by Ned Williams
After about three months, I cultivated my first regular townie client; Mark who must have been in his late forties but looked and acted a lot younger. Though there was a certain amount of intimacy involved, he was also keen on socialising. It was through him and his love and knowledge of the arts that I began my first excursions to the city centre’s galleries, theatres and concerts to experience these delights at first hand. One particularly memorable trip was to the city’s Cathedral where they had programmed a performance of the ‘Messa da Requiem’ by Verdi. The large amateur orchestra and even larger choir were local and, as it turned out, of a very high quality. But the real joy came with the fact that they had splashed out on four soloists from Sadler’s Wells Opera Company who made the journey up from London to fill the ancient church with their glorious sounds. At the time, the Requiem was a work I didn’t know and that performance instantly converted me. Mark, who knew the piece well, told me that I had seen something exceedingly special; as he had never seen or heard it played and sung so forcefully.
As I had noticed with the local venues for refined entertainment, there were plenty of those eye locks. In the more anonymous, larger halls, these were far more flagrant. Mark and I often found that we were being shadowed by various men who always happened to be near whenever we stopped to talk with one of his friends. Mark enjoyed the attention and deliberately made us wander around so he could watch the prowler stop and start his pursuit. Because Mark gave me the confidence to go to these places, I began going to these cultural events on my own. I enjoyed what the event offered artistically as well as taking advantage of the venue’s little sexual ‘extras’. They always proved most lucrative.
My relationship with Mark continued for another three months, during which time he took me to many of the private bars and clubs which abounded in the centre. It was strange to go up to a door and listen as he gave a secret knock. Goodness knows how he remembered all the various combinations of raps and pauses. Many of these places were in the basements of houses which were hidden up small side streets. Most boasted a few tables and chairs and a tiny dance area which became so crowded that the members had to gyrate as a tight group. The youths and men who went to these places tended to be of the type who would not be interested in paying but, they were fun and I always enjoyed my visits immensely. As these places were secret, there wasn’t too much of a problem getting me into them. Mark received many a jealous and vindictive glare but he wallowed in their attention whereas I received only insinuating smiles, winks and jerks of the head. These, I ignored. When he decided that we should have a quick prance on the dance floor, he made sure that the rest of the customers didn’t touch me up too much. The other advantage these clubs had was that I could, if I’d so chosen, had an alcoholic drink but, at the time, I didn’t really like the taste of the stuff, so I went for soft drinks or water.
During this period of my life’s transition, my mother began to have doubts about where I was going when I wasn’t at home getting on her nerves. She began to suspect that I wasn’t out and about in the countryside. I had to come up with a plan. Once again, Brian came to my rescue. I started a regime whereby I rode my bike around to his home and left it with him. Then, from there, I could catch the bus into the town centre. On the way back, I reversed the whole procedure. Brian was happy to go along with this and his parents, though puzzled, didn’t ask any questions. This simple ruse worked and, for a while, my mother’s suspicions were allayed and she seemed to want to believe me – it was convenient for her to do so.
It was Andy who advised me to bring an end to my paid fling with Mark. I mentioned to my new friend that Mark was happy to loan me to various friends of his. He took me to where they lived and remained in another room whilst his friend and I continued the assignation. They all paid up and seemed happy with the goods I had on offer. Andy thought it a little strange and decided that it wouldn’t be a bad idea to make some clandestine checkups on my trick. He soon came back with news of what was happening. Apparently, Mark was receiving a commission from his colleagues for making me available.
“Listen, you silly clown,” advised Andy, “the last thing you want is to get involved with anything resembling a pimp. It’s the thin end of the wedge.”
“But…”
“You need to remain in control of what you are doing and who you are doing it with. Start down that road and the next thing you know is that you will be passed on to a permanent minder and it’s all downhill from there.”
Although I felt that Mark wouldn’t allow this to happen, I trusted Andy enough and the next time I met with Mark, I broke it off with him. Mark simply shrugged, smiled and walked away.
As soon as I told Andy what I had done, he looked relieved. At that time, I didn’t fully understand his concern but it wasn’t long before I saw for myself the dangers I had narrowly escaped.
After Mark, things went back to normal. My face and body were becoming a regular feature at ‘Hell’, ‘Alfio’s’, ‘The Green Goddess’, ‘The Steps’ and many of the other racks around the city centre. Andy continued on his mission to show me more spots where some sort of an income could be maintained. One of these places was a series of arches which lined the docks. I assume that they must have been loading bays as each arch gave access to a storage area. As soon as I saw the place, I was put in mind of a mad clock where figures come wobbling out on the hour. If one stood at one end of the line of arches, you could see people pop out, look around and pop back in again. The majority of the people who cruised this area were there for their own pleasure and not interested in paying but there were a few who could be persuaded to fork out a bit of cash. Because of my age, I think they felt sorry for me – not that I cared, as long as they forked up the money.
It was because of this attitude; I began to seriously wonder if I was losing sight of the reason for doing what I was doing. I knew that I wanted all men to pay for my father’s salacious attentions, but I didn’t want to become obsessed by the money. It wasn’t as important as the revenge I was inflicting. Besides, many of the clients I had serviced so far were genuinely nice people and feelings of guilt were beginning to rumble in the back of my brain. I knew that I must evaluate my resolve and keep my goal in sight. I, with single–minded determination, watched and fed my loathing of my father and carefully avoided carrying it onto the racks. As soon as I changed this focus of my attention, this softer approach then brought the benefit of extra clients.
Four’s Company
Even though I was hanging around with Andy for most of the time, I was beginning to make my own, individual, escapades into the town centre as a regular feature. At such times, although I was without my protecting mentor, most of my new found comrades continued to prove friendly. Andy, as I said before, had put the word around and the rest of the rents felt duty bound to protect me. Though I posed a threat to them because I was reasonably new, few showed any resentment. There was the odd one who took an instant dislike towards me and I respected their hostility by avoiding them. Some of the rents demanded mild sex as payment for my protection, but I didn’t mind as the benefits far outweighed the price I had to pay. Besides, if I had refused their demands, I think they could have made me regret it. I was still only fourteen and still cursed (or blessed) with looking a lot younger. My looks were nothing to write home about but, because of them, I was attractive to the punters. They wanted kids of a tender age. The others who had started young must, like me, have gone through the same ritual as myself.
It so happened that I frequently teamed up with Andy to give the punter a threesome. This was fine for me because I had no desire or intention of becoming submissive. Andy was more versatile – he didn’t care. I’ve lost count of the number of times our pick–ups played ‘piggy–in–the–middle’. Me shafting and Andy being shafted. Having said that, most people I have been with throughout my life have not wanted to play ‘butch’, so I’ve not had too many problems in having to defend my honour. Andy also taught me not to laugh o
r show any sense of disgust at what I might be requested to perform. I always had the ultimate veto of ‘No!’ for anything which repelled me. He also showed me the use of the leather cock strap (often now replaced by a metal ring) to ensure a permanent hard on. At my age it wasn’t strictly necessary. I was so randy, my cock was nearly always erect. But, it came in handy after a long day when I needed to show a little more enthusiasm.
Also, it was Andy who introduced me to the world of the weird. If I thought the local people where I lived were strange, it was as nothing up to what went on with the townies.
The very first time he and I were hired as a duo proved typical of the sort of things with which one had to contend.
The evening had started with both of us in silly moods. We’d decided to go to ‘Alfio’s’ and start working ‘Calcutta’. Andy worked the room quite a lot as darkness covered his age. As we approached the main door, we missed our footing on the step and crashed into the café with much giggling. Alfio was belting out the aria from Verdi’s ‘Rigoletto’. Inside stood two men, both about forty years old, who were delicately sipping cappuccinos and trying to ignore Alfio’s melodious bellowing. From each of them, Andy and I received a friendly, knowing smile. We, naturally, assumed they were merely amused at our antics, but one of them beckoned us over. Andy told me to get in a couple of coffees. Whilst I gave the order to Carlo, my associate took the three or four small steps to reach them. Private conversation in such a pokey place was impossible.
“My friend and I were wondering if you had some time.” They must have been telepathic because neither had exchanged a word since we came in.
Andy looked across at me. He raised his eyebrows to ask a silent, ‘Well? Are you game?’
I shrugged and nodded a – ‘Yes, it’s fine by me.’ Totally at odds to what the rest of the gang thought, nothing had ever happened between Andy and myself. (Excluding our joint closeting in ‘Calcutta’ when I could have given him a blow job, or even screwed the arse off him without my knowing it). Being young and still extremely inquisitive, I was always curious about what my fellow rents had to offer. Now I had lengthened and thickened considerably, I wanted to know how I measured up, so to speak. And with dear old Handy Andy, this was no exception.
Carlo became petrified in his attention with the coffee machine to find out whether we’d be staying, going or enjoying a tour of ‘Calcutta’. The two men downed the remaining contents of their cups. They paid for our coffees which Andy and I hadn’t actually received and ushered us out to their car which was parked directly outside.
Andy, again, looked at me to double check if it was still okay to go ahead. I smiled. He slid into the front seat leaving myself to climb into the back. We had only just moved off when my punter had his hands on my crutch. Our driver must have spotted the movement in the mirror and warned him off doing anything as it was still light enough to be seen.
The house they shared was a detached mausoleum. As we entered, a familiar smell graced my nostrils, but I couldn’t quite place from where I knew it. The hallway of this rambling domicile was dark and excruciatingly hot.
Andy, who must have noticed this as well said, “Jeez, it’s hot enough to sweat the bollocks off a bull calf.”
“Honey, what I say is this – why have central heating if you don’t use it?”
“You know the answer, if you find it too hot, simply remove some of your clothes,” suggested the other trick.
Andy and I exchanged looks. So, that was the score.
“Firstly, let’s sit and talk terms,” Andy said, throwing himself onto a convenient large divan as he did so.
After the price had been agreed and paid, Andy stripped off to the waist to provide a double–edged sword. He was doing it both to cool himself and to be provocative. “Well,” he drawled, deliberately rubbing the top of his thigh, “what now? Separate rooms or ‘eyes down for a full house’?”
There then followed an embarrassing argument between the house–mates. The thing was, they both thought Andy a bit too old. Tactlessly, they loudly yapped about how each wanted my ‘just passed puberty’ look. It would have been okay, but for the fact each wanted to enjoy me on his own and let the other person be second. Andy’s face dropped. The hint didn’t so much hit home as atomise his essence. He had no wish to be reminded that his body clock was relentlessly ticking away. Rising to his feet Andy picked up a pillow and threw it viciously at the wall.
“If you can’t make up yer fucking minds – then we might as well forget it. Right, Carl?”
“Right!” I wasn’t sure what he had planned so, for the moment, I played along with it.
“We come as a pair. It’s both of us or none. Take it, or leave it.”
His ruse worked to perfection – they panicked. “We’ll take it.” Believe it or not, they actually settled the dispute by tossing a coin. The winner, leaving an angry and depressed Andy to fend for himself, ushered me out.
After crossing the hall, we went into another room, still on the ground floor, which looked as though it hadn’t seen the light of day for years. And the smell… it was a lot stronger.
The victor, or Victor, as I’ll call him, pushed me down onto a large soft brown leather recliner and, without removing any of my clothes, started working away. It appears he wanted to use his teeth to strip me. Ah well, why not? I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to my imagination. Victor proved expert at this dental dexterity. What did he have – a reinforced mouth? After about ten minutes, I was finally stripped and about to shoot my load when I opened my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. There were some branches high up in the corner which seemed to be held there by a large, cut tree trunk, reaching up from the floor. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? I was fascinated as to why someone would choose to decorate a room in such an eccentric style. The branches knotted and tangled in a haphazard way. Suddenly, one moved. Instantly, I lost all desire to finish and sat up with a yelp. Was it a trick of the light? The branch shifted as if it were alive.
Victor released his oral grip on me and followed my gaze. He grinned. “Oh, so you’ve spotted Fred and Ginger. Don’t worry, they’re harmless.” He busied himself with trying to resuscitate my instantly flagging interest.
The mystery of the familiarly strange smell which had greeted our arrival was now solved. It was a smell I had often encountered at the local zoo. I became hypnotised at the sight of the snake – or snakes who appeared to have developed cramp. Whatever it was, they had decided to begin moving around.
“What are they? I demanded.
“Snakes,” he said, stating the bleedin’ obvious.
“I can see they’re fucking snakes – but what kind? Are they poisonous?”
“No; constrictors.”
“And that’s alright, is it?” My erection had totally retreated. “What makes a person decide to have pets like those?” I was becoming obsessed.
“I don’t know. I think I find them sort of comforting, you know?” No, I didn’t – and I told him so. “Anyway, never mind about them. Let’s get back to what we were doing.” He fondled my limp cock. Because of my cross examination and limp response, my client began to show signs of irritation. “Come on; put a bit more effort into it. I didn’t pay all that money to see your thing creep back into its foreskin.”
I stood up. “Sorry, I can’t relax with those things sliding around up there.” Victor sighed and sat up.
He spoke to me as if it were a speech he oft repeated. “They are boa constrictors. Not poisonous. And they’re certainly not going to attack you because they were only fed yesterday.” He raised his eyebrows as much as to say, ‘satisfied?’
“But, why?” I persisted. “Why snakes, for chrissake?”
“You do go on, don’t you!” He reached for my cock and began to stroke it lovingly. His voice took on a distant, oily quality. “They’re smooth. Warm. Very sexy.” I felt sick and pulled away. Did they use the snakes to gratify some bizarre kink?
“I’m off!” I st
arted to get dressed.
“Don’t leave. I’ll tell you what; we’ll go to another room.”
“And what have you got in there, Black Widows?” I roared.
“No. Nothing. Please, don’t go.” On his knees, he looked pathetic.
Ignoring him, I left the room to search for Andy.
Standing in the hall, I wondered where to begin. Opening every door on the ground floor, I could find no trace. Each room was painted in garish colours, as if an artist had gone crazy with an oil palette. Having exhausted this lower level, I started to go up the stairs to look on the first floor. By now, Victor had come out of the snake pit and was following me around, trying every effort at persuading me to continue our encounter. I just wanted to get out.
As I began to climb the stairs, I noticed a small door on the bend. From it emanated the familiar sounds of stomachs being slapped against buttocks and a rhythmic ‘Uh – uh – uh – uh’. I didn’t bother to knock, but shouldered open the door. It revealed a small, narrow broom cupboard. The receiving partner was leaning over a Hoover and grasping onto a couple of clothes hooks for balance. As Andy thrust away at the offered arse, he had to wrestle with a mass of hanging brushes and brooms. He seemed to be failing as the clattering cleaning equipment had taken on a life of its own and appeared to have developed a single minded determination to stop him.
“I wanna get out of here,” I snapped. Andy didn’t need to be asked twice. He withdrew, stood up, kicked at the still pendant brooms and turned to face me. I think he must have found the session frustrating and was glad with having an opportunity to leave.