Hate

There are three constants in my life. I hate my father; I hate my mother, and I hate Christmas. If that bothers you, just know that I don’t give a shit. I’m a good fuck, and I know it. So do the lonely ladies of my city. I don’t love them; they don’t love me. Some of them might say they do, but it’s my dick that they love. I’ve got a skilled tongue, too.

My home is a tiny room above Ernie’s Automotive Repair. There’s no hot water, but the cold water showers keep me tough. I’ve got four sets of clothes; one of them is for when I’m not working; one is always at the cleaners, and the other two keep me looking good for whichever lady might need some paid companionship. Some might call me a whore, but I say “Go fuck yourself.” I’ve tried the shit-for-pay non-skilled jobs that guys get when they have no real education.

And before you get onto me about that, I did finish high school. It’s just hard to get educated when you spend so many days out sick. To the guy who says I should have studied more, paid attention better, tried harder, fuck him, too. Let’s have a reality check here. During my four years of public education, my father broke my left arm twice. Two fingers on the left hand. I also had a broken hip, a broken leg, and a displaced shoulder from being pushed off a balcony. He blamed that one on my mother. She was no better. She never once tried to stop him from hitting me. I’m missing two upper teeth, molars, from being punched. She blamed it on the drinking. Fuck her.

She let him beat her. I was a kid. She did stand up to him once, but I won’t give her credit for that. On Christmas Eve when I was seventeen, he slapped her so hard that her head cracked the TV screen. I started to scream to stop, so he stomped on my foot. He was wearing boots; I was wearing socks. I don’t know how he didn’t break anything, but my foot swelled up to almost twice its normal size. My mother came out of the bedroom and shot him in the head. I still see the blood splatter all over the Christmas tree. She turned to me and said, “I should have done that years ago.” Then she blew her brains out, too.

I sat down on the coffee table. After thirty minutes, no police had arrived, so I grabbed the remote and turned the volume up as high as I could. Twenty minutes later, the police arrived to a noise complaint. I was in foster care for the next year and then turned out to face the world on my own.

I know what it’s like to go hungry, to crawl inside a dumpster to avoid the rain, to eat from a trash can. Fucking a couple of old, lonely ladies a few times a week beats that all to hell. Now, don’t take me wrong, I’m smart enough to know that I can’t still be doing this when I’m an old guy. I’m saving my money. I figure when I’m old, like thirty to thirty-two, I’ll go to a trade school and go to work like real people. Until then, my dick is the tool of my trade.

That night, I got dressed and headed to the Cimian Hotel. It was getting close to Christmas, and there would be lonely ladies at one of the parties held there. One of them was bound to be lonely enough to take me home. I could make two, maybe three, hundred dollars.

Jackpot, I thought as I walked in. The entryway was crowded with people, and I was sure I’d be able to work my way from ballroom to ballroom until just the right lady snagged me. I hadn’t taken three steps when I heard the phone call.

“What do you mean you cannot make it? I cannot attend this party unaccompanied.” She was silent for a moment. I looked her way and smiled. I’d mastered a smile that didn’t give away my missing teeth. She noticed me, and I nodded. She continued her conversation. “I may write you out of the will for this.” She shoved the phone in her tiny clutch. “Do I know you?”

“No, you don’t,” I said honestly. “But I noticed some stress in your voice as you spoke with your friend...”

“And you want to de-stress me?”

“If I can. I’m a professional escort. May I ask your name.”

“Mrs. Savage. And what exactly do you do?” she laughed.

“I escort beautiful ladies to social events,” I replied.

“You’re a male whore.” She laughed again.

“Never. Ladies only pay me for the time I spend with them at the event.”

She smiled. “I see. So, after I paid you to spend your time with me here, if I were horny and wanted some pleasure afterward?”

“I’d do it because I wanted to, not because I was paid to.” Butter wouldn’t melt on my tongue. It was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.

“You like the older ladies. I see. OK, hot stuff. I’m game. My grandson bailed on me because of some emergency in the ER. It’d be nice to have a handsome man on my arm and then… we’ll see. What’s your name?”

“Jason.” I took her hand.

“And the fee, my dear Jason?”

“Three hundred an hour.”

“You’d better poke my pussy like a pro,” she whispered.

She had no idea what was in store for her.

The party was rather dull. I sipped from a glass of champagne during the two-hour event and gave her my full attention. She happily told me that we had raised the eyebrows of a few of her society friends. On the way back to the car, she let me know that she had the driver pick up some cash for me. As she got in the car, she said, “Stephen, this is the man you need to pay.”

The driver handed me an envelope. His hand brushed against mine as I took it. His eyes were locked on mine. I felt goosebumps, and my dick stiffened.

‘Fuck,’ I thought. ‘He’s one hot man in that uniform.’ I turned and looked at Mrs. Savage. ‘Think about the cash,’ I reminded myself as I slipped the envelope into my pocket and slid next to her on the seat.

“Ma’am?” said the driver.

“He’s coming home with me, Stephen, but the boy won’t be staying the night. “You can take him home when I’m done with him.”

We were soon on her way to her home. Stephen kept glancing at us, or maybe it was just at me, in the rearview mirror. I tried not to think about it. I needed to concentrate on the old lady. She’d paid me. I’d had one or two of them change their minds after paying me, but the way she continued to pat my thigh with her wrinkled hand, my spidey senses told me she was looking forward to a banging. She stared out the window as Stephen drove us along the highway. I began to feel sorry for her. I bet she hasn’t been with anyone except her fingers for a good while.

The car stopped under a covered area that appeared to lead to a courtyard. Stephen opened the door for her. I got out as well.

“Turn the car around. I’ll send him down when we’re done.”

Stephen scowled in response. Even his scowl was sexy. A flash of lightning and the start of a rainstorm made him even hotter.

I followed Mrs. Savage into the house. The dimly lit halls were completely empty except for the shadows formed from the wall sconces that lined them. I was led to a rather large room with a sitting area, extremely large bed, and what appeared to be an en-suite.

The old lady took my hand and tugged me closer to her. I heard her breathe deeply. “Your cologne and normal body scent is rather intoxicating, Jason. Let me make something clear.” She kissed my cheek. “I don’t want you to kiss me; in fact I don’t want to see your young face while you do it. I’m going to lean over my bed. You will take me from behind. When you’re finished, you will take your condom with you. You will be wearing one, right? I certainly don’t want to get pregnant.” She cackled.

“Yes, I’ll be wearing one.”

“Good. I don’t want you to talk. I’ll be pretending that Steven is taking me, oh, not Stephen the driver. That man wants you, not me. I could see it in his eyes. No, Steven was my husband, so don’t talk and break the illusion. Your feet stay on the floor.”

She was using me, and I was using her. That’s the way it should be.

Mrs. Savage grabbed my dick through my pants. “Come on boy, get it hard, cover it up and then come over here, pull down my panties and fuck away.

She walked toward the bed. I unzipped and reached into my underwear. I thought about Stephen, downstairs and waiting for me to finish. Maybe he would stop along the way home and give me his fuck-hole. The thought got me hard instantly. The old lady bent over the bed. Her dress was hiked up, and by the motion of her body, she was playing with her clit.

I unrolled the condom from my pocket over my cock and walked up behind her. I imagined Stephen saying something crass and my slapping him before I pushed him face down on the bed and shoved my cock into him. I pulled her panties down. She gasped. She gasped even louder as I pushed my thick seven inches of dick into her. She wasn’t very tight, but most of the old ladies like her had given birth and were a little loose.

‘Fuck that asshole chauffeur and his smug attitude,’ I thought as I pounded that pussy. I bet I was more than she expected. She continued to grunt and groan. We’d been at it for less than five minutes when she had a change of pitch in her moans, and her body seemed to tense and relax several times in a row. She’d had her orgasm, and now she just remained basically motionless except for the heavy breathing.

I hadn’t come, but it didn’t matter. I slowly pulled out and removed the empty condom. I put it in my pocket with the empty wrapper. I imagined Stephan reaching in my pocket as he kissed me and finding it there. I positioned my still rigid dick in my underwear and then zipped up. I walked out of the room without a word. Let her finish her fantasy.

Finding my way back out to the car wasn’t difficult. The car was facing the other direction. Stephen was leaning against the wall; he was chewing some gum. He looked up at me. “Need a cigarette?”

“I don’t smoke,” I snapped.

He handed me a stick of gum. “This will help you get rid of the taste.”

He was going to be nasty, so I decided to be crude and blunt. “I didn’t kiss her, and just so you’re not jealous, I didn’t like her twat either.”

“So how’d you get the lipstick on your face?”

“She got close to me because she liked my cologne. She kissed my cheek before she turned around and told me to fuck her from behind.”

Stephen opened the door to the backseat. “Get in the fucking car.”

“I’m riding up front with you. Isn’t that where the help usually sits?”

“Asshole,” he muttered.

I pushed him against the car and at the same time, I pressed my crotch against his ass. “Admit it; you wish I had fucked you instead. But I bet you’d rather face me as I did it.”

Stephen pulled away from me and turned. He grabbed my head and kissed me hard. I kissed back. Shit, I was into him. Dammit. He pulled his head back.

“Fuck you.” He said it as if it would hurt my feelings.

He got into the car. I sat down in the passenger seat next to him and buckled my seat belt. It had been a long time since I’d seen a bench seat. The rain became more intense and the lightning more frequent. Stephen accelerated the car more quickly than he should have. He was angry. I think I’d hit the nail on the head.

“Do you want my address?” I asked.

“I was taking you back to the hotel. Isn’t that where high-priced whores like you live?”

“High-priced?” I laughed. “You think I’m high-priced? I was going to do you for free. It won’t cost you anything if we go into the back seat. But if you take me home, I’ll show you around the place, and you can even get a complimentary cold shower afterward.”

I heard him scoff.

The storm intensified, and Stephen slowed down. “OK, where do you live?”

I gave him the address, and he glanced over at me. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I live in a room above a car repair shop. You can park under the carport when we get there.”

By the time we arrived, the streets were beginning to flood. Stephen pulled the car under the covering in front of the closed car bay and looked over at me. “Come on,” I said. “I’ll give you a grand tour.”

He got out of the car and walked over to me. The wind caused the roof of the carport to rattle. I walked to the door to the apartment and unlocked it. We stepped inside.

“Shit,” said Stephen, “it’s awfully dark.”

“There’s only the emergency light from the garage that comes through because there aren’t any risers.” I locked the door behind us. The smell of the grease and oil was strong. The wind whistled around the building, and the sound of the rain battering the metal roof was loud. I pushed my face into his, and found his mouth. His tongue pushed its way between my lips, and I reached my hand around his head and held him to me as my tongue fought with his.

He pulled back to take a breath, and I turned to go up the stairs and unlocked the door to my room. I switched on the light and closed the door behind Stephen. “This is where high-priced whores live.”

“Hey, man, I’m sorry about that remark. I shouldn’t have called you high-priced.”

I grabbed his shirt and crushed our lips together again. My leg was between his, and I felt him harden. I released him.

“I’m not a whore, Stephen. I’m an escort. They pay me to attend parties with them. They don’t pay me for the sex.”

“Oh, Jason,” he scoffed. “Would you be having sex with them if they hadn’t paid you?”

Damn him. Why couldn’t he be nice to me? Would it kill anyone to be nice to me? “I fucking hate you,” I growled. Then I grabbed his dick through his clothes.

“Do you? The way I fucking hate you for fucking the old lady instead of me?”

“You do want me, don’t you?”

“You’re a fucking whore; how could I want you? Fuck!” Stephen grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. “I do fucking want you.”

A bolt of lightning lit up the room, and the lights went out.

“Shall I bend over and grab my ankles so you can give me what I deserve? You want to fuck me till I bleed? Do you Stephen?”

“That sounds more like rape.”

“What’s the difference?” I shouted. “It’s how men treat men, right? Oh, I love you; then a slap. Maybe more than one slap, maybe a fist, and then a hard dick gets rammed into your belly.” I pushed him away even though I wanted him.

The sound of the rain filled the room. Stephen was silent. I was seething.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “What happened to you?” a calm, soothing voice asked.

“What do you mean?” My angry words spat out at him. Hail began to fall. The din was deafening. I felt fingers touch my arm; they slid down to my hand. His breath caressed my ear.

“I’m sorry,” he said; there was a hint of kindness. “I just got so angry thinking about you with her; she’s such a selfish, entitled bitch.”

I could barely hear him, but he pulled me the few steps to the bed, and we sat. His leg pushed against mine as he sat next to me. My brain told me to punch him and run. My heart, noting that his leg felt nice as it pressed against mine, told me to give him a chance.

“What made you decide to fuck old ladies for money? I mean escort them for money and then after…”

“What makes you think it was my choice?”

“I didn’t mean to assume. Who made you? Who’s making you.” Stephen’s hand moved to my shoulders. He began to lightly rub them. “What happened?”

“My father told me that he owed someone some money so I was going to help him make some. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to hurt me. Later that day, this lady in this wig came, and my father made me take my clothes off. She was on the couch, and she wiggled out of her panties. My father slapped me on the side of the head. ‘Get your dick hard, boy.’ I reached down and moved the skin up and down it, and my dick got really hard. It used to do that with just touching it. He told me to crawl between her legs. He held me and pushed my dick inside her. I hated what I was doing, but it felt really good. After a few seconds, I was humping her. I didn’t even realize that I had started doing it. When I came, he slapped my ass with his hand and told me to keep fucking. He put his hand on her clit. I didn’t know that’s what it was back then, but he massaged it while I fucked her. When she came, she peed all over me and shit on the couch. It was horrible. She gave him a hundred dollars and apologized for the mess.

“After she left he punched me. He stuck his dick in my ass for the first time. He kept saying, ‘This is how you fucking do it, boy.’ After he was done, he pushed me into the bathroom and knocked me into the bathtub. He peed on me and told me that I was lucky he kept me around. I heard my mother giggling in the hallway. I hated them so much.”

Stephen put his arms around me and pulled me to him. One of his hands held the back of my head. His fingers massaged my scalp. “How old were you, Jason?”

“I was thirteen, and fuck you for making me think about it again.” I pushed him back onto the bed. I grabbed his belt and unbuckled it. I unzipped him and pulled his member out. He was semi-hard; I pushed him into my mouth and took all of him as I undid my pants and pulled them off.

Stephen moaned loudly as I sucked him and got his cock dripping wet. I released his dick, grabbed the lube I kept under the bed and gave a quick squirt to my ass. I got on the bed and lowered myself onto him.

“Oh, fuck,” he shouted.

He felt good inside. I eased myself up and down him. His hands went under my shirt and found my nipples. He began to pleasure me as I pleased him. I leaned forward and kissed him hard. One of his hands found my ball sack and the other began to manipulate my dick.

“That’s right,” I said. “Fuck me. Tell me that you like it.”

“You got a great ass, you fucking whore.”

I slapped him. “I’m not a whore.”

“Then you’re a fucking slut,” he shouted. He began to piston faster into me. His grip of my cock tightened. He grunted, and I knew he had come inside me. His body went limp. I felt the cum drip from my ass.

Stephen moved up onto his elbows. “You fucked me without a condom?”

“I think you fucked me,” I growled. He pushed me backward and I slipped off his dick and onto the floor. “Bastard.”

“I can’t fucking believe you didn’t use a condom.”

“Leave your money at the door.” He pulled his pants up and practically ran to the door. He left it open as he scurried down the steps.

I slowly followed him down. The outside door banged in the wind. I held it slightly open and saw him get into the car and drive away. I shook my head as I locked the door. He didn’t even leave a tip.