A whore's life

“Patrick?” “Yes.” “Hi, my name is Sam, I’m a talent agent at GRA. I saw an industry screening of Columbia student films last night and got your number from the contact list. Man, you really popped in Scratch! I’d like to set up a meeting to see about going forward with your career.” “Sounds good.” “Great. How about Thursday at 2:30?” “See you then.” A phone call on a Monday that changed my life.

When I had my business cards printed, I also had printed up 8x10’s of my face, so I had a headshot. I set up an answering service account. I needed a resume, so I went to my neighbor Jack who lived below me. We had meet a few weeks earlier.

“Do you need help?” I said to the old man in the entranceway of my building who was surrounded with grocery bags. “Yes, thank you I’m on the fourth floor. I’m Jack” “Patrick. I’m on the fifth.” I’d been living there for about a month and though we were neighbors we hadn’t met before. That’s New York.

He was above average height, in good shape, short salt and pepper hair and had a moustache. He was wearing jeans and a plaid shirt, the clone look. His keychain was attached to his back right pocket, so he was a bottom.

We dragged the groceries up the four flights of stairs and into his apartment which was under mine and so had the same layout. “Have a seat in the living room while I put all this away, and then we can chat.”

I sat on the couch and looked around and never saw so many books! I could hear Jack in the kitchen. My devilish sense of occasion took hold of me. I undid my jeans, unzipped, pulled my underwear down and started stroking my dick while sitting on Jack’s couch. Eventually, Jack came into the living room and had a startled expression. I was grinning as our eyes met.

He dropped to his knees and proceeded to suck my dick. He was an experienced cocksucker and knew just what to do. Hey, I spent a lot of time putting out for men and whenever a chance to get blown came a long, I took it. It felt great and it was turn on to see an old guy so happy. I could sense how hopped up Jack was to be sucking on young dick. Soon, he was greedily swallowing my load. That’s how I met my neighbor. I did my jeans up, and we carried on like normal.

Over time, I would learn all about Jack. He was 51, grew up poor in rural Illinois and started have sex with men when he was in the Navy. He moved to Manhattan in 1951 and had been in this apartment for 20 years. He wanted to be a screenwriter but procrastinated. He had recently returned from a year of living in London, subsidized by a small inheritance from an aunt. He eked out a living as an office temp, not wanting to be tied to a permanent job. He never had a relationship that lasted long. He was one of the nicest people I ever met. I would let him suck my dick once a week. There was no question of money, he didn’t have much and he was too genteel. He’d make me dinner once in a while, he was a great cook. I never told him I was whore. To him, I was a nice gay boy who was finding himself.

Jack being a writer, was able to creatively throw together a passable resume, never mind that I’d never acted or thought about it. The student film was my only credit and so the rest was “representative roles,” theater parts I would have been right for, like the boy in Our Town. My false training was at an acting school in the Village. I bought Backstage and memorized a list of teachers from the school’s ad in case anyone asked me who I studied with. I let Jack suck me off when I came to pick them up.

Thursday afternoon I was in the elevator of high rise on 57th Street between 7th Avenue and Broadway. I wore khakis and a light blue button-down shirt. I’d taken out my earring as this was a time not to be obviously gay. I walked through the glass doors and announced myself to the nice middle-aged lady receptionist. “Have a seat. He’ll be with you shortly.” A few minutes later, Sam came out. What a dreamboat. He was 30 years old, blond, handsome and athletically filled out his black suit and white shirt. “Nice to meet you!” he said as we shook hands and went to his office.

Sam smiled as he looked over my resume and put it down on his desk as I sat across from him. “I was very impressed with your performance. You have an interesting face, photograph very well, have wholesome presence, a good voice and most important a boyish sexiness. I believe you have potential for youth roles.” “Thanks!”

Indicating a high stack of headshots on his desk, he continued, “I get a lot of submissions. I have a two-step process for a possible client like yourself. First is an office meeting, then is a meeting in my apartment.” We stared at each other. “When would you like me to come over?” He handed me a business card with his West Village address. “How about tonight at

9:00 PM?” “Certainly” I said as I rose, and we shook hands. That’s show business.

“Excellent! Always get to an appointment 15 minutes early” said Sam that night, as he let me into his apartment on Waverly Place just east of Sixth Avenue. He was wearing only a plush dark blue bathrobe. He swooped in and kissed me. I returned the kiss and me made out and felt each other’s bodies. I was not shy, nor feigned innocence. Sam was going to get exactly what he wanted, so would I.

I undid the belt of his bathrobe and sank to my knees. There was his large, thick cut cock jutting forward from his blond pubic area and his bountiful balls. He stood with his robe open, like royalty, as we looked into each other’s eyes. I submitted to his power and authority by opening wide and taking him in my mouth. I tasted his precum as I slowly licked the head of his dick and its underside. I was giving a performance. At a leisurely pace, I licked the shaft and his balls. He grew even more erect. Then, I gobbled down his cock and performed a virtuoso display of deepthroating which drove him wild.

He pulled out of my mouth, he nudged me up and spun me around. He embraced me, chewed on my ear and grinded his erection against my ass crack through my khakis. In that position, he walked us over to the kitchen table which had some papers on it. I undid my belt, pulled my khakis and underwear down and bent over the table. My ass was his for the taking. My upper body rested on the table and my legs and ass were at an angle. I felt his fingers lubing my hole with Vaseline. Then he penetrated me with his greased up cock. He shoved it in halfway and paused. I responded by thrusting my ass against the rest of him. Then he began seriously fucking me. The table shook and there were the sounds of our bodies thrashing against each other’s. This guy had some routine and was a great stud. He hit all the right places inside me, and I was bursting before I shot a puddle of cum on the floor. He groaned as he climaxed, and my chute was coated with his load. He pulled out, then handed me a towel. I cleaned my ass with it, redid my pants and underwear, like a good whore.

Sam then handed me a pen and indicating the papers on the table said, “It’s a standard industry contract. It’s going to be a pleasure representing you.” I signed the contracts. “You have a soap audition on Monday” he said handing me a large envelope. “The sides and location. Make sure to check your answering service several times a day. Things can happen fast. Good night.” I left with my copy of the contract declaring me a client of the agency and the information for my first audition. Sucking the right dick and pulling your pants down goes a long way in show business.