silver screen shower scene

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

got milk?

o' the laughter of children

Talk Sex - Sue Johanson - rough anal sex

last days of Sydney - rubberman

"i want recreate those shots. i like the dark element of what you did. the idea of threat. having you as a silent danger. not into the domination stuff such as the idea of getting away from the completely normal. the factory stuff reminded me of the Saw / Hostel films which always seem to have a home erotic side to them. 

i sound like a very disturbed individual" 

it was my last day. 

if i was still a child, my last day would be spent in a school classroom. student numbers slowly dwindling down until all that remained was the kids too poor to go away early on summer vacation. aside from their silent smiling pity, the only compensation our teachers could offer was forcibly gathering the left-over children of the underclass into one common room and letting us make cheap lame hand-made christmas decorations to take home to place on our even lamer hand-made christmas trees. that home usually being a house, or for me, for a few years, a trailer

who's that kid at the back of the room

baking under the hot sun in early days of summer we were crammed into little sweatshops. disappointed and angry. even in our tender years we were bitter about what had become of us. yet out of this dire misery, with our fingertips gleefully stained from mixing clag glue and colourful crepe-paper, we crafted symbols of joy and celebration. our denial was a bright and happy occaision

setting those papers on fire...

however, now i am a grown-up in grown-up land, i finally see it inexcusably ludicrous for Australian children to be colouring-in and decorating their homes with Santa Clause, Raindeer and Snowmen in the bright and sunny blistering heights of summer. also in grown-up land, our last days of semester are replaced with our last days in the office. my office is somewhat different. i can walk out of it anytime i want. but somewhere between my solid work ethic and greed makes me overbook myself right to the very end

we never see him with the girls….

this guy wanted an American Horror Story style rubberman rape and manhandling in an abandoned building. the Dunlop Factory was the ideal location but in the middle of the day i was bound to run into security, or worse, friends cruising for cock. 

*****

"hey, fancy seeing you here!" i would hear a voice come from somewhere within this abandoned building, and turn to see an old chum

"G'day!" my voice slighty muffled so i enforce it with a polite wave. a black plastic wrapped hand in the air.

"so whatcha doin'?"

"oh you know," as i point to the naked slave being mouthraped at my feet, "just another day the office."

my friend looks down, "oh yeah, of course. working hard or hardly working, right?" he laughs

"oh, you *giggle*" i shoo him off away. my giggling could barely be heard over the crinkling of plastic as i thrust my cock deep into his gagging throat. "see down the pub for a beer later?"

"wouldn't dream of doing anything else, mate."

that scenario is one to avoid.

******

the other unappealling scene is riding the next few blocks on a motorbike dressed in tight black plastic at 11am. 

i entertained the idea for a while until i tried to wrap myself in plastic. it's not possible to do it yourself

i had to relocate. my old employer. my dear old filthy dark sex club. it was a far better and far sexier idea than leaving the front door of a half-boxed apartment open with a rubber man standing at the far end of it. the client also welcomed a changed of location. 

i turned up to the front cage with nothing but roll of black plastic wrap and a handful of dreams. "Fluffy, i need your help." Fluffy, being the man he is, was more than happy to help. every homo loves to play dress ups and body wrapping incorporates our natural skills of craft and design. much those poor children denied an education and forced to glue strips of paper tinsel in the steaming heat summer, Fluffy could not have asked for a better interruption of his day. christmas came early this year. in boots and a jockstrap with leg cocked up high on the counter and my former employer dancing around my hairy drumsticks like an excited demon child at a satanic maypole, it was the best greeting for customers wondering into a sex club at 11am that morning. they smiled politely and moved on inside making the most of the $5 lunchtime special

we never talk to him

he never looks quite right

all plans and efforts were ruined when the client turned up early. i stressed many times to wait until 11:30am. does an erect penis listen? no. i was up to my tits in wrap when he introduced himself. the illusion of a threatening rubber man was shattered as i tried to ignore him, then regretfully waved back. if only he waited 5 more minutes when my head was wrapped and i stomped into the dark backroom.

it was kind of weird, kind of fun and kind of disappointing to have all that hard work torn to shreds in minutes. but stalking patrons in a maze was damn good fun. even though some knew who i was, they steered clear. they feared the rubber man! as for the client, he loved tearing me open like a christmas present. it was a break from his regular day, his planned career, his growing old and maybe, just maybe, his wife and kids

5c blowjobs

undercut again