Strictly Gay for Pay

by Graeme, Roland

  What a stupid asshole, he concluded. A fuggin’ asshole, to coin a phrase! He picked up the television’s remote control and thumbed a button on it to change the channel until he found something more innocuous to watch. If you’re going to be gay for pay, there’s no point in trying to lie to your wife about it. She’s either going to suspect what you’re really up to—or she’ll find out all about it anyway, eventually! Might as well be upfront about it right from the start. Like I am.

  He could feel an uncomfortable stirring in his penis. He was getting aroused. It was all because of that damn talk show. He couldn’t help thinking about what a slut that hot young redneck husband must be, what he must look like naked and erect, getting blown, fucking guys, sucking cock and taking it up the ass himself—no doubt doing anything and everything men demanded of him, no matter how dirty and disgusting it might be, as long as they paid him for it. Dan could relate to that. He could understand. What disturbed him was his suspicion that his fellow hustler didn’t just have sex with other men for money—no, he actually enjoyed it! The whore! The lousy, fucking man whore!

  But I’m no better, Dan was honest enough with himself to conclude. Am I? Well … at least I don’t give it away for free! That would be really stupid! To say nothing of the fact that it would be really gay!

  During this vacation, he’d been fucking Amber every chance he got, except for the couple of nights each week when she was just too tired from her job to cope with her husband’s unusually priapic demands. It was odd that all of this extra sex hadn’t really tamed Dan’s raging libido. Now, after watching that stupid television program, he suspected he knew why he still felt so frustrated. He needed another man to fuck and suck with!

  He was still relatively inexperienced when it came to non-commercialized gay sex, but that didn’t mean he was a complete novice. He’d fooled around with a few other guys before his marriage, and he had cheated on Amber a couple of times since—“cheated” on her in the sense that he’d either had sex with a guy for free, or had taken money from him and pocketed it without telling Amber he’d turned a trick. There was something perversely exciting about such furtive hookups, the fact that he was tricking behind his wife’s back making the sex he enjoyed with his gay pickups seem even more intense.

  But it was too risky to spend too much time hanging around the local bars and cruising spots. Especially now that he was changing jobs. It would be just his luck to have somebody who worked at his new place of employment see him out on the prowl! Dan wasn’t about to end up as the subject of water cooler gossip.

  Dan had been thinking, lately, about a couple of safer, likely prospects. There was that suspiciously friendly checkout boy at the supermarket, who already seemed to be flirting with him, even in front of Amber. She noticed it, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by it. She even joked about it to Dan, teasing him for having such an innocent-looking young male admirer.

  Suppose Dan called the kid’s bluff? If he wanted to risk it, he could throw on some clothes and go down to the store right now. He’d buy a few groceries, make sure he got into the young guy’s checkout lane, and during their usual small talk he’d say something like, “Hey, when do you get off work? We could go have coffee, or a drink, or … something.” In this theoretical scenario that was playing itself out inside Dan’s head, they’d quickly end up in bed together, of course, and Dan was sure that the hot little cocksucker would drain his balls dry of the thick, potent sperm that was tormenting him. If the kid was a virgin, then so much the better. Dan could teach him everything he needed to know, one lesson at a time!

  Of course, the kid earned only minimum wage, so Dan could hardly expect him to pay him for sex. But Dan was willing to make one of his exceptions to his own rule. The checkout boy was good-looking enough, eager enough, and Dan was horny enough, that he’d be willing to give it away to the kid for free. It might help to make a man out of the kid, he thought, rather cynically.

  There was a second alternative. This was a guy named Matt, who lived right down the hallway here in their apartment building. Matt was a rugged-looking young stud, in his twenties, the same age as Dan, and he was utterly masculine in appearance and behavior. Dan knew, from the casual conversations he’d had with the guy, that his neighbor was recently divorced, and that he lived alone. If Matt ever invited any company to his place—male or female—he was certainly discreet about it. Every time Dan ran into him, he was alone.

  Dan had a gut feeling that Matt was gay, or at least bisexual. This theory originated in Dan’s own secret longings, but it had been reinforced when he’d caught the good-looking bastard checking him out a couple of times, when the two men passed each other in the hallway, or down in the parking lot. On these occasions, Dan could swear he noticed Matt’s eyes flick appreciatively over his own athletic body, the gaze lingering on Dan’s crotch for an instant. Matt had a way of smiling at Dan when they chatted together that Dan interpreted as a sign of a more than casual or polite interest in him on Matt’s part.

  And it didn’t seem natural for a healthy young buck like Matt to go without any form of release whatsoever. Hell, Dan was married, and he was putting the boots to Amber three or four nights a week, and he still felt horny during the day. Matt must be climbing the walls of his own apartment if he wasn’t getting any satisfaction except from his hand, as Dan assumed he was. In Dan’s opinion, masturbation wasn’t real sex, so it didn’t count. It was a stopgap measure, at best.

  Dan knew that Matt occasionally worked a night shift, and when he did, he was home during the day. He tried to come up with some way to entice Matt into his apartment and into his bed, but since the two men scarcely had more than a nodding acquaintance, Dan didn’t know how he might proceed without compromising himself. After all, he could hardly knock on Matt’s door, show him his hard-on, and blurt out, “Hi, neighbor! Are you as horny as I am, man? If you are, do you want to fuck around with me for a couple of hours until my wife comes home?” That sort of thing might happen in porn videos, but not in real life. Or … could it? Was there any possibility that Dan could do exactly that and get away with it? Without Amber finding out?

  Groaning, Dan switched off the television set and went over to his stereo system instead. He put on a jazz CD, turned the volume up, and went into the bedroom. There, he cut in a second pair of wall-mounted speakers and cranked them up to full blast.

  The bed wasn’t made, and he wasn’t wearing anything but his bathrobe. As the music throbbed through the air, matching the steady pulsations in his groin, he stripped off the robe and stretched out naked on the bed. When the drummer began to beat his skins in a frenzied rhythm, Dan started to fondle himself with both hands, using his right fist to grip and stroke his aching penis, and his left hand to tease his nipples into erection. He kept playing with himself, languidly at first, but then with increasing urgency, as he listened to the music. As the jazz arrangement built to a climax, Dan’s self-induced passion built right along with it, until he was masturbating in exact sync with the pounding drums. By the time the solo trumpeter’s piercingly sweet high notes warned that the climax of the number was imminent, Dan had worked himself into a welter of near-orgasmic excitement.

  His dick was so hard inside his hand, and it was jerking so fiercely from the sperm pressure pent up—barely!—inside it, that he almost lost his sweaty, slippery grip on himself. He held on, though, and continued to massage himself roughly toward an explosion, gasping and moaning shamelessly. He thrashed about on the bed and thought about Matt, who for all Dan knew might very well be doing the exact same thing to himself, alone in his own apartment during the afternoons—!

  At first Dan thought he was hearing a triangle being beaten by the percussionist on the record. But then, irritably, he realized that somebody was ringing the apartment’s doorbell.

  “Hell!” he gasped out loud. He wrenched his hand away from his swollen, unsatisfied prick, got off the bed, and stumbled barefoot into the living room, pulling on the bathrobe
on his way. He turned down the stereo, and yanked the door open almost angrily.

  “Yeah?” He uttered the inquiry in a voice still breathless from his interrupted masturbation. He was startled to find an appliance repair man on his threshold.

  “I’m here to fix the washing machine.” The guy who’d rung the doorbell wore matching uniform trousers and shirt, in a thin, soft bluish-gray cotton fabric, with the repair shop’s logo embroidered on the chest of the shirt.

  “Oh. Right.” Dan had forgotten that Amber had said something to him about the washer being on the blink, and that she’d called for repair service. Taking a good look at his visitor, Dan noticed the big tool box the guy was carrying. He also noticed the way his biceps muscle bulged on the arm that held the heavy case.

  The repair man was in his mid-twenties, like Dan himself, about six feet two and obviously in superb physical condition. His body had a hard muscularity that Dan suspected came from weightlifting. Certainly his shoulders and his upper arms threatened to burst the seams of his tight-fitting short-sleeved uniform shirt.

  Dan then noticed that his own minimal attire, namely his bathrobe, was practically falling open in front, so that his crotch was exposed and his hard, aching cock was protruding and all but stabbing the repair man in the thigh!

  “Sorry I’m not dressed,” he mumbled, as he quickly turned around, adjusted his robe to a semblance of decency and tied its sash, and led the guy through the apartment toward the kitchen. “I forgot that my wife had called you … and I thought it might be one of my neighbors ringing the bell, maybe this guy who lives down the hall,” Dan blurted out. Still fantasizing about Matt, he was indulging in some wishful thinking. In his agitation, it didn’t occur to Dan that the repair man might wonder why he was planning to receive a male neighbor in such a state of near-total undress!

  The washer and dryer were in a small alcove, adjacent to the kitchen.

  Dan watched the young stud get down to work. He disconnected the appliance, pulled it away from the wall, opened its back panel, and knelt on the floor to inspect its innards. Dan couldn’t help staring at the other guy’s tight bluish-gray uniform slacks. They were definitely too tight to be quite decent, he decided. He could see the bulge of the repair man’s genitals, clearly outlined against the soft, clinging fabric. Damn! He looked as though he wasn’t wearing any underwear—and he also looked as though he was hung like a horse!

  “I was about to make a fresh pot of coffee,” Dan said. “Want some?”

  “Sure.”

  “I take mine black.”

  “Me, too.”

  Dan brewed the coffee. When it was ready, he filled two mugs and handed one of them to the repairman.

  “Thanks,” the repair man said.

  Dan swallowed a mouthful of the hot black brew. It only seemed to make him feel hotter and more jittery, no doubt as a result of having skipped breakfast and ingesting the caffeine on an empty stomach.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Dan asked, as the other man sat on the floor and continued to tinker with the washing machine’s internal mechanism.

  “I should be able to tell you in a minute, once I get these parts disassembled so I can take a good look at them. And speaking of getting a good look at things … you look kind of familiar to me. Haven’t I seen you, you know, around?” The repair man gave the word around a distinctly suggestive inflection.

  “I don’t know. Around where?”

  “Around town. Down at that gay bar, the one they call ‘The Dive on Five.’ The Tool Shed.”

  “I don’t think so,” Dan said, warily.

  “Never been there, huh?”

  “I’m a married man.”

  “Like that would make a difference!” the repair man scoffed. He paused in his work to stare up at Dan, hard. “Yeah,” he said, slowly. “I’ve seen you there, all right. And not just drinking, either. Up on the stage, and circulating through the crowd. Stripping. Showing off that hot body of yours. Flashing your dick and your ass. That’s quite a show you put on.”

  Dan didn’t see any point in further denials. But he could change the subject.

  “Getting back to the machine,” he said. “Do you know what’s wrong with it yet?”

  “Nothing that I can’t fix. And that goes for a lot of things.”

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “I think we both know what’s wrong with you, buddy. And what we’d have to do to fix it!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about that big hard-on you’ve got there, practically poking its way out of that robe you’ve got on. Damn! You look sexy, standing there like that. You look like you’re ready to strut out on stage down there at The Tool Shed and start doing your act.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Dan said. “I’m not working right now. I’m at home. And I’d like to be able to do a load of laundry, sometime today.”

  The repair guy grinned insolently at him. “Yeah? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather drop a load, buddy? If you are, I’d be glad to help you out.”

  “Listen, just because I work in a gay bar—that doesn’t mean I’m gay.”

  “Sure it doesn’t,” the other man said, but in a tone of voice that sounded highly skeptical. “But that’s how the smart money would bet. I’ve seen the way you carry on with the customers down there. They can’t keep their fucking hands off of you—and you don’t exactly do anything to discourage them. If you’re not gay, you sure do one hell of a good job of hiding it.”

  “You’ve got me all wrong. If you must know—I’m strictly gay for pay.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Funny how it never seems to stop a dude from giving it away for free.”

  “In my case, it’s true. No offense, but I’m not interested in you, unless you’re a paying customer.”

  The repair man seemed amused by this claim.

  “And suppose I was a paying customer? Are you telling me that then you’d be interested?”

  Dan shrugged. “Maybe. You never know. It’s like I always say—everything’s subject to negotiation.”

  Emitting a grunt, the repair man fished in the pocket of his tight pants and pulled out a coin, which he slapped down on top of the washing machine. “There’s a nickel, buddy,” he said, with a sneer. “Consider yourself hired!”

  “There’s no need to be insulting,” Dan muttered.

  “And there’s no need for you to pretend, either. Not with me. I got your number the minute I walked in the door and you started checking me out.”

  “I did no such thing. You’re a fucking liar.”

  “And you’re fucking horny. So am I. So why don’t we stop all this dancing around and just do something about it?”

  “Listen, you. I’d hate to have to call your boss and tell him about this,” Dan bluffed.

  “Go right ahead. Pick up the phone and tell him all about it. Haven’t you ever heard of a ‘gay-owned and –operated’ business? Well, that’s us. My boss is queer for me. He wouldn’t fire me even if he caught me with my hand in the till. He’d probably love to hear a blow-by-blow account of just how I gave you ‘complete customer satisfaction,’ as he always puts it.”

  “God, you are an arrogant bastard.”

  “I’m honest, that’s all. You ought to give it a try, some time.”

  “And you ought to give fixing that washer a try, buster. It’s why you’re here, after all. Otherwise, you can pack up your tools and get the hell out of here.”

  “Not until I’ve had a chance to find out if that big piece of meat tastes as good as it looks,” the other man retorted.

  Still on his knees, he deftly swung his body around and buried his face in Dan’s groin, using both of his hands to yank the bathrobe wide open. Before Dan could react to this unexpected assault on his private parts, he felt the stud’s agile tongue swirl around the head of his cock, wetting it thoroughly with his saliva. Then Dan groaned as the tongue licked its way slowly down the f
ull length of his prickshaft—and then it darted down even lower, to attack his balls, rubbing wetly over their hairy sac, which seemed to swell larger in response to the tickling friction.

  “Stop,” he pleaded, although his voice carried little conviction, even to his own ears. “Don’t do that. Please.”

  The kneeling man paused in his cocklapping long enough to speak. “Maybe when you’re done talking to my boss on the phone, turning me in, you can call 911 and ask them to come over and rescue you. Let’s hope they send a couple of good-looking, horny cops. We can have ourselves an orgy.”

  “I think … the two of us … can do just fine … all by ourselves,” Dan gasped out.

  But the repair man hadn’t waited for his response to his sarcasm. He was already back at work on Dan’s cock.

  Dan backed up against the kitchen table and let the other guy swallow his cock. He arched his body and thrust his penis down the repair man’s throat, which accepted his full phallic bulk easily, even greedily. And then the muscular young repair guy treated Dan to the total ecstasy of an experience the married man had enjoyed all too rarely—namely, a full and effortless deep-throating! Moaning, Dan put his hands around the repair man’s head and pressed his mouth flush against his pubic hair, forcing the young stud to take every inch of his fuck tool into his mouth and down his throat. Gurgling around the meat he was swallowing so skillfully, the repair man gripped Dan’s buttocks and began to pump his mouth back and forth on the barrel of Dan’s grotesquely turgid penis. Dan grunted, his entire body shuddering in the throes of lustful satisfaction, as the young guy worked on him with his lips and tongue and throat muscles—even with his teeth, grazing the flesh of Dan’s penis with them and applying just enough friction to add an extra bit of erotic frisson.

  Plugging Amber’s pussy, exciting though it undeniably was, had never felt anything like this! Dan let out an involuntary yelp of delight, the sound raw and hoarse as it escaped from his throat, as he surrendered his semen, the cum blasting out of his prick only to be instantly claimed by his cocksucker’s voraciously suctioning throat. Dan shot his jism into the repair man’s greedy mouth, both men grunting and shaking as Dan fed the other young dude his full, hot load.