WHEN I WAS A MALE ESCORT

I was working during the day as a door-to-door salesman, selling ‘Golfing Packages’, to golfers.

The art of the job was to find a golfing man, and make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

They never refused…

I replied to an advert in the Friday Ad advertising for a male escort, and got invited to an interview at an address in Portslade’s Old Village.

The pimp called Mike, introduced Diana the prostitute, spread out on a double bed in the front room.

Covered by only a red sheet she bemoaned the pleasures of having achieved her first orgasm, only hours ago.

She looked 50 years at least!

Mike, a maths teacher during the day was helping her out as a favour.

Like I said, she was over the moon when I walked in (not because I was going to shag her) but because during her most recent job, ‘a threesome’, she had an orgasm for the first time in her life from the skills of her beautiful girlfriend, she couldn’t have been happier.

Alas she was the ugliest prostitute I had ever seen.

The sheer memory of which, strikes a shiver down my spine.

Skinny as a rake with droopy tits, hair of a witch and a face I don’t even dare to recall.

And to my utter horror, I was told by Mike that I had to shag her as part of the interview.

It wasn’t a prospect I was looking forward to. But a whore has got to do what a whore has got to.

And as long as Mike wasn’t in the room, I was prepared to ‘whore’ it.

We agreed that he’ll leave the room and watch us shag from up-stairs on the spy-video camera, making sure I was up for the job.

The interview progressed, We smoked, we laughed and discussed the terms and conditions of the job.

I was to be on call from 6pm Saturday and Sunday.

Mike was to market me as the ‘Hunk’ of ‘7-2-Late Escorts’.

Everything was ready to go because he was convinced I was committed to shagging ugly old women for money.

All there was left to do was do the deed and I could get on my way.

Interview done, the job is yours.

Thankfully Diana was tired and said we’ll skip the shag until another day.

So come Saturday, I was showered, dressed and smelling good.

Ready to go, sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

It just so happened that my best mate, Alec and his Australian mate Andy called round at 3pm and invited me out for a drink.

And before I knew it I was on my third pint, when the call came through.

“Call this number and ask for John. He wants you to shag his wife”, Mike said.

“Hello John, my name is Matthew and I understand you have a job for me”, I asked.

“I want you to come here so I can measure your cock” John said.

Continuing “My wife wants an 8 inch dick and if you’re not exactly 8 inches I’m showing you the door.”

Alas I had to be truthful and tell him I wasn’t up to measure and the call ended.

I had run out of credit on my mobile and Diana and Mike started to call me to find out what was happening.

Bad reception disrupted our call and I have no way of explaining what happened.

That was the last I heard from them.

And that was the closest I got to being a male escort.

But I wasn’t too bothered about falling at the first hurdle of becoming a male escort.

I was with my mates, with a beer in hand…

© Copyright 2008 Matthew Taylor