A whore's life

The next day, I got to work at the theater as a ticket taker. It was pretty easy, but it was a lot of standing. Sarah, the cashier was out sick, so Steve worked as the cashier. We were in the outer lobby and it was slow day, so we talked a lot. All about sex stuff. We could tell each other anything and we did. I told him all about my high school days and Mr. Feinberg last night. He talked about kinky stuff he got up to in bathhouses, bookstores and at the theater. “I’m getting so turned on” he said. “I could help you out” I laughed.

He opened the box office door, I bent down and entered the box office and so at three in the afternoon, I was sucking my boss’ cock. I was on the floor between his legs doing my thing. During the blowjob, he sold two tickets and ripped them as I was busy. He came and I swallowed. Then, he wanted to switch places! He was on the floor sucking my dick as I sat in the chair. I was into it, but it was a struggle not to laugh as this semi-public situation was so funny. I had been trained as a cashier, so I knew how to press the button for the tickets and to make change, which I had to do once while I was being sucked off. We really bonded after this. “You deserve a raise.” Indeed, I saw on my pay envelope, I was making $.50 an hour more.

I got done at midnight and went back to the 9th Circle. I was halfway thru my drink. I saw an older guy in good shape, in his 40’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt looking around and then he came over to me. “Hey, good looking! How are you?” “Ok.” “My name is Slash.” I figured that was a nickname on account of the scar on his cheek. “Patrick.” “I’m on a break from driving my cab. I’m parked real close. I could really use a quickie. Nothing heavy, understand?” He put one of his fingers to my lips. “Sure” I said as I licked it. He reached into his pocket, pulled a $20 bill out and gave it to me. I swilled down the rest of my drink.

We left, and his cab was around the corner. He got into the driver’s seat. When I got into the passenger seat, he had his very nice cock out, pointing up at the steering wheel. I put my head to his lap and gave him an excellent blowjob as he stroked my hair. “Oh, good boy. You looked like an angel standing there…” He was soon cumming and I swallowed him down. “Take it easy” he said, patting my head. It really was a quickie.

I bought another whiskey. It wasn’t too crowded and sitting at the other end of the bar was Rory, the guy Mr. Feinberg pointed out last, night drinking a vodka and soda.

“Hey, I’m Patrick. I know Stan.”

“Nice to meet you Patrick. Rory. Well, Stan sure goes for the masculine choir boy-type. Rough, right? Ah, he’s ok. I saw you meet Slash.” We both laughed. “He’s a nice guy and to the point, right?” It was slow and we kept chatting. He was 19, medium height, thin, with a tough face and short red hair. He’d runaway from a foster family in Ohio and had been in the city a while. “The only thing I got from that bastard was training in how give men what they want” he said of his foster father. “Because of that, I’ve been able to take care of myself. No shame in that.” “Not at all.” I told him about myself. “We all got our stories” he said. After a while Rory said he was hungry. “I had two good tricks tonight and it’s dead. Let’s go”

At the nearby Tiffany diner, we had steak and eggs. He said it was good that I had square job as you want to have some form of work for taxes. “I work in a shoe store” he laughed. “Listen, you’re handsome, classy and can speak well. You can do better than sucking off taxi drivers and getting fucked at that shithole hotel. That’s all alright for me. I’m trashy, I know that. You should dress up and try the East Side.” We became really friendly and we kept talking and it was great. “Want to come home with me?” said Rory. “Sure.” He paid the check and we took a cab. He lived in a tenement at 45th Street between 8th and 9th Avenues. Across the street was a Broadway theater but at three in the morning there were lots of hookers walking around.

His third floor apartment was a two-room railroad flat with the toilet in the hallway and the bathtub in the kitchen. He put a Donna Summer album on the stereo. He only had vodka, so we drank that. We talked some more on his living room couch and then, he leaned over and kissed me!

Wow! I’d never kissed or been kissed by a man before. My instincts and passion took over as I kissed him back and remarkably for my first time at making out it went so well. Feeling a man’s tongue in my mouth made me so hot and hard. Our hands were all over each other. Rory stood and pulled me up and hugged me and we started taking each other’s clothes off as we kissed. He led me to his bedroom. We got into the bed.

As we started kissing again, we touched each other’s dicks. He was on the average side. Eventually he shifted his body, and so we were now facing each other’s dicks. He put mine in his mouth. Oh, it felt so good to be sucked. I sucked his dick at the same time. My first Sixty-Nine! He was moaning and I soon got him off with my mouth and swallowed his load. He kept sucking me and soon I came in his mouth. He kissed me and we tasted each other. He held me and in a strained voice whispered, “Sometimes it feels good to be with someone just because you like them.” We slept.

“What are you a nine?” “No way! More like a seven I think.” “Your shoe size! Not your dick size!” laughed Rory in the morning. He got up nude and opened his closet. There were stacks of shoe boxes. “I steal them from the store and sell them. “Here” he said handing me pair of fancy black shoes with an Italian name. They fit perfectly. “Take them” he said. I got dressed. We wrote each other’s work phone numbers on pieces of paper. We kissed goodbye. I left with my new shoes. We kept in touch and saw each other from time to time.