last days of Sydney - final job (better than a 10" dick)

i lay on the cool tiled floor of the laundry, the whirring white noise of the clothes dryer soothing me in to a most relaxed state as if Enya herself mainveined a mouthful of mogadons and lay moaning a chorus of madrigals into my ear. i had vague thoughts about the job i had in a few hours. it was to be my final job before flying to europe. a 3-way with a client and a touring hooker built like a Applecrumble&Fitch model and his 10" dick. the calm was broken when the client sent one more text - the address of the hotel room where we would meet and a small note "you will get an extra tip if you open your ass for both of us"

you what now?

you want me to bottom? for BOTH of you!?! that about 18" inches of cock all up…  all up in my ass! oh, hell no! hell no! 

now don't get me wrong, i love have my fudge packed as much as the next homo and i will tear your goddamned head off if you don't do it right. but i have to WANT it. 

at work, when it's a mechanical performance, i rarely want it. even when the guy is hot as fuck - his pix are all over tumblr so i know he's hot, you know, if you like that tall muscled hairy chested tattooed chiseled features look. it's going to take me a good hour to ease ass-first down on that traffic cone of a cock.

i am the first to admit that i am a terrible bottom.

i know the client gets off on watching my face contort in agony, probably a little more than i get off on knowing he gets off watching my face contort in agony. if that's true, then he will get quite the show tonight

i bolt up off the floor. i panic a little. then i have a beer. then i suck as much of the dregs i can find lurking in the crack pipe  - if anything will loosen me up, that will. then jump on my bike and make my way over. 

i get there early and wait. parked in the same spot of Springfield Avenue where years earlier, as a removalist, i had moved the neighbour of Johnnie Cass from the first season of Big Brother Australia. he was openly gay and demonised as a two-faced villain though he was guilty of nothing more than being a typically insipid personal trainer-cum-lifecoach Eastern Suburbs homosexual. Johnnie seemed to take a shine to the Irish backpacker and I in our skimpy king gee shorts and worn wifebeaters.



everywhere we went he was there, reconstituting out of every shadow, watching us strain and lift and squat chunky heavy wooden furniture all the while proclaiming loudly into his mobile "tell Janice i will be happy to accept that tv presenters role," convincing no one that he was actually on a real phone call. 

are you not receiving as much as you would like? take it from an expert and take it like an expert. no one can show you how to receive quite like a sydney 'mo can

a few moments later the client arrived. we talked a bit and head towards the apartment of the 10" dick when a message came through from his boyfriend saying the 10" was sick and unable to make the appointment. 

for the first time in hours my arsehole relaxed. 

sure i didn't get to fuck the hot guy, but i did earn my hourly rate. plus the other guy's hourly rate as my tip. plus the intended tip as an additional tip.

i received. i received it all