He was smiley. He seemed pleased to see me.
Had nice-ish teeth. Couldn’t be sure if it was his natural teeth, but I wasn’t dying to find out.
He was bald, but that wasn’t a deal-breaker. He was wearing a light blue polo, some beige khakis and some brown deck shoes. Outfit-wise, it wasn’t much different from the kind of stuff Andrew would wear. Perhaps less tight.
‘You’re really gorgeous,’ he said.
This was the beauty of going on a date with someone who was fully awake when the moon landing happened, or when World War Two ended. They just had a way with words.
‘I’m a mess,’ I rebutted.
‘I am glad you said yes to the trip,’ he said, opening the menu. ‘Not many people would trust a stranger to spend time abroad.’
Who says that?!
I was shitting myself. He was obviously foreshadowing my demise through organ harvesting, and I still sat there like an idiot, waiting to order an alcoholic drink.
‘Would you like some wine?’ he asked, innocently.
‘Yes!’ I nearly shouted. ‘You get the honour to pick for us.’
And to pay for it, you stupid.
‘Sure thing,’ he responded.
He put his glasses on. I was then sure that the hair wasn’t just there for decoration, but it was also a necessity, in case the spectacles slid down his enormous greasy nose.
‘Are you bringing any sexy underwear in your luggage, young man?’ he smirked, staring into my soul.
I did bring some underwear, but the thought of putting this man into the same context as sexy was doing nothing to put me in the mood. I wondered how much I needed to drink to actually perform well sexually. I had the sex conversation with him before, via text. He claimed to be a bottom, because he had trouble keeping his erection going, which wasn’t the most promising of statements. Maybe he was going to turn out as one of those old gay men who always have a drug stash. Maybe I could actually go through with sex if I had one or five lines of cocaine. Doubtful.
‘Can we have a bottle of the Cotes du Rhone, please?’ he asked the waiter.
Decent choice.
‘Is that alright with you?’ He smiled at me.
I smiled back. After all, that was my job.
‘So how was work today?’ he asked, while laying a napkin on his lap.
I couldn’t help but think I would have to sit on that lap not too long after.
‘It was okay. It’s not a particularly exciting job. I get to be around pretty clothes all day, though.’ I snacked on a breadstick, as I was starving.
‘I can see that,’ he said, his eyes scanning my outfit.
I was wearing a very tight t-shirt. I wanted my baby muscles to show.
‘…and what do you do, Martin?’
From what I understood, he was one of those British pensioners who just loved buying properties abroad for cheap and renting them out. He said we were going to visit a property and that he was going to the bank to have some meetings.
‘You’re more than welcome to either come with me, or perhaps have the day to yourself to visit the city or use the hotel facilities. Like a massage, maybe?’ he winked.
Gross.
But I loved a massage. That was a good option. Thought I’d be stuck with bad grandpa the whole time. At least I could add Bulgaria to the countries I had visited.
The waiter finally came to pour our wine.
I was about to relax, at last.
Martin wasn’t much of a drinker, so he only allowed himself two glasses, while I chugged most of two bottles. It seemed like I could handle it better, though. He was touching my cock through my jeans while in a lift, on our way to our hotel room at the airport.
I appreciated that better than him trying to kiss me. I didn’t want that at all. The man had a steak for dinner.
Dead cow breath on my tongue was not what I was craving.
We entered the room. Pretty standard, albeit quite spacious.
‘I really need a shower,’ I announced, straight away.
‘Absolutely,’ he said while putting my hand luggage down. ‘I’ll see if there’s anything to watch and maybe order us some more drinks?’
The man knew what he was doing. But so did I, hence I immediately ordered a bourbon.
I was planning to take the longest shower, so he would fall asleep and not be expecting anything frisky.
Silly me.
I took a shower worth the entire yearly supply of water for a small island, but unfortunately my companion wasn’t as tired as his face looked.
My eyes were not ready. Martin was lying on the bed, wearing a jockstrap.
‘Christ,’ I thought. I probably owned a very similar pair myself. Same kind I’d wear when all of my everyday undies were dirty in the laundry basket.
Suddenly it all dawned on me, what I was doing.
This man was renting me. He was renting my body to do whatever he pleased with it. It was my job for the night. I would have to get my towel off, drink my bourbon, and then advance onto the bed and fuck this man’s brains out.
He decided to lie on his stomach, so his whole crumpled arse was on display.
Suddenly the idea weirdly made me hard. Barging my way through, make this man hurt a bit, making him moan, or even scream. I kept thinking about all those times Jake told me he had to work late while he was staring at someone else’s anus, ready to fuck them behind my back.
I shook that image off and found myself aroused enough to give this man what he had paid for.
‘Looking good,’ I said in a flirty way.
‘Your drink is on the table, stud,’ he said without looking at me, face on the pillow, just waiting for me to do my thing.
No one had ever called me stud. Didn’t care for it much.
I gulped the bourbon, and it went straight to my head.
I was ready.
I uncovered myself, threw the towel on the floor and made my way to him. I didn’t want to kiss him or use my tongue on any surface at all.
I was the alpha, so he had to do as I said, even if he wanted me to do other stuff.
I squeezed his buttocks. They were soft, flimsy. No hair. A perfectly smooth pair of cheeks I was about to lather in lube.
I gave him a bit of a back rub to help with our “chemistry.”
I touched him all over. He was in ecstasy. I rubbed my cock down his arse crack; his breathing was getting heavier and heavier. His lungs were probably collapsing, but I just took it as a sign that he wanted me to fuck him.
I put another dollop of lube on the tip of my fingers and slowly entered his hole. It was loose, easy to access. I could tell this would be an easy task for my dick. I grabbed a condom and tried to open it with my teeth. I had trouble for about ten seconds, but I eventually managed to open it with my hands.
The condom was tight, but very well lubricated.
I was ready to go.
I grabbed his hips and pulled them towards me. He was still presenting his arse to me, up in the air, while his face was on the pillow—an ideal position as I didn’t want to see his face.
‘Gentle, please,’ he begged.
The tip of my cock entered him quickly; he was loving every inch of it. I slowly made my way in until my whole cock was buried in him.
He howled, from pleasure.
I then started vigorously thrusting, giving him the fuck of a lifetime, no mercy.
I was slapping my balls against his taint so loudly I had forgotten for a second that I was having sweaty sex with the very same pathetic man I was earlier having dinner with.