December 18th
It’s Christmas time again. Yay. I’m cold. I hate the cold. This year I am determined that nothing is going to go wrong. I helped Vomit to put the decorations up today – after many years of honing our technique we have developed an efficient system: she steals the holly from next door’s tree and I put it in the vase on the table.
Vomit’s friend Elsie and her son are up from Dorset visiting family for a few days to say goodbye - they’re emigrating to Australia next month, and they’re coming round tonight. They’re Catholic or Presbyterian or something; apparently Adrian sings in the church choir down there. I hope they don’t stay long.
Now that’s interesting: I’ve never met either of them, but if Vomit’s behaviour is anything to go by the boy must be unusually cute. She sat me down and laid down the law: “He’s eighteen, and off limits – read my lips – off limits . I’ve known Elsie for years and I do not want her to know that my flatmate is a degenerate. If you so much as touch the boy I will cut off your balls one by one and feed them to the ducks. I will also make your life a living hell for the foreseeable future.”
“All right already,” I said. “Good grief woman, I don’t pounce on every boy I meet, for fuck’s sake.” She looked surprised. “Yes you do,” she said.
This was the first occasion for years that I could remember Vomit looking even vaguely normal. I didn’t even know that she possessed a blue pullover and black slacks, and she looked somehow naked without all the metal. Her hair was still green and purple, but the pigtails had gone. Still sulking, I helped her clean the front room for the visit. I was going to be very interested to see what the boy Adrian looked like.
Oh sweet fuck. When the door opened I thought I was having a religious epiphany: an angel in a snow-white hoodie and skinny jeans. A glowing boy with blond hair, blue eyes, and the most beautiful, kissable lips; his powerful, silky white wings extending from muscular shoulders like welcoming arms yearning to embrace my soul and to subsume it into an eternity of ecstasy. Well all right, there were no wings, but there easily could have been. My mouth went dry and I could feel my cock getting hard. Oh, and Elsie was there as well.
Vomit and the visitors were all smiles as we went into the living room. Adrian was looking at my leathers and the growing bulge in my tight jeans with a strange expression on his face that I took to be disgust. I put my hands over my crotch to hide it when I sat down. I was finding it very hard to take my eyes off him.
A difficult evening. Trying to act rationally is not easy when you have a rock-hard cock between your legs desperate to get to the boy on the other side of the coffee table. Neither is it easy to hide such an erection, but I had to – from all three of them. I excused myself as soon as I could and rushed into the bedroom to have a quick wank, hoping that would help. It did, for a full three minutes.
Finally the visit was over and they went home. I think my acting must be getting better: Vomit seemed to have noticed neither my constant hard-on nor my 250 bpm heart rate, cos she was smiling as she tidied up. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Well done!” She elbowed my arm conspiratorially. “I think Elsie likes you.” It wasn’t Elsie I was thinking about.
December 19th
A bizarre session this evening. An amateur magician / voice thrower with a misplaced sense of humour – the single red rose that suddenly appeared from his arse was surprising, but the goat effects were even more unsettling.
I closed the door and leaned against it, clutching my hundred quid tightly. I was damned if I was going to let him make that disappear.
December 20 th
Was heading for the checkouts in Tesco’s with a 2-litre bottle of green top when I almost bumped into Adrian coming around the top of the aisle. “Oh, hi Adrian,” I said.
When he realised who I was his eyes went straight to my crotch and that strange expression appeared on his face again. Disbelief? Fright? I had no idea. “Hi Robert.” He mumbled something self-consciously about having to get on, and set off down towards Cold Meats. He was a beautiful shape: broad shoulders, slim waist, solid thighs and a gorgeous round arse. I watched it carefully as he walked off. Oh God I fancied that boy, and something was going to have to be done about it – Vomit or no Vomit.
December 21st
A long session booked for this afternoon. It was going to pay very well indeed, but it was likely to go on into the evening. The guy wanted to be totally immobilised, and then be subjected to very prolonged edging. I mummified him with pallet wrap from his neck to his toes, then stood him against one of the floor-to-ceiling posts and wound wide rubber strips around him and the post until he was completely covered with that. Then a gag, a blindfold and a hood on top of those. By the time I’d finished he couldn’t move a single muscle in any direction. I looked at him: a smooth black cocoon with a pair of balls and a rock-hard cock sticking out. He’d been hard since I’d first begun to mummify him – he said he’d been looking forward to it so much that he hadn’t cum for twelve days.
I started on him with feathers. An hour later my back was complaining so I asked Vomit to take over for a bit while I went and had a sit down in front of the telly. She’s almost as good at edging as I am.
For the next three hours we took it in turns to work on him. As well as feathers we used all kinds of things – electric toothbrushes, tissues, small paintbrushes, slippery leather and rubber, oiled thongs – anything that we knew would make a hard, desperate cock need to cum even more. There was a pool of precum on the floor and it was continuing to grow. A while ago he’d started to make urgent noises about needing to cum, but we ignored them.
At 7 pm Vomit had to go out so I was left to work on him on my own. By 8:30 I was knackered so I got the vibrator out. It’s an old thing but it can be fun. I slipped the tube over his cock, fixed it in place, turned it down to its minimum setting and switched it on. It’s just a rubber tube with a small vibrator in it, and even at its highest setting it’s not very effective, but I thought it might be enough to keep him interested while I had a cup of tea. I didn’t want it to make him cum, but there wasn’t much chance of that; he’d told me that working just on the head was the way to make him lose it, and I’d positioned the vibrator halfway down the shaft. I watched him for a while. The device certainly seemed to be getting to him - he was moaning into the gag pitifully. I stayed there for another five minutes to make sure there was no chance of the thing taking him over the edge, and then I left the two of them together.
I sat down in the armchair and put my tea on the coffee table, and also my booted feet. Oh fuck, that felt good. I wondered if I was getting too old for this sort of thing. The working life of a rent boy is usually quite short, but thankfully I’d still got my looks and my figure. I knew I was still a dead sexy boy, but I wondered how much longer I’d be able to get away with it.
I woke up when the front door opened and Vomit came in. “Hi. How was he?”
I blinked and looked at the clock. It was 1:30 am. Shit! I leaped out of the chair and ran into the playroom. The vibrator was still doing its thing on his cock – as it had been doing for the last five hours. He was still moaning, but not as loudly and a lot more hoarsely than before. The pool of precum on the floor was now more like a lake. I went to unplug the vibrator and for a moment the sleeve of my leather jacket touched the head of his cock. It had barely made contact, but it was enough: he yelled into the gag and came. As soon as I saw what was happening I grabbed the head and wanked it. His body shook in the restraints as desperate gobs of spunk pumped out into my hand and onto the floor.
When he’d finished cumming I removed the machine, then the hood and the blindfold came off, and the gag. There was drool everywhere. “Are you Ok?” I asked urgently. He continued to moan. Together Vomit and I unwound the rubber, then I used bandage scissors to cut the pallet wrap. We caught him as he fell towards us and lowered him gently to the floor.
I was imagining law suits and even physical violence but when he was able to speak again he looked at me adoringly and started to thank me. Oh God that was what real edging was about, he said. Best session ever, he said. He kept on and on about it - I couldn’t shut him up.
We’d agreed on a hundred and fifty quid but he paid me double that – in cash. Some people are strange.
December 24th
“Whaddya think?” Vomit gave me a twirl on the living room carpet. Vomit’s hair is green and purple this week; she has piercings in many places that are visible and many more that are not, and – like me - she has a proclivity for wearing fuck-off boots and much black leather. But this time she had outdone herself. Her eye makeup made it look like she’d been hit in the face by a two-by-four, and she had so much metal in her that any passing magnet would have become a permanent accessory. It was also the first time I’d ever seen a leather basque worn over a motorcycle jacket.
I nodded. “Very nice,” I said. “How about me?” I did a twirl as well.
“Hmm. Jeans could be a bit tighter,” she said.
“Funny, funny.” These were the tightest and sexiest of all my leather jeans. It took me fifteen minutes to get into them. I always went commando anyway but with these it would have been physically impossible to wear anything under them – you couldn’t have got a cigarette paper between my skin and the leather. With the chunky New Rock boots and the studded jacket they looked great, I thought. I’d even put a spiked collar on and a touch of dark eye shadow – much more tastefully applied that hers, I might add. Wearing gear like this always made me feel horny.
Vomit was off to see some man, and so was I. At my guy’s request I was going to be his pervy biker babysitter: put him into a nappy, spank his arse and his thighs comprehensively, and then fuck him senseless in my leathers. And he was paying two hundred quid for the privilege. The guy was deeply unattractive, but his cash wasn’t.
He lived over on the other side of the river and I heard the choir practicing as I passed the church. The guy actually made quite a good toddler if you discounted the 6’ 2”, 20-stone body. And the beard. I’m used to being able to get hard even if I’m not turned on, so he thought I was really getting into it. I wasn’t, but he didn’t know that. He had a wonderful time.
It was late afternoon and I could feel the cold wind through the thin leather of my jeans on the way back. I turned my head as I heard voices. The vicar – an oleaginous little squirt named Reginald - was saying goodbye to someone by the church door. He went down towards the rectory and the other guy set off towards the main path and me. As he approached, the figure resolved itself into a golden angel. It was Adrian. I stopped and watched. God that boy was breathtakingly beautiful: his curly blond hair and blue eyes, and that sexy body made me want to kiss him senseless, lick him all over, and then rape the bastard. “Hi Adrian,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. One of my thumbs was in a pocket and my fingers rested on the outline of my cock.
“Robert.” His eyes again went straight to my crotch. This time I not only let him see the bulge that was clearly visible there, but I also stroked my fingers teasingly over it. He blinked, and swallowed. I took a step closer, raised his chin with my hand and kissed him slowly on the lips. Oh fuck he tasted soooo good. I felt momentary resistance, followed by a giving in to desire, and then, a few seconds later, a sudden pulling away through self-consciousness.
He looked nervously up and down the path, but there was nobody else about. “Come with me.” He grabbed my arm and led me to a narrow door in the wall of the church. It opened into a small vestry. There were cupboards with black cassocks and white surpluses hanging in them, an old upright piano on one side, and a small stained-glass window high up. Not that I got much of a chance to see any of this because as soon as he’d kicked the door closed he grabbed me and kissed me hard. His hands were all over me, and came to rest on my tight leather bum.
Still kissing him, I pushed him towards the piano, unfastening his jeans and pulling them and his underpants down as we went, then I turned him around and bent him over the end of the closed keyboard. He was still trying to turn his head to kiss me but he couldn’t reach now. I spat on my cock and pushed it into him. He inhaled sharply, then relaxed and I started to fuck him with long, slow strokes. I suspected they wouldn’t stay long and slow for very long.
“Oh! Hello boys. Adrian, Robert.”
We froze in mid-thrust, both staring in horror towards the door. The vicar stood a few feet away. He looked very surprised.
“Erm… The order book,” he said, recovering quickly. “More communion wafers are needed,” He blinked, then he reached forward slowly and gingerly picked up a thin book from the top of the piano with a single finger and thumb.
“Hmm.” The vicar nodded. “Please put the light out when you leave.” With a final, slightly confused nod, he turned and walked back into the church.
“Oh shit.” Adrian started to get up, but I had no intention of passing up this opportunity to fuck an angel. I resumed thrusting. “No! We can’t -” A gagging hand kept him quiet over the piano as I concentrated on orchestrating a rapid crescendo of lust. Said crescendo culminated in a fortissimo of orgasm for both of us, his spunk overflowing my milking hand and running down the polished rosewood while I came volcanically inside him.
I put my cock away, turned him around and kissed him again – this time very slowly and very deeply. He responded for a few moments and then pushed me away gently, looking around. His eyes settled on the hanging vestments.
“I don’t suppose you would -” He stopped, then swallowed.
I waited for him to go on but he was nervous. I’m used to nervous. “I can do anything you want,” I said, smiling gently.
Sixty seconds later he was standing there naked under a white surplus and ruff. I grinned and pushed him to his knees. “My very own altar boy,” I said. “Lick.” He licked. Then I fucked him again.
December 25 th
I think I’ve got away with it. It’s Christmas morning and Vomit is still smiling. We’ve exchanged presents (she gave me a pair of black leather socks. Not quite sure how practical, but it’s the thought that counts). And I’m looking forward to Christmas dinner – Vomit’s already been busy in the kitchen for hours. The only blot on my landscape is that Adrian is going home tomorrow. I don’t know what I’m going to do – I desperately don’t want him to go.
Mid-morning there was a knock on the door. It was the vicar. Suddenly very nervous, I went to make tea.
After the pleasantries Reginald got around to what he had clearly come for. “Robert,” he said, putting down his teacup. “I understand you have a fine singing voice. St Cuthbert’s is looking for tenors for the choir. Would you consider joining us?”
The only thing on this earth that would persuade me to join the church choir is the possibility of seeing Adrian on a regular basis – but I knew that he was going back home to Dorset tomorrow. “I’m afraid not,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
“Oh yes. I am very sure. You have no idea how sure I am.”
The vicar paused, then smiled. “That’s a pity. The sounds you were making when you and Adrian were practicing on the vestry piano the other day were… interesting.”
I froze.
Vomit looked at me incredulously. “Really?”
I had a clear vision of my Christmas dinner receding into the distance. Again.
Then her eyes began to narrow. Her basilisk stare moved slowly to focus on the vicar. “What exactly were they doing?”
He wouldn’t. The bastard wouldn’t…
The vicar turned back to me. “Are you quite sure you won’t reconsider, Robert?”
I looked at the slimy bastard. He was smiling sweetly.
December 26 th
Why does it always end like this? Vomit has no evidence whatsoever and yet of course I’m guilty. She interrogated me for hours but I stuck to the story that Adrian had just wanted to hear me sing a verse of a hymn. That’s all. Nothing happened. Nothing to see here.
Did it work? Did it fuck. The woman knows. Life is going to be unpleasant for a few weeks. Again.
And I’ve lost my golden angel; he’s gone home. I want to die.
And there’s fucking choir practice tonight.
December 28 th
There has been a very strange development. Elsie called me. It seems that not only did I make an impression on the boy Adrian, but also on her. Seems she likes me a lot. But there’s more. I don’t know what Adrian’s said to her, but they are offering to share their house just outside Sydney with me – for as long as I want – if I fancy going to Australia.
I put the phone down in a daze.
Australia.
Adrian.
Australia.
Adrian.
Adrian.
Adrian.
I’ve never thought seriously about moving to the other side of the planet before, but I suddenly realised that the idea has a lot going for it. It’s warm there. Yes! And Adrian will be there. Double yes! As for money, Elsie implied that there is much opportunity for a boy like me over there. I’m not quite sure what she meant by that…
So now I must decide.
I’ve decided. Fuck it. I’m going.
January 23 rd
Saying goodbye to Vomit was more difficult than I’d expected. I’ve known her a long time and we’ve been through some good – and some bad – times together. I told her she could visit, but she has the idea that the spiders in Australia are the size of houses, so that’s unlikely to happen.
I’m sitting here on the plane with a golden angel next to me. He is beautiful and he tells me he’s desperately in love with me. Elsie knows, and for some unaccountable reason seems to approve. “I just want my little boy to be happy,” she says. Hmm. When I see the wicked twinkle in his eyes when he looks at me I think her little boy has hidden depths even she doesn’t know about. As for me, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I fancy the arse off Adrian, and he is a lovely, lovely boy. He either doesn’t know how gorgeous he is, or he doesn’t think about it. I am deeply, deeply in love with him.
We’ll be in Sydney tomorrow, and then, who knows? I’ve been skipping through this diary, remembering the fun times, and now I‘m making the last entry. I think I’ll send the diary to Vomit - it’ll remind her of me.
Adrian’s just whispered in my ear. He’s going to go to the toilet first, and I’ll join him in a minute, so it’s not too obvious. The loos on planes aren’t very big, but I’m good at making the best of any available facilities.
One of the benefits of being a rent boy.