trying to get some quiet time again. i sit in the kitchen at work, this time sketching. less concentration needed than writing. Like the Gentlemen from Buffy, feet hovering above the floor, Bella glides up beside me and drops into a chair. "oh cool you draw too."
thinking: "again, i used to, until you sat you're fat arse down..."
"it's a good idea. i should bring my sketch book in."
the receptionist walks in and points to me, "i've got an outcall for you."
this fellow lives in the classier eastern suburbs of Melbourne. the electronic gate unlocks to let me into a Better Homes Than Yours picture perfect garden. at the door, i am greeted by an adorable black staffy, Emma. she's a little excitable. Emma's owner is a old skool queen. somewhere in his late 50s early 60s and dressed in a sweet pair of frayed denim daisy dukes and a hang ten singlet. on second though, he's dressed quite similar to how my mother used to dress me in the early 1980s, but i was 4 years old with a full bowl cut of blond hair.
"would you like some champagne?" how could i say no? he points off behind him "it's in the kitchen." in my sleeveless shirt i position the bottle for maximum flexing of muscle to make it look attractive as i pop the cork on a bottle of Great Western. we chat for a while. with the short time i spent living in the Yarra Valley, i play the bloke from the bush routine fairly well. Emma the dog's excitability has crossed the line from adorable to fucking annoying. him saying "she gets on your nerves, but she's like my only child," is the only thing stopping me from kicking the little shit across the room. the whole situation is becoming a little painful. the only thing worse than Emma's wet snout constantly digging into my crotch is the bloody awful bubbly vinegar I'm drinking from a plastic flute.
30 minutes of chat is all i can handle. normally i would not waste so much time if i was working for myself, but these aren't my clients and i expect they've had rent boys screw them over. i lead him to the bedroom, lay him on his back, legs in the air and start to fuck him. this fellow has a road well travelled and very soon i have trouble trying to figure out if i have my cock in his arse or if it's slipped underneath his arse and I'm thrusting against the mattress. he doesn't seem to be complaining so i let it go. soon i have bigger problems. Emma decides to join in. I'm banging away with a dog lapping at my arm. if it's continues, I'll lose my boner and nothing in this room will encourage it to return. suddenly the Old fella is enamored with my face and is drunkenly gazing into my eyes and tenderly brushing my bearded cheeks. while he's distracted i grab the dog my the nose and push it away. she comes back. i push her away. she comes back. i push her away. she doesn't come back. instead she jumps up on the end of the bed and sits still. i go back to sticking it to the man. all is going well until i feel a something wet on my balls. wet and warm. lapping. Emma's is licking my balls. i kick her away. she's comes back and starts licking my ass. not wanting to go through this process again and even if i do, knowing she will just turn her attention somewhere more annoying i let her continue
at least that's what i tell myself. when really, it felt kinda good. making the best of a bad situation. fucking some old dude, him tenderly brushing my face, cock jamming into a bucket of warm marshmallow and a dog licking at my balls for a couple of hundred bucks an hour. this is what my life has come to ...and i love it!
Sunday, 27 February 2011
Friday, 25 February 2011
everyday conversation
on leaving the house early this afternoon....
Housemate #1: "you heading out?"
"yeah i got a face-rape and piss in some guy's mouth at the Hotel Intercontinental."
Housemate #1 "ok," not taking his eyes of the tv," you gonna be back for dinner?"
Housemate #1: "you heading out?"
"yeah i got a face-rape and piss in some guy's mouth at the Hotel Intercontinental."
Housemate #1 "ok," not taking his eyes of the tv," you gonna be back for dinner?"
Thursday, 24 February 2011
day four
so this Bella chick. she's nuts. still moping around the brothel in her pale blue nightie like a smacked out Bonnie Tyler, heart eclipsed, holding out for a hero at $260 an hour. i don;t know why she's so miserable. she's scored more work than me. i tell her to shut up. "i know. i just miss my boyfriend. i want to be with him"
"in Seattle?"
"no he's here in Australia," lie #4 24 hours ago he was in the United States, "he fucked me last night. he has such a big dick. but i was so worn out after work here. i got pounded by this guy."
"so you're boyfriend has a great job. he's hot. he's rich. he's got a big dick. why are you here?"
later I'm hiding away from the Sci-fi Channel and typing an entry into this when Bella glides up beside me. "are you writing?"
unable to to do two things at once, "yes" and my fingers go back to typing
"what are you writing?" i stop typing. i look her. i roll my eyes, then resume typing. "i write too."
"i used to write too," i think, "until you sat your fat arse by my side and started annoying the shit out of me"
"actually i write a lot. i was writing a series of novels.... and then Twilight came out! but my novels are different."
now I've completely forgotten what i was writing, "let me guess. the main female protagonist is a tranny?"
"mmm," she nodded
"in Seattle?"
"no he's here in Australia," lie #4 24 hours ago he was in the United States, "he fucked me last night. he has such a big dick. but i was so worn out after work here. i got pounded by this guy."
"so you're boyfriend has a great job. he's hot. he's rich. he's got a big dick. why are you here?"
later I'm hiding away from the Sci-fi Channel and typing an entry into this when Bella glides up beside me. "are you writing?"
unable to to do two things at once, "yes" and my fingers go back to typing
"what are you writing?" i stop typing. i look her. i roll my eyes, then resume typing. "i write too."
"i used to write too," i think, "until you sat your fat arse by my side and started annoying the shit out of me"
"actually i write a lot. i was writing a series of novels.... and then Twilight came out! but my novels are different."
now I've completely forgotten what i was writing, "let me guess. the main female protagonist is a tranny?"
"mmm," she nodded
Wednesday, 23 February 2011
day three - job number one
finally. i score a job. but not in-house. no. once a client sees my face they just fold their arms, turn away and shuffle me out of the introduction room as soon as possible. I've been told I'm a little intimidating. oh well... fuck 'em! or not. which seems to be the case
so all excited i wash my bits, jump on my bike and drive out to one of Melbourne's richer seaside suburbs for my first client through the Manor. i drive all the way ...to a house I've been to before. yes it's an upper middle class fellow I've fucked before when i worked privately. he doesn't remember me. no all that surprising because he's cracked out of his mind after a 3 day bender
i rough him up. i do the job. shove my cock in his arse and it's like fucking a half baked meringue. i slam away at his arse with all the finesse and sensuality of an old Indian woman slapping her washing on the rocks of the Ganges. i lose my stiffy. he's so cracked out this doesn't bother him, so i sit back and he watches me wank and share fuck stories
"what's it like working in a brothel? I'd imagine you guys are just sitting around kicking back watching porn. all lubed up. jacking your big cocks. sucking each other off while you're waiting for the next job. yeah?"
umm...
when i was younger, i probably would have told him the truth. in reality we are sitting around bored out of our fucking minds. a room of mostly broke and desperate fags and trannies fumbling with their iPhone on skanky second hand furniture while channel V booms the latest in bland-ass pop music. cigarette rolling. chain smoking. coffee drinking. waiting... waiting... waiting...
but I'm so well trained. i said nothing. i didn't even roll my eyes. let him have his fantasy and i'll be the zen master. a fucking zen master!
so all excited i wash my bits, jump on my bike and drive out to one of Melbourne's richer seaside suburbs for my first client through the Manor. i drive all the way ...to a house I've been to before. yes it's an upper middle class fellow I've fucked before when i worked privately. he doesn't remember me. no all that surprising because he's cracked out of his mind after a 3 day bender
i rough him up. i do the job. shove my cock in his arse and it's like fucking a half baked meringue. i slam away at his arse with all the finesse and sensuality of an old Indian woman slapping her washing on the rocks of the Ganges. i lose my stiffy. he's so cracked out this doesn't bother him, so i sit back and he watches me wank and share fuck stories
"what's it like working in a brothel? I'd imagine you guys are just sitting around kicking back watching porn. all lubed up. jacking your big cocks. sucking each other off while you're waiting for the next job. yeah?"
umm...
when i was younger, i probably would have told him the truth. in reality we are sitting around bored out of our fucking minds. a room of mostly broke and desperate fags and trannies fumbling with their iPhone on skanky second hand furniture while channel V booms the latest in bland-ass pop music. cigarette rolling. chain smoking. coffee drinking. waiting... waiting... waiting...
but I'm so well trained. i said nothing. i didn't even roll my eyes. let him have his fantasy and i'll be the zen master. a fucking zen master!
Monday, 21 February 2011
in house out house - day two
in house out house day 2
after my first shit-awful attempt to earn money with a new range of customers. i decided to sign up for a second shift
it's Australia Day eve. i could be at the Laird getting shitfaced drunk and waving my cock around at the Underbear party. binge drinking in a crowded bar slipping through the crowd of sweaty hairy backflesh may not be everyone cup of tea, but it's mine. i like many cups of tea. i like peppermint tea and i like big hairy men. however, i have no cash after signing up to a gym today
so i plan to spend another 9 hours in a room with a bunch of self-harmers with the sci-fi channel at a deafening level.
today the tv is dominated by the tennis and i am no longer the new boy. today that role is played by Isabella, or Bella. "it's my middle name. oh. my middle name abbreviated."
Bella is a sweet looking young girl. where's my sweet girl? she's right here... and she's a tranny!. early 20s. a voluptous body. nice round face. a little like Bert Newtown and freckly. her costume tonight is a gown that looks like a long nighty and her long straight brown hair is a bit dishevelled, so if you're looking for a dumpy girl who just rolled out of bed and stumbling down the street to hand in her dole form then Bella is your girl. she sat down in the filthy armchair next to me and opened up "sorry. i'm telling you my life story"
"that's okay. it'e better than watching the tennis" fuck, how could i be more wrong
"i'm just here because i want to see if i can do this"
"what? sit in a skanky armchair?"
"no. this. i've never done this before."
"go to a bar. get drunk and fuck a bunch of guys. can you do that?"
"i'm not... no. that's not what i'm about"
"doesn't mean you shouldn't do it!" Gypsy, the lovely tranny on the opposite armchair piped up "have fun! practise makes perfect!"
"i've had compliments on that before. he's told me i'm good." my eyebrow raised a question. "yes he. my boyfriend. we're engaged. we've been together for 10 years. i live with my parents. they don't know i have a boyfriend. he's been sneaking over the back fence. he's spent the last 4 years in Seattle." the shit boring tennis on the telly is catching my eye. "i hope i can work here. haven't been able to get a job for 6 years and that was before i was transgendered."
something smelled fishy. and by that i mean i could smell fish. i'm not sure i believe this lass was ever a lad. everything about her says female. the more she talked. the more she expressed her issues. at first she was unable to get a job. then she wasn't "allowed" to work (not allowed? that screams "i'm mental"). now she is not able to work (disability pension for being a mental nutbag who thinks she's transgendered)
i could be wrong. but it's far more interesting if i'm not
end of day two. no jobs. no money
after my first shit-awful attempt to earn money with a new range of customers. i decided to sign up for a second shift
it's Australia Day eve. i could be at the Laird getting shitfaced drunk and waving my cock around at the Underbear party. binge drinking in a crowded bar slipping through the crowd of sweaty hairy backflesh may not be everyone cup of tea, but it's mine. i like many cups of tea. i like peppermint tea and i like big hairy men. however, i have no cash after signing up to a gym today
so i plan to spend another 9 hours in a room with a bunch of self-harmers with the sci-fi channel at a deafening level.
today the tv is dominated by the tennis and i am no longer the new boy. today that role is played by Isabella, or Bella. "it's my middle name. oh. my middle name abbreviated."
Bella is a sweet looking young girl. where's my sweet girl? she's right here... and she's a tranny!. early 20s. a voluptous body. nice round face. a little like Bert Newtown and freckly. her costume tonight is a gown that looks like a long nighty and her long straight brown hair is a bit dishevelled, so if you're looking for a dumpy girl who just rolled out of bed and stumbling down the street to hand in her dole form then Bella is your girl. she sat down in the filthy armchair next to me and opened up "sorry. i'm telling you my life story"
"that's okay. it'e better than watching the tennis" fuck, how could i be more wrong
"i'm just here because i want to see if i can do this"
"what? sit in a skanky armchair?"
"no. this. i've never done this before."
"go to a bar. get drunk and fuck a bunch of guys. can you do that?"
"i'm not... no. that's not what i'm about"
"doesn't mean you shouldn't do it!" Gypsy, the lovely tranny on the opposite armchair piped up "have fun! practise makes perfect!"
"i've had compliments on that before. he's told me i'm good." my eyebrow raised a question. "yes he. my boyfriend. we're engaged. we've been together for 10 years. i live with my parents. they don't know i have a boyfriend. he's been sneaking over the back fence. he's spent the last 4 years in Seattle." the shit boring tennis on the telly is catching my eye. "i hope i can work here. haven't been able to get a job for 6 years and that was before i was transgendered."
something smelled fishy. and by that i mean i could smell fish. i'm not sure i believe this lass was ever a lad. everything about her says female. the more she talked. the more she expressed her issues. at first she was unable to get a job. then she wasn't "allowed" to work (not allowed? that screams "i'm mental"). now she is not able to work (disability pension for being a mental nutbag who thinks she's transgendered)
i could be wrong. but it's far more interesting if i'm not
end of day two. no jobs. no money
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