invisible light

like reading JG Ballard's crash or watching any David Cronenburg film, this video is beautiful, arousing, unsettling and sometimes sickening all at once

Scissor Sisters - Invisible Light from bat on Vimeo.

final night at the manor

i had decided it was to be my final shift at the whorehouse. i was getting grumpy. not much work. not much fun outside of work. some of the sex i had at work was more satisfying than my private life. now that's fucking sad

i thought about what to say. should i be honest? should i just say, thanks, but i quit? should i just say I'm taking a break and not burn one of the few bridges for work in this town? i hesitate and think about it for far too long...

then i get a text. it's from this guy i was meant to hook up with online weeks ago but we could never organize a time to meet (mostly on account of him being a total top and me not wanting to get bashed up the ginger all that often) but i had a stressful week and whether i wanted it or not, i reckon i needed a good hard botty bashin'!

i take another look at his picture. 5'8" hairy chest, short beard and muscly as hell. i give him a call back and hear his voice for the first time "G'day! how ya goin', mate!" it was so over the top i started chuckling. i thought he was faking it. "come over and we'll give it a bit of bash, eh! whadoya reckon?" he sounded like the goddamn crocodile hunter.

i wash my bits, inside and out, jump on my bike and scoot over. he answers the door still wearing his dirty overalls. he wasn't faking the voice. he's genuine and a damn sight hotter than Steve Irwin. he was fucking hot. a great kisser. great cock. big shoulders i just wanted to hang on. i couldn't help it and got on my knees and started sucking his dick. "aww... you bewdy!" his blokeyness just kicked me up a gear, i grabbed his hands and put the on the back of my head. he knew what that meant and started slamming his cock into my throat. for the first time in weeks i took a back seat and let him throw me around. despite his roughness he was surprisingly gentle in all the right places. he did everything right. he teased my ass enough to know i was ready, pushed me on to the bed and plowed my hole. it wasn't long before i was throwing my ass back into him. "aww... you champion!"

"FUCK YEAH!" i don't know what it was. i went fucking nuts. i started pushing back into him and grunting my head off.

we all make fun of the dumb Aussie bogan, and we secretly want to fuck them. i know because i recently fell in love with one. it was a bad move, but you can't control what you want. intellectualise it all you want. we know what we want in a relationship. we know what we want in a partner - we want to love and respect and find an equal... a soul mate. at least we think that's what we're supposed to want. but as a rich old man wants the pretty dumb blond, we fags still just want the man so dumb that all he can do is fuck! if you're a top, you want him so stupid that the most intelligent conversation to come out of their mouth is the gagging sound they make on the end of your cock. if you're a bottom, you want him so dumb he can't spell his own name, but he can plow you so hard he'll split you in two.

and the plumber did. he plowed the hell out of me and when it came time to harvest i came a bucket of cum all over myself and his Eureka flag doona cover. we collapsed and then cuddled for a bit and talked about motorbikes. awesome

i jumped back on trevor, my shitty little 250cc and screeched off back across town. there's nothing quite like getting your ass plowed and then getting back on a motorbike. every vibration of the engine shudders up your spine. it's incredible. by the time i got to the manor i was calm and relaxed as hell and the plumber even sent me the most Aussie thank-you text i've ever had



i pick up a few pizzas for the people at to the manor. sure it's raining, but it's yet another quiet night with no intros for the boys and only a couple of jobs for the girls. they're bored and angry. not much has changed in the 2 weeks i've taken off. i hang around for a few hours and give it a final chance. still nothing happens and one by one the whore fall asleep in front of the tv

i go to Miss Vic at reception and tell her i'm not coming after tonight. she's upset, but completely understands. it's not her fault, or the brothel, there's not enough work for the people here. we have a great chat, mostly full of dirty dick and fart jokes, she gives me a big hug and i say good bye

can't we all just get along? #2 knocking on heaven's door

i try. really i try. but i'm a bad person. sometimes i just hate people. and sometime people deserve your hate. they beg for it. sometimes they open their mouths and they barely utter a few words before you just want to smack the teeth right out of them

one such girl was Heaven

i thought Heaven was a dude. so much gender confusion had gone on in this brothel that i thought she was just a skinny dude in a cheap blue dress. turns out it she was a chick in a cheap dress that cost a lot of money

there was only 3 of us on one night, young naive (but really not so naive) Jasmine, Heaven and me with the vivacious Miss Vic on reception.

i was sitting in the kitchen when Heaven started the usual conversation "had any bookings today?"

"nope. none."

"oh really? i don't understand that. you're a good looking man." she always seemed tired or stoned when she talks "you're not like the other guys. if i came here i would hire you."

"aww shucks, thanks heaven"

i went and grabbed a pizza for dinner for dinner. Heaven stumbled into the room sniffing. "mmm that smells good! is that pizza? hmm smells really good. is that from the across the road? i love pizza. i'd love a whole one but i never eat more than a slice...."

i knew what she was hinting at and said nothing for enough time to make it uncomfortable. "would you like some?"

"oh really?" i swear she was more stoned than she was 30 minutes ago. he eyes looked so heavy i felt a yawn building in the back of my throat "i can pay you back. i'll get a pizza next time and we can share it"

"just... have some. it's okay"

she eats the pizza and blows more smoke up my ass about how attractive a man i am and it's a shame i'm not scoring work. basically repeating herself from earlier

at around 10pm Miss Vic calls out for an intro for the girls. Jasmine bounces in like a gazelle on a velvet jumping castle. Heaven staggers like a newborn foal slithered fresh out of the bloody sack, hooves scratching on the lino desperate to find stable footing. eyes struggling to stay open. the 2 girls get a few intros in during the night, and it's no surprise Jasmine scores them all.

the girls have a brief exchange in the other room. Jasmine trots upstairs for a booking while Heaven bursts into the kitchen like a drunken dodgem car make a cup of tea

"you know what she said to me? Jasmine just said you look tired!" heaven jumped into a tirade, "i said to her 'that's not very nice' and she said 'i don't care i can say what i want" and i said..." i swear her eyes were no longer blinking in unison. as she went on and on i tried to guess what she was on. smack? no track marks. no pinholes. and she never spent much time in the loo to jack up or bong on. maybe just good ol' xanax? i noticed i'd stopped listening. her rant just went crazier "i wonder what Jasmine is saying to the client in an intro about me. i think the receptionists are telling the client 'don't pick heaven. pick the other girl'. you know ever since i told them i got a day job and need to leave early i don't get as many bookings. tonight i haven't had any, Jasmine got them all..."

...that's because you're staggering around in a cheap skirt hitched up around your waist like a smacked out skankwhore, you stupid bitch...

"they've got something against me. they all do..." her paranoid rant went on

finally i was left alone and Miss Vic came into to whisper, "do you think Heaven is on something?"

without a blink i said "that bitch is fucking nuts. she's off her tits on xanax. please don't leave me alone with her again"

the following week she thought her flatmates were going through her mail, sifting through her room and taking money and xanax from her purse. that could well be true but later that same day Blake and i were in the kitchen when Heaven burst in "someone just got into my locker! do you think someone else could have a key to my locker? my hairbrush has moved and a hair clip is gone!"

...is that hair clip in your hair? but i remained silent. Blake looked at me and i looked away. his mouth didn't close for a good 10 minutes

if that's heaven, i'm so glad i'm going to hell

grindring #3

just seems to be me being a cunt this week... i haven't had a good root in a while

can't we all just get along? fuck no! #1

i knew it was was always going to be tough working in a brothel. i was bound to not like a few people (if not all of them). it was my biggest hesitation

when i lived overseas in Amsterdam, one woman i worked with called me a 'slow burner'. in a workplace situation i won't steamroll my way with a bang. i lay low. work hard. reveal nothing about myself until i feel it's necessary and i'm comfortable to do so. first impressions last, especially in this industry. be myself and let them get to know me slowly. so if somebody to hates me, i want them to hate me for me!

one that started off with a bang was Amber. she was great when she first started. bright. friendly. chatty and interested in everything you had to say. when people were down, bored or started to nod off in boredom she would perk everyone one

after a few weeks, this perk became a pain in the ass.

one day everything was fine. the next, Gypsy (my favourite tranny in the world right now) would screw her nose up at Amber. i didn't know why. Gyspy wouldn't say

a day later, another hooker would roll their eyes behind her back.

pretty soon even i would roll my eyes to her face. she just wouldn't shut the fuck up. she would talk to you, and you think she would be listening to you answer, but regardless of what you said her response would just continue in the direction is was already going. she stopped having conversations and just talked at you, half the time she wouldn't even be looking at you. she's just pause briefly to catch her breath and give the impression there was a dialogue going on. after a while she wouldn't even look at you, she would just ramble off about the last job she had. you couldn't get away from her. i used to want an intro or a booking for the money, now i'd pray for an intro just to get away from whatever endless conversation about herself she locked you into. i don't care if they're paying. i'd suck an old man's dick just to get away!

initially i didn't mind her overtaking the tv and watching re-runs of Grey's Anatomy. it didn't bother me that she had seen each episode a thousand times before yet would still shhhh you if you spoke over the top of the tv. i didn't mind that she took the role of the manager and told you to help with the washing of sheets and towels even if you had not been the one to dirty them in a booking

then...

one night i was watching Cruising. the cult 80s film with Al Pacino catching a gay serial killer in new york. william friedkin. it's got some dark fucked up shit in it. hugely controversial. cinemas were protested as heavily by Gay Rights groups as much as Basic Instinct was in the 90s.

Amber walks in during the last 10 minutes of a very suspenseful film and "what's this?"

"Cruising."

"what are you watching?"

"Cruising! it's a movie about a gay serial killer"

"what's going on?"

"gay guys are getting killed ...serially. it's right at the end"

"oh my god that's shocking." as Al Pacino is having the confrontation with the guy he believes in the killer in a park Amber opens up her laptop and starts talking to the girl next to her, "i didn't win my netball game tonight..."

"i'm watching this movie!" i bark. Amber goes quiet, only to start talking again 10 seconds later

i get up and check the outdoor lounge to see if they're watching the same thing. less than a metre from where i was sitting Amber changes the channel to an episode of Friends. i take a deep breath and finish watching the movie in the next room

pretty soon i had joined the ranks of haters. when i heard her loud shrill voice i just wanted to rip her blonde hair out from their brown roots

it wasn't vicious what these types of people do. they're not even conscious of it. unless it affects them directly, they're oblivious to everyone elses feelings but their own. in Amber's case, she's just pre-occupied with herself. she must be hell to hire for a booking but she is a nympho, that's why she does this work. it seems like the only way to shut her up is my by shoving a cock in her mouth

new favourite blog

just because i'm on there

$50

last week a guy had asked me if i wanted to be part of his research project. it would take an hour of my time and all i do is talk about myself. i can do that. i talk. they listening to somebody interesting. sounds like a win-win situation to me! other people are so damn boring i talk about myself all the time. it's clear i'm so fucking interesting. who could blame him? i endeavour to become a modern day Quinten Crisp. aside from my strong desire to dress like a dandy in my winter years, it's a dream of mine to be taken to lunch and where i'll sit and spew out my embarrassing sexual anecdotes and one sided opinions for the duration of a free meal into whatever hungry ears will listen



his name is Andrew and he studies at RMIT. he is researching how sex workers advertise themselves online, how they present themselves and how they deal with... blah blah blah brainy stuff (with a side of perve). pretty much "how are you going about advertising?" because of the recent changes in how advertising for sex workers is handled in Victoria since the introduction of the PCA/SWA - a registration number that must be shown with all advertisements

what does PCA stand for? Prostitution Control Act. sounds a little Nazi-ish? that's because it is. and the act makes little sense or has any real purpose other than control. PCA - the name alone conjures visions of desperate naked filth covered whores in neck braces chained together pulling a chariot through town for everyone to spit on. at least to does to me and now i got one hell of a chubby growing with that scenario playing over in my mind.

in the last few months it has since changed from PCA to the SWA (Sex Workers... something or other... fuck. i don't know... but it's worded a little less harshly). you must give all your details to the Small Business Licencing Authority and they brand you with a scarlet letter (and a number) so they know who is advertising. no information is given to police, taxation department, local councils or any government office. so, for what purpose does the PCA/SWA exist? other than shaming individuals out of working independantly and into working for a brothel, who knows? but Victorian Legislation can change at any time and those details can affect you later in life (like applying for a visa to another country, like the USA where it is grounds for deportation - criminal record, nazi, terrorism and prostitution. that country only recently lifted the ban on visiting HIV+ tourists)

the state of Victoria is sounding evermore... well... Victorian. (She's the prudish catholic Queen of England that like getting fucked by a horse, right? )

i was more than happy to help out with Andrew's research. most people seem to run and hide from these kinds of things assuming it's either someone gathering information for the police, a pervert or just a nosey little guy getting some info on how to become a manwhore. he emailed the appropriate documents on what his research meant. he was paying $50 for my time (the standard that all university research offers it's subjects). and i dug around on facebook searching his name and RMIT and he came up. so it was a good bet that he was genuine

Andrew was a damn cool guy. making it known all his about his research before the interview started and offering any help i might need (in the form of a beer). he knew a fair bit about the industry already and was keen to hear more about other people's experiences. instead of having a beer, i had a strong coffee and therefore wouldn't shut the fuck up. every question he asked i rambled off way too much information. fuck giving ecstacy or using interrogation methods on me, just feed me good strong coffee and i couldn't shut up if i tried. we went way over the hour and so many answers opened up many more questions we didn't get to

talking to him reminded me that i'm more grounded about this kind of work than i thought. that i do love this job more than any other that i've ever had, mostly due to the blatantly apparent job satisfaction and great pay, and i have my head screwed on when it comes to this. really, i've got bigger problems than this. it's just a job. not a career. and it's not all that i do with my life. if your job defines you, then you're a dick.

thank fuck he didn't ask about love and relationships and stuff...

grindring #2

incall #2 - club 80

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stack the deck

i was feeling my time was coming to an end at the Manor. it wasn't that i was no longer new or fresh, but i'd had pretty much had all i could take of sitting around not earning money. i can not earn money at home, in front of the tv, or in bed with several other guys hotter than anything that was to walk through the front door (except maybe some of those hot blokey tranny fuckers)

more new people had arrived. more gay boys. more pretty pretty gay boys that looked just like the last bunch of pretty pretty gay boys who no longer work here. orbital and Across Age was getting boring and i was fast running out of polite conversation. lately i have just been happy to score one job (around $100). washing dishes in a cafe pays the same and with more job satisfaction. it's a great place to work, great set up and great people work there (managers, receptionists and whores) but it's new hasn't built the reputation or the client base that others have just yet.

two guys came in together. with the 6 guys working tonight, they got a lot to choose from. i went in 3rd (again, advice from 30Rock on how to stack the deck in your favour for an audition).



i walked into the intro room. one guy was a short rounded little American with an unnecessarily big jacket. the other was a tall blokey aussie guy clearly from the country (and kinda hot). they weren't looking to share. the little American was a little ...well, American. uptight, nasally and paranoid; like a dumpy woody allen. "i have a boyfriend back home. so there will be no fucking. i can't have the condom break on me. i can't take anything back home and pass it on to him. this illegal back home, you know."

"we're tested regularly. we're clean. condoms rarely ever break. what you're doing is legal in Australia, so relax mate. you're safe here"

"i know," he was almost rocking back and forth in Rain man like fashion, "but i can't have the rubber break on me. i can't"

"ok. rubbers are strong, but we don't have to fuck," i wasn't changing his mind, so i quick to support him, "maybe it's for the best. i like to fuck pretty rough anyway..."

his beady little eyes lit up, "oh i like it rough!" that seemed to be what sold me. i scored the job. the other blokey guy wanted a bottom to fuck, so i wasn't going to get that job :(

i took the American upstairs. asked more about what he wanted. he wanted a rough verbal top. sweet! he showered while i went downstairs and did my hair and nails - which means i brushed my chest hair up and made sure there was no shit under my fingernails. psyching myself up. i gotta make this guy's trip to Oz memorable. can i do it? a half hour of verbal is easy. but american's like VERBAL. they can barely shut their fucking mouths at the best of times. "i'm gonna run out of things to say!" i tell the other guys in the lounge, "give me some more synonyms for 'cock'"

they looked dumbfounded. i thought by my question, but it was just one word that confused them. only one guy, Blake, didn't care enough to show how dumb he was, "a syn...? a what?"

"another word for cock!"

there was silence while some of them gave it some genuine thought. Blake came up with the first suggestion, "um... cock?"

"yeah thanks, buddy"

i was over-playing nerves just to entertain myself. it's either that or watch more of Jersey Shore. as much as i want to fuck 'roided-up Ronny in the ass, i hate watching tv

i got back upstairs. the guy is waiting for me sitting on the edge of the bed in a towel. i grab him by the throat and force him to the ground. i go into the verbal overdrive and he loves. before the intro, the receptionist said one was a foreigner, so i went with my lumberjack ensemble. worn sleeveless black and red check shirt and dirty jeans, and playing up the aussieness. they want Steve Irwin? then i will give them the hottest fucking crocodile hunter they've ever seen! even my accent went over the top. slapping my cock across his face. making him gag one it and then...

"i'm cumming!"

"what?"

"ahh i came."

"you.. you what!?!"

i looked down and his cum was on my boot. barely 5 minutes had passed.

my heart sank. my heart? maybe not my heart. something sank, and it sure wasn't my cock. that was still raging. i was so psyched up i was tempted to smack him around for my own amusement. instead i lay him down and gave him a massage while we chatted. he's had an interesting life and was a damn nice guy too. planned to see him to following day before he flew back home

28 gays later...

incalls #1

i have flatmates where i'm living now. 3 of the most awesome flatmates i could hope for. but i can't (and wouldn't) work from home. so if i a client doesn't have a place to meet, i recommend Club 80

Club 80 kick's arse! 4 levels of sleazy fun. from the usual rooms that a sex club has to a floor that is a maze made up of oil drums. it used to be the best fuck club around, until the internet and grindr took off. then a sauna and a gay bar with a free cruising area upstairs opened around the corner. the clinetele has thinned out and died off or lost interest in paying the entry fee. sometime you walk in there and it's a real-life 28 days later. except they're not infected with rage, but with a boner that knows satisfaction and an arse hungry for more! grim skeletal hand reach out form the darkness to grab you taking whatever piece of flesh they can get. despite these horrors, it can still be fun and great for work

taking a client here is great. they get to:
-try somewhere new
-try a dirty fuck club
-because i'm a pervert and exhibitionist, they get to fuck a hot guy and show it off to everyone else
the last guy had a great time. both being tops, i ran out of tricks pretty quick "hang on. i'll be back," i went off and came back a few minutes later and grabbed a sexy little guy who looked bored and made him join in. he just wanted to play around with me, but he wasn't gonna complain now he had 2 big cocks to play with. he couldn't complain anyway, both those big cocks were stuffed in his mouth most of the time. the client had to ease off because he was gonna blow so soon. instead he played with his dick while he watched me put on a show for him fucking the little guy

everone's happy

a simple test

if you're going to be a whore, you need a sense of humour. the situations you are put in (and put yourself in) can destroy your brain if you let it get to you.

here is a simple test. watch these 3 videos. do you:
a) laugh
b) laugh and feel guilty and then start laughing again
c) chuckle a bit and then cry for the poor deaf tranny and the people in a world so cruel that have laughed at this video
d) not laugh because you're offended for lady gaga
e) not laugh because you don't know what tetris is
f) not laugh








results:
a+b) you're fine. you'll make a good whore
c) you'll make a terrible whore and turn to drugs and tear yourself to peices with guilt for the rest of your tragic life
d+e+f) you're a dick. you work in finance and fantisise about people paying you cash for your body

pillow talk #1

some clients say some fucked up things after they've blown

"i want to have 50 hook ups before april. i'm up to 43. i meet a lot of guys off grindr. i can do that when my wife is not at home. i have sex with the guys in our bed. sometimes i get them to jerk off onto my wife's pillow. i'm not a nice guy, am i?"

most of the time i just nod and smile until the booking is over. sometimes i don't

"nice guy? no. that makes you a cunt."

it didn't bother him. he knew that anyway

what's boning me up today

dirtbaggin'

the smell of grease

i picked Benji up from the airport and took his battered car back with him. there was bugger-all damage, so he was happy. it's good to have Benji back in town but it seems like he's gonna have a boyfriend and i know that means i probably won't see him for a while. though i might be able to coax him out with episodes of RuPauls' Drag Race (go Raja! Go Yara!)

my motorbike had been recovered. found dumped in a creek and the tough little bugger only had a broken indicator light and smashed ignition switch. as classy as it looks starting your bike with a screwdriver, i fixed it myself. the repairs were minor so i spent a sunny afternoon in the car park of the brothel fixing him up. i love working on the bike. the smell of grease gives me a hard on. that shit sticks on your hands for hours. it's great! and the smell of my own sweat bones me up too. so now i was all greasy in the sun and i could see clients drive in and park beside me. i was a little stirred up. i was smiling yet seething with frustration as hot guy after hot would park beside me and go inside to hire a tranny to fuck them. i would fuck half of them for free right over my fucking bike. i don't understand how getting fucked in the ass by a dude in a dress, make-up and wig is easier to come to grips with than getting fucked in the ass by a dude not wearing dress or make-up or a wig

alright. i'm jealous. that's it. jealous as fuck. so fucking jealous i can't remember where this post was going. damn trannyfuckers!

for sufferers of chronic anthropomorphism

not sure if this happens to everyone, but i'm pissing myself laughing at this awesome blog

phone call #1

remember, putting an advert up with your phone number means anyone can call you...

"hey andy, how you going?"

"i'm good. you?"

"yes. i wondering if you're a free this evening. i have a bit of a strange request. i want you to shit in my toilet bowl."

"um," i answered quite unfazed "i've already taken a dump today. i won't need to go again until tomorrow. but if something, err... comes up i will give you a call"

i sat for a minute and thought it was strange that i didn't think the phone conversation was all that strange. so i told my flatmate while he was making a cup of tea. "what?" he looked at me confused, "is the toilet new? is he worried about it and needs you to take it for a test drive?"

workplace relations

one major reason for never working at a brothel before was having to get along in a workplace. to me, there's nothing more dull than workplace politics. the same boring shit that happens in an office also happens in a brothel. who's lazy. who's the boss' favourite. who's fucking who. who's the cheap slut who wears the fishnets with a ladder up the back into an intro with a client. which tranny stole what other tranny's wig... blah blah blah

boring as fuck

sometimes you get paired up. a client might want a double. that means you have to work along side a co-whore. you can always decline, but not only losing a job you might also offend the your co-worker. it might be for a reason as simple as you don't find them attractive or "that bitch never washes her mug. i'm not going down on her!". but whores are fragile things, and can take it to heart ...or what's left of their shriveled black hearts

one saturday morning there's a client called John. he wants to try it all. he booked the first hour with Connor and on the second hour i would join in.

"what's he into?"

"he likes it rough. he likes being bitten and restrained." Connor looked exhausted after the first hour. i followed him upstairs to start the 3 way. "you know. rough stuff"

i come up, walk in the door and wrestle the fucker to the bed. restraining. biting. spitting on him. making him lick our feet. all the stuff he wanted. Connor was glad for the time out. we barely touched each other, just the client, and took turns fucking him. Connor had a huge cock, so i went first before he left the guys arse in tatters. it was less like sex and more like old school WWF Rock'n'Roll wrestling ...and about as well-acted

a month later on a Friday night John returned. he intro'd us all and chose the new boy, Chase, for the first hour. i will join in on the 2nd hour. Chase worked at the Manor long ago, but he was new to me. Chase is 20. slim body. blonde hair teased and ruffled into the typical style popular in Melbourne. he injects tan and his skin is so dark he has turned caramel. it doesn't appeal to me, but it scores him a lot of work. in almost every intro he is chosen over anyone other hooker. this sometimes drives the other guys insane

i sit downstairs having a cuppa tea watching BBC News 24 show incredible footage of the earthquake and tsunami in Japan. not the most arousing aphrodisiac to work you into a sexual frenzy, but i was ready to go. Chase comes down to let me know it's my time to join in. straight away i dive into a reply of last time. biting. spitting. smacking him across the face and calling him a dog (not a pig, he wanted to be treated like a dog). "yeah, Big Bad Andy," he called me. i smacked him across the face too fucking right! i kicked into overdrive and roughed him up a little more than i should. partly i was showing off in front of Chase and partly because i was just getting off on being a cunt. it seemed to intimidate Chase. at least i thought it did.

Chase was a little shy and nervous and was fucking him first. then i took over slamming John's ass while Chase, with his back to me, sat on his face. "yeah, ride my face, beach boy!" Chase turned around to laugh a little at being called 'beach boy' then kept turning around watching me fuck this guy roughly. he had a weird look on his face. i think i was being a little too rough, grabbing him by the ankles, pulling his legs apart like i was going to make a wish, so i calmed down a little. the client blew his load and we sat down to chat for the rest of the booking. that is, the client talked, we listened and pretended to care. Chase was quiet, the poor bugger had heard the same stories in the first hour of the booking (and they weren't that interesting to hear the first time around)

we got a tip and went back downstairs. the other hookers were giggling like schoolgirls "soooooo... how was your 3way?" as if a new romance was blossoming between Chase and I.

"it was good. very easy. and then Andy comes in and rapes the guy!" Chase looked at me shocked

"that's what he likes," i defended, sipping my peppermint tea after a good rough session. i'm sure all angry daddy tops sip a nice herbal tea after a filthy rape scene. "isn't that what he wanted?"

"no. it was easy and gentle. i did make him lick my feet. but there was no rough stuff! then you came in.."

"oh. shit. sorry. last time i was told that's what he wanted and..."

"no. don't apologise it was hot!"

i was grinning from ear to ear. i was so proud. i even think i blushed

the following night, Saturday, we were all in the lounge crammed onto the 2 sofas drinking vodka i'd smuggled in from coffee mugs. we were talking about sex, no doubt getting excited about the money we'd hopefully be making tonight, and my phone goes off in my pocket. Grindr messages coming through. i check it, the face looks familiar. it was from Chase. the nice sweet but slutty little twink sitting on the sofa right beside me

"if you ever have the urge to dominate me like the guy last night you are more than welcome"

i didn't know what to say. this is a delicate workplace relation happening here. is this sexual harassment? could you really be taken seriously claiming sexual harassment in a brothel? especially if the harasser want you to be the harasser of their ass? should i just fuck the twink? eww... yuck. i can't fuck a twink! and telling him that would not go smoothly

what to do?

i gave a shit for all about 30seconds then put my phone away. 3 hours later he writes back. while out on a job (the old dude with the ass-licking dog) i respond. "i'm trying to keep our relationship professional." it was a wank. luckily Chase accepts my reason

grindring

sitting in the whore lounge is mighty boring. Grindr and Scruff is great to pass the time with
(i am the yellow/the guy on the right)


he blocked me after that. unfortunately not a League of Gentlemen fan



Scruff can be more fun. not only do you get local liars, you can get nutjobs from all over the world!

saturday afternoon... nice and slow...

balancing private work and brothel work was easy. the brothel is flexible with hours. although they want to solely work for them, what they don't know won't hurt them. I'm not stealing their clients. i have my own

it has been 2 months in the whorehouse and it's still quiet. the manager is not even bothering to try and convince us that "it's always slow this time of year" he is a great guy but he is there for the business and will tell the kids whatever they need to hear to keep them turning up for work even when there's no bookings for them. remember, no bookings means you don't make any money

Saturday day shift is one of the one shift i can guarantee at least one booking. it's still overflowing with hot beefy tradies hungry for tranny cock, but there's always guys looking for an afternoon quickie. today in the lounge was a little chubby guy. very shy, very sure about what he wanted, but nervous as hell to say it. "i would like intimacy. i want to take things very slowly. kiss and cuddle. massage. and maybe play around a little bit."

"cool. you need to feel safe and comfortable. I've got big strong money arms that are great for cuddling and spooning." he booked me over the others for 2 hours.

he chose room number 1: the deluxe suite with the big shower and bathtub. we lay on the bed, in our underwear, holding each other. it was a nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon. "how do you feel about a massage?" he asked

"sure," i got up, put some moisturizer on my hand and asked him to lay face down

"no," he said, "i want to give you a massage. is that okay?"

i was a little shocked. "fuck yeah! bring that shit on!" and dived into position before his smile had time to reach from cheek to cheek. it wasn't exactly deep tissue or the equivalent of a little fat turk stomping over my spine in a steam room, but it was pretty damn good. how often do you get a massage at work?

we lay there for about an hour. mostly cuddling and not really kissing. if he wanted intimacy, this is what i do. i pretty much lay there like a kangaroo baking in the hot sun (between hoping for miles and boxing puddytatts named Sylvester, kangaroos are damn lazy animals). i use the other person like a teddy bear. this guy was essentially a big teddy bear

"let's have a bath!"

in the bath is when the sexy time began. probably because it's a sunken tub, he got in first so he was eyes to eye with my boner. he dived on to my cock like Greg Louganis at the 1988 Seoul Olympics - as clumsily as hell. smashing it has way to the base with all the finesse of a baby bird swallowing broken glass. i raised my hand ready to smack him across the jaw, before i remembered this was not that type of job. so i grabbed his head, "slowly," and guided it myself. i love doing this. it's like having your own personal flesh-jack. pre-warmed to body temperature. self lubed and self cleaning (well, i don't have to clean it anyway). sure there's a gag reflex (sometimes not) and teeth (also, sometimes not) but when you get those lips right to the base of your shaft you get that incredible feeling of a throat pulsing and contracting over the end of your cock. also, it's great fun teaching this to guys who've never been able to do it. it's like you just taught that little cub scout a new skill and he can go sew a new badge to his shirt. that's probably the most inappropriate analogy to use, but if you're even reading this, no doubt you're a pervert of some sort and it's nothing you haven't made tasteless jokes about before

his knees must have been killing him, so i let him sit in the tub and i positioned myself over the top. now let me tell you something about myself. i hate bathroom sex. i don't mean some dirty lavatory where you use the fluoro pink hand soap as lube to rape some poor closeted married guys' ass on the filthy bathroom floor. i mean bathroom sex. like sex in the shower or bath. it's slippery. it's wet. goddamn it's dangerous! i already have a mortal fear of slipping in the shower and breaking my neck only to have my bloated naked corpse slumped on the wet tiles. that's just while washing myself. it can be tough to balance and grip barefoot on carpet bashing one up some dude's shitter let alone doing it on wet slippery tiles. bathtubs are equally less fun with less room to move. i had to do one porno scene starting in the bathtub. it was only ankle deep but i couldn't bone up. performing on camera is not difficult, but it was worried that while sucking the guys dick my hand was going to slip in the tub and i'd be caught on video in a cheap porno disappearing ing face-first into a tub. nothing more than the squeak of skin on laminate and a puff of soap bubbles where my dignity once was. problem is, this guy loved the bath and me on several limbs gripping to the slippery white rim on the tub feeding my cock to him. it even looked more like a mother bird feeding it's young, but he'd learned to swallow with far more grace.

we move back to the bed and he wants to keep sucking dick. still ultra slow and gentle he keep swallowing my cock. he just wants to serve a man, I'm more than happy with that, so i let him go for it. i kick back with my hand behind my head and shut my eyes and... i fall asleep. i don't know how. it felt great. but i fell asleep on him. i woke up to sound of my own snoring. my eyes snapped open. i looked down and he was still sucking my dick with a huge knowing grin on his face. i apologized. he laughed. the 5 mins to go buzzer went off. his 2 hours were almost up. i pulled him up close and hugged him. obliged to ask him if he wanted to extend, expecting him to decline

"let's go for one more hour." he pays at the front desk for the extra hour. i dim the lights to almost nothing. take the position of the big spoon and i start to drift back to sleep. after about 20 minutes he whispers in the dark, "lay on top of me." so i do. he's quite a cuddle teddy bear so it's comfortable. too comfortable

"fuck me!"

"uh... what?"

"spit on my face!"

"uh... you what now?"

this guy had never been fucked before. had been taking it so slow. wanted nice cuddles and pecks on the cheek and intimacy and now "fuck me, mate, fuck my ass!"

fuck, i was a little confused. but even in the dark I'm sure he could see the dirty grin creeping across my face asking, "are you sure?" he nodded. i hawked up a mouthful of slime and spat in his face. he shivered. without breaking eye contact. i slipped my legs between his, kicked the out and flipped them up around my waist. so my cock was pushing against his hole. he didn't actually want to get fucked. there is no way he could've taken it. but he loved the idea of getting raped. he trembled when i shouted "i'll fucking tear that ass open open, you little faggot!" and i'll have to say i got myself damn excited too. for the rest of the hour, that's what we did. bed head slamming against the wall of the intro room, so i pity and nervous first timers that came in and heard it

i did pull him back for some cuddling in the end. just in case i was living out some childhood trauma thing for him, at least ground him back somewhere safe. even if my raging cock was still stabbing between his thighs ...and maybe i was still slowly grinding it in.

he left a damn happy man, whatever his name was, bouncing out the door like a puppy

i think...

i think i just fucked jonah hill in the ass