A whore's life

“Always sign in and out. So you get paid” said Steve, when we were back downstairs, handing me a clip board at the candy counter. “Put 4:00 PM, that’s when you started work” he smiled. It was 4:30 PM. “Tom, train Patrick to work the counter. I’ll be back later.”

Tom was a tall, gay, friendly 19-year-old film NYU student from Upstate New York who lived nearby in the dorms and had worked at the theater for four months.  He showed me everything that needed to be done. How to make popcorn, to change the syrup canisters on the soda machine, about counting cups and candy for inventory.

“Your interview must have went very well” laughed Tom. “Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone who works here has put out for Steve, otherwise they wouldn’t get hired.  He’s a total sex beast. I thought I was big until I saw his! Except for his sister in the box office, he only hires guys. The gay ones have to blow him, and the straights have to let him blow them. It’s only a one-time deal, unless you’re into it with him. Steve really likes to move on to new guys.”  

Later, I went with Tom upstairs to the locked main storage room which he had a key for to get more napkins and a sack of popcorn. “Everyone, brings tricks here fuck to around. Feel free to. You’re not my type. I like older guys who can do things for me. You’re cute and that’s my advice to you. You should hang out at the bar the 9th Circle. You’d do well there.”

After the last movie showing at 10:00 PM, the candy counter closed, and Tom totaled up the sales and I cleaned up. I was in the nearby small storage room, at the sink washing the popcorn kettle. “I want to fuck you so much” Steve growled as he put his arms around me from behind and ground his crotch against my ass. I got so hard and excited. “Will you come up the office later?” “Yes.” There was no point in playing hard to get and his cock was so great. He left and I finished with the popcorn machine and brought it back to the candy counter. Tom left and I hung out. Sarah, the cashier left and so did Jeff the ticket taker. I locked the front door.

Steve was standing before me in his office as I sat on the couch blowing him again. He was more aggressive, this time really fucking my face. I skillfuly kept up with him. He took it out of my mouth. We both undressed. His short body was firm. He nudged me on to the couch and raised my legs up. He bent his head down and stuck his tongue in my ass. WOW! He ate my ass out and I was moaning. He stopped and began stroking my dick. “Very nice” he said before he put it in his mouth. My first time getting sucked! He sure knew his way around a dick. He stopped, and from a desk draw took out a jar of Vaseline. He put some on his fingers. I was on my back and he greased up my hole. He slathered his gigantic hard cock.

I had taken on Adam and his teenage pals; I was now getting expertly fucked by an experienced older man who knew how to hit it just right inside me. I was sobbing as he thrust in and out of my ass which miraculously expanded to accommodate his notable length and girth. It felt so good. Bigger is better. I was cumming from his pounding. Then, he grunted as he shot his load in me. We were sweated up and panting. From his desk he took out and towels and we cleaned our ourselves up and got dressed.

“Can you work tomorrow?” “Yes.” “Great, open to close. The  first show is at noon. So get here 11:30 AM. “Okay.” “Goodnight” He handed me $20. “Cab fare” he said as I left.

“Hey, I’m Dave one the projectionists” said the tall skinny sexy 21-year-old N.J. guy who was hanging out in front of the projection booth. With his spiky blond hair, he looked like the punk rock band guitarist he was trying to be. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Patrick.”  “I heard you in there! I’m surprised you’re able to walk” he laughed as I blushed. “It’s cool. I’m into chicks. I let guys blow me sometimes. Steve jerked himself off when he blew me, so I know what he has. I’m amazed little guys like you can take him!” “Well, we all know what we like.” “That’s for sure! Come see the projection room.” I followed him in.

The two projectors with reels of film, cans of film around and the rewinder took up most of the space. Dave showed me around and explained how it all worked. We chatted about ourselves.“ Is this one of the times you’ll let a guy blow you?” I finally said. “It’s been a long day and well, since you’re here and interested” laughed Dave.

I undid his belt and unzipped his tight jeans, they fell to his pointy black boots. His striped underwear had some bulge. I fondled his dick and balls, feeling him get hard. I slid them down. Oh, a what a fucking beautiful young big cut dick. I dropped to my knees and sucked Dave with joy. I concentrated on using my tongue on his awesome balls and putting them in my mouth. He looked down at me with fascination as I deepthroated him. “Oh, yeah…” he stroked my head as he came in my mouth, I swallowed his gushes of cum. He did up his underwear and jeans. He handed me a flyer for his band’s gig at an East Village club the next week. “I’ll put you on the guest list.” “Cool.” “Goodnight.”

I went to see him perform. The handsome lead singer was good, but it was really a lot of harsh noise . Dave was so hot in his tight black leather pants and pink and black polka-dot tank top as he played guitar. After the show, I praised and thanked him for getting me in for free. He and his bandmates were with girls, so it was a brief exchange.

I blew him a few more times in the projection room. Once, after an East Village party that he invited me to, we went back to his nearby place and he fucked me passionately on my back with my legs spread. It meant something to me. I liked him a lot. He later got hooked on heroin. A few years after, I saw him on the street, riding a bike, he stopped to say hello. He was now a bicycle messenger. “Isn’t that dangerous?” “Yeah, I’ve had a few accidents. Broke my collar bone and got a good settlement.” The last I ever heard about him was that he was in prison for drug dealing. I sadly thought of him when I saw the movie Requiem for a Dream, when Jared Leto was in prison.  

Steve’s $20 went in to my cigar box as I didn’t need a cab. I walked several blocks to the $30 a week Single Room Occupancy residence on 14th Street between 8th and 9th Avenues that I had moved to. It had been an exciting first few days in Manhattan.