I’m a Rocky Mountain Prostitute

I was feeling tired and uneasy at the airport curbside in Denver. Somewhere in the stream of cars that honked past me was a red Dodge Ram with a man named Chance behind the wheel.

Chance had contacted me weeks before. He said that he liked young “punkey” boy like myself. After a few semi-awkward conversations on the phone he bought me a round trip ticket to visit him in Colorado. I was going to be making $2,500 in two days – more money than my father makes in a week.

I had requested that he e-mail photographs of himself to me – but he never ended up doing it. Thats the main reason that I felt so anxious. I have pretty low standards when it comes to sex but I can’t just fuck anyone. I knew it was too late to change my mind – since he had already paid for my plane tickets – so no matter what he looked like I still had to fuck him. I started wishing that I had gotten Viagra from my doctor. Guys hate it when their paid company doesn’t get hard.

Finally I saw his car. Through the windshield I could see that Chance wasn’t that bad looking. In fact, he we was actually sorta good looking. His brown hair was thick and combed back, his chest fit well into his white undershirt and his pants boasted freshly ironed creases.

“Hey Cyrus!” he gleamed as he bent over and have me a hug.

We drove through the city of Denver and then past the suburbs and up into the mountains. He owned a lakeside cabin thousands of feet above the mile high city. Looking at the dirty piles of snow along the road made me wish I had packed warmer clothing.

During the last five minutes of our drive we passed nothing but forest. No man-made structures whatsoever. I felt a creepy sense of isolation. I was alone in a dark forest with a man who paid for sex. What a creep!

When we arrived at the cabin I asked him if I could use the bathroom. I took a long, hot shower and then changed into my punk rocker outfit. I think its an escorts job to cater to each client – so I always ask my guys what they like and what they don’t like. Then, with life as my stage, I play the role they desire. Usually guys tell me they wanna fuck a stupid straight/bi-curious football player. Thats an easy one. I just wear my Warriors hat, slow down my speech, say very little and move my mouth like I’m chewing gum when I’m not talking.

Playing the part of a punk rocker comes much more naturally to me. I put on my skull and crossbones beanie, tight black jeans and breathable muscle shirt and admired myself in the mirror. Sometimes I just want to fuck myself through the cold, hard glass. But I didn’t let myself get distracted. I gurgled some mouthwash, pulled down my beanie and then pushed the door open.

Chance was sitting on his bed. I guess he had been waiting outside the door the entire time I had been in the bathroom.

“God I’m glad I called you” he said. He got up and started slowly circling around me, running his hands over my stomach and across my ass. He lowered himself down to his knees and started brushing his mouth over the back of my jeans. He bit and tugged at my back pocket with his teeth as he reached his hand around to undo my belt. I watched the front of my pants bulge as my dick got hard. Unlike most escorts, I actually enjoy most of my paid encounters.

He pulled my pants and my boxers down to my ankles. He started sucking and biting the meat of my ass. A few times his teeth caused me pain – but I was too overwhelmed with arousal to care. He licked up and down my ass crack and then pulled my cheeks apart. There was a short pause and then he dug in. Usually guys just lick your ass up and down when they rim you. Thats okay and all – but its not nearly as good as someone who sucks and bites. He was eating me from behind like a dog ripping apart a piece of steak. It felt so good that I didn’t even realize I had been repeating “fuck yea” over and over again like a broken record.

My dick was drooling out precum onto the hardwood floor. I had never felt so turned on in my entire life. I watched the clear drops collect on the floor and wondered what stain remover would best remove them. Sometimes in the heat of the moment I think about really trivial and unrelated things. The last time Steak fucked me I remember thinking about how much I like breakfast foods.

Chance stuck a few fingers up my ass and pushed them in and out so hard that I nearly lost my balance. Then he ran his hands up the side of my arms as he stood up. In my ear he whispered “I’m gonna pound you right here.” I had never fucked standing up before. I shuffled my feet a little bit so that I could lean against the wall. He teased me with his dick for more than minute – sliding it up and down but never penetrating. I wanted to yell “Stick it in!”

Then he did. I felt a good deal of pain. Its strange but I had yet to see his dick since he had been behind me the entire time. I told him to slow down and he did. For a few seconds his behavior completely changed and he nibbled at my ear and whispered that he was sorry if he hurt me but that he just couldn’t resist. He was being gentle, slow and passionate. Then he ceased being tender and started pounding away at my ass. It felt so good. I didn’t jack myself off like I normally do because I knew that I would cum instantaneously.

I was breathing hard and raining sweat. He leaned over so that my back and his stomach were in contact. He massaged the top of my thighs as he fucked me – harder and harder – until I could hear an approaching orgasm in his moans. I grabbed onto my dick and jacked myself off for only a few seconds before I was cumming too. We both came at the same time. My body felt like jelly. I might have melted and seeped through the cracks in the floor if he hadn’t been holding onto me – one arm up against the wall and one arm wrapped around my dripping stomach.

It was right then that I thought “I wonder why croc sandals are so comfortable?”