Where There's Will 7

Where there's Will, There's a Way

Where there's Will, There's a Way -- Chapter Seven - "Learning should be: first what is necessary; second, what is useful; and third, what is ornamental." (L. Sigourney)

The second class session of "Money and Banking-101" began without incident. I quietly assumed a seat in the back of the classroom, slid down a bit so as not to be obtrusive in my attendance, seeking to be "one of many" and avoid any confrontation with Dr. Young. My first class with him was a shocker both to him and to me. This session promised to less invasive of our separate spaces, since he'd said he'd spend some or all of the time reviewing the syllabus and course requirements and answering any questions concerning them. There certainly wouldn't be any questions coming from me; I just wanted to get through the next eighteen weeks.

We'd be required to be in attendance at least ninety percent of the time. He'd allow four "skips," but no more, unless there was extenuating circumstances. There'd be a mid-term examination, a final examination and, combined, would account for fifty percent of the grade; two examinations, determining twenty percent of the grade, to be announced at the instructor's discretion, and a term or position paper due at the end of the class. This paper would account for twenty percent of the grade. The final ten percent of the grade would be based on class participation. I didn't think I wanted to work toward that ten percent; I'll just pass, thank you. I'd just be happy to get a "C" out of this little fiasco I've gotten myself into.

Chuckling to myself, thinking if I had to grade Dr. Eric Young on his participation, he'd receive an "A+"). He was not only an enthusiastic learner, but became quite accomplished before the morning sun began peeking in the motel room windows. I don't think he'd want me to mention that during class participation or write a paper on it. No, this was one of the things we, as lads working for the "Cockaigne Agency" pledged; never, ever, reveal who our clients were or acknowledge them in public. It was one of the driving forces which kept the Agency successful; the discretion. It was just unfortunate I ended up in a class taught by one of my clients. I'd have to talk to Doc Henderson at some point and have him help me sort this problem out.

My second meeting with John and Connie in my continuing acculturation into the retinue of the Agency began with a thorough discussion of the importance of personal hygiene, diet, and physical conditioning. I was instructed on how to properly wash myself before a date and in the thorough cleaning of my bowel through the use of a fleet enema. It was embarrassing baring my little pucker to the two of them, but not as bad as having them apply lubrication, insert the tube of enema liquid, and squeeze it in there, with the admonition, "Now hold it as long as you can." Well, I did, but when I sat on the toilet, it resembled a tuba player sounding a rather long, raspy, note. After a couple of those, I soon lost my inhibitions.

"It's really important that you are cleaned out before a date," explained John, "there's nothing like shit on the dick to turn most of our clients off for any future date with you. The object is to bring them back for more, not less."

That made sense to me; why chase them away?

Connie led me to the shower and the two of them began lathering me up, using sensual, long and short strokes in various parts of my body, bringing me and them to a quick stand.

"Some of our clients like you to shower with them; clean them either before or after you have been intimate with them. In some cases, it's part of the release of their desires, giving them a moment to `catch their breath' and in other cases, especially after sex, some feel it washes them clean, expiating any guilt they might feel," Connie pointed out.

I never realized how sensual a shampoo could be; as one shampooed my head, the other shampooed my bush, flicking my pucker as he did so, slipping a soapy finger in and out while explaining the ramifications and sensations for the client. That didn't take much explaining; hell, I could feel it! They were very patient with me, talking me through each step, and when done, had me practice on them. It really was quite an erotically charged experience and I could see how a client would enjoy it.

After the showering, the toweling was just as important, the lads pointed out. It gives the courtesan the opportunity to relax the client even more and, if the client is stressed from a day's work, leads to a nice massage with warm scented oils. The massage John gave me, sliding his hands up my back, over my shoulders, down my back, around the globes of my ass, in and out of the valley of pleasure, and gently rolling my gonads with well oiled, warm hands, made me hard enough to drive nails through one inch maple boards.

Not once during this afternoon session, did either one of them or me blow our load. I came extremely close several times, but they stopped me each time just short of orgasm. Those two were talented, experienced, and professional and I learned well.

Before ending our session for the day, Connie and John broached a subject I'd really not thought about, but it made sense.

"Most people think of gay sex as dealing with only the penis, the anus, and the mouth," John relayed, "but it's much more than that as far as we should be concerned. You want your client to enjoy your companionship, whether at dinner, a movie or concert, dancing, in bed, or any situation you encounter while being his escort. It will be what you say and how you say it which will add to the sensual pleasure and ambiance of the date."

"It's not just blow-jobs and butt-fucking," added Connie, "it's about prolonging the experience, using all of your talents, your skills, and your social graces to bring satisfaction to your date. Most clients want to feel in charge, so you stroke his ego and give him that time with you as being quite special, while remaining discreetly in control of the experience, as if he is the most important person in the world and you were placed on this earth to please him and leave him satisfied and yearning for more. Remember, our clients pay for this experience and pay quite well. The quality of the evening or overnight may very well enhance the tip the client is required to give you, so it's to your benefit as well."

"The general public, when discussing gay sex, fail to realize it's not cock size but more. The only concerns you should have concerning someone's penis is whether it is circumcised or not since it alters the way you masturbate or fellatio the client and if the size will give you any discomfort during anal or oral intercourse. Most clients are concerned their penis is not big enough or nice enough and so on; praise him, tell him it's the nicest you've seen in a long time, or it's the biggest in the county," John interceded.

"However," Connie continued, "your most valuable assets, although your penis and ass definitely are close seconds, are your hands and your lips."

I was puzzled and curious; my hands for masturbation and my mouth for blow jobs, but "most valuable assets?" I wasn't so certain about that.

"There are many erogenous zones on the human body and the male of the species is not so much different when it comes to erotic touch. Using your lips, your tongue, and your hands, you will find those spots on your client, using them to please him, prepare him and then bring him to orgasm, shuddering with pleasure as he fires his load."

Bidding me to lie on my back on the massage table, John standing on one side of me and Connie on the other, and both lay their hands on me. Feeling the hands of both of these extremely good-looking lads resting on my stomach, just north of my compass needle, now pointing in their direction, relaxed me, yet their touch filled me with anticipation.

"It's important," Connie instructed, "you keep your hands relatively soft, without rough calluses, so wear gloves when you work outside on the lawn and that sort of activity. Your lips should be as velvet, soft, moist, and kissable. We're going to touch, kiss, and tongue various erogenous spot on your body without touching your genitalia or anal region, unless it's to prevent or delay an orgasm, so close your eyes, listen closely, imagine each spot we touch, so you can identify it in your mind; you may have to do this to a client in the dark, so pay attention."

I did as he instructed, closing my eyes, stretching out, arms at my side, toes and cock pointing upward. I heard movement around me and then, oh my God, fingers lightly stroked my eyebrows, just tickling the hair, not pressing, just tickling, while a pair of lips gently caressed my forehead, moving from there to my temples as the fingers, those magic fingers, swiped easily and slowly across my upper lip bring my lips to a tautness. They stopped for a moment, giving me time to assimilate the location of each caress or touch, before moving to another region. Fingers, then lips stroked the nape of neck, behind my ears, across my collar bone, down the inside of my arms, flowing into the inside of my elbows, faintly whispering slight breezes of warm breath, exciting me, eliciting twitches from my most delicate instrument.

Pausing after bringing lips to bear on my knuckles and palms, a velvety, satiny, pair of warmth laden, objects of softness, encountered my own lips, sucking delicately on them as if they were but tidbits of an oncoming feast, before a moist tongue swiped gently across them. The lips encased mine, kissing me deeply, sensuously, fervently, paused, allowing a tongue to gracefully probe my lips, seeking entrance, and once, allowed, began to swirl delicately inside, massaging my own eager instrument, engaging it. I started to moan from the ecstasy I was experiencing, when I felt a hand encase my testicular sack, squeezing, pulling, and forestalling an impending eruption.

The lips released me and fingers trailed down my chest to my nipples where a light, mellifluous, flicking brought them to full tautness. Bubbling up from my almost hairless chest, they were inviting, a delicacy for the savoring, bringing a set of lips to each one, tongues nimbly dancing around the aureole before settling around the bud, suckling as a babe would it's mother. Releasing me, the hands effortlessly traced down my stomach, reflexing my abdominal muscles to draw suddenly inward, reacting to nimbly dancing digits before engaging my navel. Lips and tongues followed the same treasure trail, probing my navel, taking my breath away, before burying themselves in my pubic bush. Faintly, ever so faintly, soft, ethereally puffs of air rippled, moved, that sparse forest as a spring breeze would lift new leaves on a tree causing my sprig to wobble, dance, and spring from the attention.

My penis, gonads, or perineum were not touched, instead, the hands and lips continued slowly, unperceptively, soothingly on south, kissing and touching the inside of my thighs, behind the knees, the ankles, the toes, and the bottom of my feet. I didn't know if my body could take anymore stimulation; I was quaking, shuddering, wanting to spew the fluid building in my reservoir. They stopped!

"Open your eyes," said John. When I did, I could hardly help but notice they both were hard, dripping strings of pre-cum from their throbbing members, not unlike the stream dangling, resting just below the head of mine on my lower abdomen.

"Please get dressed and we'll cover the last of the instructions for this session and give you some homework."

Hell, I had enough stimulation to keep me working most of the night, I thought.

I dressed and we sat at the small table in the corner of the room.

Pausing just a moment, John looked at Connie, received a slight nod for him to proceed, and began, "Lee, any anal sex with a client must, and I emphasize must, include the use of a condom. Before he sticks his cock in your ass, which will happen about ninety percent of the time, or yours in his, which is not as regular, but some clients prefer only that, it must be sheathed in a condom. The clients all know this and understand the rules. Absolutely no exceptions, no matter what the offer of a generous tip is. The Agency wants you safe and healthy. If you cheat and they find out, they'll dump you faster than a mineral oil enema and you'll be flat-backing in some dive in Chicago trying to pay the rent. It's just not worth the money or the chance."

"How about oral sex?" I inquired.

"Most of the studies indicate HIV is not spread by oral sex, especially if the client is on the receiving end. If you are the recipient of a load, make certain you have no sores or open wounds in your mouth. If you do, decline the date before you even get there. A strong, antiseptic mouthwash will burn like hell if there's any spot open, so check before accepting the client. If something happens while on the date, such as biting your cheek, explain the situation to the client and take less of a tip. In most cases, they understand and are compliant with your wishes. They don't want to catch something any more than you do."

John and Connie went on to explain there are other Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STDs) which can be contracted from oral sex and those ranged from genital warts to gonorrhea to syphilis and everything in between. We spent some time viewing photos of obvious STD infections visible to the casual observer.

"If you see some aberration, not specifically due to physical attributes due to genetics or heredity concerning cock size or shape, apologize, terminate the date after explaining why, and leave," Connie instructed.

"If there is any situation," admonished John, "where the client becomes abusive, threatening, or appears to present a threat, terminate the date, hit the number 5 on your cell phone and get the hell out of there. Even if the whole date seems odd, you get the gut feeling something is just not quite right, anything that causes the hair on the back of your neck to curl up, terminate the date and get out of there. Help will be on the way so vacate the premises, head for the street, where there just might be an audience. Someone will pick you up and take you home. The client will be banned from engaging our services in the future."

Once the precautions and dangers were explained, along with the promise of assistance, my anxiety was somewhat relieved, but I knew I'd have to be in a high state of awareness at all times in this new profession I was entering. At the end of the session, I was given a cell phone and numbers to call, a new lap top computer, and several DVD's to view with topics ranging from "The Anatomy of the Human Penis," "Fellatio with Feeling," and "Anal Intercourse; a Step by Step Guide to Satisfying Sex." My instructions were to view them as many times as I felt necessary to discuss them and practice for the remainder of the indoctrination period. I wouldn't have time tonight, since this was the day before Will's big trip to the zoo and he'd be wound for sound.

How right I was! Will was so excited; he was going on a field trip to the zoo without his big brother along. How grown up that made him feel, giving him confidence, and self-esteem. As much as I wanted to accompany him, I realized he'd have to start finding some independence. I wouldn't be around forever, as much as I wanted to be.

We scurried around doing our homework and before he showered, we laid out the clothes he'd wear on the trip. Will insisted he have some money in his billfold, "just in case." I put five one dollar bills in there for him. He could handle that better than a five and trying to make change. I doubted he'd spend any of it but as I said, "just in case you want a Slushy or something, you have some cash."

Clean, hair combed, treat eaten, Will snuggled up against me on the couch so I might read him a story. He loved to be read to and could sit for hours listening to any story. In fact, there were times, when he was younger, I'd read my assignments to him and he was satisfied. He had difficulty reading but could assimilate and remember many things he heard as I read to him. It often gave me cause to wonder if one of his main problems was the linkage between the printed word and the path to the brain. Perhaps something was out of synapse, but could be compensated for through therapy or repetition. I made a note to visit with his teachers concerning it.

He slowly began nodding off so I nudged him, set him on the path to his bedroom, kissed him goodnight, and made certain he was tucked in. Will was sound asleep almost as soon as he crawled into bed. He'd be one tired boy after tomorrow, I was willing to bet. I would too, if I viewed the videos and practiced what I learned on myself.

To be continued.

***

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