Freedom (Pt 2)

(Read Pt 1 here)

“I mean, I’m just gonna take it off you, anyway,” he said. He came over to me and took hold of my shoulders and kissed me, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close. I got that teary feeling again. He sensed it and broke the kiss. Looked into my eyes. Then he untied the belt of my robe and slipped it off my shoulders, dropping it to the floor. He looked me up and down.

“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head.

“What?” I said.

“You’re beautiful, that’s all. I knew you would be,” he said.

“Just from seeing me beg for change in my baggy-ass shirt?”I said. He ran his fingers down my bare side.

“Pretty much,” he said. “You’re so handsome.”

“I think you’re handsome, too,” I said. He cocked his head back. Then he put his hands at his sides.

“Strip me,” he said. I looked him over in his expensive, fitted clothes. He probably had a stylist, a trainer, a nutritionist. And now I got to treat him like a gift they’d prepared for me, and unwrap him.

I lifted his t-shirt, revealing his tanned chest, muscled in the classic way, every ridge and swell in place: the modern ideal of a manly chest. It was dusted with hair that it looked like he kept trimmed. I undid his jeans and pulled them down to his feet. His underwear was light blue which set off his tan skin. His package was full, and growing. I slid those down to reveal his cock – uncut, thickening, the pubes above it trimmed to a neat, short patch. His ball sack was as smooth as anything – I wondered if he paid someone to wax it.

He kicked off his pants, one leg at a time, and then we were both naked and face-to-face. He kissed me again. Our hard cocks brushed against one another, and then we were stuffing our tongues into one another’s mouths and squeezing each other, our cocks pressed between us and throbbing. I wrapped my arms around his strong back and for a moment he lifted me in the air while he kissed me.

We broke apart. Our cocks were leaking and we had twin threads of precum – one connecting my cock to his body, the other connecting his cock to mine.

“Wow,” he said, and that was when I knew the sex was going to be good, that we had it: chemistry, or whatever. And instantly my brain went there: This could be an ongoing thing...you could stay here through tomorrow…he could buy you clothes, take you to a movie premier...”

He got on his knees. He had this gleam in his eye. “I knew it was gonna be big,” he said.

“It’s not that big,” I said.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, hoisting it in his hand and holding it next to his face. He ran his tongue along the shaft, then shifted on his knees to get more comfortable, his gorgeous ass spread out behind him. He sniffed me, licked: really savored it, and it was so hot watching this beautiful, powerful man give himself over to me. I thought: sex is a miracle. That’s why it’s so shameful for people, so regulated and hidden, cause it’s revolutionary.

But I was still just a sex worker, and a reluctant one at that. It was all a fantasy, but it was a good fantasy, and the way his warm lips and tongue suckled the head of my cock made me weak in the knees. He took it all, slowly, inch by inch, down his muscled throat until his face was fully pushed into my groin, his nose obscured by my red bush of pubes. He came off it whimpering, like it was all too much for him to take. His own cock was still hard, with a pink head peeking out of its collar of foreskin.

I touched his head gently as he sucked my cock, running my fingers along the perfect folds and creases of his ears, the brush and sharp lines of his expensive haircut, the ridge of his brow. He looked up at me: the million-dollar movie star with a fat, homeless dick in his mouth.

Thinking about it that way killed the mood, a little. I got distracted and he noticed, and stood up.

“Everything okay?” he said. The tenderness of it went to my throat and I knew I had to get through this without crying, or without him seeing me cry. 

“Yeah,” I said and kissed his neck, as much to hide my face as anything. Doing that made me remember Chris saying that the neck was the most vulnerable place on a person, and that allowing someone to kiss your neck was to demonstrate trust. I kept kissing him, down his neck to his shoulders and his chest. He had a mole on his left nipple – not one that you’d notice from a few feet away but I wondered if it was something that movie people had to cover up for his inevitable shirtless shots.

I dragged my tongue along the ridges of his hairless abs as I got on my knees. He had a nice cock – average sized, but well-proportioned. I held his hairless balls in my hand and gave each one a kiss. Then I pressed my nose into the side of his crotch and inhaled. He smelled, well, kind of like his house: expensive and new.  I licked up his shaft of his veined cock, dipping the tip of my tongue into the folds of his half-retracted foreskin. There was a drop of precum at the tip and as I noticed it, it detached and rolled down his shaft. I caught it with my tongue before it reached his balls, then licked up the trail it had left in its wake.

I looked up at him. His chest was heaving but he smiled back at me. I hadn’t had sex in so long I’d almost forgotten how much fun it could be, how it took you out of yourself and put you in another world for a while – one that was mostly unspoken physical communication.  

I slipped my lips over the head of his cock and, as he watched me, took it whole-hog down my throat. He groaned and turned his face to the ceiling. I still had his nuts in my hand as I held his cock inside me, my throat stretching around the thick base of it. I sucked him for a while on my knees, then he lifted me onto my feet by my armpits. He pulled me into him roughly so that I sort of fell into him and for a moment I thought, This is where it shifts, where he gets aggressive and throws me on the bed and beats me up…

But even though he held me by the neck, and his grip was intense, he just kissed me. And when he pulled apart from me and looked into my eyes I sensed that he was searching for the same measure of trust that I wanted from him. So I smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back. Instead he took hold of my wrist and brought my hand behind his body, to his ass, guiding my fingers into the crack of it. I pushed my fingers in that smooth crevice, reaching lower until I found his slick, tender asshole. He groaned and his eyes got soft. I pressed harder and he rested his chin on my shoulder and said “Yes.” Mr. Movie Star, it would seem, wanted to bottom.

I kissed him as I played with his hole. He had my cock in his hand, stroking and squeezing as if to prepare it to go inside of him. Eventually we broke apart and he smirked at me as he got on the bed, on all fours, presenting himself to me: muscular back, knees planted wide, muscle butt splayed to display his winking, hairless hole. It looked like such a porno asshole. He probably bleaches it, I thought. Maybe he has an asshole specialist to keep it looking perfect. He grinned back at me over his rounded shoulder.

“Eat me out,” he said.

“Yes sir,” I said, and got on the bed behind him. I ate that movie-star ass out for all it was worth (five million for major roles – I looked it up later). Honestly, I’d never been much of a top and had just assumed he would fuck me. But the unexpected turn of events turned me on and I wanted to make the most of it. So I ramped it up slowly, licking all around his ass – up his thighs, along his tan cheeks, down his crack – and taking care to stop just at the rim of his puckering hole to make him anticipate it.

He’d been moaning in a low, quiet way. But then I dove my tongue right into his asshole and the sound that came out of him was throaty, full and maybe just a bit actor-y, but it worked. His hole opened up to let my tongue get deeper and when I felt for his cock it was as hard as hard can be, and you can’t fake that. He was backing up onto my face and his hole kept opening up more. He tasted good, the muskiness of his humanity seeping through the polished surface. When I touched a finger to his hole he backed up into it and suddenly his ass was devouring it. He really wanted fucked, and I was ready. I got up behind him and laid my cock against his smooth ass crack, that he’d somehow managed to tan.

“You want this dick?” I said.

“Fuck yes,” he said, smiling back at me. “Give it to me man.”

“Got a condom?” I said.

“Hell no man,” he said. “Fuck me bareback.” My anxiety welled up. I had to say it.

“I’m pos,” I said. “Undetectable.”

“Perfect, man. I’m on PrEP,” he said, pushing his ass back. “Give me that raw dick.” The rim of his hole gobbled up my cock head. The feeling was like a shot of adrenaline to my heart – it had been so long since I’d been inside of someone. I pushed forward while he pushed back and even though we’d used nothing but spit I slid into him as smooth as silk, inch after inch until my pelvis was flush with his butt.  

“That’s it. Goddamn that’s a big dick,” he said. I felt his hole tightening around me then relaxing. The power of it was intoxicating – an hour or two ago I’d been in my tent next to the highway and now my dick was inside a movie star. I pulled out slowly, watching my fat cock reappear from inside him like a magic trick. He called out as I slammed it back inside. Something took over, then, and I started pounding him with all I had. He was loving it, too, screaming “Fuck me! Fuck me!”, his hard cock not so much bouncing with my thrusts as vibrating like a stretched wire, when he wasn’t giving it quick strokes with his hand.

“I want to see you,” he said, and came off of me. He flipped on his back and put his legs in the air, immediately grabbing my cock and guiding it back inside of him. I held his legs up and started into his gorgeous face, his twinkling eyes, while I fucked him like he was the whore. The harder I went the more turned on he seemed to get, and I was right there with him. We were both heaving and it was ramping up in this uncontrollable way.

“I’m gonna fucking cum, man,” I said.

“Do it. Cum inside me,” he said. His muscled tits were bouncing as I banged into him. He started stroking his cock. “Oh fuck yeah I’m gonna cum too. Fuck!” He started to cum, huge ropes that volleyed out of his cock in time with my thrusts, like I was the pump and he was the spout. At the same time I was cumming inside of him, banging him hard as I unloaded, shot after shot that matched with his. His load shot as far as his chin, Pollock-like splatters that slashed across his perfect torso. It was just too sexy and I had to lean down and lap them up. But before I could swallow he pulled my face to his and we shared it, making out as we passed his cum back and forth on our tongues.

We collapsed, and a little while later we toweled off and went downstairs for a glass of water. He offered me a slice of cake and we ate it as we stood at his counter, still naked, smiling at each other but not saying much. It was really good cake, moist with frosting that wasn’t too sweet.  

“I’m exhausted,” he said, so we went back to his room and he pulled me into bed with him. It was this – him drifting off with me wrapped in his arms – that finally did make me cry, but only just a little. And I did it quietly, so he wouldn’t hear. Once it ran its course I realized how tired I was and how comfortable his bed was. I put one of his fluffy pillows between my knees like I like, then rolled away from him and slipped into sleep.

When I woke it was still dark and he’d embraced me from behind. His cock was hard which made mine instantly shoot up. Then we were fucking again, and being more deliberate and slow about it this time. He rode me for a while, squatting over me so he could see my dick sliding in and out of him. I fucked him from behind, I fucked him standing up, I fucked him on his side. We fell asleep with me inside of him, then woke up in an hour and fucked some more.

When it got light outside he took me to his outdoor shower which had a heated stone floor. I came inside him a third time and then got down on my knees and offered my face to him, which he coated in his load. Then he licked it off and shared it with me.

And then it was time to go. We’d been chatting about my life and his as I got dressed and packed, but he didn’t ask too many questions so I didn’t either. It felt respectful, though, like neither of us wanted to pry. He handed me a wad of cash before I walked out the door. I counted it in the cab. It was more than he’d promised. I watched his gate close as the cab pulled away and felt this ecstatic feeling well up in me. I’d done a good job, and now it was over. I felt free.  

I imagined his life again, how he couldn’t walk down the street without people knowing who he was. Probably he could choose to be anonymous and poor as easily as I could choose to be a famous, rich actor. I mean, weren’t we all just stuck with what we got? In any case, he was behind a gate and I was out in the world and we’d exchanged something – some cum, some cash, and some grit. And if the world wasn’t any more fair because of it, well, it wasn’t our fault.  

The End