"Sure thing, stud!" I replied. We sat close together on the small outdoor love-seat. "So, did you get lucky tonight?" I cheerfully ask him already knowing the answer. "Noooo...it's been a long dry spell," he softly said. "Well, those bitches don't know what they're missing out on!" I tell him. I place a hand on his large, firm thigh and begin stroking it close to his knee. When he leans forward to pick up a glass of wine my hand is suddenly near his crotch. When he sits back I leave my hand on his upper thigh and resume stroking it. I surreptitiously brush the back of my hand on the front of his slacks, and to my delight, I discover he is already fully hard. For a guy who claims to be straight, he sure gets a lot of erections when he's with me gotgaytubeporn. I take a small sip of wine when he offers the glass to my lips. "What the hell is wrong with me, John? I've lost all confidence with women...most of the time I don't even try anymore...when I do I get so flustered and tongue-tied I come off like an idiot...I don't know why that is," he says. I begin running the palm of my hand lightly back and forth over the bulge in his thin slacks. He doesn't move. It's been three-weeks since he loudly proclaimed "NO" and pushed my hand away. Now he enjoys it. He even expects it. When I get to the point of grasping and squeezing his hard-on thru the slacks I know our conversation has ended for the night. I will tease his prick for a minute more than open his slacks and take it out. He surprises me by putting his arm around my bare shoulders. That simple act spurs me on to begin working on his belt then unfastening his slacks. A feint light is coming from my kitchen so I can only see his beautiful cock in silhouette. I apply the pressure he likes then slowly stroke it up and down. It feels hot and alive in my hand. My own prick springs to erection. "What is wrong with me, John?" he asks. "Before I met you, something like this with a guy never even entered my mind." The sadness in his voice clutched at my heart. I had never heard him so despondent. He is not one for self-pity. I felt a powerful need to do something special for him. I slowly lowered my head to his crotch. His body flinched when he realized what was about to happen. He stopped my downward momentum with a hand on my forehead. "Johnny, you don't have to do this..." he said softly. "I don't have to..." I said. " I WANT to..." I snake out my tongue and lap at the velvety smoothness of his cockhead. I pay special attention to the underside of the crown. As I kiss and lick his cock his whole body fidgets and squirms. He was obviously not accustomed to receiving this type of pleasure. "Ohhhhhhhhhh..." he moans. "Jesus Christ, John!" When I wet my lips and slide them over his glans he almost jumps up but I hold him firmly in the seat. His cock is oozing so much precum I figure he won't last very long so I decide to give him my famous 'Express BJ' and suck him hard and fast with all the expertise I have acquired over the years. In less than a minute I have him cumming in my mouth. "Oh-God-John--Oh-God-John--Oh-God-John--ohhhhhhhhhhh--yes-yes-yes-YES-YES-YESSSSSSSSSS..." I lap at his spurting cockslit catching his hot fluids directly on my tongue. His hips and thighs are bucking so hard I have to hang on for dear life while I swallow load after load of his creamy jizz. I am pleasantly surprised how sweet his cum tastes - it is definitely the exception to the rule. "Johnny, oh wow, that was...oh my goodness!" he stammered when he finally caught his breath. His body shivers as my tongue licks his flaccid penis clean. When I sit upright he throws his right arm around me and hugs me to him. "Johnny, uh...I, uh, don't know what to say..." he mutters. "You don't have to say anything - it was my pleasure," I say reassuringly. Sitting in darkness I did not see his left hand moving to my crotch so I was caught completely off guard when he grasped my hard prick thru my undies. It was totally unexpected and his grip was so tight I yelped, "Owww." He instantly released my throbbing hard-on and muttered, "Oh God I'm sorry-sorry-I'm sorry, John, I've never done anything like this before..." "Sammy, it's fine," I said, "...you don't have to do anything - I'm okay just sitting here with you." "Nooooooo, it's not right...I've treated you badly since we met. I want to make it up to you. You've been so nice to me...please, I want to use my hand on you...teach me how to use my hand, Johnny." A sudden warmth spread thru my being. His heartfelt words struck a chord with me. I shifted on the seat and pushed my briefs down far enough for my erection to pop out into the night air. I found his hand and guided it to my turgid prick. He gasped when I wrapped his fingers around my cock and said to him, "Don't squeeze it too hard...yes, that's good - a little harder...yes, that's perfect!" Every guy knows how to jack-off and he instinctively began moving his hand rapidly up and down on my now-throbbing erection. I would have slowed him down to make it last longer but I needed to cum as badly as he wanted to do this for me. I sat back and groaned, "Ohhh Sammy...that feels wonderful..." Unsure of how far to push the situation, I didn't want to scare him into taking his hand away, I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek. He immediately turned his face to me, paused, then found my lips with his. My heart sang with joy. When he tried to push his tongue between my lips it was my turn to pause. My tongue was still coated with his fresh sperm and semen, does he really want to taste it? He was insistent though and I relented. I painted his tongue with my own cum-slick appendage. He was getting into it. He moaned into my mouth and our kisses grew fevered and passionate. He groaned so deeply I had a hunch and reached for his crotch. Sure enough, his beautiful cock was again hard as rock. The man has great recuperative powers, I thought to myself as I applied the pressure I knew he liked and began masturbating him with the same rhythm he was using on me. He seemed to like his own flavor on my tongue. We french-kissed the whole time we were jerking each other off. We both were lost in the heat and passion of the moment. I tried as hard as I could to time my climax with his. That took some effort on my part but it was well worth it when his hand became a blur on my prick. I did the same for him. He suddenly broke our kiss and just as suddenly our balls erupted simultaneously and the night air became filled with grunts and groans and loud exclamations of pure pleasure. I rested my head against his shoulder while we fought to regain normal breathing. Finally, he turned to me, kissed me on the cheek and said, "John, uh, I don't know...I better leave..." and stood and went inside his apartment. The only thought in my lust-sated mind was 'What just happened here?' I went to bed but laid awake a long time puzzling over just what my relationship with Sammy had become - if anything. He has steadfastly and loudly proclaimed his love for women, but has not been with one since I've known him. He has persistently denied any interest in men, but comes to me for his sexual release. And tonight, what was that about? After an awkward start, he really got into stroking my prick. And the kissing? He only pulled his lips from mine when we climaxed together. I don't want to make more out of what happened tonight because, quite frankly, I've had a crush on him for a month and I don't want to set myself up for another broken heart. I am fine all by myself. I don't need a boyfriend to complicate my life. *** I rolled out of bed at 6:30, stumbled to the kitchen and made a cup of instant coffee then powered-up the computer and sat at the table to catch-up on the latest news. When I looked up it was nearly 7:30. My heart skipped a beat hoping I hadn't missed him. I almost ran to the bedroom to change out of the yellow undies into red ones then quickly went to the glass door, slid it open and stepped out into a beautiful, sun-drenched morning and sat and waited for him on the loveseat. I thought about the jobs I have lined up for the day. At 9, I have to work for Mister Bennett. He is the strangest of my sponsors. The dirty old man has me dress in a French maids outfit complete with a very short skirt and white lace panties. While I am cleaning, I have to bend over a lot so he can get a good look at the panties. Bizarre. After that I have to pose for Mister Halifax, the artist, for a couple hours. He will have me lay naked on his bed in a provocative pose. The main problem will be maintaining an erection the entire time he is painting. I have three apartment cleanings scheduled. Three massages. Two car washes. And then the job for Mister Hanson at 7. Another busy day. I heard the front door of Sammy's apartment close. Huh? He left for work already? Why didn't he come out on the balcony for his morning handy? I sat there wondering why he'd avoided me. A sadness in my heart. I love seeing him first thing every morning. And I really love sending him off to work with a smile on his handsome face. Get over it, John. You're being foolish. You don't mean anything to him. *** It took at least twenty-minutes to get Mister Bennett to climax. Before that, it had taken forty-minutes of bending over exposing the white lace panties underneath the French maids skirt to his leering gaze just to get him hard. It gets hot wearing the French maids costume and I was perspiring heavily when I finally left his apartment. I had time to shower again before I had to pose for the artist. I never thought about it but today I wondered how many showers do I take every day? Six? Seven? Mister Halifax, the artist, greeted me at the door with a smile. As usual he was all business. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a button-down shirt and I stared at his manly buttocks as he led me to his 'work studio,' a second bedroom decorated with gaudy maroon wallpaper and an equally cheesy looking four-poster bed with rumpled black sheets. The room is cluttered with easels and paints, but mostly with his photography equipment. Mister Halifax earns most of his money taking photos and videos of 'young and pretty boys' like me. Sometimes alone, sometimes with another boy or two. His only client is a German distributor who uses the photos in skin magazines sent mainly to the Middle East and Far East thegaysexchat.com. The videos are by 'request only' of super-rich Arab or Japanese patrons and for doing those jobs I have my best paydays. I am not 100% sure how it all works, but months ago he took a wide variety of photos of me in various stages of undress and sent them to the German company. They compiled them into a catalogue which they then send to their wealthy customers. The customers in turn choose a boy of their liking and order either photos and/or videos of said boy. In extreme cases, the customer wants to hang an oil portrait of the boy in their palace or house or wherever they live. I consider it a compliment and great honor so many customers choose me. Today however, I will simply pose nude on the bed for an oil painting requested by an Arab oil sheik. It shouldn't take very long. Mister Halifax will pose me then shoot photos he can work off on later. I take my clothes off in front of him like it's the most natural thing in the world and go to lay on the bed but he stops me. He has something in his hand - white lace panties very similar to the ones I wore under the French maid costume. It is not an unusual request so I silently slip them up my legs and then lay down on the bed. I seem to always get an erection when wearing panties and today was no exception. Mister Halifax noticed my wood stretching out the panties and said, "Oh, don't worry about that...I have enough stock photos of your little boner tenting-out panties I can work off of." He made it sound like I 'willed' myself an erection. Little boner? I should be accustomed to hearing those words by now but they always seem to sting when a real man says them to me. He arranges my body in a sexy pose and begins shooting the photos. "Johnny, before I forget, I found a cute new boy and want to see you two together. I know you're going to just love his dick," he said. "Great. The usual time on Sunday?" I ask him. "Make it an hour later. I need to take all the usual shots of him first," he explains. "Oh, okay," I say. My mind wanders. I think about the text I had received just prior to coming here. It was from Rebecca, the receptionist in the building managers office. "Johnny, the lady in 320 wants to meet you about a job. Do you have time to see her today?" Great - another woman - just what I need, I sarcastically thought when I'd read it. I texted back, "I'll have to squeeze her in-between appointments" to which Rebecca replied "No problem. She says she'll be home all day." "Okay" I texted back. I estimated it would only take Mister Halifax ten-minutes or so for the photos then another five-minutes for his 'Express BJ.' That would give me a thirty-minute window before my next job. That should be enough time to meet her. The session lasted maybe five-minutes before I saw Mister Halifax stepping out of his boxers and approaching the bed with his hard cock in hand. I waited to see how he wanted me to suck him today. He enjoys different scenarios. He positioned my head on a pillow, climbed on the bed with his knees split wide on each side of my body and straddled my chest. His erection inches from my face. I inhaled thru my nose and his manly aroma caused me to shiver and made my prick twitch and throb. I opened my mouth and he immediately filled it with his long and slender cock and my lips and tongue went to work on him. *** When the door of apartment 320 swung open I saw an older woman, maybe forty, standing before me. "Hi, my name is John, I understand you may have a job for me," I said to her. Her facial expression never changed as she slowly looked me up and down. She sighed and said, "Yeah, I guess you'll do - come inside!" Not exactly the greeting I was expecting, but then again, all these cunts are the same, aren't they? She went straight to the point. "I met another woman in the building and she said you perform personal jobs for couples, is that right?" she asked. "Well, uh, yes I do," I replied thinking the other woman had to be Bernice the Bitch. She glowered at me and finally said, "You waiting for an invitation, boy? Get out of those clothes and let me see what I'm buying!" Buying???? "Yes, maam," I said and quickly stripped. When she saw my orange briefs she smiled for the first time and said, "Yes, Bernice said you are something of a sissyboy! Get those panties off - now!" I didn't bother to tell her my usual line when people first see them: 'They're not panties - I buy them in the men's department!' When I was naked she ordered me to "Clasp your hands together behind your neck...and spread your damn legs further apart!" I became very self-conscious of my balls dangling between my legs. She walked all around me eyeballing my entire body. I felt like a cheap piece of meat. "Can you get it up, boy?" she coldly asks me. "Well, uh, of course," I say defensively. She frowns, furrows her eyebrows and loudly says, "WELL..." Okay. I admit it. If she were a he I'd have no problem getting hard, but this woman scares the hell out of me so I have to resort to my go-to method for achieving an erection. I coat my middle finger with spittle then reach back to find my anus. I slowly rub it and get it wet then push the finger inside me and I instantly spring a boner. "That's disgusting!" she snarls at me. "Bernice told me you're a perverted little fagboy!" I blush a deep red thinking, Oh God, not another one like Bernice. She had no qualms or inhibitions about taking hold of a strangers hard prick and squeezing it. She laughs and says, "Yeah, I can see why you turned queer...there's not a self-respecting woman on the planet who'd want this tiny thing inside her!" I'd been with her a total of three-minutes and my humiliation was complete! "I guess you'll do," she says. "You will address me as 'Mistress Marcia' and obey my commands at all times, understand me, boy?" "Uhhh, yes Mistress Marcia," I say to her. "Your only job is to provide me with entertainment while I watch you and my husband in bed together...I don't want your queer little hands on me...the only touch I'll demand from you is your tongue inside my asshole, understand me, boy?" "Y-Yes, Mistress Marcia," I say still blushing. In my experiences, I have found women to be far more cruel and depraved than men. I have a theory that deep down, most women have no respect for men and use them only as a means to an end. "I'll be in touch," she says to me. A few seconds later she scolds me, "What the hell are you waiting for sissyboy? Get dressed and get the hell out of here!" "Y-Yes, Mistress Marcia - sorry Mistress Marcia!" I stammer. Before she leaves me alone, she opens the palm of her hand and shows me a twenty-dollar bill. I pause a second before I snatch it from her. She smiles and haughtily walks away. I scramble for my clothes and quickly dress. As I close the door behind me I think, well, a boys gotta do what a boys gotta do! *** My one o'clock was a massage in one of the private rooms next to the gym. I got there five-minutes early, stripped to my undies and waited on a chair next to the massage table. The door opened a couple minutes later and in walked Desmond Morgan, a retired pro football player. He nodded at me, and went to the other side of the room to undress. Now I'd be a liar if I said he was just another customer. No, this huge black man always causes my prick to stiffen in my briefs simply by watching him get naked. He is 6 feet 7inches, 275 pounds without a single ounce of fat. He retired from football three years ago but I swear he is in such good shape he could play at a moments notice. He has his back to me and when he pushes his boxers off his massive hips my eyes are glued to his muscular buttocks. Oh my goodness, I exhale loudly and have to shake my head to clear the fog of desire from my lust-fueled mind. I tell myself to calm down, and to look at his eyes when he turns and walks to the table. But I couldn't do it - I never can. I just HAVE to stare at the huge black monster dangling between his massive thighs. Pre-cum leaks from my now-throbbing prick. Oh my goodness, again I have to shake my head to clear my mind. The beautiful specimen-of-a-man lays face down on the table. Only then do I stand and go to him, my prick at full attention poking out the cotton fabric of my string bikini briefs. I reach for the bottle of scented oil and squirt a copious amount on his back and shoulders then begin rubbing and kneading his hot, coal-black flesh. Ohhhhh...I am so far gone with lust I have to rely on my learned skills to keep my hands massaging his rippling back and shoulder muscles. I sigh as I squirt oil on his perfect buttocks. I am stroking and kneading his butt cheeks when his hand finds my hard-on thru my briefs. He squeezes my prick hard, gives it two rough strokes, and I cry out "OHHHHHHHH" as I flood my tiny undies with so much cum it begins running down my legs. "Feel better, boy?" he asks when he removes his wet hand from me. "Ohhh, thank you, Mister Morgan," I reply. "Maybe now you can concentrate on your job," he says.