Trust fund twink pt.1

So I get a text one morning:

“Hi. I’ve never done anything with a guy before and I want to try. I have a girlfriend so I need to be discreet. J”

These sort of texts always put me in two minds. I love inexperienced guys. They’re so full of excitement and nervous energy. The slightest touch of my hand causes a gasp or a shiver. The confusion of surprise and joy writ large on a face as I introduce a guy to a new pleasure for the first time. The power that comes from controlling and directing all that raw sexuality and lust.... mm mm mmmm.

The downside? These are the guys that are most likely to chicken out at the last minute. To cancel a booking hours or minutes before, or simply not turn up, leaving me sexually and financially frustrated.

So, keeping check on my excitement, I text back. More details emerge. He is 21, a student. Another double edged sword. I like a young client, but students never have any money.

“Have you seen my rates?” I ask?

“Yes, no problem.”

A student with money to spend. He’s either desperate or rich. I find myself wondering if I’m hoping for rich so that I don’t feel guilty about exploiting someone’s desperation... or if really it’s just hope for a repeat customer... is this job turning me mercenary?

We arrange a date.

He cancels.

Figures.

 He arranges another date.

People get a second chance. Things do genuinely come up that can’t be helped. I hope he doesn’t make me consider a third. I’m sure there are guys out there who get off on making a booking and then standing you up. A power game? Too much time on their hands? Kids messing about? I don’t know.

Well, the day comes around and he’s on his way this time. He sends a text to say he’s parked. I look out the window as I text back the house number. A slim young lad dressed in cotton tracksuit bottoms, well fitting (but not tight) t-shirt and a beanie hat steps out of a shiny Audi TT. Rich then, that’s nice. Apart from the car, he couldn’t look more like a typical student if he tried. That’s very nice.

He gets to the door and I let him in. His name is written in big letters across the front of his t-shirt.  Did he have that printed or is it a brand? I’ve always been oblivious to fashion brands. Is that his real name, I wonder, or did he pick his client name from his t-shirt? Escorts rarely work under their real names. I don’t know how many clients give false names, it hardly matters to me, but maybe that was his. Either way, it makes me chuckle inside... best to keep the chuckling inside. I see a lot of things that amuse me but it isn’t good for business if you laugh out loud at someone’s kinky secret or exotic-fruit-shaped penis, so I got rather good at keeping a straight face.

I offer the student a seat and a drink. He takes a beer and sits nervously.

He’s rather good looking, in the slightly horsey inbred I’ve-got-a-double-barrelled-name-and-I’m-468^th-in-line-to-the-throan kinda way. His nervous smile shows off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. Bright blue eyes and pale skin put my money on blond locks under that oversized beanie.

“Shall we get the business side of things over with?” I ask, “So we can get on with the pleasure?”

A pretty corny line I suppose, but I use it all the time. The most delicate way I’ve come up with to remind the client that I take payment upfront if we’ve not met before. If you’ve got a better way then let me know!

“Of course” he flusters slightly, as if he’s committed a social faux pas. There’s no reassuring the nervous ones, until they get what they came to me for. Better not to drag out the preliminaries too long.

He’s standing now, having retrieved the money from his wallet. I step closer to him and caress his neck gently with my hand, guiding his lips to mine for a tentative first kiss. There is no resistance. I kiss harder, pulling his body in to mine. His arms wrap around my waist and we kiss with passion. I move down to his neck with my lips. As my hands are feeling his lean body through his t-shirt, I make a trail of kisses down the side of his neck that makes him groan.

Clothes start to come off as his nerves are forgotten in the heat of passion. His body is lean, verging on skinny. A fair treasure trail of hair (matching his blond locks – I was right!) runs down from his navel and disappears beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. I push him onto the bed. My kisses cover his body. Lingering on his nipples I elicit a gasp of surprise. “Your girlfriend never done that to you?” I wonder silently. Best not to mention girlfriends in these situations!

My fingers trace the edge of his boxers, skipping just under the material in a teasing manner that makes him squirm. I kneel over him as I do it. By now he is staring at the outline of my hard cock, straining against my underwear.

“Why don’t you have a go at exploring my body?” I suggest. He nods eagerly and I lie back on the bed.

“Just let yourself be guided by instinct, explore what it’s like to touch my body, see where your hands take you.” I’m in no hurry. He’s paid for two hours.

It doesn’t take long til his hands are dipping into my underwear.

“Can I suck it?” he asks tentatively. I don’t get these clients that think I’m going to say no to a blowjob!

“Of course” I say, removing my underwear.

I can tell from is technique (or lack thereof) that he’s never done it before but he manages to avoid the cardinal sin of teeth and actually starts improving after a while. More kissing follows, by which time he’s lost his boxers revealing a nice firm 5-6” dick and a cute round arse.

“So how far do you want to go?” I asked. His face flushed. Having seen his lovely arse, and knowing that it is virgin territory, I really want to be the one to pop his cherry. But this is work and I’m certainly not going to pressure him to do what he doesn’t want to do. The client comes first. A happy client might mean a regular client and that means stable income. I see that he’s struggling for the words he wants. When they come I can’t help but smile.

“Do you have condoms?” Is the pope catholic? As surely as the pontiff would deplore them I just as surely always have condoms with me. Let’s forget for a minute that if the pope were aware of this little scene the condoms might not be at the top of his list of objections....

“Always. You want me to fuck you then?” There’s no risk he might have been thinking of fucking me... he’s seen my ad and it’s perfectly clear. “Don’t worry, I know how to be gentle.... at least to start with.” I’m sure my grin when I say stuff like that is positively wicked, but it never seems to put anyone off.

“If that’s ok?” He says. I suppress a smirk.

“Yeah, that’s absolutely fine” I say in self conscious understatement. Sometimes I love this job.

To be continued...