A whore's life

“Hey! Patrick!” I was outside, walking around the campus of Columbia University. Martin greeted me excitedly. Tall, skinny, nerdy and hung Martin. He was the first boy in high school I propositioned to give a paid blow job to, and whom I hadn’t seen since graduation three months ago. I remembered that he was going to go to Columbia for pre-law and so this was the third afternoon I had hung around the appropriate building where I could “accidentally” run into him. I wanted his dick and his money again.

“Hello Martin.”

“Hey, how’s it going? What are you up?”

“I was visiting a friend, then heading downtown to go to work in a movie theater.”

“That’s great. It’s funny running into you. I think about you a lot.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m in pre-law and the he coursework is intense. Maybe we could get together again, like we did in high school” he grinned.

“It’s possible.” I smiled. “It’s $20 now.”

“That’s cool.” I handed him my card. “Are you available tomorrow at

3:00 PM?” “It’s my day off. You can come over.” “See you then!”

“Fuck! You give the best head!” hollered Martin the next day as he sat on the throne. It felt so good to be on my knees before him again, sucking on his throbbing massive 18-year-old dick and slobbering on his grand balls. His dick was a real beauty and was the second one I had sucked. When he came I couldn’t believe how much cum he shot. Ah, youth. I swallowed down every drop.

“That was fantastic, it’s been awhile. I’ll call to confirm, but can we say same time next week?” He would come back almost weekly throughout his four years at Columbia, even after he got a girlfriend.

“Sure.” I handed him 10 of my business cards. “In case you have friends who might be interested.” “Sure, I’ll put the word out.” He took them and left. The $20 he’d given me when he arrived was still in my pocket and I took it out and put it in my cigar box. I soon got the first of many such phone calls. I was back in business doing what I did best and on my own terms and not picking up johns in bars.  

“Hello.” “Hi. Uh, I got your card from Martin.” “I’m available tomorrow from noon to 4:00 PM.” “Ok. I have a break and can make it at 2:00 PM.”

The next afternoon, there was blushing nervous Justin. He was a short thin sweet virgin freshman. I undid hid belt and unzipped his pants. He was nicely sized. He gasped when I stroked his leaking dick. My hand was the first other than his own to touch it. I sat him down on the throne. I was conscious of taking it easy on his dick and balls as I didn’t want him to cum too soon. It was like I had magical cocksucking abilities to drive him wild for 15 minutes and then I decided it was time for him to shoot in my mouth, which he vocally and copiously did. The glowing Justin became a regular. I became a full-time whore.

I was soon servicing a bunch of appealing nearby Columbia straight boys in the afternoons as my reputation and availibility became known. They ranged from more shy first-timers to those seasoned at sex who wanted to get the expert head it was difficult to receive from most girls. My swallowing was a major factor as I was told virtually no girls consented to that. I was living the life many gay men dream of. I was on my knees before a succession of horny young guys eager to have me suck their virile dicks and pay me $20 to do so. I was very busy and very sated.

A funny incident was after I’d sucked off a cute blonde boy the phone rang. “Can I talk to Evan?” Huh? I handed the phone to the boy. “Yeah. He was very good.” He hung up. “My dormmate is on the corner and wants you to blow him.” Evan left and then I was soon sucking dark-haired hot Howard. They both wanted me to do them but separately, as getting blown together would be “too gay.”  

I had to cut my days down at the movie theater to just Friday and Saturday nights as I was doing so well at giving $20 blowjobs as well as more profitable tricks. It didn’t make sense to spend a lot of time working for $3 an hour. I could have quit all together, but I enjoyed the Rocky Horror atmosphere, liked being around Steve and I needed to have a legitimate job with a W-2 for taxes. Also, I needed an actual job I could tell people I did.

 I went daily to a neighborhood bank to deposit some cash in my checking account and put the rest in a safe deposit box. I couldn’t declare too much money as I couldn’t show were I got it.

“I can do things for you…” Marcus had said to me on Fire Island. He sure did, he got me this apartment. There were also the phone calls I got from his referring men to me from those business cards he told me to make. We fucked regularly and he goaded me to recount my exploits to him in detail.

These were grown men mostly in their 30’s and 40’s who wanted more than a blowjob. It was a variety of types; married straight guys, coupled gay guys who wanted a boy to fuck on the side. They all desired and could pay for thrills and getting off no strings attached with a cute young pro.

There were a lot of scenes. Some would come over after work and I was like a geisha, making them drinks, giving foot rubs and massages before I sucked them, and they fucked me. Sometimes, I got dressed up in my preppie Brooks Brothers outfit of blue blazer, khakis and shirt and tie and Rory’s dress shoes for a “date.” Dinner at a fancy restaurant, sometimes a Broadway show or the opera, which was so boring. The fucking afterward would take place in their hotel rooms. I had a lot to put in my safe deposit box as there were big payoffs for this. 

It was 1:00 AM and I was in bed asleep when the phone rang. “I go to Columbia and need to get blown right away. $40.” The New Jersey-accented voice was an enticing blend of masculinity, confidence and sensuality.” “Sounds good.”