My summer of sex with Cowboy

Chapter 19

The walk back from the West Village was long, but I did it quickly, almost a jog. I needed the exercise, plus it gave me plenty of time to relive Shawn's fuck. The fast walking got me sweating and my ass feeling sticky from the lubricant off the condom. My body heat liquified the lubricant enough so that it ran down the back of my legs, adding to my uncomfortableness. Finally, walking up to the Waldorf, I nod at the doorman who opens the door, saying, "Welcome back, sir." 

Yeah, right...

In the elevator, waiting for the doors to close, I'm pulling my underpants away from the sticky lubricant when an old lady, at least eighty, gets in the elevator, saying, "Picking at your rear-end, and at your age....disgusting! How were you raised? Goodness!" and she sticks her nose up. What the fuck is it with old ladies and me lately?

I say nothing but stop picking at my underwear. Then, safely in the suite, I strip off my clothes and go into the bathroom for a shower, but instead, I stare at the big tub next to the shower stall. A bath!

Naked, I close the drain in the tub and turn the water on, emphasizing the hot water spigot. Then, walking around naked, I get a beer and the cigarettes I forgot to bring with me this morning, then look around this no-smoking suite for an ashtray. I see a saucer, grab that plus my lighter, and go back to the bathroom to watch the tub filling with water.

Lighting a cigarette, I glance at the bathing items supplied by the Waldorf. Sure, when you're willing to pay twelve hundred dollars a night, they put a few extras in the bathroom. Hmm, bubble bath! I pour the whole bottle into the tub of steaming hot water. The bubble bath makes ten trillion bubbles and smells good. I'm sober, so there's no excuse for why I'm taking a bubble bath, except I feel like it, and I can, so fuck it, I am...

Holding a bottle of Heineken beer, I've got a cigarette clamped between my teeth as I step into the bathtub and immediately pull my foot back. The water is too 'effing hot! Adjusting the spigots for more cold water, I drag on my cigarette as Bruce does it and wait for two minutes before testing the water again. It's almost to the rim of the huge tube as I step in, and yes, it's hot but okay.
Slowing, bringing my other leg over, I stand for a bit and then bravely but slowly sit down in hot water. Ah, nice! The water comes to my neck, overflowing a little onto the floor, so I reach over, smoke drifting up into my eyes, and turn the water off.

I swallow some beer, take another deep drag off the cigarette in honor of Bruce, and slide down until only my mouth, nose, and cigarette, plus my left arm holding my bottle of beer, are the only parts of me still out of the water. It feels wonderful, the hot water and the awesome smell of the bubble bath; yep, women know how to take a bath the right way.

Drinking and smoking, I again think about Shawn and what a unique fuck he gave me. And, yeah, it only lasted two and a half minutes and cost me a hundred and fifty dollars, but it was one helluva fuck! I can't believe I'm admitting this, but Richard and his stepdad have put together a pretty good pussy boy business. I'm impressed! Hell, I enjoyed the three pussy boys I've paid for so far, but probably all the escorts aren't as good. 

If I can't rescue Bruce or he doesn't want to be rescued, I'll probably be going to the pussy boy website frequently. Hmm, maybe my $200,000 a-year trust fund won't be enough after all... heh-heh. It's mindboggling because I never thought I'd ever pay for sex, and now I like it.

Christ, though, I wonder how much money the mentors, um, the main men, ah, the pimps make? Hell, how much are Gregory and Jimmy making? Gee, as I thought yesterday, it looks like Bruce wasn't bullshitting me about the money-making possibilities after all. Obviously, every horny gay man isn't going to want clean-cut pussy boys, but I'll bet quite a few, like me, would rather have a male prostitute like the pussy boys rather than some desperate homeless boy who hasn't showered in three weeks.

On the other hand, the unwashed guy won't cost $800, so there's that...

Ah, the bath feels so nice as I slide down again until only my face is above the waterline. As I sit up, more water slushes onto the floor. I drink and smoke until the cigarette is down to the filter. This bathtub is big enough for two, and I think how awesome it would be to have Bruce in here with me. Ha, he'd be bossing me around, telling me to turn on more hot water or cold, and sending me, soaking wet, to get him another beer or some damn thing. Ha-ha that would be perfect, actually.

After a while, I sigh and get a washcloth to start washing. I do it lazily but without missing any part of my body because I want to be really clean for Gregory. He's super clean, so I should be, too.
After forty-five minutes in the bathtub, I reluctantly get out, sparkling clean and feeling good, thanks to the sex I'm getting from the pussy boys. Shawn, the unattractive pussy boy, fucked so good I can only dream of doing it as well. His looks had little to do with it. The training they receive is why these pussy boys are so effective with their craft, or trade, or however it's referred to.

Maybe I'll be trying out a few different pussy boys... 

As I'm drying with a large fluffy cotton bath towel, I'm thinking... this is the Waldorf; of course, the towels will be awesome! I get dressed, and I am super anxious for Gregory to show up. Damn, I'm feeling good again. Those first couple of days after Bruce was taken away, I felt nervous and pissed off at the world. Now, with the help of pussy boy sex, I'm finally feeling more like myself, but still wicked concerned about Bruce.

Well, I've got an hour to wait, so I think about going on the pussy boy site and getting a date with someone other than Gregory or Jimmy. Ya, know, for variety. Hmm,  tomorrow will be our third day here, so Cowboy and Lee might be getting restless to get back to Atlantic City.

What am I saying? That's nonsense! What's more fun, New York City or Atlantic City? Get serious! They won't mind staying a day or two longer, so I go online to the pussy boy site and schedule Jimmy again for tonight. Jimmy's pimp remembers me now, and that goes smoothly. Then, I go back to the site to look at pictures picking out a super cute young-looking guy, and try getting a date with him.

Jesus, his man, his pimp, puts me through an interrogation like I'm interviewing to be a secret service agent for the president. Still, the man finally allows me to pay $500 for a date with Carlos Santana, a beautiful native of Puerto Rico. The only times he'd make Carlos available to me is either eleven o'clock tomorrow night or eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. I thought about it and decided on the morning. Hmm, I've lost track of how much I have left on the third prepaid AMEX card. No problem, though; I can always get more prepaid cards.

Getting dressed, I see two warm bottles of Heninkek from last night sitting in melted ice, also known as water. I checked out the little refrigerator and saw it's been restocked with Heineken. The boys are at Coney Island all day, so that's good too. Cowboy promised to text me when they were on their way back. I've already decided if I'm with a pussy boy in my bedroom when the boys come in, I'll tell them he's a guy I picked up at a bar. Looking at my cell phone, I see it's five of four, so Gregory is probably coming up in the elevator right now. 

And, of course, he's right on time. Two light knocks on the door; I open it and go, "Wow, you got your haircut," and I hug him around the neck. He makes a sort of gay, exasperated move with his head and pries my arms off, saying, "Jesus Christ, we need to maintain a professional relationship. You hired me to do a job; I'm not your boyfriend."

Backing up, I go, "Yes, of course, sorry." 

He follows me inside and acts swishy, saying, "Yeah, I got a haircut at the pussy boy barbershop. It's not called that, but the pussy boy company owns it, and the barbers know us. My main man told me to get a haircut or no more dates until I did, so I went right over. How do you like it?"  

"You look hot!"

He says, "It's hot outside, too, and I couldn't get a cab, so I walked fifteen blocks. I need to freshen up in your bathroom, and may I have a beer?"

I point to the bathroom door and get a couple of Heineken bottles from the refrigerator. It's not my favorite beer by a long shot, but it's what the Waldorf puts in the convenience frig, or whatever it's called. Swishy guys aren't my favorite either, but I like Gregory, so I overlook the swishy part.

Gregory is sexy hot, but the haircut and his khaki shorts and white polo shirt makes me feel he's all pussy boy now, and that's what I'm paying for. Opening both bottles, I wait for Gregory, and when he comes out of the bathroom, I pass him a bottle; we tap bottles, and both take a couple of swallows of bitter beer. The first swallow is by far the best, as the rest are without distinction to me. I like hard liquor better than beer.

Gregory sits down and crosses his legs like girls do it, then says, "Do you have something specific in mind for me to do?"

I shrug, "Um, no, I was hoping you'd decide what we do for the hour." He nods, swallows beer, then says, "Yes, that's what I thought, but I wanted to check to be sure."

I'm standing next to the chair he's sitting in, thinking how cool it would be to share the chair with him. I ask, "Did Jimmy tell you about our date?"

"Oh, Christ, yeah. He liked you. He told me all about it when we were in bed together last night."

I casually rub my finger back through his crisp, just-barbered hair, asking, "Doesn't it bother you two lovers that you both have sex all the time with strangers?"

He shrugs, "No, it's our job. We leave the job behind when we're together." He tells me how he and Jimmy are big producers making lots of money for their main man and have their own room, blah, blah, blah. Then, finishing his beer, he says, "Okay, here's what we'll do. Both of us will get naked, get in bed together, and I'll do a special version of the massage you've paid for. When you've got an erection, I'll put this on." He pulls from his pocket a round silicone thing. 

Holding it up, he says, "It's an adjustable cock ring, as I'm sure you already know. I'll get it comfortably tight on your boner and scrotum. It goes at the base of those appendages, and then I'll continue stimulating your body. If rubbing my hands over your macho hot body doesn't give me an erection, too, I'll let you suck the end of my cock. Then, when I'm good and hard, I'll put a cock ring on my cock and scrotum too."

I'm looking at him kinda funny, so he asks, "You have had cock ring sexy-fun before, right?"

I shake my head, "Nope, I've been pretty vanilla in my sex life."

"Seriously? Well, what happens is the ring restricts the blood flow from a hard penis, keeping it hard longer, and it makes your balls seem harder too. My hard balls slapping the back of your ass will feel super sexy when I'm fucking you. Plus, we'll both see some growth in our boners, or we should, anyway. Cock rings feel good, so you'll see. Anyway, you'll be crazy-hot to be fucked from my touching, you'll be in an absolute fever to be fucked, but I'll tease it for a while longer," and then he giggles like a girl. Hmm.

I'm squeezing my cock because hearing about those cock rings is getting me hard. Being grossly oversexed as I've become means inconveniently-timed boners from time to time. Gregory gets up, saying, "Let's get to it," and we go into the bedroom, undressing. I dropped my t-shirt and shorts on the floor while Gregory held onto his and put them on a chair. He shakes his head when he sees my clothes scattered around but doesn't say anything. Bruce would have made me pick the clothes up. Well, he wouldn't have needed to because I wouldn't have dropped them there in the first place if I was with him.

Getting in bed naked with Gregory gets my dick firm up before he even touches me. He says, "You need to be limp, Tom." I nod my head, and he gets his arm behind my neck, pulling me on top of him with me as limp as a ragdoll, um, except for my penis. When I'm lying fully on his body, my head next to his, my face on the pillow, he says, "You smell like a girl."

Of fuck! I mumble about the bubble bath, and he mutters, "Jesus," and we leave it like that. He's got both arms around me, his fingers lightly rubbing my back and going up to the back of my head, then massaging my head. His fingers run through my short hair, then travel down my back and, unexpectedly, squeeze my buttocks hard. The contrast between the light rubbing and then the hard squeeze makes me go, "Oh!"

"Shh," as his fingers go up my ass crack and poke my anus lightly, and now I'm expecting a tight squeeze, but he continues with feather-like rubbing down my legs as far as he can reach, then back to my ass and feathery fingers go up my back giving me shivers. After five or six minutes of the feather touching, he abruptly flops my limp body over on my back with him on top of me now, and I do another, "OH!" He smoothly sits up, a knee on either side of my body, his bare ass sitting on my thighs, his cock and balls now lying on mine.

Of course, I've had a boner from the fifteen-second point of his feathery massage. He murmurs, "It usually takes longer to get a hard boner on a client, um, a boner like the one you have, but that's not a bad thing."

Reaching over to the bedside table where he put the two adjustable cock rings, he picks one up, quietly saying, "I don't want to put the ring on too tightly, but it needs to be snug." Lifting my nuts, he slides the wide-open ring over my boner first and then squeezes my balls in and slides the ring to the bottom of the shaft. Pulling on the strap, closing the ring until it feels tight, and my balls are lifted away from my body. He tightens the ring more, then even more, until I go, "Awk!"

He mumbles, "A little more," and one more notch tighter, and I try lifting my ass off the bed, "Oooh, ahh." He goes, "Perfect. You'll get used to it in a minute."

Sliding backward off my body, Gregory stands at the foot of the bed to massage my feet. Wow, that feels good. He works his way up my legs, then my torso doing the feathery finger touching with an occasional tight squeeze, and that has all my attention. The cock ring is now feeling oddly good. It keeps my boner throbbing as if it's begging me to stroke it. Looking at it, it doesn't appear to be moving at all, yet it's throbbing. 

Gregory gets back on the bed and sits on my chest; his cock lies with his balls on my neck. He picks his cock up, murmuring, "Open up," and when I do, he places the head of his stubby five-inch cock on my tongue. I immediately close my lips on it and lick the head as he leans forward, pushing another inch of his penis into my mouth. As I lick and suck it, I feel it stretching out a little and getting even fatter. He grunts and rubs my head, going up on his knees an inch or two.

Sucking cock is very arousing to me, and I'm squirming under Gergory with my boner seemingly getting tighter, although I don't know how that's possible. It doesn't take my talented tongue and lips very long to turn his semi-firm cock into a roaring hard boner. Gregory grunts and pulls his fat boner out of my mouth, and I watch, fascinated, as he tightly puts a cock ring around his scrotum and boner. As he's doing that, the head of his boner hits my chin, then my lips, and my tongue comes out, but he's moved it as he's tightening the adjustable ring even more until it appears to be digging into his skin.

Oh man, that's a helluva boner he has there, and I can't wait to feel it in my rectum. Gregory lifts a leg over my boner and kneels next to me. He begins rubbing lightly around my groin, lightly squeezing my balls, then leans over and tongues the hard head of my cock, and I lift my hips off the bed, moaning, "Ahhh, umm." My eyes close tightly as he sucks on the head of my cock while lightly massaging my balls until I feel I need to climax. It's at the tipping point, and it stays there. I shake and groan, moving my hips to try to get my cock from his mouth, but he moves easily with my moves. I go, "Un, un, un," humping my hips, but I can't quite climax. My cock feels swollen enough to burst, but I can't climax!

Taking his mouth off my. cock's dark red cock head, he touches the shaft, and it won't budge. It's too hard to move one way or the other. Gregory gets between my legs on his knees and lifts my legs, saying, "Get an arm around your legs and hold them back."

I do that, moaning but not saying anything because I'm totally absorbed with my boner and my need to climax. Taking his time, Gregory picks up the condom packet from the bedside table, looks me in the eyes, and grins as he opens it. Slowly rolling the condom on his engorged boner, he says, "Don't worry, you will climax, but it'll take a little while more." 

I'm pulling my legs back so hard my back is curved, and my ass is off the bed. He doesn't need to guide his cock to my asshole because it's sticking straight out like mine, and it's so hard it isn't moving either. With a hand on the back of both my legs, pushing me further up on my curved back, he smirks at me and mumbles, "Have you ever had a boner as hard as this one?"

I shake my head but can't seem to speak. By now, I don't know if I'm in a submissive trance or on the moon. Then, pain explodes as Gregory humps his hips, sending his boner two inches inside me, spreading my previously tightly closed anus open about four inches.

Strobes of red flashes are all I can see for ten seconds, and then I climax, but no! I just thought I did when he pushed the rest of his boner inside me, and his hard nuts hit the top of my butt cheeks. The pain hangs on, but it's a sexy pain that I've learned to embrace. Then, it increases as he pulls his cock back and shoves it in again with the hard balls swatting my buttocks. Then, it's "Slap, slap, slap," and dull sounds, "Thump, thump, thump," of cast iron balls hitting my ass with every slap sound.

The pain becomes a backdrop to pleasure as Gregory and I are both moaning. I see his head go back and his eyes close as he thrusts his boner in my ass until I could scream with the need to climax. I have no idea how long he fucks me, but the whole time I can't decide if I want to climax or I don't want to because it feels so fucking good. Surprising me, and probably himself, Gregory climaxes first. He makes a loud gasping sound, and stops thrusting, his fat cock embedded in my rectum. He humps his crotch against my buttocks, groaning as he climaxes, filling the condom with creamy spunk.

The thought of him climaxing lets my climax finally happen. However, it feels like cum is squeezing out in a thin stream, and climaxing continues for longer than normal as I struggle, humping my hips spastically and making squealing sounds I can't believe are coming from me. Gregory pulls his cock out, his face red, sweat on his forehead as he walks a few steps on his knees and then falls over on his back next to me; then he's undoing his cock ring.

Letting go of my legs and straightening them out, I reach for my cock and squeeze it, feeling the head to see if cum is still squeezing out. A million sensations are streaking all over me in an extended version of my normal, sexy after-effects of that weird orgasm. Gregory has caught his breath and is now undoing my cock ring; then, he flops down on his back. A second later, he mutters, "That was a weird one, alright. Huh, I never got quite that result before."

My cock is still hard, but I can feel it getting softer as the blood flows, slowly at first and then faster and faster from my penis. In fifteen seconds, it flops down next to my balls. I'm not sure how I feel about that cock ring fuck. I didn't feel the submissive thrill of a normal climax. It was almost an artificial one.

Gregory says, "Wasn't that fantastic?"

Maybe I'm not cut out for sex toys. I lie and go, "Wow, I'll say." I don't want him to think there's something wrong with me for not thinking cock ring sex is fantastic.

He's lying next to me, pulling off the condom, saying, "That was a fantastic orgasm, but nine times out of ten, I can get my client off without busting one myself." Turning his head to look at me, he adds, "Maybe it's because ninety-nine times out of a hundred, my client isn't as hot as you. Whaddaya think?"

I steal a smart-ass, confident line Cowboy uses when Lee compliments him and mumble, "You're probably right about that."

He laughs, "That's very humble of you."

How about that? He enjoyed that sex more than I did. Ha, and last night, Jimmy said he should be paying me; maybe Gregory should, too. I'd be a helluva pussy boy for Bruce. Too bad there are a hundred million reasons why that ain't happening. Still, I feel good that the pussy boy prostitutes both like me. Hmm, unless they say that to all their clients.

Gregory sits up and points to the bed's headboard, saying, "Take a look where your orgasm ended up."

Sitting up, I look where he's pointing. There's an eighteen-inch horizontal wet streak drolling down on the headboard about four inches above where my head was on the pillow. If my back weren't curved so much, the cum stream would have hit my face. I was moving as the thin stream of cum came out, which accounts for the eighteen-inch line of cum. Fuck, it sure felt like a lot more semen was streaking out than is represented by that streak of cum.

Nodding, I mumble, "That's weird. It seemed to me as though you were fucking me for ten minutes, and when I finally could climax, a lot more cum than that was coming out."

He says, "Seriously, you thought ten minutes? It was closer to ninety seconds."

"Ninety-seconds? Are you shitting me?"

He gets off the bed, "Nope, two minutes at the most. I'm getting the sense that wasn't your favorite way to screw. That's okay; I've had other clients who weren't excited about cock ring sex. And I usually charge extra for it, but I'm not doing that with you. I wanted to do something special for you 'cause you're, I don't know, kinda special yourself."

I get off the bed, saying, "Hey, thanks, Gregory! No, I liked it, um, it's just that it was the first time, ya know?"

He's taking the condom to flush it, saying, "No problem, Tom. C'mon, wash up."

As we're washing out dicks, he says, "Are you related to the famous Tom Jones?"

"What? I didn't know there was a famous person with my name."

"Yeah, from the sixties. He was an English singer. You didn't know that?

"Nope. It's a name like Bob Smith, or John Brown. Generic. It's not my real name, obviously."

Gregory mutters, "Nobody thought it wax your real name. Hey, I almost forgot to tell you. I was talking to a fellow pussy boy, and he has heard of a pussy boy farm in Brooklyn but doesn't know the address or anything else. He's not sure it's even a real place, and the place he heard about isn't like the place you described. The Brooklyn place is supposedly a classy private club with a bar, naked guys doing pole dancing, a restaurant, etc. I don't know; I suppose there could be punished pussy boys giving blow jobs and free sex, maybe swinging in hammocks. That's not what this guy heard, though."

Listening to all that, I'm getting psyched because I'm making progress in finding this place. Gregory goes back to the bedroom as I clean my buttocks and anus of gooey lubricant. Then, I got back in bed with him and say, "What do we do now?"

He says, "Whatever you want. You're the client. So far, you owe me a mere $200, but if you want, you can do the trio of rimming my ass, licking my balls, and sucking my dick for $175."

Shrugging, I go, "Nah. Is it okay if we lie here? I'm worn out."

"Absolutely."

I'm sexually satisfied, although three days ago, I never thought I would say that this soon. Gregory doesn't want a beer, but I do, so I get one, and we end up sharing it. He's in a talkative mood, telling me some of the less desirable clients he's had. Older men with hairy backs, stomachs, chests, and shoulders. He goes, "This one hairy dude, all he wanted to do was hug and squeeze me, both of us naked. Christ, I didn't make shit that hour and only got a fifty-dollar tip, half of it going to my main man."

He tells me how one guy tied him up and fucked him with a dildo before fucking him with his dick. Gregory charged him four hundred dollars, counting the dildo fuck as a regular fuck. The guy wouldn't pay the extra $200, so they billed his credit card and flagged him as undesirable for future business. Gregory never knew if the guy called back or not.

Yeah, I'm wicked glad I don't need to be a pussy boy. When the sex is with nice-looking young guys, it's a great job, but most of it is with older men, some of them into kinky sex, and some are scary, rough old guys. That's why Jimmy and Gregory seem happy with me as their client. Plus, they think I'm only twenty-three.

This new information further convinces me I need to get Bruce out of this business. Yeah, even though he's already done the street work and online stuff, Richard will probably make him start over from the bottom. Oh, fuck, I don't know what I'm talking about. I'll offer him an option and then drop it.

I pay Gregory at the end of the hour, plus a $50 tip, and then get dressed. Then it hits me: Jimmy's coming at eight o'clock. Huh, I'm surprised to discover that I wish I hadn't made a date with him for tonight. It's nothing against Jimmy; it's that I don't feel like having sex. I'm finally more than caught up, ya might say. I wish I were with Cowboy and Lee at Coney Island, and I'd like to see a Broadway show, too.

Hmm, I think I'll rent a car tomorrow morning and cruise around Brooklyn. Who knows, my luck might hold out, and if I ask around, someone might know of the private pussy boy club. No, I can't do that because I have a date at eleven tomorrow morning. And, dammit, my ass is a little sore, now that I think about it. Gregory's boner got fat with the cock ring, and it's a fat penis to start with. Luckily, Jimmy has a skinny dick.

Man, I'm fucking myself up and going crazy with all this fucking. When Bruce did it two to three times a day, it was bliss, but this is out of control. I got carried away with the pussy boys.  

Putting on sneakers, I go outside and walk around the city, hearing about ten different languages being spoken. The sidewalks are constantly crowded, too, so it's not an enjoyable walk. I go back to the suite, watch the news on TV, and then scroll the channels looking for something to watch.

Finally, I ordered a cheeseburger and fries from room service for dinner. Cowboy texts that they're staying at Coney Island till nine o'clock and that I shouldn't worry because they're fine. Fuck, I'd love to be nineteen again and do it the right way this time. Sorry, Ronny, but I'd do it differently if I could do it all over again. Maybe a lot of people have that same thought.

Then, at eight-thirty, Jimmy is right on time, and by now, I'm kind of up for it again. He does the naked massage on me that he skipped the first date we had. As a bonus, he ends with a nice jerkoff sending my sperm shooting up and coming down on my neck. As I'm shuddering with the pleasure of climaxing, he goes, "No charge, Tom. I'll earn some money fucking you before I go," and he pats my shoulder.

We have some beers watching another Met's game, and a question occurs to me, so I ask, "How come you and Gregory aren't mentors by now? My mentor was only nineteen."

He shrugs, "After a combined year of working the street and doing the online stuff, anyone can be a mentor who produces for his man. The thing is, even as a mentor, half of what I make goes to my original mentor; he's my main man forever. It's a pyramid-type business arrangement."

"Oh. So my mentor wanted to jump right into mentoring after his first year of, um, doing what you said."

Jimmy mumbles, "That's kinda unusual, but not unheard of. He lucked onto you and then fucked up. How did he recruit you?"

"He didn't. This boss guy, Richard, recruited me. He assigned me to Bruce because he had other things to deal with, I guess. Um, then I guess he wanted me back as his recruit and sabotaged Bruce. Sort of."  

He looks at me and goes, "Richard? You mean the motherfucker who's the stepson of the founder of pussy boys?"

Shrugging, I mumble, "Yeah, it seems so."

He says, "I saw him in Florida once while making a video there. Fuck, he's even better-looking than you. I can see how hard it would be for you to resist him. Goddamn, that little fucker is hot!"

I mumble, "Yeah, I agree that the little fucker was too hard for me to resist, but as it turned out, he's also a sadistic prick of major proportions." 

Jimmy chuckles and then says, "Well, it looks like he's fucked you up good, but your mentor did a good job of training you. And he did it in only three weeks!"

I shrug, "Yeah, I guess."

"Anyway, Gregory and I don't want to be mentors because it means taking a year off from earning to try recruiting guys. Finding guys who are the right age and want to do this isn't easy. Hell, why do that when we're making eighty thousand a year, and the company pays for our living expenses."

I nod, "Eighty thousand, huh?"

Then ten minutes before my hour is up, Jimmy tells me to hold onto the desk and stick my ass up. He fucks me awesomely with his pointy-headed skinny cock. I have another fairly good load of cum shooting out my hard, vibrating pecker. It leaves me breathless, and now I'm glad Jimmy showed up. As the normal after-effect of climaxing is zipping all over me, I hear him muttering to himself, "Hell, I need to get off," and his cock goes back up my ass. Not expecting it, I go, "Ark," and he fucks me for another five minutes, finally letting out a squawk as he fires his load into the condom.

Holy shit, a nice bonus fuck that leaves me stroking my dick. That felt good. After giving him the $200 for the fuck, plus a $100 tip for the bonus jerk off and extra fucking, he kisses me on the lips and says, "I'm all booked up tomorrow, but try me the day after."

"Sure, um, how much for a make-out with you?"

"Making out is fifty dollars for every ten minutes, but it needs to be in conjunction with a $100 follow-up fuck."

"Of course, sure."

Gee, if I'm still here in New York City the day after tomorrow, I think I'll do that with him. He's the youngest and cutest of the pussy boys I've dealt with. Hmm, his dick is skinny, but he still gives my ass a good fucking, so, yeah, I'll book a date with him if I'm still around, but my goal is to make more progress in my Bruce mission. I'm going to get him out of his situation, assuming he wants to get out of it. I've already done pretty well zeroing in on where he probably is.

Yeah, I'm glad I had that date with Jimmy after all, but more importantly, Gregory told me about that place in Brooklyn. When Jimmy leaves, I go online and find out it's a sixteen-mile drive to Brooklyn and that it's the second most populated borough in the country, second only to Manhattan.

Huh! It's only twenty-six square miles, so that's good. It's crowded like a motherfucker, but not that big a place. No more pussy boy dates after the eleven o'clock one I have tomorrow morning. I'm going to do what I thought of earlier and rent a car to drive all over that borough, hoping to get somehow lucky and find that pussy boy club.

Then, Cowboy and Lee come charging into the suite at ten-thirty as I'm drinking little bottles of whiskey, and watching a movie on TV. I switch off the movie, and the guys tell me all about Coney Island, which is in Brooklyn. It's an amusement park, but with swimming, too. They rode the rides and ate junk food all day and into the night. They're thrilled about their fun today, but wicked tired, too, so we're all in bed by eleven-thirty.

I went right to sleep, but I'm guessing they messed around in bed before sleeping. I've done all the messing around I can handle today, so sleeping is what I need to do.

The next morning, the three of us are in the hotel's cafe having breakfast. Cowboy and Lee are telling me their plans for today. Cowboy will stop in at his bank and get a new debit card plus cash to pay me back his share of expenses for the past few months. I can't talk him out of doing that, so I stop trying. After that, they go to the 9/11 memorial tour and then see an afternoon Broadway show.

I lie about handling a business transaction for my old man and dealing with trust fund issues. Cowboy goes, "Are you doing a little bar cruising as well?"

"I don't cruise, bro. If something develops independently, I might check out the guy."

 He's mutter an unconvined, "Uh-huh."

They take off right after breakfast, and I see the front desk about renting a car. They assured me that one would be here for me by noon. Then I shower and get ready for my pussy boy date at eleven.

Mostly, I'm anxious to start my quest of finding where in Brooklyn Bruce is giving free blowjobs. When I find out where it is, I'll figure out how to get into the so-called private club and rearrange the place getting Bruce out of there.

To be continued...