dirty dawg

i managed to get along with Benji so much that we timed most of our shifts together. work felt more like hanging out a mate's place instead of home detention. unfortunately we were still making fuck all money with not even a client would come in for us to have an introduction with.

i managed to get some work. Benji had scored none.

Friday afternoon. Benji, me and some weird Canadian hooker that feels it necessary to state that he's a top. Miss Vic, the receptionist struts into the room with a flower in her beehive, "boys! intro!" as we check that our hair is perfect (or in my case, that i'm wearing my cleanest less-hole ridden wifebeater) Vic adds, "now he's a regular he normally books trannies. but because there is none her today i convinced him to have a look at the boys."

i step in first. my freshly laundered wifebeater had shrunken to a crop top and i give one final tug before i open the door to the intro lounge. the man in sitting, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. tight black jeans. pointy toed boots. a brown 80s patterned shirt. his hair bright blond is a mullet so full of volume it looks like he once played guitar for Heart. i see he in his 40s when his face looks up to me as i shake his hand. a face so weathered and leathery, it looks like a jacket potato overcooked in the microwave.

we chat, but he's too shy to be really be open about what he wants. that's the danger of going in first. most of the time the client is too nervous to say anything more than "oh... just.. you know... play around and see where it goes..." then by the 4th guy they've see who asks they no problem admitting to wanting to be fisted by a gang of midget nuns of Rollerblades. Weird Canadian goes in next. Benji goes in last. then we go and wait out the back while the receptionist asks who they would like to book and for how long. in desperate times when jobs are few and far between, this waiting period can be tense. Miss Vic opens the door "Benji. 30 minutes, love."

Benji washes his bits and heads upstairs. i find something on my phone to pretend i'm interested in so i'm not stuck talking to the weird Canadian. half an hour later Benji comes staggering down the stairs, drops into his armchair and lights a cigarette. "oh my god. i just got raped by Dog The Bounty Hunter. no playing around. no foreplay or nothing. just lay me face down and shoved it in. he had a big cock! he hammered me with it. if that's what it's like for a straight women i'm so glad i'm gay! then when he was done, he leaned down and said "better than fucking a sheila!"

that was the only job Benji got in 2 weeks. i didn't fare much better. we made the decision to break the state law and defy the Manor's rules. we were going private



dirty dawg