3 Somes: Seven Stories of MM Erotica by Walker Mercy

Author:Walker, Mercy [Walker, Mercy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Walker Books
Published: 2012-03-04T16:00:00+00:00

***End***

Chapter 5: In His Hands

I followed him into the bedroom. The light was really good, sunshine spilling through the sheer, yet obscuring drapes, and the bed was right in the middle of the room -- so I’d get to see everything. I hadn’t realize I was staring at his ass so hard, how it fit so well in his jeans, until her turned around and I suddenly found myself not only caught ogling him, but now staring at his crotch. I raised my eyes to meet his. Pale frosted green, and so very sexy.

“So do you have it?” he asked, cracking his knuckles, warming up.

Looking down and being surprised -- for some unfathomable reason -- that he was bare footed, I riffled through my pants pockets, trying not to agitate my irrevocably hardened cock. After my face had turned bright red, I finally found the money, handing the wad of twenties over to him.

He didn’t even count it, just stuffed it in his jeans pocket, then turned towards the bed. He moved to the opposite side, to the night stand, and opened a drawer, from which he removed a bottle of lotion, a pack of condoms, and a thick green bed sheet that looked more like a tarp.

“Give me a hand?” he said, flapping the tarp, making it fluff out like a parachute then fall slowly to the mattress. It was a fitted sheet of some sort, and I wondered if he had others in supply ... and how many? I grabbed my ends, pulled then tucked them under the appropriate corners of the bed.

“Saves on washing the sheets.” he smiled.

I laughed too loud and suddenly felt very self-conscious. I suddenly had a bunch of questions. Is this your regular job? How many ... er, clients do you see in a day? What size are those condoms?

I’d found his ad in a local gay magazine -- Erotic Massage by buff, handsome, well hung, Renaissance Man.

I’d been trying to thinking up ideas for an article of the flesh trade: porn, prostitution, swinger’s clubs, gay bathes. So I called the number and told the deep, rather sexy voice on the phone what I wanted to do. He thought it was kinky, but gave me a price, and three days later there I was.

“So, is your name really John?” was the question I ended up asking.

Sure, I thought to myself, tell the guy you think he’s a liar! Nice mood killer.

“John Gardner.” he said, reaching into his night stand and retrieving two hand towels and two bath towels. “Name’s on the doorbell.”

“Oh ... yeah.” I’d been so nervous I hadn’t thought to read it, I just pushed it and then tried not to break out in a sweat, which I could feel already trickling down the back of my neck.

He unfolded one of the bath towels and placed it in the center of the bed. He wore a tank top and the play of his muscular shoulders as he spread the towel out was beautiful.

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