Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas (16 page)

There was no room to sit, other than the bed, so I offered him a seat and asked him if he wanted one of the two-dollar bottles of water provided by the hotel on the desk. He politely declined and I smiled and went to sit down with him. We sat there in silence for a few seconds before I tactlessly asked him, “So, you’re actually gay?”

He gave a slight smile, laughed a little, and said, “Kind of, yeah. I mean I date girls sometimes but I really hate the whole gay dating scene. But I guess you could say I’m more gay than straight.”

“Oh, so you’ve been with men, then?” I asked.

“Yeah, but it’s always kinda weird,” he said. “Guys are weird and sometimes it’s a pain in the ass trying to date them or hook up.”

“Isn’t it the same thing with girls, though?”

“Well, yeah, true, I guess. Either way it kind of sucks,” he said.

He seemed shy and didn’t really make much of an effort to make eye contact. I couldn’t get a vibe from this guy and wasn’t sure what exactly he wanted. I wasn’t even sure if he was into me or not. I knew I wanted to rip his clothes off and let him do every possible, filthy, disgusting thing he had ever fantasized about doing to another man to me, but I tried to remain calm and not too eager. I reminded myself that desperation isn’t a good look on anyone.

We sat there for a minutes in silence, and I figured I was going to have to be the one to take action so I eventually leaned in and kissed his neck. He smelled of sweat mixed with a cologne that reminded me of Pino Silvestre. I always enjoyed the smell of a man without the added scent of cologne, but with him I didn’t care. I was hoping he was the type of man that got into rimming, because I wanted to spread his legs and eat his ass and get his scent all over my face and be able to smell it the rest of the night as I sat through whatever show I decided to see.

Eventually my kisses along his neck move toward his mouth and he turned to kiss me. He was definitely into it and seemed almost scared to let himself go. I imagined he probably had years of repressed sexual fantasies he wanted to act on, and I wanted to be the guy he acted out every fantasy with. We continued making out and eventually I laid him down on his back. As we kept kissing, I began caressing his chest and couldn’t get over how huge and firm his pecs were.
How in the hell was this happening to me and did this man even realize he was fulfilling some of my sexual fantasies being there?
I was a tall skinny kid from Saskatchewan and we never saw men like him where I was from. Even though I had been doing porn for over a year now, I felt like I was about to live out one of my porn fantasies with one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen.

I began to remove his shirt, and though he still seemed shy, he eventually let me take it off. There was absolutely no way we were going to do this with his shirt on. I wanted to look at his giant pecs as I rode his dick and hold on to them as he tore up my asshole and dropped a load in my ass. I had never let a client fuck me without a condom before, but something came over me as I lay there making out with a man who looked like something out of my dreams. He could shoot a load of cum in my ass, down my throat, on my face... Honestly I didn’t care. I lost any ounce of common sense by that point, and he could have told me he had HIV and I probably wouldn’t have stopped him from doing whatever he wanted to with me.

I unzipped his pants, pulled down his underwear, and out popped his nine-inch uncut dick.
Are you serious?
This perfect-looking, masculine, muscled Guido also had a perfect cock? I wanted to turn my head toward the ceiling and just start crying out. “thank you. God... thank you. You are so good to me, Jesus...” but I figured it might seem a little dramatic.

As I began to stroke his rock-hard dick, I had to force myself to count to ten before I started going hog-wild sucking it. I slowly kissed down his chest and along his furry little trail of hair on his belly toward his crotch. As I went to put his cock in my mouth, he said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, man... You can’t do that without a condom.”

“What?” I asked.

“I don’t do oral without condoms. Sorry.”

“I can’t even give you a blowjob without a condom?”

“No, man. That’s not safe. You mean you give all your clients BJ’s without rubbers?”

“Ummm... yeah, pretty much.” I said in disbelief that this man was seriously asking such an obvious question.

“Aren’t you afraid of diseases and stuff?”

“Well, I get tested every three months, and I am HIV negative. In this line of work you kind of have to take your chances,” I said, trying not to sound annoyed. Was this guy seriously trying to lecture me on safe sex? All of a sudden my ultimate sexual fantasy was turning into an after-school special, and I had to fight from rolling my eyes and asking, “Are you serious?” I’m a gay male, I do porn, and I’m an escort. Having oral sex without a condom wasn’t exactly risky behavior in comparison to half the shit I knew many other gay men and escorts out there were doing. Maybe I had been sleeping around for too long, maybe I was incredibly jaded, or maybe I had been watching too many Treasure Island Media movies, but I couldn’t believe this guy wasn’t going to let me suck his dick without a rubber.

“Well, I don’t think I’m cool with that, dude. Sorry. Maybe we can just fuck with a condom, then,” he suggested. I looked down at his beautiful, picture-perfect cock, and I wanted to roll my eyes and start pouting, but instead I said, “Sure,” and reached for the condoms.

He rolled on a Trojan Magnum and squirted a bunch of lube on his dick. I took the bottle of lube and poured out an equal amount onto my hand and lathered it on my hole. I knew I was going to need a lot of grease to get that monster inside me. He slowly eased his cock into me and looked me in the eyes as it went in. It hurt a little at first, but once his giant mushroom head was in it felt amazing. Instantly I could feel it rubbing against my prostate and I gasped. Very few men had been able to make me cum from simply putting their cocks in me, but this felt like it was going to be one of those times. Immediately he started slamming his dick in my ass, and I had to tell him to slow down a few times because he was going to make me cum right away. He obliged and went back to fucking me slowly and kissing me at the same time.

It didn’t take long for his slow, long thrusts to turn into long, hard thrusts that made me feel like I was going to cum again. He started going faster and faster and I could see his huge, beefy pec muscles jiggling in front of my face. Goddammit, I wanted his bare cock inside me and I wanted to feel him dump a load inside my ass. How was I stuck with the hottest man I have ever been with and the only thing he’ll do (aside from kissing) is fuck me with a rubber? I had lost any ounce of common sense, and I didn’t care about the consequences. I just wanted his load in my hole and dripping out my ass.

I looked up at him again and I started to stroke my dick harder and harder. I felt like I was going to cum, but then he stopped, pulled out, grabbed both my thighs, and flipped me around onto my stomach. He shoved his cock back in me and continued pounding away. I screamed as his dick tore up my hole, and he reached around to cover my mouth as he continued fucking me. His giant dick was beginning to hurt, but I didn’t care... the pain turned into pleasure and I completely got into this fantasy of him raping my hole and covering my mouth so nobody in the hotel would hear through the paper-thin walls. He kept on fucking me for about two minutes before he pulled out again and flipped me back onto my back.

“I wanna cum like this,” he said.

“Ok, sure, yeah... however you want,” I agreed.

He shoved his cock back into me one last time. As he went at it again, I worked on my dick in hopes that I would cum at the same time. He thrust his cock in deeper and deeper as he looked down at it going in and out of my hole. Finally he looked at me and said, “Shit, man... I’m gonna cum. You ready for me?”

Of course I was ready. I was ready for it on my face, in my hole, on my chest... wherever. I just wanted him to give it to me! I worked my dick up (even though I had been ready to cum since he initially started fucking my ass) and he drove his dick in deeper and deeper until he finally blew his load.

It took me about five seconds after he came for me to shoot my load all over my chest. He collapsed on top of me, and we lay there for about a minute to catch our breath and regain some energy before getting up. He smiled down at me and I gave him a playful wink and a little kiss. He got up, ripped the condom off, threw it in the garbage, and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. I wasn’t sure if this guy was a hypochondriac germaphobe or just petrified of possibly getting something from my hooker asshole, even though he wore a condom. I got him a clean towel and turned the water on so he could take a shower. He hopped in the miniature shower that looked like it was designed for a Barbie doll camper and not a hotel room. It was funny to see such a big burly muscled guy in such a tiny setting.

After he finished cleaning up, he dried off and got dressed, and we made some small-talk. He put his coat back on and grabbed his bag. I’m not sure where this man was headed, but he looked like he was on his way to school. He took a wad of cash out of his inside pocket and handed it to me.

“Here you go, man. Thanks.” I leaned in to kiss him and he gave me a little pec on the lips. I guess now that the intensity of the sex was over, he was back to being straight, bi, or whatever. “Take care of yourself, and be careful not to suck too much dirty dick. That shit is dangerous.”

Inside my head I was rolling my eyes at his concern, but I smiled and said, “Thanks, man. I’ll be good,” and saw him out the door. Nice guy, incredibly hot, but wouldn’t let me go within an inch of his dick in fear of getting an STD? Wow. That was a first.

It was a little after five p.m. and I wanted to be sure I had enough time to get to the discount TKTS booth in Times Square to find a show to see. When I arrived, I saw that
Follies
with Bernadette Peters was playing, and since I had heard great things about it, I bought a ticket. I somehow managed to get seats in the center of the third row. The show was amazing, and Bernadette Peters and the cast were incredible. I was happy to have had the chance to see it.

After the show, I met up with Javier to give him back the iPad and apologize for everything that happened. He laughed and assured me nothing like that had ever happened at one of his events, and he wanted me to come back and dance for him the next time I was in the city. I agreed, we hugged, and I was on my way.

I decided to go visit the famous gay bar called the Cock. It had quite the reputation for being seedy, skanky, and where pretty much anything goes. I even read a review on Yelp that said someone had defecated on the bar one evening and the entire bar watched. I’m not really into seeing that stuff happen, but it’s like a train wreck: how could I not stop by and witness the bawdiness at a club where taking a dump in front of others was not only allowed but encouraged and featured as one of the top reasons to go there?

I hailed a cab and asked the driver if he knew where the Cock was and he said, “Of course, right away, sir,” and we took off. I was so impressed and amused that this Indian taxi driver knew where the bar was, but again, I was not surprised. It was New York, after all, and places like the Cock probably have little to no shock value for locals.

As we headed across town, I could see the driver looking at me at the mirror. I asked him how he was and he said, “Very good, very good,” with an Indian accent.

“Good to hear. Are you having a good night?”

“Yes, yes, sir. You?”

“Yes, it’s good,” I replied, smiling at him in the mirror.

He smiled back and asked, “Are you a dancer, sir?”

“Yes, I am. How did you know?”

“You look like one, sir,” he said, grinning broadly.

I laughed, “Okay, thanks.”

“I like dancers,” he told me.

“Oh, really?” I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but it was amusing and I felt like I needed to see what was going to happen.

“Yes, I do. You’re so beautiful, sir.” Now I was blushing, completely confused and not sure what to say next. I guess I had always fantasized about fucking a taxi driver, though not a middle-aged, balding cabbie from India.

“You stay in hotel, sir?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Where is your hotel?”

“On the West Side on 50th Street,” I lied. I was actually staying on the East Side on 51st, but I didn’t want this guy showing up to my hotel and waiting for me.

“Oh, nice, nice. Maybe I can pick you up from the bar later and take you back?”

I started laughing nervously and I was unsure if I should tell him to fuck off or just get out and walk. I have to admit, however, that I was a little intrigued by the whole thing, and although he wasn’t someone I would peg as my type, I was curious to see how far this man would go.

The ride came to an end, and he said he wanted to show me something. As I leaned forward to pay him, I could see that his dick was out. It was probably eight inches long and raging hard. I burst out laughing and said, “Wow... that’s, um... very nice.”

“We can’t do anything in the cab, but I can come to your hotel later and we can do stuff there.” I started to get the church giggles and felt as if I should tip him a bit more, seeing as he was giving me the most interesting ride in a cab I have ever had. I politely declined, gave him a six-dollar tip, and got out to head into the Cock.

As I entered the club, I saw three or four go-go boys dancing on the bar. They weren’t exactly beautiful, muscled, or exotic-looking. In fact, they kind of all looked a little torn up, scrawny, and weathered, like they had probably spent a few nights on the streets and had lived a hard life. They—like the club—looked a little haggard and dirty, but maybe this was the look they were all going for? Who knew. As the night wore on, I realized that these go-go boys were not hired on account of their looks but because they were pretty much letting guys do whatever they wanted to them, and they looked like they enjoyed it. As it got later, the dancers began to fondle themselves.