A whore's life

I was in Steve’s small narrow rectangular office on the second floor of the movie theater on West 8th Street that he owned, when he made that remark.  

Earlier, I’d been walking around The Village on a Monday afternoon and saw the “Help Wanted” sign in the window, the pay was minimum wage which was $2.65 an hour in 1978. I went into the lobby and the friendly woman cashier gave an me application and told me to fill it out and that I should go in the inner lobby and wait because the owner would be back from the bank soon. There was a good-looking young straight guy taking tickets and another good-looking young gay guy was working at the candy counter.

“Hi, I’m Steve…” I’m medium height and this guy was short. He had curly black hair and a black mustache with looked cool when he grinned. He was 33, which seemed old to me at 18, but he was ruggedly attractive and slightly muscular. He wore a black T-shirt with the movie theater’s logo and a tight pair of very faded and worn button-fly Levi’s. I was still sitting when he came up to me and my eyes nearly popped when I saw his basket! He obviously wasn’t wearing underwear and because the crotch was worn, it was clear he was really packing. The shape of his balls was visible as was the head of his cock down his leg.

“Hi, Patrick” I said as I stood up and shook his hand. “Let’s go up to my office.” We went into the nearly empty theater with some Italian movie playing and we walked up a nearby staircase to the second floor where the restrooms, projection room, storage room and his cramped office were. He sat on a small wheelie-chair and I sat on the adjacent couch.

“Oh, you’re not a college student. Cool, you’d be more available to work. Oh, that’s a great high school. As you can see, there’s a lot of interest” said Steve in his deep voice as he put my completed application at the bottom of a large pile on his desk. “Do you have any special skills you didn’t put down that would make me want to hire you?” We were sitting opposite each other as he stood up. Yeah, right. I’d moved to Manhattan and needed a job. “Don’t be so shy…” I heard William’s voice inside.

His giant bulge was now close to my face. I looked at him and into his eyes. He smiled as my hands grasped that crotch. I massaged IT through his jeans and felt that log of flesh stiffen. I undid his belt and unbuttoned his fly and slid his jeans down. As he wasn’t wearing underwear, there was a dark bush, his hard cock flopped out, his large heavy balls dangled. I would later learn that Steve’s endowment was legendary on the NYC gay sex scene. It really was the biggest one I ever saw at the time. Since he was short it looked freakish.

By, now I was pro cocksucker and just took his size in stride and as a challenge.  “Hmmm” he moaned as I slowly licked it all over. I took a deep breath and then confidently opened my mouth wide and took it all in. I managed to deepthroat him without gagging. “Good boy…” I eased of and suckled the fat head and tongued the slit, tasking his precum. “Ahh…” Then I put his balls in my mouth. Back to deepthroating. “Yes! Yes!” That great tool began spurting and I swallowed every drop of his thick load.

“A cute twink with such a mouth! I want you around. You are so hired” he laughed as he put his jeans back on. “Can you start now?” “Sure.” “Put this on” he said, handing me a black T-shirt with the theater’s logo. I took my blue T-shirt off. “Nice” he said, touching my chest and arms. I put the T-shirt on. “This and jeans is the uniform here” he said as he groped my ass as we walked out. “Very nice.” No one had ever called me cute, and no one had liked my body before.