Toyboy Falls in Love with Customer

The entire sex experience, from the first contact with her flesh to squirting a warm jet of fresh boy semen over her body, lasted twenty minutes, at most. There was no foreplay. She opened the door of her room, took off her hotel robe and quickly dived under the white sheets off the large bed. I undressed myself while she, by the little light of her bedside lamp, watched. As I crawled next to her, I told her that she smelled nice of soap and I moved on my side close against her body, one leg over her legs, so she could feel my stiff piece gently against her lower parts. My hand started to touch her upper body.

Forty-five or older aged, fat body with large hanging buttocks and breasts. I indulged them, playing disinterestedly with her nipples, kneading, and massaging the surrounding flesh. Licking and kissing it. With my fingers, I played with her dry clitoris, somewhere between her bunches of pubic hair and her large labia. I took it gently between my fingers and slowly massaged the little bud, until her slit was wet enough. I climbed on top of her, got her into the old and simple missionary position, and entered her wet cunt. She moaned, screamed with pleasure because she was probably, for the first time in a lengthy period, fucked by a large young cock.

See loved it and screamed when she squirted. I took my beautiful big boy out of her and masturbated over her huge breasts, thinking about my horny first girlfriend, with her lovely little tight titties or about my delicious first paid date a week back. It was already becoming a routine job, the third boring fuck in a week.

Afterwards she lay close to me on the huge bed. She talked about her work, relationship, children and how she missed the real sex and how nice and horny it has been with my stick deep in here pussy. That she could really feel me deep insider her. My head and mind were on my lack of money, the upcoming exam and my lack of time to study for it. This evening was due to this paid fuck a waste of time. I could have learned stuff for my upcoming exam. It felt like the wrong thing to do, but I needed the money.

She was my third date, or including the first night, the fourth. The first real time was extremely horny but the last two, including this one, were boring. The customer needed attention; sex was more of an afterthought. They slept one night in a hotel for work or something else and were freed from their married life. For a short moment.

It seems like nothing, indulging a woman in a hotel room for an hour or two. In reality, it took at least four hours per appointment. I had to wash my body, shave my face, balls, and my cock. I had to dress up neatly and travel to the hotel on the other side of the town. After each date I was a complete wreck. On my way back to my room, on the outskirts of town, I always stopped at a night shop. There I bought alcohol and unhealthy, greasy snacks. After returning home to my small room, I sat down at my computer to study. After at time I ended with a porn movie or a porn game, till late into the night or early morning, I played or watched. I hardly slept those nights, my thoughts about sex were haunting my head. I slept on the college couches the during next morning and missed the contest of my classes completely. Four nights in ten days without real sleep completely wrecked me. I started to become a sex addict.

After she recovered from the short powerful fuck, she talked about her husband, with his fat belly and small cock underneath it. How after some fidgeting with his finger and some rubbing lube on her pussy to make it ready and wet he put his small dick in her. After five minutes, during which she barely felt the penetration, he came. Then he fell asleep and immediately started snoring. Getting his cock up a second time, to indulge her was impossible. The alcohol during his foreplay while watching a football match was too much for him. His genitals were soon nothing more than a shriveled little tube.

It sounded like a horrible experience. It was not that she felt raped but more that she got used without pleasure.

I guided her hand down over my tight boy belly. She groped me and I became hard and moist again. I felt another load of cum building up in my balls, to spill wherever she wanted is. She played with my sex tool and told me how it excited her to be able to play with such a beautiful big boy and explore everything she hadn't seen, held, or tasted in a long time. I told her I loved how she played with me. I gave her some directions what I liked. With my hands behind my head, on my back and with my eyes closed, she played and used me completely. She caressed my tight, muscular belly, played with my pubic hair, marveled at the size of the balls as she took them in her hand and squeezed them gently. Finally, she grabbed the rod. She sampled it and felt the size, the length and the with. I had never realized before that I had a big dick because I had never seen other guys with a hard boner. Except of course in the porn movies, but they all had dicks like mine.

I asked what she thought of it, and I enjoyed her answers. She told me she had never seen or felt such a device before. For her, it was like a new world opening where she didn't know it existed before. That it was wonderful when I put it in her pussy, that she could really feel me. Also, the playing afterwards had excited her immensely.

I pushed my foreskin back for her so the whole wet glans was in front of her. She groped him like see took a terribly expensive gold necklace with diamonds in a jewelry store, knowing she could never own it but could hang it around her neck for a moment. And being allowed to look in the mirror to see how it stood around her old and wrinkled neck. Her fingers played with my wet button as if it was made of fragile porcelain. She found the little piss hole and her nails went over this most sensitive part of my twenty-year-old boy's body and made me moan with pleasure. She began to gently masturbate at me. Her hand, like a tunnel or the sphincter of a tight cunt, moving over my wet club. I encouraged her to please me with my moans and gently gave directions. Please squeeze harder, faster, longer strokes or stop or I will come. She paid for it, and I closed my eyes, enjoying the play with my manhood, not of her.

* * *

While she masturbated me, I dreamed about other things as her hand, body, or the skinny, cheap, and fast sex, we had just encountered. In my mind I was hanging from Andrea's cross. My hands and feet were tied to the ends of the wooden beams. Around my neck a steel band prevented me from falling or hanging forward and almost prevented my head from moving. Five iron straps fixed me completely, naked with my legs spread, to the cross and gave me no room to move. I was a toy.

Over my head was a bag so I couldn't see anything. Blindfolded and tied, I heard voices around me, shrill excited, female voices. In the background loud rock music and the smell of the basement, full of alcohol, perfume, sweating bodies and sex. I heard them talking among themselves, commenting about my body and the way the hand, of one of them, was jerking me off. It was like they were commenting loudly among themselves to the players during a soccer game. Some were yelling for more action, faster or harder. Or they shouted that now it couldn't be missed, that I would score any moment. Or they wanted to see the wet glans or my body better. I felt the hand, rough and hard, hurting my love button. She squeezed too hard and pushed her hand too far back so that my aching foreskin seemed to tear. It hurtled. Too dry and too hard. Being jerked off like a cow being milked while the udder was insufficiently fat. Without the lube, the hand moved over my soft and sensitive parts. This was not masturbation but jerking off, hard and without feeling.

After a while, a buzzer rang. The hand stopped, a warm damp cloth with soap cleaned my lower body. This went as hard as a child being cleaned when changing his diaper. A powerful hand, wiping my noble parts without any respect before drying them off with an ever-harder towel. As if my body was a plate in the dishes, first brushed in freezing water and then dried with a rough, smelly tea towel. I got a sip of water from a water bottle.

I heard the women bet money for another round, with a new invisible attacker of my cock. There were bets on the amount of cum I would squirt this time. They also bet on the total amount of semen at the end of milking this young, beautiful bull at the end of the evening.

The bell rang, a new, softer, hand gripped my cock, a vibrator played with my balls and nipples. Defenseless as a cow to a milking machine, I squirted my cum in a few minutes. With the crowd shouting I filled a cup with my semen, or milk. They weighed the yield and threw it into the measuring cup for the day's yield. The game went, after the cleaning, into the next round and next hand jerking me.

After my ejaculation the lady in the hotel room, wiped my belly and cock and curled up against me. She talked again about her work, relationship, kids and how she missed the real sex and how good and horny it had been with me. I thanked her, got dressed, got a good bonus, and got on my bike home. My head again on my problems, pouring another glass of vodka and click on another porn movie.

* * *

It was still early in the evening. I would, with a few other students and friends, go out the old-fashioned way. From pub to pub until we would end up completely drunk in the gutter somewhere around sunrise. I needed to forget everything from the past two weeks. A good alcohol intoxication and not thinking about anything at all for a while is what I needed. Just getting drunk, talking to every stranger in a pub, singing on old rock numbers and dancing like I can dance.

It had been some tough weeks since my girlfriend traded me in for a new one and just threw me out on the street. In college, I got my first failing grade on an exam, I had been late for an appointment with my study supervisor, and my parents had called and left messages as many as five times. They had understood that it was over with my relation and were worried. They didn't know where I was or slept. I hadn't picked it up yet. After a few days with friends, I had found a room and new income, only I couldn't tell them. Nor that I had gone into a lot of debt. My bank account was empty, my credit card was used to its limit, and the debt with my new employer had reached a few thousand euros. I longed for unrestrained boozing.

* * *

Fortunately, the three women whom I had entertained with my twenty-year-old boy body had tipped me enough after the effort had been made. They paid for my services directly to my pimp. I saw almost nothing of that. I didn't even know what they had paid for my body and their needs. I received from him, like a child of his parents, a kind of a few pennies per week, enough for my rent and food until the debt was paid off, but not enough to really live. At the end of their pleasure and after some begging, they gave me a tip. Like they give a dog a treat when he returns his ball or like they give an Uber cab driver a little extra after a pleasant ride. I had saved enough cash tonight to go out. Another two or three months and I would be truly free again, the debt with my temporarily owner would be paid off and I could start turning down appointments. Now I had to take everything.

When I was just getting ready in my old jeans the message game, the name of a hotel bar in town and the time. Nothing else. I called off my mates, took a shower, treated my body and face with expensive creams and got on my bike to get to my work.

I ordered a beer as I entered the hotel bar and looked around. Searching for my next, middle aged, not sexy, customer. Groups of middle-aged men, women, and couples everywhere, but only one single piece. A woman sitting alone, with a cocktail, on the other side of the bar. This could be my fourth appointment in a week and a half. The highly blond, young woman looked bored at me. Her face was beautiful in a way, but also completely messed up by the amount of makeup. A thick layer of putty, too black and too long eyelashes and too much mascara. Big red lipstick around her mouth. A tight shirt, with low cleavage with an open jacket over it, showing huge breasts. She grabbed a mirror from her purse to touch up her makeup. I doubted she could be my date, she looked more like a cheap hooker waiting for her date.

Just as I was about to walk toward her, a middle-aged man, suit without a tie, entered the hotel bar. He looked around and resolutely walked up to her.

I sat across from them. I watched the game. Her hand disappeared under the bar after only five minutes, warming his crotch to get him horny. He kissed her full on the mouth a moment later, his hand briefly touching her large breasts, in the tight sweater from which they almost jumped out. The woman, with her firm voluptuous front, allowed it. She was clearly used to letting men have their way with her, in this way. She knew she had a bite. She grabbed his eager hand and, with a smile, pushed it away from her. They talked a bit and sat around making out what the next step was.

My date was late. I sat thinking about the dreams I had during the meetings. I was trying to understand where they came from. First there was the striptease dream, but now it went much further. I had become a sex-object. I didn't know what to do with my own thoughts. As if the ultimate desire was to become a sex object. Or was it my greatest fear? After the first night, a week and a half back, I had stopped using my own body for my own pleasure, which was not normal for me. I often and gladly played with my cock, but my own hand was no longer good enough without someone watching.

As I put my hand between my legs and began to massage myself under the bar, I saw her entering the bar. A red plaid skirt to ten inches above her knees, underneath dark stockings that ended in flat shoes. Above it a simple roomy white blouse close to the last button, below her skinny neck. The long sleeves of the white shirt were also fully buttoned at the end of her wrist. A small gold chain dangled above the blouse, and she had a small purse slung over her shoulder. Above that half-long dark hair, a small nose, tight white skin with almond shaped eyes. A beautiful Japanese woman, mid-thirties with not an ounce of fat too much, entered the room.

She looked around the bar, saw me sitting there, batted her eyes down and came my way.

'Is this chair free,' she asked.

'I'm waiting for an appointment, but maybe that's you?' I asked.

'My first name is Dai, not U.' she said as she sat down, without even looking at me.

She told me about her life last week. A top management job in a Japanese company. With some colleagues in Amsterdam for a proposal process. Four days they all worked hard. In the morning talks with the headquarters in Tokyo, then a meeting with the customer. In the afternoon and evening processing the added information and demands of the customer. In the evening sending everything to Japan and in the morning the next part of the contract was ready. Three days of sixteen hours of work. Now the presentation to the 'board' had been and they were free for the first time, until the plane, the next morning.

'Where are your colleagues?' I asked.

'To the 'red light district' and they clearly showed that I wasn't allowed to go with them,' she said.

'That's no fun either,' I said

Without daring to look at me, there came a story that this was normal. Working a lot and long hours, but outside of it you didn't see each other. She told me she had a few friends besides work. Her family lived far away, and she only saw them once a month. There were a few girlfriends with whom she sometimes went out. And she occasionally went to host clubs in Tokyo's Kabuki Chô district. There were bars with nice, sweet guys who were willing to talk to her and she would go out with them. She had a specific host that she dated more often.

'Do you have sex, with a host like that,' I asked.

'No, I don't. I take presents for him, we talk, eat somewhere, go gambling or to the Karaoke. I pay for everything, and for his time, we have fun and that's it.'

She was lonely, young beautiful and only work no play, between boring married man. I put my warm hand on her knee and felt how her body stiffen. I tell her that she is beautiful. She doesn't believe it. I told her that the moment she entered the bar I already wanted her. She looked around the area and lowered her eyes when she saw me. You looked like a shy girl, just like my first girlfriend back home I told her. Also, like her, you have those lovely sweet little breasts under your blouse that I could see moving gently, with every step, you moved closer. That she hid her beautiful body under a skirt like she was still a schoolgirl and that it made me horny. I was already getting hard just watching you, especially when you looked at me with those beautiful dark eyes. I said that all the other men in the bar looked at her. I told I would love to caress her, lick her, grope her. Gently fondling those girl's breasts. That it might not be like that in Japan because all the women there look like that, but here you really are desirable. And I really meant it, after three horses in my bed.

My hand touched her knee. And got higher, taking up her skirt. I longed for more, my hand briefly touched the white flesh above her long socks. She shuddered, closing her legs and pushing my hand away. When she looked at me, I saw red cheeks and wet eyes. She was startled by our eye contact and turned her face away. Across the bar, foreplay with the prostitute and her client was finished. She pushed his hand away from her front for the tenth time and whispered something in his ear. He nodded in confirmation. She stood up and went to "powder her nose" and he started paying for the champagne.

'We are going out, into town. I app my friends that I will be there in half an hour and take a girl with me. I'll show you how we do it in Holland. I'll be your host. But first I want to be your toyboy and play and fuck you.' I spoke.

The hooker returned, she grabbed the hand of her cash machine and pulled him behind her to the elevator. He followed her like a horny bear after the honey. The hooker had her loot inside. I stood up grabbed the hand of my beautiful prey and pulled her behind me into the same elevator. She resisted a bit, but my grip was firm and maybe it was just because she had never experienced this before. The man wrapped an arm around his fuck and grabbed her buttocks in the tight skirt with his hand. She was used to it and allowed it.

We got off at the same floor, they were two doors down. She opened her door and let me in. In the hallway, I pushed her against the wall. I grabbed her hands and held them above her head with one hand. I pushed my tongue into her mouth, and she offered no resistance at all. My other hand disappeared under her wide skirt. Straight up to her holy prey. I grabbed her entire crotch and felt how wet she was. My hand sought the top of her panties and pushed them down roughly. With her panties halfway up her thighs I groped her crotch again. She gasped like a horse as I gave her mouth space to breathe. I let go of her. She put her hands over my head.

'Fakkumi, Hosuto,' she shouted.

I unbutton her skirt, push down the panties and grope the beautiful white skinny women flesh. I open my zipper, remove my paints, and take my only possession from my pants. Grab her legs, spread them, lift them up. She folds them around me. With her hands around my neck and my hands under her thighs, I position her lower body above my large, wet and ready sex tool. When my glans finds her pussy, I lower her body over it. My lower body starts pumping and my cock goes deeper and harder into her. She screams more Japanese words in my ears, and I fuck her like a beast prostrates her. Uncontrolled I and hard. Five minutes after entering the hotel room, with her still around my neck and with my wet glans still deep inside her, I stumbled to the bed. She lets go and falls backward on the bed already looking worn out. I pull out, undress her further, admire her beautiful body, and reenter it. Soft and careful.