have a muscular physique, which I have honed to perfection by regular exercise in a gym, three or four times a week and I am very well endowed. I love that expression “well endowed” don’t you? Statistics about men speak of a guy’s “endowment” or his “manhood” both of which are nothing more than mealy mouthed euphemisms for the size and appearance of his penis and testicles. Now I can understand that these two words, which correctly identify a guy’s most important physical attributes, are not particular mellifluous to the ear; they sound so clinical and foreboding; but I see no reason to use such vapid and indeterminate terms as endowment and manhood.
For crying out loud, let’s just call them by the names that have become totally commonplace and acceptable today: a guy has a cock and balls or a dick and nuts; and we all know precisely that we are talking about when the expression “man-meat” is used. Come on everyone: we are in the second decade of the twenty-first century and we are referring to guy’s most precious attributes; the very parts of his anatomical attributes which give him the greatest pleasure in life: in a single word: sex and all that that word implies.
Well I said that I was not going to indulge in false modesty, so let me tell you that I am particularly well equipped (I almost said endowed!) with these two marvellous appendages between my legs. In fact I have, by any standards a magnificent cock and ball combination. I know that many guys at the gym I use are green with envy when they see me naked in the showers. In fact I admit to having a certain narcissistic streak in my make-up and I quite enjoy strutting my stuff, as it is often put: I’ve got it, so why not vaunt it?
My balls, which by the greatest of good chance, are naturally housed in a scrotum which is held tight beneath my cock, are of a good but not excessive size and have the distinction of being well separated so that my cock when soft sits neatly between two well defined nuts. And as for my cock itself; well I am blessed with a piece of man-meat which the average guy can but dream of owning. How or why I have been endowed by Mother Nature with such a magnificent shaft of uncontrollable flesh, I have no idea; but I have and I am inordinately proud of what I’ve got: any guy would be!
My cock, when soft, is no less than seven inches in length and has a diameter of a good two inches. It has that wonderful characteristic, even when soft, of being rubbery rather than just limp. It leaves my body more or less at right angles rather than just hanging down between my legs and sits in a gentle downward curve between my balls. All in all, I think it looks brilliant. I have seen lots of guys naked over the years and not one of them has a cock and ball combination equal to mine. I see guys in the showers at the gym I patronise, looking with envy at what I have between my legs.
Like most young Americans of my age, I was circumcised as a baby. Whoever cut me and removed my foreskin was a real crack, for I have a cock with a magnificently presented head, even when soft, set off from the shaft by a well defined rim. When I am really hard and have a true boner on, my tool becomes a formidable weapon. Depending on the occasion and circumstances, I can sport up to a nine inch (or even ten, if I am feeling really horny; I kid you not!) erection surmounted by an attractive gleaming head; and here’s the thing; my rock-hard cock, when ready for action, is dead straight.
Believe me when I say that few guys can equal what I have got going for me. I think that a dead straight fuck-stick is a real advantage and looks so much better than those curved jobs which many guys have. I don’t mind too much if the curve is upwards, but if a guy has a cock which veers off to one side or the other, then I don’t find that at all attractive.
I know that many of the girls in the office see me as a super hunk, which, with no false modesty as I said at the outset, I suppose I am. Alas for these chicks in my office, their carnal desires to get themselves laid by their boss are never going to be realised, as in case you had not already guessed it by now now, I am a hundred and ten percent gay; in fact, I’m as gay as a coot, though what that poor bird has done to deserve such opprobrium I have no idea. But there you have it; I have no interest sexually at all in women; I have never ever had sex with one and I have never ever wanted to.
I quite enjoy female company, but members of the female sex just do not push my sexual buttons. So a message to those fathers who are protective of their daughters’ innocence; they would be completely safe with me. Which raises an interesting point; what’s with this business of protecting their daughters’ innocence? Come on dads; when you were young, footloose and fancy free, how many of you did not spent your spare time chasing the chicks with a view to fucking them? And now, with what seems to me to me to be hypocritical self-righteousness, you want to deny the next male generation the same pleasure. And another thought; many women like working alongside gay men, as they feel they will not be subject to sexual harassment and innuendo from their male colleagues. My own very powerful sexual desires lie only in the direction of other men; which brings me to the crux of this story: my problem.
When I joined the family business aged eighteen, I was that exception to the general rule: I was an eighteen year-old virgin. I had no experience at all of sex, either heterosexual or homosexual and, in fact, to be quite frank with you, I was not at all sure where my own sexual preferences lay. In this I was really being very naive with myself, for I had long known that I was not at all interested in the opposite sex. I had never had a girl friend, for example; but I had not appreciated that the undoubted attraction I had for members of my own sex would grow into the total obsession which it has become today.
Whether my parents were aware of my latent homosexual tendencies, I have no idea, for we never talked together about sex at all and my father never took me on one side, as fathers are supposed to do (do any of them actually do it though?) and explained to me what are usually referred to as “the facts of life”. So what I knew or thought I knew about sex was all obtained by hearsay, innuendo and osmosis from my schoolmates. I have to say that if I were a father of a son and faced with that delicate task, I am not at all sure that I would not chicken out and somehow let him find out for himself. It would, in my view, avoid considerable embarrassment both for the instructor and the instructed
But my first actual encounter with the joys of sex was brought home to me very pointedly, when another young trainee at Sinclair McManus took me in hand, in the nicest possible way I might add, and robbed me of my virginity. The way it happened gave me my first actual encounter with another warm body, since which time I have never looked back. Sean O’Connor was the guy’s name and he and I had become quite friendly, being the two youngest members of the agency’s staff. Sean was from Boston, as his Irish name indicated and through family connections had come to the West Coast for a year as an intern at Sinclair-McManus. And even though I was the son of the then proprietors of the business, Sean and I had no difficulty in getting on together. Like me, Sean was a muscular young stud and like me he loved working out in the gym and so we quickly formed a bond.
The gym in question was open to the general public and was located on the ground floor of the building in which Sinclair-McManus had its offices and he and I regular worked out there together. Sean was sexually not quite as well equipped as I myself am, but he was nevertheless a very attractive looking hunk when he was in the showers. He had seen that I regularly had my eyes fixed on his vital parts, which was by no means one-sided, by the way, as he also often seemed to have his eye glued on my cock and balls. So I guess it is fair to say that we had a mutual admiration for each other’s equipment. And it was precisely in the showers that I lost my anal virginity to this guy.
We used to soap each other up and lark around together in the showers after working out and then, one evening, when we were quite alone, I suddenly was aware that his fingers were probing ever more deeply into the cleft of my arse until he finally was working on my sphincter itself. Then, without actually asking me if I wanted it, (in fact neither of us had uttered a word as all this was developing) he pushed his now rock-hard cock against my anal sphincter. My first reaction was to tell him to cut it out, and to back-off; but suddenly his arms were round me and he was whispering into my ear: “Come on Marcus; let me in; you know you want it don’t you?”
Sean’s voice was so very reassuring that I relaxed and the next thing I knew I felt his hard tool slide smoothly inside me. I tensed momentarily, but then who would not have done the same, having just been shafted for the very first time, more or less unannounced as it were. I felt a short sharp pain but that soon disappeared as Sean began very gently fucking my hole with what was clearly a well experienced cock. As he got into his stride, he increased both the force and length of his stroke and I found myself truly enjoying the sensation of having my arsehole reamed for the first time.
I had no idea at all what to expect until Sean suddenly reached a climactic orgasm. His whole body shook spasmodically again and again as he pumped his load of cream straight into me. My own cock was by now rock-hard and without any manual assistance from me, I suddenly experienced the first orgasm of my life which I had not achieved by jerking off. It was only much later and by then an experienced copulator myself, that I learned that what Sean had achieved in his first fuck with me was really quite remarkable.
And if you think about it, you will know what I mean. Just look at any of the thousands of porn video shots of men fucking each other to be found on the internet and you will see that it is in fact rare for the fucker to cum directly into his partner. Both guys usually finish up reaching their respective climaxes separately by jerking themselves off manually; it does not usually seem to happen during the sex act itself.
Sean stayed inside me, still rock-hard for several minutes as he hugged me. Then he whispered into my ear: “Marcus, that was your very first time, wasn’t it? You were just so very attractive in the shower, that I could not resist shafting you. But believe me, I had no idea that you were still an anal virgin until I had finished, when it suddenly hit me. I am right aren’t I?”
I had no idea what I should say to this. He was, of course, quite right, but I now had to face the embarrassment of admitting to him that here I was, aged eighteen, a well-set up and sexually well equipped young man, who was totally inexperienced in any form of sex. It was only at that moment that it finally hit upon me that I was totally gay; that my future sex life was something I would enjoy with other men and that, first time or not, I had enjoyed having my arse fucked; and what a fuck it had been. Totally inexperienced, though I was, I somehow sensed nevertheless, that my first time had been exceptional experience; exceptional for me and equally exceptional for Sean. This had been transmitted to me by the way in which Sean had climaxed inside me and had shaken with emotion as he shot his wad deep into my hole.
Reading back over what I have just said, I know it sounds as if I was fully conversant with not only the physical act of male anal sex, but also with the physiological and emotional feelings which accompany every sex act. But, in fact, that is not so; I had been taken totally unawares and had surrendered my anal virginity to my friend Sean; but I had enjoyed every single moment of what this young stud had done to me: or better said what this young stud had done “for” me; for his impromptu act had been my epiphany: my initiation into the world of gay sex: a world which I just knew that was going to enjoy forever.
Sean turned me round to face him and continued to embrace me. He kissed me; it was the first time that any man had ever done anything so intimate with me. In fact, in view of my indifference to girls, I can only remember my mother having kissed me as mothers often do to their sons: apart from her, there was no one. Sean was for no reason quite contrite: “I am so sorry,” he said, “I simply did not know; but I am right; aren’t I? You were a virgin weren’t you?”
I finally admitted that he was right but hastened to add that I would be ever grateful to him for what he had just done for me. Firstly he had introduced me to one aspect of anal sex but more importantly, he had also brought home to me that I was completely gay; a fact which I could now admit fully and openly to myself. Thanks to this one impulsive and impromptu act of sex by Sean, I had found my true sexual identity; any doubt I might have had, had gone from my mind. I am not sure of just now things went on from there between us that fateful day, but as you might well imagine, Sean persuaded me to exercise my cock on his anus; and so it was that at the end of this totally impromptu evening, I had fully experienced (and enormously enjoyed) both key activities of gay male sex: to have my own arse fucked and to fuck arse in turn.
This evening marked a turning point in my life; it liberated me from any inhibitions I had hitherto harboured about my own sexuality; I now knew I was gay: totally gay; I had now finally acknowledged the fact to myself and I had every intention of enjoying my newly found status in life. And enjoy it I did with gusto. Sean and I became regular sex partners. Sean, who was a really nice guy, had already made a number of gay friends in Los Angele and he very generously introduced me to them; so, I very quickly became part of a group of gay young men who met regularly for sex.
There was nothing specially organised about what we did, nor was the group in any way like a club. We were just a disparate group of like minded young studs who found that we each needed gay sex on a regular basis and so we enjoyed getting together to indulge our mutual pleasure in the act of copulation – fucking arse and sucking cocks to be quite specific. We used to congregate in one or another of our apartments and enjoy the undoubted pleasures of gay sex together. We were as a group, all fairly well heeled and worldly wise about the dangers of unprotected sex, so we always used condoms and plenty of lubricant s in our sexual activities, which could be very vigorous indeed; excessively vigorous some observers might have remarked. But we were young and eager and we fucked each other with gay abandon.
It was at this time, in order to be free to do as I pleased, that I left my family home, my parent’s apartment, and all the comforts of my life hitherto and moved into the small apartment I mentioned earlier. Whether my parents realised or not the direction my life had taken, I never knew, for we never discussed what I did outside the office. I went home (I still thought of their place as home) to regular meals and I guess my lack of female company must have been a clear indication that their son and heir was not of the marrying kind.
At the Christmas-New Year break, Sean and I, at his suggestion booked a seven day vacation at a gay mens’ naked resort on a Caribbean island. We flew to Miami and a small turbo-prop plane picked us up there and took us this paradise on earth. And it was a paradise, for total nudity for both guests and staff was mandatory.
On arrival we were met at the reception by a totally naked very handsome Latino, muscular and super well-equipped where it matters. He gave us the key to our lockers, where we had to leave all our clothes and belongings for the entire length of our stay. Our locker keys were on necklace-like chains, so that we did not lose them. The receptionist took imprints of our credit cards to cover the cost of any non-included drinks and extras we might order during our stay. After shedding our clothes, another super-looking young stud showed us to our dormitory and after that we were foot-loose and fancy free, our cocks and balls swinging invitingly in the warm air, to do as we pleased. Did we feel embarrassed to find ourselves thrown into this totally nude environment? In fact not at all, for what ti sho0wedus was just how great we ourselves looked. Few guys we met ( and subsequently fucked, I might add) were as well equipped as we were.
A word about the sleeping arrangements; there were no private bedrooms, as all the guests were expected to sleep totally naked in small luxurious dormitories each with six beds, and a very large multi-man shower, The general ethos of the place was that sex was freely available anywhere and everywhere and at all times and that guests should feel free to do exactly as they wished; and this is, indeed, what they did. On the way to our dorm we saw several couples fucking away in public. It was a truly relaxed sexual atmosphere where copulation in all its many aspects was the chief form of relaxation: relaxation for the performers and entertainment for the observers. In tecourse of our stay, we indulged in both. The freedom from controls was trulyliberating.
Sean and I found ourselves bunking with four other guys none of whom knew each other, and so, to try to break the ice, I suggested that we conduct a quick fuck-in. Let me explain of what this consisted. Each of us in turn would give the other five room-mates a quick dose of anal stimulation and then take his place at the end of the line. He would be followed by the second guy who would then do exactly the same and so on until we had all fucked each other. I suppose it had to count as fucking as we did penetrate each other, but all we did was to give each other a few long strokes of our cocks. It was a sort of sexual handshake: a how-do-you-do gesture. It proved a great success and by the time we had finished we were all totally relaxed and at ease with each other. The six of us spent several happy evenings in our dorm after supper indulging our sexual fantasies with each other, as the spirit moved us.
One of the joys of the place was the freedom to have sex with anyone one met in the grounds. The swimming pool was a great place to make new sexual acquaintances and there was always a great deal of sexual activity both in the water and on the sunbathing areas around the pool.
The highlight of the holiday was a New Year’ Eve Party, where the organisers brought in a group of professional naked muscle men, all with unbelievably huge cocks. They performed a most fantastic live sex show on the stage, giving us a demonstration of real hard core muscle-cock sex, when cum was shot everywhere. It was, all in all, a very exhilarating experience. Sean and I left early in the New Year, our entire bodies, beautifully bronzed and supremely satisfied with what had been a marvellous sex holiday.
To my great regret, my mentor, friend and sex partner, Sean, left Sinclair-McManus in the summer and returned to Boston. But it was he who set me straight on my own sexuality for which I have been eternally grateful. I really missed him after his departure; but he had left me well introduced into a gay circle of friends in Los Angeles and my sex life got better and better as time progressed. I have to say, though, that among all my gay friends, I never found one whom I truly felt was the one for me. Even Sean, who had been my closest buddy and sex partner for the best part of a year, was not “the” guy.
Over the next few years, I watched as guys in my circle paired off and moved in with each other to try to make a life together; but I never felt that I had found the right guy and so I remained a free canon. I was not at all unhappy as I really enjoyed having sex with a variety of different guys. I guess I was sort of naturally promiscuous, but what the hell; I was uncommitted to any one person, so why not play the field? I have to tell you, again with no false modesty, that with my generous sexual equipment, I had no difficulty in finding guys willing to have sex with me, as I had really learned how to deliver a punch, which, believe me, few others could equal. But in the back if my mind lurked that nagging feeling that I ought to have some special “best friend”. But it simply did not happen; nor did that feeling go away.
But my life was about to be shattered in a way no one could ever have envisaged. My parents were both killed in an automobile accident. It was never clear what actually happened; they had been away in the mountains for a few days and on the drive back, their car somehow left the road, went over a cliff edge and they were both killed instantly. No other car seems to have been involved. It was just one of those awful inexplicable accidents. The post-mortems showed no traces of alcohol or drugs in either of my parents, but somehow my father lost control of his vehicle and it went over the edge, plunging them both to their deaths. A verdict of accidental death was recorded. I was almost twenty-three at the time the accident happened and it was at that age that I took over as CEO and sole owner of the family advertising business.
As son of the owners, I had never been “one of the boys” in the business. Even though I had a normal job like most other employees, the fact that I was “family” set me apart from everyone else. Also I was moved around quite a bit by my father so that I understood how the different departments functioned; so I was never long enough in one department to become “one of them”. I was sort of a permanent intern, superficially learning the ropes of the entire business. I was, I suppose a “jack of all trades and master of none”. It was not that people were unfriendly towards me but I was not part and parcel of the general hurly-burly which constitutes day to day life of a company. In fact, the only close friend I had had in the agency was my mentor, Sean O’Connor, and he was long departed back to the East Coast.
I suppose that most people at work knew that I was gay, but apart from Sean, who had introduced me to gay sex, I had kept my private life completely separate from the Company. So I had no close friends among the employees of Sinclair-McManus and I certainly had no sexual relations with any of them. In many ways, the arm’s length, at which I was metaphorically by the staff of the Company, proved to be a tremendous advantage when the tragedy struck and I took over as CEO. I did not have a coterie of close friends in the Company around me and so I was able to assume my new responsibilities fairly easily. In a word I was not part of any Company clique.
Initially, of course, there was some resentment from the senior staff in having a boss much younger than themselves, but after they saw that I had no intention playing “the new broom card” I was totally accepted as CEO. Let’s face it; they didn’t actually have much choice, but things worked out absolutely fine. And so, in the two years after I took over the Company, thinks went from strength to strength. Turnover and profits were up and I was able to distribute generous year-end bonuses to all staff: everyone was contented.
I wish I could have said the same about my private life. In becoming CEO my private life had not changed at all. I still frequented the same group of guys and indulged in gay sexual activities on a regular basis. In fact I did not bother to tell my friends that I was now running the Company, as it seemed totally irrelevant to the relationships which I had with them. If someone had asked me what my favourite pastime was I would have had to say copulation. I was really sold on male sex and could not do without it. But there was a cloud on the horizon horizon which grew ever blacker as time passed. I was feeling and less satisfied the pleasure and personal satisfaction I was getting from sex with my group of friends.
Looking back on things, I guess that the best period of my sex life had been in my relationship with Sean O’Connor. We really suited each other and when he left to go back to Boston, in spite of my by then enlarged circle of sex partners, things were never quite the same. I tried to analyse what was missing from my sex life, and finally came to the conclusion that none of my present partners was capable of delivering the anal punch that Sean had done for me; it all came down to a question of size. Both men and women say, or at least pretend, that size is not important; but in my view they are wrong. Size and what it can deliver to one’s partner, are or paramount importance in every sexual relationship; at least that is my personal view, right or wrong.
You remember how Sean introduced me to gay sex; it was he who took the initiative and fucked my virgin arse. So my first sexual experience was of being fucked rather of myself fucking someone else. Now it is a fact that some guys just like to fuck and do not want to allow anyone access to their own anal sphincter; these guys are usually referred to as tops. And then there are other guys who just love to get their holes reamed and are not at all interested in fucking someone else; they make up what are usually called bottoms. And there are guys like me; guys who both like to fuck and to be fucked. And therein lay the root of my growing dissatisfaction with my sex life.
Whilst my active participation as a top in the regular sex life of our group was, I guess, all right, it was when I was acting as a bottom and allowing one of my friends to fuck my hole I found that I was rarely satisfied. After some thought I came to the conclusion that the problem was that none of my friends was really big enough to give me the punch that I truly wanted. Sean was superbly well equipped and when he and I had sex, he really knew how to deliver; it was that which I was now missing.
And as time went on I became less and less satisfied with my sex life in general. I wanted to find someone who could take me to the moon and back so to speak; someone who was big enough to fill me as he fucked me and someone who was capable of truly hard fucking. I did not want just a gentle evening of sex; I did not want the thin cock of the average man sliding sloppily in and out of my butt; What I needed was a partner whose girth I could grip with my sphincter as he thrust with all his power to bring me to a simultaneous orgasm with his own climax. I did not want any longer, for the pair of us to have to jerk ourselves to orgasm manually, as was so often the case.
Was I expecting too much? In search of perfection, I trawled the porn sites of the internet, looking at clip after clip of gay male sex of which the only aim was to titillate the viewer, but not to give any satisfaction to the performers, who systematically went through their dreary routines of butt fucking. One thing I quickly realised; few guys had the sexual equipment to match my own. What I needed was someone whose man-meat was of sufficient length and girth and who had the stamina, staying power and vigour to satisfy my anal craving for total domination by my partner. My eye became ever more jaundiced as I saw that even top porn-stars of the internet seemed to have length but no girth to their assets. I began to despair of ever finding the partner I craved.
But all was not lost, for fortune did eventually smile upon me in a totally unexpected way. Ask me not now I came to find this remarkable site, but as you all know, one thing leads to another when one surfs the net and I found myself confronted by a site with the extraordinarily brutally frank name “Rent-a-Cock”. Only in the USA could one ever have thought of a site with such an unequivocal name: a name which left nothing at all to the imagination. So, curious, (or do I mean desperate?) I logged on to “Rent-a-Cock” to see exactly what it offered.
Well as you may have guessed, Rent-a-Cock offered what are usually referred to as a “Male Escort Services”. Now for those of you who are not familiar with this expression, Male Escorts are usually men who sell sexual services to other men. There are countless such sites available on the internet and many of the male porn stars who figure in the thousands of video clips of male sex also offer their services as Male Escorts. They are often quite explicit, giving their contact details and their charges: hourly, daily and weekly!
Some of the more celebrated public male sex stars, those with exceptional equipment (by their standards anyway) travel around the country, peddling their wares in major cities and they give their travel schedules, to ensure that local guys who would like to taste the forbidden fruit they offer are fully aware of when they are around in their local area. So Male Escorting is a well developed business; and let’s face it: it is a business like any other. Make no mistake; sex sells!
But what seemed to set Rent-a-Cock apart from its competitors was that fact that it also offered Male Escorts for women. Now this is a much less certain business than the gay male sex version of escorting. It is a fact of nature that a man’s cock has a mind all of its own and will often start to rise, at the most embarrassing of moments, to what it perceives is an opportunity. What man among us has not suddenly found his cock hardening of its own accord when is eyes have observed something which his brain tells his cock is an opportunity. His cock then responds automatically to the signal to be ready for action; an action which the owner of the said cock may or may not want to take advantage of.
But with women it is quite different, for men can suddenly find that however attractive their prospective partner, their cock suddenly decides not to play ball and does not rise to the occasion. And this is precisely the problem faced by all male prostitutes, men who sell their services to women. They simply cannot guarantee that their cock will perform as they wish, which is why male prostitutes are a rare breed: very rare indeed. For a female prostitute it is quite different as she, playing a passive role in the act of copulation, is always available. And if her male client cannot rise to the occasion, well then, bad-luck for him; he’s lost his money!
I will not say that I was desperate (in fact, to be honest, I was) when I came across Rent-a-Cock, but I was seriously intrigued; and having learned something of what they were offering, I decided to investigate the possibilities more thoroughly so I logged onto their website and filled out a questionnaire which more or less asked me to say exactly what I was looking for. I was contacted a few hours later by telephone by a young man called Mike, who gave me access to the Rent-a-Cock male photo site which showed very revealing shots of their “staff”. I say staff as I was not at all sure of how Rent-a-Cock worked.
Anyway, I looked over the naked flesh offered on the site; it was mostly run of the mill man-meat and of no interest to me as it did not offer anything over and above that which I got on a regular basis for free from my present group of friends. But there were, at the end, in what Rent-a-Cock called its “Crème de la Crème Escorts Selection”, two quite magnificent studs both of whom were superbly muscled and, more importantly, had the requisite man-meat between their legs of a size which would satisfy even the most demanding of clients. So I called Mike back to see what the “deal” was to get an appointment with either one of these two hunks.
Well it turned out of course, that they were much more expensive than any of the less well endowed “Escorts” and in great demand, which I could well believe. The tariff was an eye-watering minimum of $750 per session of four hours rising to $1500 for a full night. But that was not all; so great was the demand for these two studs that they were both fully booked for the next two months; sex obviously paid.
Anyway, I explained to Mike that I wanted someone more or less immediately and not to be put on a waiting list for two months.
Mike turned out to be a highly sympathetic listener and suddenly said: “Look, I should not tell you this, but we have just signed on a new stud who, I think, would absolutely meet your needs. I was there when we interviewed him and have seen him naked. Believe me, he really is an exceptional young man; and I can vouch for the fact personally that he is superbly well equipped in the man-meat department, which is what you say you are looking for; if it’s size you want, then this young stud has it in spades. So listen; he has not yet started with us, but I’ll give him a call and ask him if he is willing to meet you on a private basis. Assuming he agrees, when and where is the meeting to take place?”
So we agreed that it would be this Friday evening at around eight and that we would meet in a small hotel which catered for just such assignations. In fact it was a place I had used a few times when I had picked up a guy in the bar and we had had a one night stand. Don’t be shocked by my frankness, as I really quite enjoy the thrill of having sex with some guy I don’t know. In fact this hotel is small and privately owned and is what is today called a “boutique hotel” and its bar, which is real classy, is well known as a gay haunt; especially patronised by visiting businessmen who want a bit of an adventure away from their wives.
Sex is an amazingly universal attraction in all its varied forms; and it is surprising how many happily married, family men enjoy what is euphemistically referred to as a “little anal stimulation” from time to time. Well they claim they are happily married, for the most part. Actually I have theory that most men, even those who are truly hetero, would like to have their arse fucked just once to see what it is like.
Mike had told me that as this was an impromptu assignment, I should pay Zach – for that was the name of my “escort” – in cash; $500 was the agreed fee. And so on Friday evening I waited in my hotel room, with eager anticipation tinged with not a little curiosity, for Zach to arrive. And arrive he did, precisely on time. I opened the door and found myself confronted by a tall, fair, young man, who looked as though he was auditioning for the part of Adonis in some play or other. Zach was a most beautiful young man, imaginable: drop-dead gorgeous aptly summed him up.
About the same height as me and at a guess a couple of years younger: say twenty two or three, even fully clothed, as he was, anyone with the slightest imagination could see that here was a young stud with an amazingly attractive and sexy body. His clothes were not overtly sexy, but they fitted him to perfection. He was not wearing a jacket but just an open neck shirt, which emphasised both his pectoral muscles and the cut of his torso. And as for his pants; well he could have been poured into them, for they showed a well developed bulge where it matters most and clung smoothly to what was clearly a muscular arse. Both of his globes were beautifully outlined and showed no ugly traces of any underwear elastic, which, in my view always spoil a perfect arse. I guessed that Zach was probably wearing a thong.
Over his shoulder he was carrying a small designer satchel in which, I suppose, he kept the essentials of his trade and his wallet, for the tight pants he was wearing did not seem to have any pockets at all; they were clearly designed to show off his physical attributes, which they did to perfection. I was turned on within seconds of first setting eyes on this luscious lump of muscular manhood.
“Hi, I’m Zach,” the young Adonis said, “I’m your escort for tonight and you must be…”
“Andrew,” I said, for I had given Mike at Rent-a-Cock a fictitious name. “Come on in Zach; I’m delighted to to meet you.”
We stood there, two good looking studs; I the client, he the supplier, so to speak; sizing each other up. Fully dressed as we both were, each us already had our eyes focussed on that part of the anatomy which really mattered for such encounters. Even both of us knew full well the purpose of our meeting, there wass, nevertheless a slight feeling of embarrassment whilst we found our feet in the situation into which we had just been thrown before we could both relax with each other.
Now never in my life until now had I ever paid for sex; so this was a new experience for me. Taking the bull by the horns, I said to Zach: “Look Zach we both know why you are here, so there is no use in our pussy-footing around with each other. Mike from the agency told me that your fee for the night was $500 cash, so let’s get that sordid bit of the transaction out of the way to begin with then we can relax and see how we get on together.”
I could tell from the expression on Zach’s face that he was mightily relieved that his client had brought up the question of payment, for I sort of divined that this young guy might have had difficulty in bringing himself to ask for the cash up front. Anyway I handed him five $100 bills, for which he thanked me and put into his satchel and said: “So Andrew; I’m at your service; what’s your pleasure; just name it and we’ll do it.”
I looked hungrily at this gorgeous young stud standing there in front of me and said: “Well for starters, I would just love to strip you naked and see what is, in fact, under those sexy clothes you are wearing. Then you could do the same for me and see what you have landed this evening by way of a client. And then, assuming that we find each other sufficiently attractive to continue, we can decide who is going to do what and how.” I concluded my little speech with a laugh.
Zach stepped towards me smiling broadly and slipped of the moccasins he was wearing on what I now perceived to be his bare feet. I moved forward, and undid the buttons of his shirt, which I then peeled off to reveal what I had known all along would be the case; the perfect muscular torso of a very sexy and desirable young stud with well defined pecs and abdominal muscles glistening in what is usually referred to as a “six pack”. Zach clearly spent a lot of time in the sun as his skin was beautifully tanned; bronzed to perfection by the sun and not that horrible, overdone, orangey effect which artificial UV lights produce. I also saw that Zach had had both nipples pierced and was sporting two small but expensive looking gold nipple rings. I was totally entranced by what I saw.
He then helped me with the next step, the most important, by unbuckling his belt to allow me to unzip his pants, which needed a tug to fall to the ground as they fit him rather like a glove. And then that backless cock-string I had suspected he was wearing came off too and I saw Zach’s man-meat in all its glory for the first time. And the word glory is not an exaggeration for Zach has the most beautifully proportioned cock and ball combination one could ever wish for.
He had had all his pubic hair removed so that nothing detracted at all from the beauty of his genital package. In many ways he was like me, in that his cock had that deliciously rubbery quality, which ensured that it hung there in a very appealing curve over his balls. I guess it was about eight inches long with a girth commensurate, so that even soft, as he now was, Zach had enormous sex appeal. Additionally he had been beautifully circumcised; not even the slightest trace of foreskin remained and his cock head, or knob as some guys call it, was large and had a well defined rim which set it off beautifully from the shaft itself.
I saw immediately that Zach had the equipment for which I had been yearning. Not one of my regular sex partners could hold a candle to what Zach offered. Here was a young man who packed enough meat to satisfy even the most demanding of clients and I could see Zach already rising to the occasion with his meat turning, before my eyes, into what promised to be a ten inch boner at least. The thought of what he might do for me was tantalising. Before I could stop myself, I was on my knees in front of Zach and had that superb cock head in my mouth. It was a heavenly feeling as I sucked away at his meat, which very quickly responded to the attention it was getting and became totally hard and ready for action.
Suddenly, Zach, by now rock-hard, pulled me up by the shoulders and said: “Andrew, strip off and let me get a closer look at you and let’s get down to some serious business.” By the time I had discarded what few clothes I had been wearing, I too was rock-hard and Zach gave an admiring whistle as he looked me over. “Andrew you are a terrific looking guy. I know I should not be talking like this to a client, which is exactly what you are, but I have the impression that you and I are going to have a ball together this evening. Now, just tell me what you want to do next. You do realise don’t you, that I am supposed to fuck you, so just say the word and I’ll be happy to oblige.”
I could tell from the intonation of his closing words that he really meant it. We stood confronting one another for a few seconds. I was already in the precum stage just with the excitement of being with this guy and having sucked him off for a few minutes. So I said: “OK Zach, what I truly want right now is for you to fuck my butt as hard as you can. I can barely wait to feel that magnificent tool of yours inside me. So, what I want is to lie my back and for you to take my legs over your shoulders and to fuck my hole as if there is no tomorrow.”
“Zach; I’m not kidding; I want it as hard as you can give it and then still some more if you are able. I really want to be hammered as hard as possible. You are about to do a very frustrated guy a big favour. I can’t begin to tell you just how disappointing my sex life has been for the past couple of years. OK, I get plenty of it, both as top and bottom, but I have become totally dissatisfied with sex in general. Just looking at you and the sheer size of your dick, I think that you may well be the one to correct that feeling. Mike at the agency was not exaggerating at all when he extolled your physical credentials to me. So come on, young man, let me see what you can actually do.”
I lay down on the bed put my feet up in preparation and watched as Zach fished a condom and a tube of lubricant out of his satchel, rolled the rubber onto his magnificently erect ten inch shaft and applied a liberal dose of lubricant. This was all very encouraging, as the young stud clearly knew what he was about. He then knelt down in front of me, lubricant in hand; his cock deliciously poised like a loaded gun at my hole and applied a generous dose of lubricant to my fundamental orifice. He forced my sphincter open a little and massaged in the lubricant, in order to make his forthcoming penetration as comfortable as possible.
In fact, thinking back as I lay there watching him prepare to fuck me, I really did not care a jot whether it was going to be a smooth ride or not; I just wanted him to stick his gorgeous cock into me and fuck me as hard as he could. Before he had even begun his penetration move, I was already in an advanced stage of pre-cum as I was just so aroused by what I had seen and the little contact we had had so far.
The fatidic moment arrived and that splendid knob, alas sheathed in the protective rubber of the condom, touched my sphincter for the first time. Although I wanted him desperately to enter me, my sphincter tightened automatically at his first touch in its natural desire to resist the onslaught which was coming. But Zach, totally undeterred by the initial resistance, pressed on and suddenly I felt that huge knob of his force its way into me as my sphincter suddenly yielded to the continuous pressure, to be followed by the rest of that shaft, which he pressed home in one smooth, but very controlled, movement. At this first contact, I was already in seventh heaven. I just knew that this young man, with his huge hard piece of meat, was going to give me the fuck of my life; and I was not wrong.
Zach paused for a few seconds to let me appreciate the full extent of his cock deep inside me. He then said: “Well, Andrew, just look at you already. If you go on the way you are doing at the moment, you are going to drown both of us in your juice. So here, roll this onto your dick and it will keep things a bit tidier.” And he handed me a condom which I duly rolled over my own dick. I have to say that this was the first time ever that anyone had suggested that I, bottoming as I was to Zach’s top, also wear a rubber; but I saw sense of what he suggested. It is quite true that gay male sex can become a very messy business, with cum flying around every which way. Of course some guys do enjoy being bathed in a dollop of their partner’s cream; but if one is into an evening of intense sex, which is exactly what I sensed we were about to embark on, then it can all become very unpleasantly messy.
And so, after a very gentle and deliberate initial penetrational thrust, Zach held my legs in the air, his arms wrapped around them and supported by his shoulders and started to pump my arse with his long thick dick. At first he was gentle but he quickly became both more vigorous and took longer and longer strokes. And blessed as he was with a ten inch rock-hard, dead-straight shaft, each and every stroke he took was was very long. Speed and force gradually built up until he was pounding my hole as if there was to be no tomorrow.
Finally for the last few strokes before he climaxed, he with withdrew his cock completely and then thrust it with unerring precision and renewed force into my ever receptive anus. When he finally reached orgasm, he managed to take me with him into those pinnacles of pleasure, those few brief moments of inexplicable delight, which only sexual intercourse gives to a man. As Zach shot his load deep inside me, I simultaneously filled the rubber I was wearing with some of the thickest and creamiest sperm I had ever produced in my life.
Now, as you already know, I had been indulging in gay sex regularly since I was in my late teens; but rarely, on the many occasions where I was bottom, had my partner ever achieved his own climax and brought me to mine, just by fucking my butt. The number of times that had happened I could count on the fingers of one hand. Usually we both had to reach climax by a little post-coital manual persuasion. But on this occasion that perfect state of nirvana was achieved thanks to the obvious expertise of Zach.
And it was precisely at that moment that I realised that this young paid escort, Zach, had achieved something that my many sex partners never did: he had left me totally satisfied. Just looking at his face, I realised that he too had experienced a moment of total sexual bliss: that inimitable feeling of ultimate pleasure that only the male orgasm and the emission of a man’s sperm can bring with it. And what he had achieved we had experienced together. Whether he had known what he was doing or whether it had just happened like that matters not one wit. The fact is that it did happen and we both had a totally extraordinary experience, which somehow drew us closer together. From that moment on, I knew that there was something very special about Zach.
We lay side by side on the bed in what can but be described as post-coital bliss. Eventually Zach turned to me, smiled and said: “Well Andrew; I really enjoyed that little interlude.” Little interlude? What the hell was he talking about? That interlude, as he called it had been a new benchmark in my sex life; a virtuoso performance against which all future acts would be measured: an act difficult to emulate, let alone equal. It was something I would never ever forget.
Zach continued, totally oblivious of the thoughts which were flashing through my mind: “So Andrew; what’s next? The night is still young; so how about a return round and let me see how you perform? Come on Andrew, I really would like you to fuck me as hard as I have just fucked you.” And then, with a slight tinge of panic in his voice, as if he were about to be denied his reward for his recent good work: “Please don’t tell me that you are just a bottom, Andrew.”
I laughed and nodded my assent. We were both still quite hard and so he proposed that we discard our first rubbers both now bursting at the seams with sperm (Zach had been just as prolific as I had been with the delivery of his own cream)and start afresh, which we did: “So Andrew, how do you like it? How do you want to take me; it’s your evening so just say the word and it shall be done.” so I simply pushed him on his face onto the bed, raised up his arse and took him in the doggy position.
I would like to think that my performance was equal to his. Anyway judging from the moans he made, he seemed to enjoy it and I most certainly did. Taking a leaf out of his book, I had taken considerable care to ensure that both he and I climaxed together and that my climax was with my cock deep inside him. Again we were blessed with that sublime moment of simultaneous orgasm. As I shot my wad into Zach, I shuddered and shuddered as I delivered my wad in five or six jerking spurts of creamy cum, whilst I clung, limpet like to his back. I wanted us to feel like one and I had not felt so satisfied in years.
The amount of effort that both he and I had put into our first couplings was considerable and after I had withdrawn, we both lay side by side for about fifteen minutes just relaxing in that semi-exhausted, euphoric, state of post-coital bliss. Finally, I rolled over and wrapped my arms around Zach and did something I had never before done in my life; I kissed him; to my great joy he kissed me back. After our initial virtuoso performances, we were now totally relaxed with one another and I am not at all sure precisely what we now did or who did what to whom and when and how many times. I can but say that we spent until the early hours just fondling and gently fucking each other and generally enjoying each other’s body: it was utter bliss; it went beyond sex and became love making. It must have been after one in the morning that we finally fell asleep.
I awoke next morning, Saturday, with a start. The room was bright with sunshine and the clock showed nearly ten. I rolled over in bed to find I was alone; Zach had left: but when? I jumped out of bed, still totally naked, the events of the previous evening were still fresh in my mind. I headed for the bathroom and then suddenly saw what was obviously a note held down by a beer glass on a side table. I picked up the glass and the note and in so doing saw five $100 bills flutter to the floor.
The note was from Zach and said: “Good morning, Andrew. I thought it better I leave whilst you were still asleep. I enjoyed our evening very much as I think did you and I truly felt after all we did together that I could not in all conscience take your money or what had been such a mutually enjoyable occasion. And so, herewith your five $100 bills back. You are a really great guy and I have to tell you that that was some of the greatest sex I have ever had. So thanks for everything.” it was signed simply Zach.
Reading this brief message, I went hot and cold all over. Here was a guy whom I had just met and with whom I had had some of the greatest sex ever and he was gone. It suddenly hit me that I did not even know his full name or where to contact him other than via Rent-a- Cock. And he knew me only as Andrew and had met me in an anonymous hotel bedroom. I don’t know how many of you believe in love at first sight, but that is how I felt about Zach. I had never been in love with anyone before; but I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was in love with Zach.
He was physically everything I wanted; he had a beautiful body and was super well-equipped where it mattered most. He fucked like an angel (rather profanely, I idly wondered if angels ever copulated) and he clearly had great moral fibre and a sense of right and wrong. What young stud would voluntarily give back a $500 fee which he had already pocketed? But Zach had done so, because he felt it was right. He was clearly an exceptional character and as I showered and washed away the memories of last night’s sex, I made up my mind to try to find him.
My first call was to Rent-a-Cock where my sympathetic contact, Mike, was off duty until Monday evening. Monday evening! That was more than two days away: two days which seems like an eternity. Could no one else help me? But no; no one else knew anything at about a new recruit called Zach; so I was faced with waiting until Monday evening before I could go any further. I am sure that all of you know what it is like when matters of the heart weigh on you. I was on tenterhooks until I could contact Mike.
Tenterhooks? What an extraordinary expression yet so very apt. A tenter is a frame on which, in old days, wet cloth was stretch on nails or hooks driven in around its edges. As the cloth dried, and shrank, the fact that it was restrained by the hooks around its edges ensured that it dried flat and smooth. Well, that is just how I felt in my frustration at not being able even to try to find Zach. I was tantamount to being stretched on hooks, drying out slowly and becoming ever more tense. I cursed myself for my stupidity.
There was nothing I could do. Why had I given him a fictitious name? Why had I known him only as Zach and not enquired after is full name? Why did I not know anything more about him beyond the fact that he was gay and a brilliant cocks-man with whom I had, to judge from my feelings, fallen hopelessly in love? Did his note to me and the returned cash mean that he might possibly feel the same way about me? We had fucked each other with such rare intensity that there had to be more in it than just raw sex. All these and many other thoughts passed through my mind as my frustration at my own stupidity built up and up forced as I now was to wait, powerless, until Monday evening.
I had been on edge all day in the office. My colleagues sensed that there was something radically wrong, but they had no idea of the agony I was going through: the agony of not knowing; the agony of having to wait until my one potential lifeline was again reachable that evening. Well, Monday evening finally arrived. I called Mike and was devastated by what he had to tell me. It turned out that Zach, whose first non-official client I had been, had rung in on the Saturday and told the Rent-a-Cock organisation that he had had second thoughts about the escort business and was withdrawing.
So what was Zach’s full name? Where did he live? What was his telephone number? Mike told me despondently that nothing was available. Zach had just vanished as if into thin air and the only thing any of us knew about him was his name; Zach. And as I had used a fictitious name, might he too not have done the same? Was Zach a nickname or was it as unreal as my name had been?
For the next two weeks I sat around metaphorically biting my nails not knowing what to do; I knew that I desperately wanted to find Zach, Never was there a truer maxim than the expression “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” I was totally obsessed by Zach and had to find him; but how? I had no idea at all where to start. My humdrum sex life continued as ever with my regular friends, for like most young men, both straight or gay, I could not live without regular sex. My regular partners, all of whom were really nice guys and whom I truly liked a lot, were just no substitute for what I had experienced in my one night with Zach. My sex life, which as I said earlier had been steadily becoming less and less satisfactory, now became utterly boring.
It was about three weeks after my night with Zach, that in sheer desperation and the hope of finding a one-night stand who might satisfy me that I went into the bar of the very same hotel where Zach and I had spent our night together.
As I told you this hotel was a very gay friendly place and in that neighbourhood attracted a good class of clientele, many of whom were looking for gay sex. The bar had become a Mecca for upper-class pick-ups. It was not the first time that I had entered the bar and had been successful in finding an attractive partner there for a one-night adventure.
As I entered and cast my eye around to take in the talent that evening, to my utter surprise and joy, I saw Zach standing ordering a drink at the bar. His back was towards me but I instantly recognised my erstwhile best partner ever. As I approached Zach the bartender was just handing him his drink and so I said: “Make that two, bartender will you, if you please.”
Zach turned around, looked at me and smiled: “Andrew, what a surprise; I never expected to see you again.” To me it was a gift from heaven, for I had practically given up hope of ever seeing him again. But here he was; in the flesh. standing before me. The fates had really been kind to me that evening. and I metaphorically fell on my knees and gave thanks. I’m not at all sure whom I was thanking, for I am not really much of a believer; but the thought was there .
So the two of us moved and sat down at a table in quiet corner and unburdened ourselves to each other. I told Zach that I was sorry that he had left me without a word; even more so that he had given me back my money. I told him just now much I had enjoyed that one night with him and had subsequently tried, to no avail to find him. I recounted to him how the Rent-a-Cock escort agency had told me that he had quit, leaving no trace, having decided to withdraw his proposed services even before they had begun.
In turn he told me that I had been his first client and that his tentative entry, if it could be called that, into the male escort business had been done in response to a challenge made by some of his friends. They had dared him to try his hand at selling his undoubted sexual prowess for money as a male escort. He had taken up the challenge, which had led him to Rent-a-cock and then to me as his first client. He had really never been serious about becoming a male escort. It was, at the end of the day, by way of a joke.
“But as soon as I saw you,” he said, “I realised that this was not some ordinary run-of-the- mill guy looking for a little anal stimulation as it is euphemistically called, but a search by a great looking, sexually well-equipped guy – no let me modify that and say superbly equipped guy – for some special sex. And when we finally got intimate together, I realised that we fitted each other like fingers in a glove. And so, once we had each fucked the other and had become more relaxed, we fell into bed and spent the night together in what I have to describe as love making. It was no longer raw sex; no longer just the physical act of copulation, but a union with genuine feeling the one for the other.”
“So when I awoke next morning and you were still asleep I wrote you that note and gave you back your money as I did not feel that I could accept it, given the relationship which we had clearly had together, albeit for a few brief hours. I sensed, and I guess you too felt the same, that there was something special between us. It was clear to me that you were highly experienced in the art of gay sex and there had to be some reason for you to resort to a male escort whom you were willing to pay for sex. For me it was supposedly just my first job with the agency, but like you, I am not a beginner as I do have a very active sex life with a number of friends. In fact it was they who challenged me to try out the role of male escort, a challenge which I simply could not resist.”
“But as soon as we had got together and I was pumping your arse, I realised that this was something very special for you; something which you hoped I could give you which your regular partner or partners could not. And it soon became something very special to me too; even more so when we switched roles and you played top and fucked me. And then what happened in bed together was absolutely amazing; as I said, it was no longer just sex, but an act of love between the two of us; or so it seemed to me.”
“And so, having left you without a word as I thought over what had happened over the next few days, I regretted more and more of the way I had gone off without a word. I desperately wanted to see you again, but all I had was your name: Andrew. The Rent-a-Cock agency whom I had already told I was quitting, would not give many details about you at all, pleading client confidentiality. Oh and by the way, I discovered that Mike, our contact at the agency, had been fired for passing me to you without authorisation. So the one friendly voice there had gone. And the hotel was no help either, as the only thing they knew was that they had rented a room to you for cash and the only name they had was Andrew and so that was a blank too.”
I listened to all this without a word, rejoicing in the evident fact that Zach had clearly found me as attractive as I had found him to be. Of course Zach was totally unaware of my true identity and as I was to discover later, I was equally unaware of his; but more of that in due course. This did not seem to be the moment for any further explanations from me. I knew how I felt about him and he had made his feelings clear enough; so action seemed to be the order of the day. So, taking the bull by the bull by the horns I said to him: “Zach if you are free now, would you like to come back and see where I live? It’s only a few minutes walk from here.”
Looking back at this ridiculous question, I mentally filed it in my memory as the equivalent of that classical and probably apocryphal question which the man, intent on seducing a female, whom he has just met, says: “My dear; would you like to come back to my place and see my etchings?” I ask you, after all I had just heard and when it was abundantly clear that what we both we both wanted was to have sex together, it really was a chicken invitation I had given Zach; but chicken or not, Zach jumped at the idea and so off we walked back to my apartment.
As we entered the foyer, the uniformed porter, who knew me quite well, said “Good evening Mr. Marcus.” He had adopted the fashion of addressing me by my first name when I was a teenager and my parents were still alive and had continued now that I was an adult, but always now preceded by the
respectful handle, Mister. Whether Zach had picked up on the fact that I had been addressed by my first name and that it was clearly not Andrew, I am not sure. But all ambiguity disappeared when we arrived at my front door on which was affixed for all to see a name plate: Marcus S. McManus.
I saw Zach do a double-take as he saw the name on the plate and then glanced at me as I opened the door and we entered. Now I have already mentioned that my apartment is vast. In fact it is absolutely enormous as it occupies the whole of the top floor of the bloc. For someone seeing it for the first time, it is, to say the very least, somewhat overwhelming. Zach looked around and said: “You mean you live alone in this place? Gee man; this is absolutely terrific. I’ve never see such a huge apartment in my life. And what’s this with the name Marcus McManus on the door? I thought your name was Andrew.”
“Well, Zach,” I said, “Let me come clean to you. The name Andrew I gave to Rent-a-Cock, which is the name by which you know me, is fictitious; I just a made it up and my real name is as you saw on the door: Marcus S. McManus; Marcus Sinclair McManus to be exact.”
“Hold on,” said Zach. “You don’t mean that you’re the guy with the advertising agency, Sinclair-McManus, do you? Are you the guy who actually owns the Sinclair-McManus agency, because if you are, I sort of work indirectly for you?”
“The self-same.” I replied with a smile. “And looking back on the way things have developed it would have been a darn sight easier if you had known from the start who I was. That way you would have found me more easily and we would both have avoided sleepless nights pining after each other. And believe me, Zach, I did find myself pining after you. But, of course, when I contacted Rent-a-Cock, I had no idea that I might find myself with a guy where things worked out quite differently to what was the original intention: a one night stand with a mega-stud.” I concluded with a laugh.
Zach then went on: “Listen stud, if I had known who you were at the outset, I would probably have run a mile. In fact, to be quite honest, I’m just wondering if I shouldn’t turn around and leave right now, as you are probably way out of my league. Anyway, Marcus as I am here and as we seem to be laying our cards on the table, I guess I too need to come clean. You see, like you, I had decided that I would use a fictitious name, Zach, as my professional name for my supposed, but already defunct, male escorting activities. So Zach was just a name I thought up as it sounded sexy and was easy to remember.”
“In fact, by an extraordinary coincidence, my first name just happens to be Andrew, the name you yourself used fictitiously and my full name is Andrew Christopher Cookson. As I am sort of blond looking and tall, most people think that I am Scandinavian and probably from Minnesota, but they are wrong, I’m of pure English extraction on both sides of the family and was born and bred right here in Los Angeles. And just to fill you in, I guess I am what is usually known as a nerd; you know, one of those Silicon Valley technical types: a technical genius with no social graces. I am, in fact, the head of EDP at Compu-Logic, an EDP consultancy and that is how I was aware of your outfit, as Sinclair-McManus is one of our clients. I have never dealt with your company directly as you are in the hands of one of my senior account executives; but Sinclair-McManus is one of our important clients; so that at is why I said that I sort of worked for you.”
I said: “Well now that we both know who we are, would you like me to show you over this place or shall we get down to the business which I suspect might be as pressing for you as I can assure you it is for me.”
“I am not at all sure that I understand what business you are referring to,” said Andrew with a laugh. “Perhaps you could be more specific so that we both know what we are doing.”
I walked over to Andrew, undid the buckle on his belt and pulled down the zip of his pants. “Oh.” he continued, “I think that I am getting the idea now.”
And within ten seconds he stood before me in all his glory; and make no mistake; Andrew looked utterly glorious as he stood there naked in front of me. He had a gloriously tanned physique, and as you already know a piece of man-meat to die for.
As I in turn stripped off, I said banteringly to him: “Well you are evidently not as thick as two short planks, Andrew. You do seem to have the aptitude to understand what is needed. It really beats me how quick you were on the uptake. So can I take it that a tour of my domain is on hold or the moment? Now as you are evidently chomping at the bit to get started on our hitherto unnamed business, just let me ask you this; have you ever had sex with a guy in the open air? What I wanted to suggest is that as it is a beautifully warm night and as my roof terrace is totally private and as I have it suitably furnished with all the accoutrements for an evening of intense copulation, how would you like to give it a whirl out there?”
“Jesus wept,” came the reply. “Where the fuck do you get such pompous verbiage from? Come on you buffoon, let’s get started; just look at the pair of us: we are both already rock-hard and we haven’t even touched one another yet. So only question is, who gets the first fuck tonight?”
So we moved onto the terrace where there was a large divan which I had had installed especially for the purpose of outdoor sex. As on the occasion of our first coupling, Andrew had gone first, on this occasion I did the honours and I can safely say that I gave Andrew one the greatest and intense fucks of his life. I told Andrew that I was clean and he confirmed that he was too. So I asked him how he felt about an evening of bare-back sex, as I wanted to feel his sperm inside of me and to pump mine into him.
Somehow it just seemed the right thing to do; it was a visible means of cementing together our relationship. Andrew readily agreed; condoms were forgotten and he and I proceeded to conjugate the verb “to copulate” in the active and passive voices until we were both totally exhausted. It was an utterly exhilarating experience for both of us, for as we now both realised, we were absolutely made for each other. It is quite extraordinary how one knows that the right person is suddenly there. But one does.
I went over to the outdoor bar on the terrace and fished out a bottle of ice-cold champagne, which we demolished together, after which I pulled him up from the divan and pushed him under the outdoor shower which was also part of the terrace furnishings. As we washed off the sweat and sperm in which we both were drenched, my cock, which had by this time calmed itself, suddenly stood to attention again and I could not resist giving my partner’s arse one final thrust. I didn’t truly fuck Andrew standing there under the shower; it was sort of a sexual handshake: a pat on the back: a final gentle gesture to say thank you for a wonderful evening. It was clearly much appreciated as he swung round and embraced me giving me a kiss full on the mouth.
That kiss, our second, was one of the most intimate acts that we had had together. It was worth more than all the fucking we had done together as it said so very much about our relationship. Think on this. I have been engaged in gay sex with countless different guys for at least seven years and Andrew was the only man I had ever kissed. Sean had kissed me on one occasion , but it had not been the same. Kissing, for me at least, moved our relationship to a totally different level of intimacy.
It was by now late evening about ten, and we were both quite ravenous so we went out just around the corner from where live, to a small restaurant which kept late hours, and each consumed as small steak and bottle of red wine between us.
“What happens now?” asked Andrew, as we walked back to my apartment.
“What happens next,” I replied, “Is that we are going to go to bed together and make gentle love until we fall asleep. And and when I wake up tomorrow morning, I expect to find you still till in bed with me; no more disappearing acts! I shall than give you a good morning fuck to set you up for the day; we shall then shower together, get dressed, have breakfast in the café next door and each go off to our respective jobs. You will then come back here in the evening; I shall then show you the apartment, which as you will recollect was the main reason for my invitation, after which we shall doubtless find something to do which will amuse us. I trust you find these arrangements satisfactory.” I concluded with a laugh.
“You truly can be a pompous prick when you try.” Laughed Andrew,
Pompous or not, we did as I had suggested and that marked the beginning of a period where we consolidated our nascent friendship and rapidly became completely inseparable. I had finally found the man who was to become my life’s partner. And so, thanks to that extraordinary organisation, Rent-a-Cock, I not only solved my sex problem in that I found a guy with whom I truly enjoyed sex. I was completely in love with Andrew and he with me; it was a match made in that mythical place, heaven, which we both experienced. A month later, Andrew moved in to live with me permanently: we have been together ever since.
I have told this story as if it just happened, at the present time, in the middle of the second decade of the twenty-first century. In fact, all the events leading up to solving my problem actually took place over forty-five years ago in the late 1960’s. Andrew and I are now both in our early seventies and we are still together; and more importantly, we are still both as much in love with each other as the day we first met. We still manage an active, though a little less vigorous, sex life. It has truly been a match made in heaven: a union ordained by fate. I wish everyone could be so lucky.
THE END