Money’s on the Dresser: Escorting, Porn and Promiscuity in Las Vegas (9 page)

My hands went higher and higher on his legs and I could see as I passed his knees that the sheets and blankets were making a tent around his dick.
Wow,
I thought,
I guess his equipment really does work!
I continued to massage closer and closer to his balls until I finally took his dick in my hand and began to stroke it.
So this is what a dick that hasn’t gotten off in years feels like.

Although this session was already a little emotionally draining, I was intrigued by it all. I was in a room at the Luxor Hotel having sex with a virgin who had multiple sclerosis and couldn’t move his body. I wasn’t sure what made him choose the Luxor, as it is one of the least desirable places to stay on the strip. As I continued to massage him I asked why, and he told me that between his trip to Vegas with his caregiver and hiring me, the Luxor was all he could afford. That made my heart melt even more, and I felt guilty knowing I was going to take his money at the end of our session.

I applied a bit more lotion to my hands and kept stroking his dick slowly. I’m not sure how close he was to cumming, but I wanted to at least try getting him through oral and anal sex so he could get his money’s worth and enjoy himself. I lifted up the sheets, took his dick in my hands, bent down to wrap my lips around it and began to suck. Instantly, he began to moan. Now I was curious. I had forgotten how a blowjob feels for the first time. I get one or give one almost every day, so it was interesting to see how someone his age reacts to getting blown for the first time ever. I went at it for a few minutes and tried my best to make it as sensual and enjoyable as possible.

He asked if he could kiss me, and I said sure. Honestly though, I was debating whether this was something I was okay doing. Typically, I always kiss clients for a little bit, unless they stink like cigarette smoke, are missing teeth, or have terrible halitosis. Many people think escorts never kiss because it’s too personal, but they’ll do almost anything else. My clients generally hire me for a boyfriend experience and want more than rough, hard, nasty, or messy sex. They generally want something sensual, romantic, and passionate, so I always try at least a little bit of kissing. With Craig, there were cords connected to machines that were attached to his body, and he couldn’t really move his head, so I went in and began kissing his mouth and he lay there looking up at me as he experienced his first kiss with a man. The whole experience so far was anything but typical. Again I wanted to give him an experience to remember, so I continued kissing him for a few minutes and he seemed to really enjoy it.

He was eager to get to the fucking, but I could tell he wanted to spend an equal amount of time kissing, being touched, and just feeling another man next to him. I asked him if he wanted to eat my ass, and he said sure. I looked around the bed to see what I could use for balance. Even though he was going to be giving me the rim job, this was going to take some thought on my part.

I managed to balance myself over his head with one foot on the nightstand and another foot on the bed close to the headboard. Thank God for my strong legs and ability to balance because it was not easy. I let him bury his face in my hole as I rode back and forth on his tongue clutching the headboard and desperately trying not to fall backward. I moaned and acted like it was the best rim job I had ever had, trying to reassure him he was doing a good job. I saw my reflection in an awful Egyptian painting on the wall in front of me, and I couldn’t even make sense of what I was watching. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous I must have looked, but I thought it would be more polite to continue acting like it was the best rim job ever.

“Fuck yeah, baby, that’s awesome.”

His tongue just stuck out as I did all the work, but I wanted to make him feel like a champ so I moaned and told him how great it felt as I held onto the headboard for dear life, my nails digging into the wood. It was at this point I thought I should definitely be given some kind of escort award because it felt like fucking Cirque du Soleil in his room. I was giving you theater, flexibility, and passion. Escort realness, Vegas style.

He wanted to fuck me, and thankfully getting him hard wasn’t going to be a problem. I wrapped a condom around his dick, covered it in lube, and climbed on the bed. Again, this was going to require some balance and strength. I was unsure as to how I was going to do this, and I felt like I was looking at the periodic table of elements. I failed chemistry in high school, and I felt just as baffled now as I was figuring out a way to mount his dick and get fucked. As an escort, you have try to constantly look sexy, desirable, and “in the moment.” You have to do this even if your partner is severely overweight or smells like he hasn’t showered after a six-hour flight; if there’s shit all over your dick, body, and bed from someone who didn’t douche before sex; or when someone lathers an entire bottle of Astroglide lube all over your body and insists on rubbing himself on you for more than forty minutes. All of which has happened to me at least once.

Getting fucked by him ended up not being too difficult, although it took a lot of balance and put an incredible amount of strain on my legs. After riding him for a few minutes, I could tell he was close to cumming, so I climbed off and started to stroke his cock. He looked like he was enjoying it, but he also looked like he was in pain. I asked him if he was okay and he said yes, so I continued stroking, but harder and faster. I squirted some more lube on his dick to avoid chaffing and kept beating him off as he got closer and closer to cumming. Right before he did, he shouted, “I’m gonna cum!” I looked down, curious to see what his massive sperm build-up would look like. He began to shoot strings of cum everywhere, but then his cum went from a normal healthy white to a dark red. Blood was shooting out from his dick and all over his stomach, sheets, and my hands.
Oh, my God. I was not at all prepared for blood. What the fuck did I do to him?
I told myself to keep going and finish him off. The last thing I wanted to do was freak him out as he was losing his virginity.

After the blood stopped shooting from his dick and he stopped panting I asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. That was awesome! Thanks!”

“No problem.” I paused and tried to sound completely normal and calm as I said, “There was a lot of blood in your cum, so I just want to be sure everything is okay and I didn’t hurt you.”

“Really, there was blood? I’m sorry,” he sounded just as surprised as I was.

“I just want to be sure you’re okay.”

“Yes, I’m good. The blood was probably from having used catheters for so many years. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. I just want to be sure you’re okay,” I repeated.

“I’m good. Thanks.” He smiled and I leaned down to give him a kiss on the lips.

I excused myself to wash my hands for at least three verses of “Happy Birthday.” I knew he didn’t have anything I should be worried about catching, and I didn’t have any open wounds on my hands, but the whole experience of having blood shoot all over my hands was intense. I needed a few minutes to collect my thoughts before I returned to the bedroom.

After I cleaned up, I rejoined him. He asked if I would help him smoke a cigarette and he offered me one too.

“No, thank you. I’m headed to the gym soon, and smoking before a workout probably isn’t the best thing.” He laughed and I smiled at him as I pulled a Marlboro light out of the pack. A bedridden law student who can’t move asked me to help him smoke a cigarette; that’s kind of badass! He tells me his system for smoking: I put the cigarette in his mouth and he inhales, but when he blinks his eyes, it means he’s had enough and I should remove the cigarette from his mouth. We did this for a few minutes, and he told me how happy he was with the whole encounter. He also mentioned how he couldn’t wait to go back and tell all his friends he finally lost his virginity.

“You told everyone back home you were going to do this?”

“Yeah, sure. I told most of my friends and they think it’s great,” he said proudly.

I’m used to my clients being married or closeted or they’ve never been with a guy before. Some clients give me a fake name, call from a blocked number, and sometimes they buy a pay-by-the-minute phone to contact me. I was impressed by his “I don’t give a fuck” attitude about contacting and having sex with an escort and then telling everyone about it.

“Cool,” I said, proud to be this guy’s first sexual experience. It seemed a little odd to think that all his friends, not to mention his male nurse, were anxiously waiting to hear about the escapade and ready to congratulate him. It was like he had just graduated, closed on a house, or had a given birth to a child.

He finished the cigarette and we chatted for a bit. I helped him drink his water from a bottle with a really long straw. I placed the straw in his mouth as I held the bottle and he would take a few sips, stop, and then take another few sips again. His nurse returned and very casually said hi and began making small-talk. I excused myself to shower and clean up. There was no awkwardness and no uncomfortable silences among the three of us. We all knew what had just happened for the past three hours, and that was that.

He said there was an envelope in the nightstand drawer with six hundred dollars in it. I removed it, put it in my pocket, and said my good-byes. I kissed him before I left, shook the nurse’s hand, and was on my way to the gym.

Chapter Seven

One Man’s Last Sexual Experience

A few days after my date with Craig at the Luxor, I got a phone call reminding me about a date I had set up with a man named Dale from Southern California. We had e-mailed back and forth, deciding on meeting in his room at Caesar’s Palace on a Thursday night for two hours starting at 8 p.m. When I arrived I knocked on the door. A nice-looking man in a Hoveround scooter answered and greeted me warmly. I said hello, smiled back, and entered the room. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the scooter, because I see tons of people every day in casinos who can walk but use them when they come to Vegas. All the hotels and casinos on the strip look like they are close to each other, but they generally take a lot of time to get from one to another. Therefore, many people opt for a scooter, especially if they are not physically fit. Was this man one of them, or did he really need it full-time?

I realized this was a handicapped room because of the spacious layout and some of the machinery attached to the walls to assist him in getting around.

“So I guess you’re wondering about the scooter,” he said.

“Kind of. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I actually suffer from multiple sclerosis, and over time I have lost most of the use of my legs and the rest of my body.”

Seriously?
Less than a week before, I was in a hotel room with Craig having an almost identical conversation. I had never before met anyone with advanced multiple sclerosis, and now I was about to have sex with my second in less than a week. Was the universe trying to tell me something?

As Dale spoke, his voice shook and he had a hard time getting out his words. At first, I thought maybe he had a learning disability or speech impediment because his sentences weren’t making any sense. His voice quivered the entire time we spoke, and he couldn’t formulate what he was thinking into complete sentences.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, but to be honest, I’m really nervous, and I can’t really say what I want because you’re here. I’ve never done this and I can’t think clearly.”

“I see... don’t worry about it. Just relax and take your time. We have two hours and I’m up for anything.”

I could see that he was becoming a bit more at ease as we continued talking and he eventually began to calm down. He told me about his condition and how his body was fast deteriorating. He called me because he found me attractive and wanted to have a sexual experience while he still had some mobility left in his body. He was worried that in the next four to six months he would lose the use of his entire body and this was going to be the last experience before he was completely immobile.

This information took a lot to process. A few days earlier, I had a twenty-eight-year-old virgin who couldn’t move asking me to be his first sexual experience, and now I had a middle-aged man in a scooter asking me to be his last sexual partner. Again, I felt tiny, insignificant, and completely humble. This was all a lot of pressure and hard to process. What could I possibly do to fulfill this man’s expectations for a final sexual experience? I began to get more nervous and a little worried. I looked at the clock and noticed that we had been speaking for more than an hour. If we were going to try anything, we had to move quickly. I had no idea if I was going to be doing all the work like when Craig and I had sex, or if he was going to be able to do some as well.

I said we should probably get started, and he laughed, apologizing for talking too much.

“No worries. How about next time we meet I bring you some Xanax and we can have a drink to calm your nerves?” He laughed and agreed.

I excused myself to go to the bathroom and he began hoisting himself out of the scooter and onto the bed. This was quite a process to watch. I asked if I could help or if he needed me to do anything, but he said he was fine. I couldn’t believe this man went through this every time he got in or out of bed and my respect for him grew. I was impressed that Dale was able to make this journey to Las Vegas alone, able to figure out a way to get around and take care of himself with such limited mobility.

I came out of the bathroom and once again glanced at the clock. I had another appointment directly after Dale with a regular client named Rodney. I didn’t want Dale to sense that I was rushing things, but I wanted to be sure I had enough to time to give both guys the attention they expected and were paying for. I had no idea how Dale and I were going to do anything in less than forty minutes that would make this a memorable experience for him.

The rest of our time together is a blur now. We experimented with making out, body contact, oral sex, and I was able to fuck him for a little while. It was difficult topping him since he couldn’t move much of his lower body, but we somehow made it work for a few minutes. He basically lied there on his side with his ass close to the edge while I stood on the floor, stuck my dick in him, and fucked him. It was an awkward position, and I wasn’t sure if he was getting anything out of it, but I kept going and tried to focus on keeping my dick hard. Plus, it was getting closer and closer to the two-hour mark, and I had to leave on time to meet Rodney at The M Resort.