Cumming In The Restaurant

This one starts quite drily but, if you stick with it, it gets considerably less dry. Quite wet actually. Messy even.

It's written in the style of an 'A Life in the Day' article: it's about a man with a very unique job. And I wrote it to be part of the OnTheJob contest.

There's a very mild element of reluctance at one moment, so fair warning about that.

Otherwise, hope you have as much fun with it as I did when I was writing.

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Do you know what it feels like to walk into a crowded New York restaurant with your fully erect cock sticking out of your pants?

Probably not. But I do. It's part of my job.

I'd always been interested in the food and wine industry - that's why I'd moved to NYC after college - and it was just sheer luck that I fell into the orbit of the legendary chef Eddie Jacques. Not just a chef, of course, but also an art world personality, a raconteur, a bad boy boyfriend to models and actresses...all the classic clichés are correct, it's true, but he was also a phenomenal sniffer out of men and women who were original and provocative. He was a maker of scenes. And I desperately wanted to be part of his scene.

I walked into his eponymous E. Jacques restaurant one blustery day in April and I just happened to have exactly what they were looking for in that moment. It was one of those New York days that starts all Spring-like and sunny and then suddenly changes its mind and starts snowing. Which meant I walked in wearing just a white t-shirt, jeans and work boots. And snow in my hair. And - I was told later - visibly erect nipples. It was a look, I guess. I did my first shift two days later. It's been four years now but I still get huge satisfaction providing tableside cumshots at E. Jacques.

There isn't a more exciting 3000 square feet in the whole of the city. That's what I think. And that's what New York City thinks too. As The NY Post put it once, 'Jax doesn't have its finger on the pulse; it is the pulse'. The sign on the door says E. Jacques but almost everyone in the business calls it Jax.

We serve modern American cooking and our wine list, mostly European, is phenomenally deep. And of course we're known especially for our ejaculations. The place does a great job attracting the Sex And The City crowd of course: tables of young professional women, drawn to the city by the fashion and the arts and the men from Wall St. Competent, beautiful women with money to spend. It also brings in finance types and big wigs from the publishing and television worlds - nerds basically, taking a short walk on the wild side. Sometimes, you'll get a politician hoping to feed off the buzz. You get tennis stars at the start of September, here for the US Open, and then the fashion crowd a week after. Artists hang out the entire year. I love the place.

It has a perfect spot in the far West Village. On a corner. If it's raining, I'll take the 1 train two stops but most of the time I just walk home. After most shifts, you just feel like getting some fresh air.

I have light brown hair. It's tousled, with a few lighter streaks in it. I played lacrosse in high school and continued when I got to Northwestern - so that kept me athletic and tan. And I recently got into kayaking and that's given me shoulders, arms and a back. My manager at Jax told me I got the job because of my dimple; she liked that. And the fact that I was uncircumcised - not that common among American boys, she said - and because I can shoot my cum six feet in the air. That's what they'd been looking for that day in April apparently.

It was a stroke of fortune, if you'll excuse the pun, for me to get into the industry just as the vogue for 'natural' cocks was taking off. It's all a bit silly though: there's pros and cons to both. One isn't any better or worse than the other. Personally, I think I would have done just fine whether 'natural' was a thing or not.

Like any job in a high end New York restaurant, the hours are grueling and the commitment is absolute. I'm not allowed to ejaculate at home, no coffee ever, 8 hours of sleep every 24 hours, stay hydrated. Personal hygiene has to be impeccable. It's a service industry and you're making someone's evening: they don't want some surly dude with BO and a weak cumshot. You've got to provide the best. Something they don't get at home, you know.

The head spermelier at E. Jacques is Katie. She took her first steps in the industry out in San Francisco but she's actually from Nantes, France. I like calling her Catherine in a French accent. Cat-er-reen. She got her Master of Sperm qualification at the fabled Centro Internacional de Estudios sobre la Eyaculación in Seville. One day she'll go for the Meilleur Ouvrier de France. She's that good.

Every few months, she has to get a taste of my cumshot: she picks a table at random in the restaurant, takes a seat, and I have to shower her with cum from the other end of the table. You've got to admire the attention to detail: she's monitoring the height of each spurt, the number of spurts, its viscosity and volume, distance, taste of the precum, taste of the sperm itself, its color, nose, mouth feel.

You'd think it might be a bit nerve-wracking having to cum for a Master of Sperm but, with her, but it's really not. For a start, she so clearly loves the sight of a man masturbating. Basically, despite her professionalism, she's still an enthusiast at heart. She really respects the particularities of each man and his load. And, secondly, she's just a really great cum target: she's always smartly dressed, usually in a crisp collared shirt and a chic little neckerchief, and she's feminine, with that beautiful brunette hair that she often wears up and statement lipstick and olive skin. She puts her glasses on for the cumshot, which I find especially hot for some reason. She has that no-nonsense quality, if you know what I mean, but still conveys warmth and generosity. It's a real pleasure getting to unload on her.

As a professional, I'll cum on anyone or anything. Most of the time, people just want to see me spraying across the table - on their cutlery, across their plate of French breakfast radishes with smoked scallop roe, splashing their wine glasses and so on. Basically, just making a random, uncontrolled mess - cum falling wherever it may. Or of course, when it's a birthday party or a hen night or something, I'll be asked to shoot directly at the girl. Those two situations are the most common.

Less frequently, you'll get a man or a woman dining alone who just want to appreciate a good cumshot by themselves. I always do my best for those customers. Sometimes, for whatever reason, people just feel like treating themselves, you know; I get that, I respect it. You have no idea what's going on in people's lives.

But you do occasionally get a different request: a few months ago, a couple came in for an anniversary dinner and they sat side by side and asked me to cover them while they made out. That was pretty fun. You could tell they'd been saving up for that. And then of course you get very specific situations - like draping my cum on someone's hair as they're eating coconut yuzu sorbet, shooting only into a woman's handbag, or someone's jacket pocket, or depositing a couple of drops on each Island Creek oyster. You name it, I'll do it. The oyster one is surprisingly tricky, the handbag one is surprisingly sexy. I'll usually ejaculate into Katie's cupped hands by the table so she can place the sperm very precisely into each oyster. One prominent female politician from New York - I'll name no names - asks me to shout 'eat the rich!' with each spurt.

Needless to say, pretty much any time someone has a cake, one of the guys will be asked to frost it.

Anyway, the thrill of walking into a crowded restaurant with my erect cock jutting out will never wear off. It's so brazen. It really makes me feel alive. The way it wags stiffly from side to side as I walk across the room, I love that. It's indecent and surreal. Not surprisingly, we do a pretty good job with the music at Jax. Lively beat early on, more laid back during the final seating of the service. There's always an awesome mood in the room. It just elevates you. 'This is you at your best' is what the room is telling you. If you want grey carpets and clenched teeth then you can go to Jean-Georges, you don't come to us. I usually stop halfway across the restaurant and pull back my foreskin, just to get that feel of the room's air on my glans. That sensation makes it feel especially real. And the anticipation of walking over to the table who has ordered you, wondering what kind of people I'm going to be jerking off for and who I'll be cumming on, well, it's pretty special. They're usually very attractive people; they've got something about them. That's the crowd at Jax. I never get jaded by it.

So, let me walk you through a typical interaction.

After the waiter has taken a table's food order and brought over their drinks, they'll ask the customers if they're interested in a tableside cumshot. If they are, they'll send over the spermelier.

"So, what were you thinking - a heavy flop, a gusher, a sprinkler, a high flyer...circumcised, uncircumcised?" Katie will usually start out.

Once they've decided what type of cumshot they're looking for, Katie will run through the options that evening. I do flying cum - in industry terms, I'm a 'high flyer'. While my first spurt is unpredictable - sometimes it flops out heavily, sometimes it shoots dramatically across the room, depends on how long I've been masturbating up to that point - spurts two to seven are consistent: they always arc majestically through the air. And the final two spurts are almost like afterthoughts, not really spurts, more like limp little eruptions that make a mess of my cock.

If they want a high flyer, Katie will normally propose Guillaume or Marco or me.

"We have Guillaume," she'll say, "a really reliable pop - he's from the Loire. Nice salinity. Elegant. Some length. Good value if you're not looking to push the boat out. Alternatively, we have Marco from Piedmont - muscular but not without complexity. Silky finish. He's been edged every fifteen minutes for the last couple of hours."

They're decent guys. I love working with them. We're not competitive. We give each other tips and advice and help each other out. Everyone benefits.

"Or if you're looking for something really special," Katie will go on, "I would recommend Drew: excellent body, dry sense of humor, white Californian, hasn't ejaculated for three weeks. So, yeah, pretty special. I tried him a couple of months ago and he's spectacular, I can tell you. Nine spurts, good viscosity. You won't be disappointed."

That's me. I'm Drew.

After they've decided on who will be jerking off for them, they get down to the particulars. Sometimes they'll tweak a few things with me or emphasize some important nuance - like if they want me to groan in a certain way or go hands free when I start ejaculating - but you might be surprised that all the details are worked out with Katie first and then passed on to us.

She'll advise on placement and timing and so on. It's her job to understand what they're really looking for; most people have a sense of it without being able to articulate it well. They often think they want a big penis - and, don't get me wrong, a big penis certainly has its place - but they're actually happier with something else most of the time. People are unsure basically; they need a bit of guidance. That's the value of a good spermelier.

And she usually knows the boys better than they know themselves in fact.

Are we objectified? I'm asked that all the time. Well, sure. I guess we are. We're not kept back in the kitchen; we're encouraged to walk around the floor every now and then. It's a bit like the way restaurants and bars will display all their whiskies and tequilas on shelves behind the bar. It looks good, it entices people, puts ideas in their head. There's a reason liquor companies make an effort with their labeling, you know, and use colored glass. We look good too: well-tailored white shirts to emphasize the triangle of our torsos, dark chocolate ties in a fine wool, charcoal grey pants, shoes from Gaziano and Girling. We look smart, we feel sexy.

The color scheme is ivory, charcoal and brown. Quite often restaurants will have white tablecloths and colored walls. At E. Jacques we do the opposite: we have ivory walls - the color of cum, the Belgian designer Axel Vervoordt once pointed out - and the tablecloths are dark. Once you've splattered a table, that dark color shows off the sperm much better.

The other thing I'd say about objectification is that, actually, a man can't fake a cumshot. I really am having an intense orgasm in front of the customers. Most of them know that and appreciate the authenticity. That's what they value in fact. But even if they don't, which is rare, I make sure that I get something out of every one. I make it personal for me.

I prefer it when a table is attentive to me and my cock and my cum but I actually get something different when I'm kind of ignored or taken for granted. I just focus on them and their particulars: maybe they'll have characterful hands, hands that do pottery, say, and so I'll look carefully at those hands and imagine what they'd look like clinging to someone's back as they orgasm; or maybe they'll have light brown eyes with delicate crows-feet and I'll picture that haunted look you'd see in them just as that woman is wracked with her first convulsion; or I'll stare unapologetically at their breasts, trying to figure out if they're wearing a bra and wondering what their bare breasts look like, and how exactly those breasts might move if that woman had my cock in her hand and were jerking me off eagerly. And the combination of that particular detail and the deep warmth in my balls and my cock head as I get close to the edge just really excites me. Whatever the case, it's all real for me. You can find something special in everyone.

Anyway, once they've chosen one of us with Katie, she'll talk to them about the specifics. Where exactly: On the table? On someone in particular? On all of them? And then when: With an aperitif? Over their main courses? An extra with their desserts? Quite often people might get a bit boozy and only decide to have a cumshot at the end of the meal. A good spermelier will know to reappear casually when a table is contemplating the dessert menu and make a bit of chit chat.

Katie will then pass on the details to whoever's been selected. If it's me, I'll normally start rubbing my cock through my pants straight away, wherever I may be standing at the time.

Everyone is different but I don't like to see the table and the customers beforehand. I don't want to know who they are until I'm walking over to them with my cock out. I like that element of surprise. Katie knows not to tell me who they are beforehand.

She will give me a 5-minute warning before it's time to go over, I'll make sure I'm fully aroused, penis thick and long and stranding up in a stiff vertical, and then off we go.

Sometimes, if it's an important customer or a special occasion, Katie will lead me by my erection across the restaurant and over to the table.

"Hi I'm Drew, and I'll be jerking off on you this evening," I'll say.

Katie will introduce me and my erection to whichever customer at that table ordered the cumshot and they will double-check my cock is what they chose. At that point, I'll normally reach into my fly and pull out my balls so anyone interested can cup my ballsack.

I've learnt though that, when they're first looking at my erection, what they're really doing is getting a feel for my whole physique. So, while I obviously make sure my cock is at its most taut and my head nice and wet and shiny, I'm actually making the effort to straighten my back in that moment, throwing out a hip ever so subtly, making my shoulders look broad. They actually want to a get a sense of the whole man - and that's how they'll then feel about my cock.

People usually like to feel how heavy my balls are with cum, especially when they know I haven't ejaculated for two or three weeks. It's fun having my balls weighed like that. I like the feel of women's rings and nails and so on. While they're focusing on my balls, I take this moment to look deeply into their face. It's amazing what you can see in their eyes when they're holding your balls. My cock often stiffens noticeably when I do this. They think it's because they're touching my scrotum, and obviously that's part of it, but it's mostly because of what I'm seeing in their face as they fondle my balls. Just one of the tricks of the trade. Katie taught me that.

Katie will then offer them a taste of precum before I start masturbating. Now, some guys don't like to be touched; they won't let anyone finger their balls and they definitely don't like offering anyone any precum. But I don't mind at all. It gets them in the mood, it gets me in the mood. I feel it creates a bond, you know. After all, it's a pretty short interaction sometimes and with people you've only just met. So I'm happy to make a closer connection if I can, make it more memorable. If anyone wants a taste of precum I'll happily let them have a quick lick of my frenulum. Or I'll let them touch a finger to any precum that's oozed onto my glans. Of course, sometimes they'll get some on their hands anyway from holding my balls. I like to let my precum drip down my shaft and onto my balls. There's one regular customer - a woman in her late-fifties with straight blonde hair and secretary glasses - who likes me to touch my precum with my own finger and then put that finger in her mouth. I love stroking my cock with one hand and while she sucks the fingers of the other. And I love the way she's more than twice my age.

Anyway, Katie will then leave me with them. I'll double-check that everyone's on the same page about where I'll cum and then off we go. Time to start masturbating.

There's a few things to say about this next part obviously.

The first thing is that there's often a delicious bit of nervous tension at the beginning. Maybe a younger woman is embarrassed to have a man jerking off right in front of her in public. Maybe some man isn't really into it and is just doing it for his wife or daughter or mother-in-law. Maybe it's a group of women who are all into it but they're coy about being with others, being seen by their friends to be enjoying it, you know. They want to look at me and talk to me but they're also feeling some internal pressure to pretend I'm not there.

Some people assume it's my job to relax the mood at this moment but they'd be wrong. A real expert will riff on the mood, extend it, deepen it. If a young woman is embarrassed, for example, maybe I'll look a little more intently at her as I rub my cock. Or stand a little closer to her. If there's a bit of group nervousness, I might groan ostentatiously and speed up my stroke rate. See if a little precum flicks off in their direction.

Think about it: that young woman will remember that moment far more if I do that than if I let her think she's not really visible. Intensify the moment, don't diminish it.

Then, once we're past that initial moment, I try to take the time to absorb the whole situation. I have a good look around: I'll notice the middle-aged woman in a fuchsia coat waiting at the bar for her friend, I'll see which waitresses are working that night, I'll see a woman at a nearby table wearing a new outfit for the first time, friends hanging out with friends, the maitre d' greeting a young man in a smart suit as he walks through the door. And I'll also make sure to release my grip completely, just so the table can see my cock standing up all by itself. When I do that, it feels good to lift my head and put my hands behind my back and survey the room. I like looking around knowing that not only is my cock is fully exposed but that I'm also fully aroused and the table in front of me is taking that in.