So, life went on as I combined office work (now as a fully-qualified solicitor in England and Wales) with my rent boy side-hustle. As summer went on, I was still heavily into my gym training and diet, getting bigger and more cut than I'd ever been, and keeping my body smooth all over apart from heavily-trimmed tufts in my pits and just over the shaft of my cock. I was even clean-shaving my face, and my hair was now grown into a fairly conservative short back-and-sides swept off my forehead. In contrast, in July 2019 I added to my tattoo collection with a fifth on my right forearm.
In August 2019 I put everything I had into buying a small studio flat in a Victorian conversion in Brixton. It was small but perfectly-formed, really well designed to maximise its limited space. It had a tiny kitchenette, one living/bedroom with a built-in Murphy bed and surprisingly ample fitted storage, and a small but well-built shower room with a sink and toilet. The transaction completed in November, just before my 27th birthday, and Ryan helped me to move in. He was going to give up his flat and go back to NZ for a few months at Christmas but I expected to see him again in the New Year.
The real news was that I got a girlfriend in the August as well, and went full-on hetero for a while, putting the sex work on ice once it became clear that it was more than a fling and might be serious. I confess I kept my bisexuality and paid hobby entirely to myself. Though she couldn't come to Sydney with me at Christmas, I stayed faithful while I was Down Under so it was dry as a desert, sex-wise.
In 2020, it all went to hell in a handbasket.
****
Of course, I'm talking about the COVID-19 pandemic. On 23rd March 2020, London went into lockdown. When it became clear we weren't going to be able to see each other, the thing with my girlfriend fizzled out. I couldn't access the gym, and to make matters worse, I'd entered lockdown with six weeks' worth of body hair regrowth, being slightly overdue a sugaring session. Actually, that wasn't that big a deal, I was happy to embrace my natural furryness again for a while. I stopped shaving my face and started to let my beard grow back, but instead of letting my head hair grow I decided to do something different: I did a big Amazon order (like fuckin' everyone else) and got, among other things, some hair clippers. I took a deep breath and carefully, methodically clippered my hair down to a grade one all over. With my regrowing beard and body hair, it was a strong look and I liked it.
I'd also bought a portable pull-up and dip rack that disassembled and packed away in the bag it came with, plus three progressively-heavy cast-iron kettlebells, and with the help of some YouTube workout videos, I managed to build a decent home fitness regime. I decided to go more functional and shift away from my nearly-obsessive diet plan and body measuring, and as it was permitted to go outside for exercise, I got into running and using the pull-up and dip bars in the park as well (they were cordoned off by yellow tape by the Council but everyone ignored it). My bod got a little leaner and more natural-looking over the following months, but I was happy with it and I had been getting a bit too bulky, cut and vascular anyway. When I watched gay porn or went cock-hunting, I wasn't attracted to guys who looked how I did in the year before lockdown (Ryan himself was the exception because he was such a cutie). I realised that Ryan's style of physique and training wasn't really for me long-term.
I could have got through lockdown OK but then I was also put on furlough by my law firm. Having sunk all my savings into the flat, and even with a three-month mortgage holiday, furlough wasn't enough money. I couldn't hustle, and any cam work had to be done with a balaclava and just didn't draw as much interest as it would have done if I'd been bare-faced, though I did my best. I even spunked in some used underwear and socks and posted them to punters for money, but that didn't amount to much.
****
I managed to get one new punter though. On a warm May day I was doing pull-ups and dips at the park, sweating after a run, wearing Aussie Rules footy shorts over my lucky jock, a loose vest, and trainers with invisible socks. I noticed a guy in his 60's, overweight, sitting on a nearby bench wearing a mask and watching me. I decided to give him a show, so I slipped off my vest and did slow, deliberate pull-ups for his viewing pleasure. When I was done I wandered over to him, keeping a safe distance away and pulling up my own mask.
"You alright mate?"
"Very well thank you, and you?" He was quite well spoken.
"Yeah good mate, cheers. You like watching?"
The old gent seemed a bit nervous at that question, though I'd kept my tone friendly. "Yes, I hope you don't mind..."
"Not at all mate, I like it." I looked around us but there was no-one else about. "Mate, I could do with a bit of cash, so if you'd like to see more...." I left it hanging, but he nodded and said "I think I'd like that".
Putitng my vest back on, I followed him at a safe distance and when he went into his small terraced house, and when I'd satisfied myself that there was no-one watching, I followed him in and he offered me some antibacterial gel for my hands after he'd used it himself. We sat in his living room and he gave me a colod drink. He said he'd like to see me naked if that was OK with me, which it was, and we took it upstairs to his small, neat bedroom. I slowly removed my trainers and socks, peeled off my damp vest, and dropped my shorts and jock. We were still both wearing masks and I lay back on the bed. He stood there looking me up and down as I spread my legs, flexed my biceps to show some damp sweaty pit, and casually played with my soft cock and balls. He asked if he could touch me and I said "Of course you can mate", and he slowly felt up my body, lingering on each furry muscle and gently tugging and squeezing my nipples. "You can touch my dick too if you want", I said in low tones, and he gently brushed his fingers over the soft flesh. He left the room and came back with a bottle of baby oil which he trickled over my chest and abs and spread it across my damp, warm, hairy skin, then applied some to my scrotum and shaft. Soon, he was slowly wanking me to a semi, then his fingers slipped under my balls to feel my taint.
"May I?" he asked, and I got my arms behind my knees and hauled my legs back. He started to massage oil into my anus until eventually he slipped a finger in while wanking my now-fully hard tool with his other hand. With some skill, he found my prostate and spent a good half hour massaging it with one finger, then two, then finally three, until I finally ejaculated over his hand and my abs. He gave me some toilet paper to wipe up with and a few notes, which I gratefully accepted. I gave him my number in case he wanted to do it again.
And he did, a few more times actually. The next time I came prepared: I took my daypack with a couple of buttplugs and dildos plus some proper lube and some poppers, and let him go to town playing with my ass. He never got his own cock out or wanted me to do anything at all other than lie there and enjoy being probed and wanked. He did like filming clips with his phone though, all close-ups of my cock in his hand being wanked, my torso getting splattered with my cum, and my asshole worked to the point that it was staying open. I didn't mind, as long as he let me check his phone to make sure there were no accidental face shots. He tipped well for that.
****
Some of you may have read my fantasy story series, "Dude's gotta pay his debts". Though it is nearly entirely a product of my filthy imagination, some bits were inspired by my real situation. The true story started in May 2020, not long after I first met my elderly punter. I needed more money and had managed to get myself into some difficulties. I'm not going to go into details here, and I'm not going to explain why I couldn't get a loan or something. I was just in a situation, and I needed some help.
So, there was this client of mine who we'll call "Leroy" because that was the name I gave him in "Dude's gotta pay his debts", though of course it wasn't his real name. Leroy was 6'2" of mixed race muscle from a nearby council estate, with a close-cropped afro, scruffy beard growth, and an eclectic scattering of tattoos in black ink from the neck down. Back in 2019 he had been charged with various petty drug offences and other minor shit, for which I'd been his solictor, and once he was picked up by the cops in a train station loo getting sucked off by a barely-legal scally twink. He got charged under Section 71 of the Sexual Offences Act and I got him off with a caution. Not long after that, I was in a local pub beer garden with some mates, t-shirt off, bare feet on the grass, sweat trickling down my smooth torso as I soaked up the rays, when I clocked him across the garden at another table, looking at me. He smiled, but every time I looked back, he was still checking me out. I smiled back weakly and adjusted my semi in my cargo shorts. I felt a bit awkward about a former client seeing me half naked, especially with my little ink collection on display.
In 2020, when the pubs finally re-opened in early July, I went for a solo pint wearing an old white Bonds vest, my cutoffs over briefs, Havaianas and a baseball cap with sunnies. When I sat down outside in the sun with my beer, I saw Leroy, wearing jogging bottoms, sliders with white socks, a sleeveless gym top with dropped armholes that revealed his pits, pecs and nips, plus a hoodie tied around his waist by the arms. I nodded a greeting at him, and he did a double-take, belatedly recognising me now that I was buzzed and bearded with chest hair spreading out from under my vest and furry pits and limbs. We chatted, sharing how we were getting on. He asked me if I was still managing to work, and I started moaning about being on furlough and being short of money... one thing led to another and he offered to lend me two grand. And like a dumb cunt, I agreed. I collected the notes from his council flat a few days later.
A couple of weeks later I needed to pay him what I could, so I headed to his council flat. It was a hot summery day and the firm had put me back on half-time, working-from-home hours, so I was wearing the same old, holey white vest, ripped black skinny jeans, the previous day's Aussiebum Y-fronts, and scuffed white Converse Chuck Taylor low-tops without socks. I hadn't showered yet and I hadn't taken care of my beard or scalp for a couple of weeks. I rocked up at his place in the nearby estate and knocked, and Leroy answered - he was bare chested and barefoot, wearing grey jogging bottoms slung low to give a glimpse of pubes below his hard abs and cum gutters. He was obviously commando, judging by the outline of meat at his groin.
"Hey, come in bro, shoes off though". I toed my Converse off and padded barefoot across his dirty, cigarette-burned carpet. We sat side by side on his worse-for-wear sofa and I forked out 200 quid. “And the rest?” he said. “I don't have it yet”, I replied, "but I've started working again so I should have more soon". He leaned back, eying me with a speculative look on his face. "Why don't you work it off for me mate?" When I looked alarmed (images of being a drug mule with packages up my ass flashing through my mind), he laughed and smile broadly. "Nah, nothing that'll bother your solictor ass, this is between you and me. But we can work something out." He casually rested one hand on my bare shoulder, feeling my warm hair-dusted skin and the hard rounded muscle underneath it. Obviously I knew he was happy to mess about with guys, whatever he considered his orientation to be, so I didn't overreact, I let him leave his hand there while I let the silence build as he stared at me. Eventually I murmered, "What did you have in mind?" and his smile got even wider. "I reckon you like the D, so maybe you can help me out?" he said, groping his solid joggers-covered meat. I paused for a moment, considering, then said "OK".
"Nice one. How about taking yer kit off then?" I stood up and peeled off my vest, getting hard at the way he was looking at me. I tugged off my jeans, giving my semi-hard tool a squeeze in my Aussiebums. "C'mon, don't be shy", Leroy murmured, and so I slipped them off and kicked them aside, now fully naked, my semi pulsing to full hardness and jutting out in front of me. Leroy hauled himself back to his feet and wandered slowly around me, fondling himself through his trackies and prodding me, gripping my shoulders, squeezing my biceps, soft-punching my pecs and abs, tugging and twisting my nips, then gripping my cock and giving it some rough tugging as he leaned in and spoke in low tones.
"Brah, I always knew ya was built by how ya suit hung on ya, but when I clocked ya in the pub last year I got how stacked ya really was. And inked too, ya dark horse. Now yer all beardy and hairy, fuckin' headspin. I like it tho." Grunting appreciatively, he flopped back down on the sofa and ordered me to pose, which I did for a few minutes, flexing my biceps, turning around, and so on. He told me to wank myself, and I fuckin' did it. My cock was leaking precum and I smeared it over my swollen head and shaft to wet my stroke. “Show me yer cunt”, he ordered, and I turned my back to him, bent forward, reached back and spread my hard glutes to show off my hairy trench and tight, dark sweaty asshole. “Mmmm”, he moaned. “Get over here”.
I turned towards him - he had dropped his trackies to his calves and was stroking his own long, thick, dark hardon. “Get on yer knees brev”, he muttered. Slowly, I dropped naked, hard and sweaty to my knees, looking him in the eye and stroking my own swollen leaking knob as he got up and shuffled over with his trackies bunched around his ankles. He slapped his leaking cock against my face, dragging it through my thick beard. He used his thumb to push my mouth open and then drooled a thick line of spit onto my tongue - and I didn't resist as he then forced his cock into my gob. “Lick it, suck it”, he said, and I did my best until he slipped it to the back of my throat and I retched, grabbing his hips to push him away, but he gripped my head hard and started a slow face-fuck, making me gag with each stroke. “Wank for me as I use you mate, show me you like it”, he said, and I did, I stroked my wet cock, and I did like it. My throat relaxed and opened and soon he was fucking my throat in earnest, our combined spit drooling over my scruffy chin to my hairy hard chest in thick ropes.
After a while he pushed his trackies off over his bare feet so he was completely naked, grabbed me under my wet hairy pits and hauled me up, pulling me into an unexpected wet snog as his hands reached behind me to spread my ass, his fingers slipping in to tease my moist anus, our hard leaking cocks pressed together. "Let's take this to the bedroom, yeah?" I nodded, and he led me to his room with its stale, unmade bed and pushed me face-first onto it. I breathed in his bed funk as he climbed on behind me, wedged himself between my spread legs, pushed my glutes wide apart and spat on my hole, before starting to aggressively lick me out. I moaned in pleasure and pushed my ass back towards him, reaching back to take over holding my cheeks apart so his hands were free to grip my thighs and play with my bristly balls. He was a spitter, interupting his tongue-fuck every ten seconds or so to noisily depost a wad of phlegm in my crack, and the fluid was soon running down the back of my scrotum. He reached forward, pushed two fingers into my mouth for me to suck, then shoved them roughly up my chute, twisting them and jabbing them in and out to stretch me open. He forced in a finger from each hand and stretched my asshole wide so he could see up into my wet pink tunnel and send some more dollops of spit up inside me. He gave my ass a hard, stinging slap and then lay at full-length along my back and fucked his thick tool along my slippery trench as he tongued my ear and finger-fucked my mouth with digits still slimy from my shit-chute.
Eventually, he reached over to his nightstand and grabbed a condom. The floil wrapper fluttered down by my face and I spread my glutes wide so he could take aim at my cunt. Some more spit splattered my ring, then I felt spongy glans pop through and hot slick shaft drive up into my guts, its passage lubed by nothing but saliva. I grunted with pleasure as Leroy started a rough, no-frills fuck. But something felt different, something about his cock inside me. I reached back to feel him but he grabbed both my wrists and held them at the small of my back with one hand, his other planted hard on the side of my head, as he fucked harder and harder, the friction building as the spit wore off, until, suddenly, his pelvis slammed into my butt and I felt an explosion of wet warmth inside me as my fuck-tunnel became suddenly slippery and wet. Instantly, I knew he'd fuckin' stealthed me, and I screamed "OI YOU FUCKIN' CUNT!!! WHAT THE FUCK?????" into his manky duvet. He let go of my wrists as he slid out of my slimy cunt with a wet fart sound and I rolled onto my back. He was sitting back on his heels, his still rock-hard cock jutting proud out of his thick wiry pubic bush and shiny with cum, a wide grin on his face, the unused condom lying discarded at the edge of the bed. I put my hand between my legs and felt my wet, leaking asshole and examined the seed on my fingers, then lashed out angrily with a bare foot. He grabbed it and pushed it aside, sliding off the bed and laughing.
"You fucking asshole," I yelled as I stood, ignoring my own hardon and the scum leaking down the inside of my thigh, and shouldered aggressively past him to his living room where I dragged on my clothes. We exchanged more harsh words as I stormed out, leaving him naked and laughing. When I got home, I stripped and shat his load out into the toilet, then had a thorough douche and a long scrub in the shower. An online search revealed there were no sexual health clinics open near me - thanks COVID - so I had no choice but to pull my kit back on and head to King's College Hospital A&E. It took me hours to get seen, but when I explained my situation, the triage nurse was kind and supportive. When I finally got seen by a doctor, I was given a full STI panel and prescribed a course of PEP. He asked more about my history, building on what I'd told the nurse, and I confessed to having had several courses of PEP before, and not only was I a "man who has sex with men", I was a part-time sex worker. The doc offered to give me a follow-on prescription of PrEP, which I'd heard of but not looked into getting on. It had only recently become available free on the NHS, and after he talked me through it, I accepted gratefully. I was to start taking it as soon as my 28-day PEP course was finished, and then ideally wait seven days before having unprotected sex.
When I finally got home with my meds that night, I did some research into PrEP online. Emergency over, my anxiety had drained away leaving me exhausted, but I was still fuckin' furious with Leroy. Over the next five weeks I refused to communicate with him, ghosting his texts, but just dropping envelopes with cash through his letterbox once a week. However as time passed I went down a bareback gay porn rabbit hole and started to think about the upsides, getting consumed by the thought of indulging in raw fucking and getting well-bred. Of course I'd done bareback before but never really intentionally, and there was always an anxiety hangover. Now I felt I could cut loose, even though I knew there were other STIs I could catch, those risks were manageble with the regular testing I already got. So I finally made a decision.
****
A week into my PrEP regime, I was at home, barefoot and commando in Quicksilver boardies and a RipCurl vest. I'd clippered my hair back to a grade 1 and scraped the whiskers off my neck with an unguarded trimmer, but my beard was getting wild. I hadn’t showered in a couple of days, despite the warm weather, daily workouts and dildo-assisted jerk-off sessions, and I'd stopped using deodorant when lockdown hit - so sue me, I’m a slob. I texted Leroy, "Can I cum round?" "Sure Y?" he replied. "Wanna pay off some of wot I owe", I texted, and because I'm a twat, I added aubergine and peach emojis. "WTF really?" he came back with, straight away. "Yh" I said.
I slipped on my Havaiana flipflops and a baseball cap and headed out. At his council flat, he let me in - wearing a pair of basketball shorts, obviously commando as usual, and nothing else - and I followed him to his living room having kicked my flipflops off at the door. He seemed a bit unsure, nervous even, as though he wasn't entirely cetain that I wasn't going to try to punch him out when he wasn't looking. He stared at me and paused as if thinking, then ordered me to strip. Without argument, I flicked off my cap, peeled off my vest and dropped my shorts, kicking them aside and standing in front of him naked and proud, cock already fully hard with a pearl of cocksnot glistening at my piss slit. He checked me out, tentatively at first but with growing assertiveness, groping my biceps, punching my pecs, giving my nips a tug. He slapped my ass, and gave my hard leaking cock a few slaps too. He then roughly gripped my bearded jaw and barked "open up" - my mouth gaped and he hawked 2-3 loads of spit into it before stroking my stubbled throat until I swallowed.
He pushed me down by my shoulders and hauled his thick, uncut 8" hardon out of his shorts and forced my head onto it. I swallowed it eagerly, but he started to skullfuck me before I could adjust as he did the first time. I choked and gagged with each thrust and it wasn't long before my chest hair was slathered in thick frothy spit which sometimes drooled to the carpet when he pulled out to let me breathe. I scooped up some from my skin and started to furiously wank as he used my throat. My other drool-slick hand wandered back to my ass and I slid a finger into my sweaty hole.
After a few minutes he stopped and scrubbed his wet cock through my beard and slapped it on my tongue. He dragged me forward and pushed me chest down onto a footstool. He kicked off his shorts and knelt down behind me, roughly spreading my firm, hairy glutes. He hawked up a load of snot and spat it onto my crack, using a finger to move it down to my hole. He pushed his wet finger up my chute without ceremony and started to jab it in and out, twisting his hand around till he found my fucknut. He added more snot then forced in two fingers and set up a rapid finger-fuck, continuously drooling spit down to my crack. I breathed deeply, bearing down like I was trying to shit, trying to open my hole for him.
Eventually I heard him hawk some more thick spit up and it sounded like he was slathering it on his cock. One more spit on my hole then I felt the pressure of his helmet at my sphincter. The head popped in quickly and there was a sharp pain, but before it could get worse he pulled out, slapped hs cock on my hole a few times, added more spit then popped it in again. He did that six or seven times, and the pain quickly disappeared. At first I thought he was being weirdly gentle, then I realised he had the measure of me and was actually teasing me. "Jesus mate, please fuck me" I moaned. He made me beg for it like a fag needing thick black meat, then he gave in and slid his tool raw up into my guts in one smooth but steady movement. I moaned - it felt awesome and I was fucking grateful for the PrEP - and started to wank, but he grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back while he set up a steady bunny fucking pace, regularly spitting on my back and asscheeks as he moved inside me. It only took a few minutes and he unloaded a generous dose of scum into my chute with a series of grunts and thrusts. Pulling out with a pop, he scooted around the front of the footstool and forced me to clean his cock off with my mouth and tongue. The taste of the frothy, stringy mixture of snot, spit, assjuice and cum coating his tool made me retch. But I was still rock hard and drooling, and I did the job.
The fucker stayed hard, so he flipped me onto my back on the footstool, lifted and spread my legs by my ankles, and let me guide his slick cock back up my cum-lubed cunt. He fucked me hard and ordered me to cum, and I jerked myself roughly until a savage orgasm wracked my bod and I splattered my chest and abs with slime. He scooped up some of my cum with two fingers and forced them into my mouth, making me feed. Carefully he scooped up more of my load and smeared it over his rigid fat cock before slamming back up my cunt. He gripped a thigh with one hand and a bare foot with the other and started to bunny-fuck me hard. After a few minutes of wild fucking he gripped my still-rigid, swollen wet cock and roughly jerked another load out of me. While I dripped with jizz and sweat, panting, he slid out of my cunt, tilted my head back and began to fuck my throat with his slippery, cummy, ass-juiced meat while holding my throat tightly. After less than a minute he pulled out and jerked a second decent load of salty spooge over my open mouth and beard.
He collapsed back on the floor, panting, his cock finally drooping, as I just lay draped over the footstool. "Fuck, I need a piss," he groaned as he got up. "Give it to me", I begged, and he looked started for a moment before his face was split by a massive grin. He hauled me up, sweaty, spit dripping down my back, cum farting out of my fucked mancunt and down my hairy thighs, and frogmarched me by the scruff of the neck to the bathroom, where he ordered me to kneel in the tub. I accepted his powerful stream of hot beer-piss into my mouth and over my head, chest and groin. He shoved me onto my back in the slippery tub and dragged one of my legs up by the ankle - following his lead I took over and held both of my legs back and spread my ass so he could piss into my slightly open hole and finish drenching my bod. “Piss yourself brev,” he barked, and I let my urine arc out onto my face and chest.
Finally the flows dried up and I was lying in the bath in a puddle of piss, panting. I started to stand. "So are we good?" I asked, but he just laughed. "You kidding mate? A scally rent boy will cost less than £50 for a raw fuck, you still owe £550 and we haven’t even talked about interest, have we you stupid cunt? If you come round once a week it will take months to fuck the debt out of ya". His words were harsh but his tone was good-natured. He paused, "but if ya wanna knock it all out this way, I'm down". I nodded eagerly. He chucked me a dirty damp towel as he sauntered naked out of the room. I squatted in the tub and shat the fluids out of my tender hole then roughly towelled off before padding naked into the living room, getting dressed and heading home.
As promised, this is a true account of my experiences as I remember them. I'd love to hear what you think of it, so email me if you want at [email protected]
