Gigolo

≈ GIGOLO ≈

 

 

~ ~ A quiet life ~

I’ll turn sixty in a couple months, and so far my life has flown quietly… even a bit too much. I’m too shy, too cerebral, and following my heart has never been easy for me. I’m not in a steady relationship, and at this point, I guess I’ll never be. Back in the day I didn’t look too bad, blond hair, blue eyes, slim physique… But that’s all in the past, now I’ve grown a bit of a belly, I have some wrinkles on my face and my once-toned ass is slowly flattening. I still have all my hair on my head and a nicely fur-covered chest, but let’s face it: I’m not going to make men turn their head.

I have a successful career, though: I’m CEO of an important pharmaceutical firm with branches in France, Italy and Germany, and as part of my job I often attend at pharmaceutical convention all over Europe. Nothing thrilling, mind you, it’s just a matter of listening to other middle-aged men talking about new molecules or new products on the market; but going away from home makes me feel different, free and even a bit adventurous.

I always feel that something may happen, during one of these business trips… but nothing really happens, in the end. So, I once thought: «Why waiting? Why don’t I make something happen?»

I had just arrived in London and I decided to treat me to something special. I went online, made a quick search, and found a site offering male escort services for men. Hell, if there’s something I don’t lack is money, so why not having a wild night, once in my life?

With a thumping heart I started browsing the images of the guys offering their services, but I was a bit disappointed: yes, they were all handsome and sexy, but all of them were way too young for me; in their eyes I could spot the boldness and the arrogance of their twenties, and their bulges were filled with youthful unruly ardor. I didn’t want that, I didn’t want those boys to look at my aged body concealing their disgust, I didn’t want to be banged like a sex doll and then see them rush away as soon as they could.

I was about to close the web page when I spotted a photo that made my heart leap in my chest. From the screen, a charming blond man, apparently in his fifties, with a nicely weathered face and two laser-blue eyes was looking back at me. A man who knew life, with streaks of grey in his blond hair, but still with a toned and muscular body to drool over. That was my man.

He seemed to come out straight from the 80’s, with his feathered hair and his satin shirt proudly open to reveal a massive hairy chest; a leather necklace with a pendant stone was deeply nested in the groove between his bulging pecs. The thin fabric couldn’t conceal two meaty stiff nipples and his bright smile leapt off the screen, making him look confident and irresistibly alluring.

On the site there were no names or personal info, only a reference number; I checked if the man was available for the evening and then requested his services, filled in my contact details and instantly got a call from him. His voice was warm and a bit gruff: “Thank you, mister. Just to make things clear, I’m available both for the day… and the night.”

“Oh, hi… Well… Glad to know…” – I stuttered, hit by the confidence and the virility of that voice – “My name is Wayne, what’s yours? There was no name on the site…”

He stood silent for a moment and then ignored my question: “When and where do you want me to meet you?”

“At the Continental Hotel, room 203” – I replied, still hyperventilating – “At 7 PM, if it’s convenient for you.”

“Of course it is, mister. I’m coming at 7 PM. Continental, room 203. See you later!”

I hung up feeling my heart thumping hard. I called a gigolo. A sexy hunk of a man, and he was coming to spend the evening with me. The evening… and the night. Suddenly I panicked: what had I gotten myself into? I didn’t have sex since ages, I didn’t get naked in front of a man since ages! But it was too late, and anyway a part of me wanted it to happen, so I took a deep breath and focused on the speech I had to give at the convention.

 

At 6:30 PM I was in the congress hall of the hotel, in front of a couple hundred congressmen, and was illustrating our newest products, when I glanced at the curtain closing one of the side doors, and there he was, my sexy gigolo, half-hidden behind the curtain, looking at me with an amused grin. The subject of my speech couldn’t possibly be of any interest for someone not working in the pharmaceutical field, but incredibly enough he was listening attentively at me, always wearing his amused grin, and his deep blue eyes were rooted on me.

I finished my speech, got off the podium and went to him, putting out my hand: “I’m glad to meet you, mister…”

He shook my hand, giving me a mysterious grin, and replied: “I came a bit earlier, but it was worth it: you could sell ice to the Eskimos, you know? I have no idea what you were talking about, but damn, you know your stuff! OK, what’s next? Dinner, I guess. But I see you have to change clothes…”

I looked down at my own suit and tie, and glanced at him, puzzled. He flashed again his confident grin: “Yeah, you fill that dress quite nicely, mister, but let’s go up to your room, I’ll help you find something more suitable for a… special night out.”

 

~ A hell of a man ~

While opening the door to my room, I said, tentatively: “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I’m on a business trip, you won’t find much in my closet…”

“Not much?” – he replied, amused, taking something from the closet – “What about this?”

I looked at him with wide eyes. He was holding my ‘lucky charm’ outfit, something I always bring with me, in the wishful hope to have a reason to wear it, but I never actually use it, I could never, because it’s… way too much for me: a light pink satin shirt with a collar a bit high, in the style of the 70’s, with a dark-blue damask vest to go over it, useful to conceal my belly; and stretch white trousers that can put on perfect display what’s left of my formerly sexy body, my noticeable bulge and my buttocks.

“I… I can’t wear that outfit… It’s just too… over the top!” – I breathed, shaking my head, but he instantly convinced me with his irresistible signature grin: “Oh, you can, mister, and you’ll look like a hell of a man, granted!”

I didn’t want to change clothes in front of him, so I took the outfit from his hands and moved to the bathroom. When I came out, he let out a whistle of appreciation: “You’re going to steal my clients, mister! Look at that… Just a final touch: do you have hair styling gel?”

I shook my head, as I never used it, but he did not lose heart, he brought me into the bathroom, took some hair conditioner from the shower and styled my hair with few expert movements. When I went back to the room and looked into the full-figure mirror I almost got an erection, looking at myself. I couldn’t believe how damn sexy I was!

“Time to have fun, mister!” – he mused, heading to the door – “Just promise you won’t ditch me: granted, you’ll have plenty of men to choose from, tonight!”

“You silly!” – I giggled, and followed him out. As customary, dinner was on me, but I let him choose the place. He brought me to an elegant gay-friendly club and restaurant, and while waiting for our table, we sat the bar and ordered a drink.

We started talking right away, he was funny and witty, and we laughed a lot. But at one point I became more serious and I asked: “Say… You still didn’t tell me your name…”

“What name would you like me to have?” – he replied, but it wasn’t the answer I wanted. He realized I was kind of bummed and asked: “Tell me the truth, have you ever met someone like me?”

“Just once” – I replied, with a faraway look in my eyes – “His name was Evan…”

“No way! Evan? Short for Evangelista? That’s my name, too!”

I wasn’t sure I could believe him, or better, I definitely didn’t believe him, but I settled with that name. Evan it is. At least, I had a way to call him. My thoughts were interrupted by the waiter, who showed us our table.

Dinner was excellent, and the company even better. Evan (or whatever his real name) never stopped making me laugh, he asked a few questions about my life, but I refrained from asking him anything personal, as it was clear as day that he didn’t like to share details of his real life.

After I paid the check, he gave me his signature grin and whispered into my ear: “Next stop, your room… if you want me to come.”

Sure enough, my blatant drooling over him for the entire dinner had dispelled any possible doubts about my desire to spend the night with him; probably he just wanted to make clear that the nightly activities were not included in the standard fare.

I found the courage to play his own game and shot at him a predatory glance: “Don’t you dare to spend the night anywhere else than in my bed…”

“Uhm, OK. But where are you going to sleep, then?” – he joked, and I shoved him: “You silly!”

 

 

~ The moment has come ~

We were still laughing when we got to my room, but the chuckling trailed off to a tense silence as soon as I closed the door. He sensed my tension and started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing inch after inch of an incredibly toned chest, covered with the blond fur I frequently peeked at during the entire evening. He noticed my rapt eyes and slowed down: “Lay on the bed, and enjoy: this show is only for you…”

Man, did he know how to put up a show! Inch after inch, he revealed his muscular torso, his bulging biceps and his substantial bulge barely held by a skimpy thong that just had no fabric enough to cover his lush pubic bush and his perfect hairy butt. He was all man. 200% man. The blond scruff on his face, the manly felt on his pecs and abs, the hairy forearms and legs talked about a totally masculine man, not one of those Ken dolls who crowd the gyms and shave every single inch of their skin to better show off their fake tribal tattoos.

I forgot to breathe when he shot at me his most enticing grin and slowly pulled his thong down. Fuck. His limp cock was as thick as mine when fully hard, and damn long. I uttered an anxious gasp and he read my mind: “Don’t worry, I know my stuff. You can take it… if this is what you want. I’m not much of a bottom, I confess, but if you crave a fine tight ass, I won’t whimper out.”

“Do you really think I can take that… thing?” – I breathed, implicitly stating my preference for a bottom role. “Oh, you can. But you’re a bit overdressed for the ride, don’t you think so?”. He came closer, pulled me on my feet and started unbuttoning my vest: “Let me take care of you. Congress halls are your reign, bedrooms are mine…”

I let him take off my clothes, one by one, until I was stripped to my underwear; without my fancy clothes, I felt terribly self-conscious, knowing that my body was nowhere near as toned and sculpted as his own; but Evan looked at me with desire, brushing his big hands over my chest, playing with my nipples, exploring my back and taking handfuls of my buttocks. I looked straight into his eyes, and, incredibly enough, all I could spot was desire. Desire of me.

His stiffening member poked my leg, and I fell under his spell. I heard my heart thumping into my ears when he knelt in front of me and pulled down my briefs. His voice warmed my heart and soothed my brain: “Such a beautiful cock… Pure perfection… Give it to me, mister…”

He leaned forward and took my semi-hard dick into his mouth, while pulling down the foreskin with his hand. His mouth was like wet velvet, and his tongue seemed to know by heart all the most sensitive spots of my manhood. I groaned loud when he used his other hand to cup my balls, without ever pulling them, he just played with my gonads, rolling them between his fingers and scratching the back of the scrotum.

He pushed his face forward, taking my cock deeper into his mouth, until my glans rested against his tight throat muscles. I held my breath: was he going to… “Ohmygod!!” – I moaned loud, tilting my head back, when he pushed his head some more and my cock forced open his expert gullet. And he didn’t stop there: he recoiled and pushed forward again, letting my sensitive cock head crash over and over into his throat. Not a single gurgle or gag ruined the sublime pleasure he was giving me. I dove my fingers into his feathered mane, but I didn’t force him in any way, I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more than he was already giving me.

Maybe I was too loaded, or just too lost in the sexual Nirvana Evan had opened for me, I just didn’t realize I was quickly reaching my boiling point. But Evan was a professional, he sensed my untimely tension and quickly recoiled, holding with a tight grip the base of my cock: “Whoa, whoa, mister, hold it! Hold it, relax, we still have a long way to go…”

When I could breathe normally, he stood up, reclined on the bed and looked at me: “What would you like to do now?”

I took in his masculine frame and breathed: “Worship your gorgeous body…”

 

I climbed on the bed and brushed my hands over the vast expanse of his chest, playing with the enticing body hair, I circled his nipples with my fingers, gently scratched them with my fingertips and lowered my mouth to suck on them, one by one.

I explored every single inch of his skin, examining with lustful and marveled eyes every crease and bulge of his twitching muscles, every crevice of his body, every detail of his powerful arms and legs, every wrinkle of his plump balls and every vein of his engorged member. Having such an incredibly gorgeous man in my bed was making my head spin, and the thought that I actually paid to get him didn’t lessen in any way my marvel for having been granted such a chance.

My mouth followed my fingers, and I slowly kissed and licked his entire body; I dove my nose into his armpits and into his crotch, inhaling his manly scent; I pressed my ear onto his chest to listen to the regular thumping of his heart. All my five senses feasted on him, I couldn’t get enough of him, the perfection of his body, the manliness of his scent, the musky taste of his skin, the handsomeness of his face, the sexiness of his stiff manhood.

I suddenly realized that, lost as I was into my own desires, I had totally neglected him. I anxiously looked down at his crotch and smiled contented, seeing his big cock still throbbing and stiff, eager to get some attention. If there’s something I master, in bed, is how to service a man. I don’t just suck him, I make love to his cock.

I opened my lips wide and engulfed the bloated mushroom head with my mouth, darting my tongue all around the sensitive corona and tickling with the tip of my tongue his frenulum. Sucking a man is not just a matter of technique: it’s a matter of burning desire; in that very moment, Evan’s cock was the center of my thoughts, the object of my desire, I lived only to give to that incredible specimen of manhood the five-star service it deserved.

“Aww… fuck! Holy shit!” – Evan moaned, and I inwardly smiled, amazed to give to a seasoned and expert lover like him a pleasure that – judging by his unrestrained moans – few men had given him.

My hands where everywhere, on his abs, on his nipples, on his balls, on his shaft; and all the while my mouth rode his club with rabid moves. I gladly returned the favor, letting his wide glans crash over and over into my throat; I was not as expert and controlled as him, and I gagged on his thick meat many times, but I didn’t stop, I totally devoted myself to him and his pleasure.

A gentle caress on my hair signaled me it was time to give him some rest. I looked up at him and his eyes were shining with admiration and respect: “You’re a hell of a man, I told you. Fuck, I don’t remember the last time someone serviced me with such a passion…”

I smiled at him and scrambled up on the bed, kneeling astride his hips. Evan flashed a knowing smile: “So, it’s time for the main course…”

I was tense. Not only he was damn big, but I hadn’t opened my nether portal to anyone in years. I was not a rookie, I’d had my share of cocks, but after all the anus is a muscle, and quickly loses elasticity. Evan didn’t need me to say anything, he instantly understood. “Stay still, with your legs apart” – he just said, reaching to the nightstand where he’s placed a tube of lube. He squeezed a glob of gel on his middle finger, keeping it right in front of my eyes: “Guess where this finger is going?”

 

~ Unexplored peaks ~

I looked with excitement at his long, thick finger glistening with lube and took a deep breath. I felt the finger circle my puckered hole and then gently force open my tight anal ring. I exhaled loudly only when his entire finger was deep inside me and started moving up and down; Evan smeared plenty of lube on my inner linings, at first using only his middle finger, and then adding his index finger.

“You’re doing good…” – he murmured, while constantly checking me – “I reckon you’re ready for a third finger…”

I didn’t protest, I had experience enough to know that a cock like Evan’s required an accurate preparation, and three fingers were the bare minimum to loosen me enough to take his club. And still, when he opened me up with three fingers, I hissed for the discomfort. But it didn’t last long, because a jolt of sudden pleasure shot from my bottom when Evan’s fingers started tapping on my prostate in the most sensual way.

“Yeah…” – Evan growled, wearing a randy smirk – “You can’t get enough of it, uh? Your beautiful cock is drooling non-stop… You’re doing good, mister… Yes, you’re ready for the main course…”

He withdrew his fingers and pointed his rock-hard cock to my loosened hole; then he glanced up at me and just said: “Sit on it. All the way.”

I was unsure; the bloated cock head pressing on my sphincter felt as large as a pool ball. His smile, as always, reassured me: “You’re ready. I know you are. Take your time.”

I lowered my bottom an inch, doing my best to relax my hole, that smoothly opened up, after Evan’s long fingering. Another inch, and then another, while I was holding my breath. I kept impaling myself on the fiery rod, feeling my insides stretching and accommodating the large intruder. Inner recesses never touched before welcomed Evan’s love stick with quivering joy, and I pushed down, down, but Evan’s cock seemed to never end.

I uttered a moan of discomfort when the long rod tried to force open my innermost doors and stopped, panting. “Take your breath, you’re wonderful. You don’t need to go all the way” – he said, giving me a nod of admiration – “Now ride it. Slowly. Feel my manhood caress your insides… Yeah, this way… Up… Down… Fuck, your ass is like a velvety glove… You like it, uh? Speed up… Tell me what you feel…”

I looked at him with wide eyes: I’m not used to comment the sex while doing it! But looking at his warm, sensual expression I knew I could tell him anything, unreservedly.

“I feel stuffed to my limit…” – I admitted, with a voice sounding more like a moan of pleasure – “Your cock is so thick, so long… You’re by far the sexiest man I’ve ever met… Aww… Yeah! I want to ride you faster, I want to take all of you…!”

Spurred by my own lust, I started pushing down with greater intensity, but every time Evan’s fat glans knocked at my innermost door, I stopped, afraid to feel pain. Anxiety assaulted me, when I realized that riding up and down his cock, my lower belly trembled and bounced. I hated those extra pounds I had grown around my waist, and sure enough they had to be a total turn-off for Evan, too…

“I’m not much of a sexy vision, aren’t I?” – I asked, shooting a shy glance at him and slowing down. He gave me the most comforting and sincere smile I’ve ever seen and replied: “Do you think I could be so hard, if I didn’t find you sexy? This is your night, I’m doing my best, but holding back is hard, your ass is something else, your cock bouncing up and down is a beauty and your moans of sheer pleasure are music to my ears…”

He gently grabbed my cock and started massaging it slowly, knowing that I was already dangerously threading on the verge of a massive climax. “What, are you conscious of your sexy full torso?” – he added, moving his hands at the sides of my waist – “These are called ‘love handles’ for a reason, you know?”

I was gasping, feeling his hands roaming my torso, taking handfuls of my flesh, pinching my tits and scratching my belly button; his touch felt so sensual, so loving, that I had to fight not to lose my load. His voice brought me down to Earth: “This is what the love handles are for…”

He grabbed the sides of my waist, digging his strong fingers into my flesh, and pulled me down onto his cock, still buried inside me.

“FUUUCK!!!” – I screamed, feeling my last inner defenses crumble under the forceful assault of his mighty cock. My buttocks slapped on his hips, telling me that I had taken inside me every single fucking inch of his monster cock. Every single hot, sexy, mind-blowing inch of his powerful rod. I lost it. A thick plume of sperm rocketed out of my throbbing dick, hitting him on his face, and then another, and another. A deluge of man-cream turned his feathered hair and his sexy scruff into a sticky mess, but I couldn’t stop, I would’ve rather died then stopping enjoying the sublime climax that was wreaking havoc on my body.

“GAWWD!!” – I screamed again, when he grabbed my cock and started stroking it in earnest, bringing me to unexplored peaks of devastating pleasure. My ass frantically milked Evan’s cock, until he stiffened, all his muscles twitching for the potency of his orgasm, and with a mighty pelvic thrust he pushed his cock even deeper inside me, and inundated my fundaments with his warm, creamy essence.

When I felt confident enough, I disengaged from his softening manhood and lay on the bed, next to him. His eyes were blue lakes, his smile was as white as snow and his massive hairy torso was irresistible. “Hug me… Please…” – I begged, placing my face on his bulging pecs, and I smile contented when I felt his strong arms closing around me. “Good boy…” – he said in a low voice, placing a kiss on my head, and I smiled again: I was older than him, a grown man, I couldn’t possibly be anyone’s boy; but in that moment reality was a distant thought, I was his boy and he was my man.

~ Just a gigolo… ~

When I woke up the next morning, I was still comfortably nestled into his arms. He was awake, but he wasn’t moving, lest to disturb my sleep. I recoiled and lay next to him, in silence, just enjoying the sight of his handsome face and the memory of our incredible lovemaking.

“No questions?” – he asked, and I shot at him a puzzled glance. He shrugged his shoulders: “This is usually when they ask about me, my life, my profession…”

I pondered his words and then replied: “I’m not going to ask you anything, not even your real name. Yesterday I wanted to know everything about you, but not today.”

It was his turn to be puzzled: “I’m actually relieved, but… why is that?”

I looked straight into his eyes: “You’re handsome, you’re glamorous, you look like you have a brilliant life. Or, at least, that’s what I fantasized about while dining with you and while… enjoying your company last night. This is what I thought about you yesterday, what I wanted to believe yesterday. I wanted to live a dream, and you let me. And since you’re a dream, you’re not real, you’re my fantasy come true for just one night.”

“I’m a person, Wayne, I’m a man…” – Evan objected, and I interrupted him: “I know. And that’s precisely why I didn’t ask you questions. If I did, what would you tell me about yourself? It’s easy for me envisioning you going from one lavish party to another, or touring Italy and France with a wealthy client, wearing expensive outfits and jewels you got as a well-deserved gift for what you give to your clients. But real life can’t possibly be like that. You would talk to me, don’t know, about the grueling hours it takes you to keep your gorgeous body at this level of perfection, despite the passing years. Or about how hard is being a gigolo when all your colleagues are less than half your age, or you could confess how scaring is wondering what’s next, when your astounding handsomeness will fade away; or how empty your home feels when you get there, in the morning, after spending the night with a client. Why would I want to destroy my own beautiful dream?”

Evan’s eyes widened, as I had clearly hit a soft spot inside him. I was only voicing my speculations, not having any actual info about him, but my careless words apparently had crudely described, at least in part, what he really felt. I didn’t mean to criticize him, or make him feel bad, and I placed a comforting hand on his face, smiling at him: “You’re an amazing man, Evan. Better than my stupid dreams. Tonight you gave me much more than I paid for. You made me look at myself with new eyes, and be proud of what I saw. You taught me I can wear that damn outfit and enjoy it, making men look at me with a sparkle in their eyes. You made me feel sexy, desired, even… loved. I know, I know, it was a one-night stand, no strings attached, I’m not going to stalk you” – I chuckled – “But I felt loved. For one night I felt I was the center of your universe.”

I shook my head: “Maybe this is just your gift, giving yourself completely to someone, even if it’s only for a single night. I don’t know. But I know that if you now tell me your real name, or what you do in your spare time, or how often you hit the gym, you’ll become real, and seeing you going away would be… heartbreaking.”

Evan’s eyes got wet, and he hastily turned his head to hide it. I felt the urge to take his face into my hands and kiss him, deeply, with all my heart. But I knew he didn’t want it, and neither did I.

“I’m just a client, and you’re just a gigolo, this is how things should be. I’m about to take a plane that will bring me away from here, and you’ll go back to your life, to another client, to your gym. I spent with you the most memorable evening and night I have memory of, and I want to remember last night as a thrilling chance I took, rather than regretting what I couldn’t get.”

I slowly got off the bed and silently headed to the bathroom. When I came back, wearing my business suit, he’d already got dressed and was ready to leave. “I paid online for the… nightly activities” – I said, holding my phone – “and added something as a little gift, but I can’t possibly repay you for what you gave me”. Evan nodded yes and came closer with a fire in his eyes that revealed the turmoil agitating into his soul: “Wayne, you… you touched strings inside me that--”

“No, shh, don’t say it” – I shushed him, placing a finger on his lips – “Don’t say anything. Just say goodbye.”

He nodded again and took a deep breath. I was just a client and he was just a gigolo, and it couldn’t be any other way, we both knew it well. “Goodbye mister” – he said with a warm smile, and I smiled back at him: “Goodbye Evan… or whatever is your name”.

For some reason, my last words made him shoot at me his signature randy grin and I felt again a thrill down my spine. He turned around and went out to the hallway. Behind the closed door, I heard the waiter greeting him like an old friend: “Hey Evan! Sexy as ever… Fuck, I wish I could afford your rate…!”

I smiled, listening to the waiter’s comment, but the smile faded on my face, while a pang of pain hit my heart. ‘Evan’. He’d told me his real name. He was real, he had a name, he had a life… in which I had no part.

I sighed, packed my baggage and left.

In the following years, I never went back to London and never met Evan again; I occasionally checked the site where Evan offered his escort services: he went on with his profession for a couple years more, and then his enticing photos disappeared from the site. But the fond memories of my special night with him still warm my heart.

And guess what, I met my husband while I was wearing my daring ‘lucky charm’ outfit, the one I was not afraid anymore to wear…

-~~~≈≈≈ooOoo≈≈≈~~~-