Discretion

MAX

Hey! My name is Max.

I am twenty-seven years old, and I recently got a job at a bank. I have a girlfriend, but she’s been in a coma for the last six months.

You would think that I don’t have much to tell you except for how she ended up in a coma.

But I am gonna tell you EVERYTHING.

My “girlfriend” is actually my stepsister. I tell everyone at my new job that she’s my girlfriend so they will leave me the fuck alone.

People are just…

Both of our mothers are dead, and so is my father. Her beast of a dad is in jail for grand larceny. Nora always shielded me from his wrath.

A motorcycle accident left her comatose, but I refuse to give up on her! Her care is very expensive, though, so I had to supplement my income.

Therefore, I’m a whore.

And not in the way that some trashy social media parasite tries to make their sad sex life sound cool but in the literal sense of the word: a sex worker.

I work for one of the city’s most sophisticated escort services that cater to men who enjoy other men’s company.

My customers are mostly rich old queens, closeted gays and bisexuals, or couples that just want to spice up their sex life.

I’m regularly wined, dined, taken to the ballet or the opera, and then fucked to the best of their ability. My ass is not cheap, however—they pay five thousand bucks for my services.

At first, I said I was doing it for the money, but the honest truth is that now I’m also doing it for the thrill.

The agency I work for is called Gentlemen for Gentlemen, or G4G. Despite the fact that we live in the age of hookup apps, a lot of wealthy people are still willing to pay for sophistication and discretion.

G4G owns a plethora of properties throughout the city with opulent rooms and facilities. One guy, two, three—it doesn’t matter. There are even rooms for large-scale orgies.

Since I have a day job, I work for their “takeout” service. Some clients wish to have some arm candy for a public event; others wish complete discretion.

Kevin wasn’t my first client. There were three before him that I would rather not talk about right now. Kevin is the first that I want to tell you about because he was…kind.

He kept forgetting that he was the client, that he could demand whatever he wanted within the rules and guidelines of the agency.

Those rules were: No child abuse. No bestiality. No torture.

My personal additions were: No bareback. No fisting. No mega toys.

Kevin was a forty-something average Joe who made really good money. He’d had a slew of unsuccessful relationships with women but never let himself sample the other side…

Until me.

He said that he wasn’t interested in dating. He wanted to sleep with a man that knew what he was doing. He never used the word “fuck.”

Despite Kevin’s six-figure paycheck, he didn’t enjoy decadence. He was raised humble, and it stuck. He said that he was lucky to have studied the right thing at the right time.

He didn’t elaborate for the sake of safeguarding his identity.

Kevin took me to a trendy burger place. We each had a cheeseburger and a beer and talked about his interests.

He liked the outdoors and hiked a lot. He read Edgar Allan Poe and enjoyed using Carl Jung’s archetypes to explain a few of the people in his life. He never named names or gave personal details.

The more I spoke to Kevin, the more I liked him. I would have wanted to be friends with him, but I knew that our circumstances would never allow for that.

Kevin would never risk tainting his reality.

A strict religious upbringing had rammed so much intolerant poison into his head that it was clearly impossible for him to let go of it.

My mother had become a heartless bitch after my dad died and my stepfather was a monster from the deepest depths of the underworld, but we never had to endure the rigid prison that is organized faith.

I enjoyed the simplicity of our “date.” He didn’t want to go out after; we went to his place and watched a documentary about ancient civilizations.

Halfway through he put a hand on my knee, and my heart started beating like it always did. I’d been instructed to never take initiative unless the customer allowed it, so I waited for him to continue.

I could feel his nervous energy crackle in the air as his hand moved up and into my pants.

He grabbed my dick and let out a small moan as if out of relief, as if he had wanted to hold a cock other than his own for so long that the act of doing it was…

Kevin yanked back his hand and opened his own pants. He pulled out his dick and started stroking it.

Then he whispered, “Can you touch it?” He sounded so desperate that a lump caught in my throat.

I carefully grabbed his semi-hard dick in my hand and another moan escaped his lips followed by him letting out a breath that he had probably been holding for decades.

He asked if he could kiss me, so I leaned in and gave him what he wanted.

From then on, he moved a bit less timid. I sucked him off till his dick was nice and moist. I rolled on a condom and inundated it with lube.

Settling onto his lap, facing him, I wrapped my arms around his neck. As I slowly started bouncing up and down on his curved six inches, I made noises to rile him out of his passive attitude.

He surprised me by grabbing my hips and making the movement go faster. Then suddenly he got inspired and nibbled on one of my nipples.

I didn’t need to fake my moaning anymore.

Not long after, his legs were shaking as he came into the condom. His head fell against my chest and he whispered, “Thank you.”

He offered to jerk me off, and I told him that he should only do so if he wanted to. He hesitated for a moment and said, “I would actually like to give you…fellatio.”

Oh my god! He was so cute.

I was slightly scared of teeth as he folded his lips around my dick. It was hardly the best head I had ever gotten, but he was clearly enjoying himself.

Moaning and groaning like a porn star, I accidentally put a hand into his hair. I quickly pulled it back, but he looked up at me and said breathily, “Please, do that again.”

Just before I reached my peak, I gently lifted his head.

“Am I doing it wrong?” he asked timidly.

“No! Of course not! I just don’t want you to…”

“Ahhhh,” he said, smiling. He then pumped my dick and let me cum against his shirt.

Clients technically had me for twelve hours, so that could include a night’s stay for Kevin. Most people would throw me out as soon as they were done, but Kevin took me up on the offer.

In the morning, he brought me a big mug of coffee and told me that he had wired the money instead of putting me through the indignity of cash or credit card on the spot.

G4G would send me a confirmation of payment that I would need to affirm before leaving. I whipped out my phone and opened the app. The inbox already had two notifications.

I acknowledged the payment and noticed a generous tip for which I thanked him. Kevin used his remaining time to fuck me up against the wall in the shower, and I barely made it on time for work.

Kevin was one of my favorite clients but probably also the most “normal.”

I never saw him again.