Date: Fri, 4 Jun 2010 07:58:32 -0700 From: Jay roberts Subject: "Rub Off Money Competition. Part One" by Jay Roberts Gay Masturbation and Encounters +++No, you're thinking of "Rub Out". You read too many Mafia stories. Rub Off is something else, but if you are under eighteen I can't go on explaining. You gotta leave. The others can stay. Make yourself comfortable, you know what I mean. I know most of you out there have had hand jobs, or given them, or did mutuals. Mostly when you were kids and hadn't yet graduated to more intense activity. But, hand jobs are fabulous and ought not to be pushed aside. The problem is that most guys do not know how to do it. Last month Aunt Julia died. She was childless. She adored me. She left her entire estate to me: Over two mil! I deserved it. I visited the old crow once a week and had weak tea with her and listened to her boring stories of her ballet career. I guess you could say that she was a fag hag but she was the only relative I had who accepted me for what I was. Yes I am gay, but my interest is only in hand jobs, rub offs, rubbing one out, hand shagging, wanking, rosy fingers and whatever else you like to call it. Shit, it's quick, you don't even have to get undressed, it's safe and has no entangling relationship involved. You feel great afterward, at least for an hour or so, when you begin to want another treatment. There are problems involved with my "hobby". Most guys want to get into fucking or sucking. If you tell them that you like to be wanked, they look at you strangely. Another problem with getting hand jobs is that most guys don't know how to do it on others. They have been jerking off all their lives, but they don't seem to be able to transfer that skill to doing in on another guy. That's why I decided to use my new wealth to find the best hand jobber in the world. I had printed a notice. It was simple: Robert will pay you $1000 for the best hand job you can do on him. You must be under thirty, good looking and DDF. If you give a poor one, you get $100 only. I am twenty one, blond, swimmer's build heathy and handsome. If interested, we'll do it at my apartment at 7 Jane Street, New York City. It gave my cell phone number. I know where to put the ads, after all, I'm a New York gay guy. It was on the wall in three baths, several active men's rooms, changing booths in some stores liked by gays and also in a few peep booths, although they are visited by straights as well. The notices went up on Friday. Saturday morning I got a call. "Saw your ad last night in Uptown Baths. I can use the thousand. You ready?" I liked the voice, young, a little hoarse from nerves. I asked, "How old are you? What are your vitals?" He answered: "Twenty three, five inches, six feet four, one ninety." That was all good, I didn't really care about his endowment, this was a selfish one-sided deal, but I did like his skinniness. A bony hand on your bone is nice. The dude had called from outside my place. "Hey, I just woke up, not dressed or washed." "That's okay, did you take your morning pee yet?" "No." "Excellent. Don't. What apartment number, the doorman wants to know." I liked this guy already, but when I answered the door in my shorts and looked him over, I was real pleased. He was tall but he had a cute baby face half obscured by his thick brown hair over his forehead. His light brown eyes twinkling under that awning of hair. I glanced at his hands. Yeah, slim and smooth. "Come in. Coffee?" "No I take my pricks neat." I laughed. He put his hand on my chest and gently pushed me to my bed. This guy was take charge. I fell on my back and he, with businesslike precision, whipped off my shorts and breathed the word, "Nice." I was not hard, but I was thickening. He grabbed my balls in one hand and my cock in the other. He shook my cock from side to side to get it hard. I didn't firm up yet, I think my urgent need to piss was getting into the way, and I also was a bit turned off my his coldness and efficiency. I pushed his hand away and reached into my night table and took out a hundred dollar bill and pushed it toward him. I didn't even know his name. He looked annoyed. "You didn't give me a chance." I'm a gentleman, so I said, "I know you are probably good but I guess I'm not in the mood. He slammed out. The next competitor for the thousand dollars came about in an unexpected way. I belong to a straight tennis club. Frequently I play against an eighteen year old kid who's the club champ. He almost always beats me but it's a good game. He knows I am on that other team but he's very accepting, gay friendly, I guess is the word. After a heavy game that lasted three hours, we were on the veranda of the club, working away on our fourth beer. I took a risk, since I was feeling so palsy with Skip and told him about my offering and the postings around town. He was very interested and asked me a lot of questions. Now Skip was a hot looking boy but I always restrained myself and never made any move toward him. But I'm not blind. He was a muscle kid, red haired and stocky. Oh those full legs. His was also dreamily handsome. So when he said, slurring slightly from the beers, "I'm good at masturbation. I had plenty of practice. I do it every day, most days twice a day." It was hot the way his strong hand with the red hairs on the back sought his own cock, unconsciously. "I'd not gay, but I'd like to try." "Gee Skip, I don't know. We've always had a nice relationship as tennis buds, this might ruin that." "Naw, I'm a gambler and a challenge is a challenge." Then he put his hand on my bare knee and clutched it strongly. "Common Robert, give me an audition." Now I'm not made of marble. Getting this gorgeous guy to wank me was not an unpleasant prospect, especially because I was drunk. "Okay hot boi, you're on. Let's go right away to the sauna. It should be empty now." We weaved our way there. We both undressed and hung our clothes outside. He checked out my cock when he thought I didn't notice. Once inside I examined him out boldly. He had one of those pricks I really like, uncut, fat and blunt, not too long, but sexy as hell, and those full balls in a plump round ball sac was my favorite as well, but I was not going to do him anyway, the ball was in his court to try for the prize. "I guess you can sit up there on the high level and I can stand here. Is that good?" "Sure lover boy, I'm getting harder by the second. Let's go." He stared at my cock and seemed to have difficulty in bringing his hand into action. I grabbed his thick wrist and put his hand on my cock. His mouth worked in worry. I jiggled my hips back and forth to get him started. He took a deep breath and grasped the shank of my prick and shagged it a bit. He did the shaft slow and hard, fast and squeezy. Nothing. I guess this was the way he did it. "Are you close?" he asked hopefully. "No, it feels nice but I'm no where feeling those tingles that tell you when it's time to shoot." "Fuck. I haven't done anything like this since I was in junior high but I'm in for a penny and I always win." Saying that he leaned forward and put his full lips around my cock head. I jumped in surprise but settled down to enjoying his work. His muscular tongue seemed to spiral around my cock. I wish he'd do more with the head but this was nice and I could last a long time. I noticed that he was stimulating his own cock as he sucked. I was getting hotter and hotter, but I know my cum mechanism and I was stuck on a plateau and I will never come this way. He was a cutie and I admired his pluck in continuing. His poor tongue must be getting tired, but then he began tickling the back of my balls. Where did he learn that potent trick? That's what I did when I wanted to get off quickly. I grabbed his curly red head and began to rudely fuck his mouth. He was moaning around my prick and I was grunting like a pig. Suddenly I stiffened and delivered the goods. He sucked and swallowed like a champ. Soon I slowed to a dribble and he gave me one last swipe of his tongue and straightened up. He pointed to the floor. There was a puddle of cum there. The kid had gotten off on getting me off. I think he might have to rethink his priorities. I was already planning future stuff with him after games. "Do I get the prize?" I patted his thick shoulder. "I'm really sorry but this was a wank challenge. You sucked, that's a disqualifier, but you did earn the hundred dollars." "Fuck you and fuck your hundred dollars." He stormed out. What's his problem, he's the one who couldn't win the game. In a way, he cheated by blowing me...but I'm not complaining. End Part One