This is the start of a new piece on a male escort and some of the dates that he went on over the course of a long career. This particular chapter deals with his introduction to the concept of escorts, and an invitation to meet with the head of an escort service. I think that I'll put each chapter in the category where it most fits, so there will be a plethora of categories. This chapter contains oral and regular sex. My thanks to JohnnyGalt for his editorial help. This is a copyrighted work. Do not edit, alter, change, or publish my works in any format, including audio, without the authors written permission. © Copyright 2025
I'm Just a Gigolo, Ch 1
Invitation
As I sit here on the eve of my marriage, I wish to tell you that I have lived nearly twenty-five years of my life as a Gigolo, a Male Escort. I'm 45 now, and started when I had just turned 21, a senior in college. I can't tell you every date I ever had, because there were too many to write down, and some were so forgettable as to be lost in the cobwebs of my memory. But there were special ones that I will endeavor to mention for good or ill. First a little about myself.
I was adopted, given up as an infant by a 17 year old girl who'd gotten pregnant in high school. She was nearly a child herself, and too young to tote me around for the rest of her life, so she did what she thought was best for me, and hoped I'd get a good home. I did. My adoptive parents were special. Alvin and Shelly Bancroft, residents of Poughkeepsie, were both aged thirty when they adopted me. Shelly couldn't have children no matter how much she wanted one, and eventually they decided to adopt. I was their first, although they eventually adopted three more.
Like all new parents, they probably made a few mistakes, but when I look back on my childhood, I remember it with nothing but fondness, no matter how I felt at the time. I didn't look much like either of them, since I grew up to be over six feet tall, and they were both shorter. Dad was 5-9 and Mom was 5-4. They were both dark haired, and I was a blonde, but everyone knew I was adopted, so it didn't' make any difference who I looked like. Apparently, my birth parents were both smart, good looking, and athletic, as I did well in class and sports, and I didn't lack for dates in high school or college. I wasn't the best at anything, but I was pretty darn good at most things.
In the beginning of my senior year in college, Queens College, part of City University of New York, or CUNY, I was working towards a business degree and doing all right, mostly As with a few Bs thrown in. I'd broken up with the girlfriend I developed over the summer right before I went back to school, because she was attending a different college in Upstate New York, and didn't want to try to maintain a long distance relationship. I wasn't too broken up about it, as I didn't think she was the one for me either, when I got down to it. More a distraction for the summer, than a long term commitment.
So on this particular Friday night, I was frequenting a club where a lot of the Queens College students danced, drank and found short term fuck buddies. I was looking for one too. I'm not a saint, and never claimed to be, even when I was younger and more naive.
I was at the bar, nursing a drink, surveying the scene, looking for the unattached when a woman nudged my elbow.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
I turned to look at her, and gulped a little. She was not a college student, nor even near college student age, probably not a professor either, as I think I'd remember hearing about one that looked this good. She had to be in her mid-thirties at least, but mother nature had been more than kind. She was a knockout, in mine, or anyone else's estimation, if you cared to ask. She had to be 5-11 in her four inch heels, so 5-7 or so barefoot, dark hair, flawless complexion, ruby red lips, rosy gold eye shadow. Perfectly arched eyebrows, a fucking goddess in my humble opinion.
Being in college, I didn't have a ton of money, hence why I was nursing my drink. At most, I could afford one more before I left.
"I'd love a drink," I said, a little too slowly as she'd almost turned away.
She turned back, a smile on her face. I felt my trouser snake stir, seeing that smile, imagining her lips wrapped around my dick, but getting a little ahead of myself. It was just a drink.
"What will you have?" She asked.
"I can only afford beer so I'm not used to anything else. What would you recommend?"
"Do you like scotch?"
"Don't know."
"Bourbon?"
"Don't know."
"What do you know?"
"A lot about things other than alcohol"
"Are you old enough to drink?"
I held up the beer. "My ID says I am, but my folks weren't big drinkers, so I don't know much about booze, except Dad always said he liked Crown Royal."
"But you never tasted it?"
"Nope."
"Let's get you a Crown Royale then, see if you like it as much as your dad."
"Sounds good to me."
"Two Crowns on the rocks," she told the bartender. "Make it doubles." She waved a fifty at him.
He brought our drinks, and she handed him the fifty and told him to keep the change. Damn, that was close to a twenty dollar tip.
"My name is Alberta, by the way."
"Alberta what?"
"Just Alberta for the moment. Let's see if we want to get past first names later."
"Daniel," I said. I set my drink down and took her right hand and kissed the back of her hand. It didn't have a ring on the ring finger. The left one did, however. I could see the glint of the large rock there. I wasn't sure how much I cared about that.
"Pleased to meet you, Alberta," is what I said.
"Ooh, manners. I like you more and more."
I sipped my drink. Not bad. "Shall we grab a table, or stand at the bar?" I asked.
"A table. My feet are killing me in these heels. Do you dance?"
"I know a few basics, but this isn't really that kind of place. This is more for grabbing an ass and clinging tight while rocking back and forth."
"We'll see how much I want you grabbing my ass later," Alberta laughed. It was a lovely laugh, and I liked it a lot.
We found a table for two and sat down. I held her chair for her. She appreciated that, I could tell. There was another smile and she brushed my hand as I pulled it away from the back of her chair.
"Are you a student?"
"Guilty as charged, Queens College, business major, senior. And what do you do Miss Alberta?"
"Lawyer, here from Philly for a couple depositions in a lawsuit, one today, one Monday."
"Does your husband know you pick up college students?" I had to ask, more fool I.
"I usually get an escort, but he had to cancel due to a stomach virus, so I was at loose ends. Figured I'd try here, see if I could find anyone I liked."
"Did you?"
"So far. I'll tell you how much later." She smiled again. I really dug that smile.
"Your husband doesn't mind you using escorts?"
"He uses them too."
"An open marriage then?"
"I don't know how open it is. We both pretend we don't know what the other is doing. Is that open, or something else."
"Something else, I guess."
"How do you like the Crown?"
"Very good. I could get used to it. Better than my beer."
"Shall we dance?" Alberta asked.
"Love to," I said. I got up and helped her to her feet.
It's time to tell you a little bit more about myself. My parents raised me right. Holding a woman's chair, or a door, or her pocketbook or purse, was second nature to me. Dad always did those things for Mom, and he expected us to do them too. We practiced courtesy in my house. It didn't matter if it was family or a stranger. I'd have to hold the chair for my sisters if I got to the table before them. It was drilled into me from a very young age, and I did it automatically, no matter what. Unless someone told me to back off, I was her boy scout. I could tell Alberta was appreciating all of those skills now, and I was glad I'd learned them. I didn't know where this evening was going, but anything that would get me in between those long, lean legs, was my bread and butter that night.
We danced a couple slow dances. I didn't grab her ass, but held her at the waist and hand, like a dance partner should. It wasn't a waltz, but even if it was just a slide side-to-side, it was a dance with a partner.
That changed when she stepped in close and laid her head on my shoulder, her sterling chest pressed against mine. My hand got in the way, and I put both of them on her back, right at the top of her ass, and a top shelf ass it was.
"Mmm, nice" she said.
I'm sure she could feel my hard cock as close as we were, but I wasn't sure if she was referring to that, or something else, so I just said, "It sure is." It was vague enough to fit anything.
The next slow dance, she put her hands on mine and pushed them down over her ass, so I had a good grip on each cheek. They felt firm, yet soft. A little meat over muscles toned in a gym. Then she ground her pelvis against me, making sure she could feel my cock. It was at that point, I knew I was getting laid, and I didn't care if she was nearly twice my age and married, I wanted it bad.
After that dance, we went back to our table and had a little more to drink.
"Another dance?" I suggested after a fifteen minutes of idle chatting. I wanted to feel that firm chest against mine again.
"I can't, damn it. My feet are killing me. I've been in these high heels all day."
"Put your foot in my lap," I said.
"Foot job?" Alberta said.
"Foot rub," I answered.
She put her right foot in my lap, and I unbuckled the strap on her heel, pulled it off and handed to her, then I rubbed her foot for ten minutes. She was moaning in pleasure. Since it was in my lap, she also felt more of my cock. I figured it wouldn't hurt if she knew how much I desired her. Right now, my desire was iron clad.
"Oh, my God, that feels wonderful," she said. "I'm melting inside right now. I swear you're turning me into a puddle of mush."
