Enticed #21 - A Change of Pace Pt. 1

The week after entertaining Blaise and his old friend as their slave I had a basic street clothes show. It was a normal night until I caught a glimpse of a familiar head of blue hair in the middle of the audience. After my post-show clean-up I made my way directly to my favorite adult store clerk who’d been so helpful to Blaise and me.

“You actually came to a show!” I said.

Her eyes were wide as she smiled a broad, beautiful smile.

“Curiosity got the best of me,” she said. “My partner had family stuff. So, I decided to see what kind of show you put on.”

“Well, I hope you liked it,” I said. “That was probably my tamest show.”

“It was hot!” she replied. “I’m not a - . This was - . You made me horny and you don’t even have the right equipment.”

As she stammered, her eyes roamed up and down my body. I was wearing a tight black bikini, my denim jacket, and my pink leather cock ring on my wrist. Her eyes traced the trail of bare skin visible through the open jacket and lingered at the obvious bulge in my bikini that pushed the top out from my groin.

Watching her admire me gave my cock an involuntary twitch. I saw her react with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

“Wow!” I said. “I don’t often make people speechless.”

“That was - special!”

“Y’know, I just realized I don’t know your name,” I said.

“Oh! Celia.” She extended her hand.

“You don’t have a drink, Celia,” I said, holding her hand in both of mine. “What can I get you?”

I was stopped several times on the way to the bar by audience members thanking me or complimenting my performance. Some palmed cash to me. Some pushed bills into the pockets of my jacket. Some of the long-time regulars leaned in to whisper in my ear while pushing a hand into my bikini for a personal touch, leaving a few bills between my cock and balls. A couple pushed money into my bikini with one  hand while grabbing my barely covered ass with the other.

“You know you can call Blaise for that,” I usually replied to the whispers.

“What are they doing?” Celia asked, her eyes wide. “What are they whispering?”

“They’re giving me cash tips,” I said, pulling three hundreds out of my underwear. “The whispers are about what they want to do to me or want me to do to them.

“The ones that whisper and grab me always leave the biggest tips behind.”

Just then a 50-something man in Polo head-to-toe came up with a big smile. He pushed both hands into my bikini while breathing something into my ear about sucking my cum through a straw.

“Call Blaise, Paul,” I smiled, pushing my own hand against his khaki-covered groin. “You say lots of nice things on Saturday night. But, you never call on Monday.”

As he walked away smiling I pulled my bikini open. Paul, the investment guy, actually had wrapped three more hundreds around my wrinkled shaft.

“Paul likes to do that,” I explained as Celia stared wide-eyed. “I really should get his number and talk to him about investing all the money I’m making from these shows and my books.”

“What was that about calling Blaise?” she asked.

“I do private shows during the week,” I told her. “One-on-one or occasionally two-on-one for couples. They’re usually just a replay of whichever show they like most. But, being private, it’s more intimate. They can be closer and take care of their own needs while they watch.”

“For more money, I assume?”

“Of course,” I said. “And, they usually give me another tip. But, in a private show I do allow some touching and participation. I definitely make it worth their money and time.”

“How much does one of these personal performances cost?”

“Most pay $150. But, some pay less; some are free,” I said. 

“So, some of these men are paying $50 for this show,” Celia said. “Then, they give you a $300 tip. Then, they pay $150 for a private show and tip you again there?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I have made as much $800 from one man in one week.”

“But, some people don’t pay anything,” I said. “I’m not fleecing people. The tips aren’t required, requested, or suggested.

“I have a handful of special guests that I’m happy to entertain for free. My friend Ezekiel never pays. A couple younger guys who can’t afford to even come to the shows are special guests. I’ll always consider you a very special guest, too.”

“Me?” Celia seemed shocked.

“You’ve supplied me with lots of great stuff. And, you seem interested, even intrigued,” I explained. “I’d be happy to let you see how some of your products are used - in private. And, don’t worry about paying for a regular show either. You’re always a friend here.”

A couple minutes later we were on the couch with Ezekiel. Blaise was mingling, still accepting the occasional congratulations on having me as his young protege. I often overheard myself described as his “boy toy.” Sometimes it was “twink” or “daddy chaser.” That night someone did call him my daddy. Some made comments about the size or shape of my cock, or asked how my cum tasted, or even how tight my ass was.

“Does it bother you how they talk about you?” Celia obviously was hearing the same conversation.

“No,” I said. I could feel myself blush a little. “I’ve been hearing stuff like that for almost a year now. Most of the time they’re right in my face with it.”

“I’ve wondered about that, too,” Ezekiel said.

Celia had a bit of a disgusted look on her face.

“He would never admit it to anyone except me, but Blaise eats up this kind of attention,” I said. “These shows originally were his idea. At first, it was just a group of his friends, all his age. He was showing me off and I was making money at the same. He really was the proud ‘daddy’ showing off his young conquest.

“He’s a hero to some of these men. I mean, they aren’t here for the free drinks. Where else in this state are you going to get a live gay sex show with free alcohol?”

“And, you could almost describe me as his boy toy,” I admitted. “But, I’m definitely not a twink or daddy chaser. If anything, he chased me.”

“But, some of the stuff they’re saying is pretty - .”

“Rude?” I finished for her. “I perform a live one-man gay sex show. There are going to be comments about my dick or ass or whatever. Just like the guys who whisper in my ear. It comes with the territory.

“For the most part, everyone has always been very civil and well-behaved. I just choose to accept it as part of the fun. Usually, if they’re talking to me, I give it right back to them with a comment about their size or lack of ability.”

At lunch that Monday, as he lifted up from my crotch, breathing heavy and his mouth still dripping a little cum while we sat in his driveway, Blaise told me Celia had called just before lunch. She booked a private show for that Thursday. He was surprised to hear from her until I told him how intrigued she had seemed with the shows, both public and private. But, we both were surprised she wanted a private show so soon.

That Thursday I greeted her at the door in a white button-down and jeans. She told Blaise she just wanted the same thing I’d done at the previous show since that’s the only show she’d seen.

I got her a beer and sat her in the usual private show chair. We shared small talk for a couple minutes. I was avoiding asking her the questions I had, and she seemed to be avoiding something, as well.

She drank her first beer quickly. We walked together to the kitchen for another.

“I’ve never been with a guy at all,” she admitted, sounding a little embarrassed.

She had stopped with the bottle just at her lips when she spoke.

“I really don’t don’t know why I’m here,” she said after swallowing a mouthful of beer. “I just  -- . You seemed so inviting the other night. I just wanted to see more.”

“It’s OK to be curious,” I told her. “I mean, I’m here because of curiosity.”

“Yeah, but - ,” she darted her eyes to and from my groin quickly. “I feel like I’m doing something wrong.  Michele doesn’t know I’m here. I’m in a relationship with a woman. I shouldn’t be interested in watching a man do anything.”

“I don’t see a problem with someone being curious or interested in or entertained by seeing someone else whether it’s sexual for you or not,” I said as we walked back to the living room. “Maybe it isn’t sexual. Maybe you just want to see what you’ve missed, how the other half lives.

“Just sit back and watch. I have a feeling you’ll still be attracted to Michele. And, after this you might go home and ravage her with renewed energy.”

“Damn. You really know how to sell this shit, don’t you,” she said, getting comfortable in her chair.

“That’s what most of my clients do,” I explained. “I get them charged up and they go home to the one they love and wear them out.”

“I sell fantasies that my audience can turn into their own reality,” I continued, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. “They can go home and try what I do with their lovers. Or, they can take the energy and lust I generate and redirect it toward their lovers.”

“You’re right,” Celia said, her eyes following my hands down my chest. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

There was a quiet grunt when I pulled my shirt out of my jeans showing my full torso.

I let it slide off my shoulders and down my arms slowly before dropping it on the floor beside us.

Celia stared at the button of my Levi’s before I even touched it. If she could have, I thought she might have willed it open with her fascination or lust or whatever brought her to watch a man strip and jack off.

Just like a soft-core movie she bit her lip as I released the button and slowly dragged the zipper down. A special package-accentuating black thong is the normal underwear for this particular show. It’s designed to push my cock and balls forward out away from my legs and torso.

But, for Celia I thought a regular - but one size too small - bikini might be appropriate. She rarely took her eyes off my groin Saturday night.

Tonight I chose white to allow more of the contours and shape of my package to be visible to my audience, at least, for as long as it remained on me.

I spread my jeans open and pushed them down just enough to show her the red pubic hair that curled out of the top of the bikini. Her breathing was visibly speeding up.

When I finally released my curved package from the denim my cock sprang up and out. It still was captured by the cotton underwear, but it strained against it just a couple feet from Celia’s face.

When the jeans were off, I leaned back on to the arm of my chair and began a slow caress of my cock through the bikini. It stiffened and straightened quickly. The head and more than half the shaft pushed out the top as I reached down to knead my balls through the fabric.

Celia set her empty beer bottle down. Breathing a bit heavier. I could see her hand was shaking a little.

“Do you want another beer?” I asked.

“No. I’m good.”

“Do you want to pull this off?” I slid a finger under the narrow waistband of the bikini.

Without a word she reached out with both hands. I stepped close. My meat already was almost completely exposed. When she pulled the bikini down my hard cock fell forward and slid down her forehead before she jerked her face back startled.

Her eyes didn’t leave my meat as she pushed the bikini down my legs.

Finally naked, I leaned back on to the arm of my chair. But, Celia remained leaning forward on the edge of hers.

I began a slow stroke and caress of my cock and balls, sometimes closing my eyes. I didn’t use lube, instead letting my precum help out. I had a hunch the lube might get in the way later.

As I usually do, I rocked back and forth a little as my entire body responded to the sensations my hand elicited in my dick, stroking slowly, sensually up and down, my cock skin pushing and pulling with each movement.

I propped one foot up in the chair to give my audience a full view of my cock, balls and a little ass cheek.

I slowly stroked myself while squeezing my cheeks with each stroke for a little forward thrust. The growing ecstasy had my eyes nearly closed. But I kept them on Celia.

She was leaning even closer to me, her face only about a foot from my straining cock. Her eyes never left my groin. Her breathing was nearly as heavy as mine.

I found myself moaning quietly, but loudly enough for my audience to hear. Normally, I’ll moan intentionally as part of the show. People want the extra drama - even if they know it’s just a show.

But, this time my moans were real and unconscious. I found this wasn’t just a performance for me. I was as turned on as Celia. I wanted to cum for her and hoped she might want to participate in some way.

As I felt my cock and balls throbbing, my abs and hips started thrusting without my conscious control. I felt an intense orgasm coming. I backed away from Celia as much as I could. I didn’t think she would want to be covered in my cum.

“I’m going to cum,” I croaked as my breathing and moans became louder and faster.

I rolled my palm over my head one last time and angled my shaft almost straight up as a huge blast of thick white cum shot into the air between us. I kept jacking hard and fast as Celia gasped and sat back a little to take in the full trajectory of my sperm.

Finally, I felt my tense muscles and nerves collapse. I sat panting and slowly continued to milk cum from my hot dick.

“Can I - ?” She reached out her hand absently as I continued to stroke. I moved closer.

“Of course, you can.”

She touched the tip of my gooey cock with the ball of her middle finger and immediately pulled it away. My cum created a string of goo between my oozing head and her soft fingertip.

“Have you ever tasted cum?” I asked.

Her eyes darted up to my face instantly. She gasped.

Her finger was in her mouth before I realized it, before she thought about it. I could see she was wrapping her tongue around her finger. Her eyes closed.

A second later her finger slid up the length of my cock collecting more cum and shot into her waiting mouth.

“You’ll get more if you lick it off directly.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I’ve never.”

“Just like an ice cream cone or lollipop,” I said, standing and stepping to her. “Just lick.”

Slowly, tentatively, she leaned in and just touched the tip of her tongue to my head. I squeezed the shaft tight so it would be swollen and firm for her.

After savoring that first taste, Celia extended her tongue and licked the length of my shaft from my hand to the tip. I twitched and gasped a little when she found my frenulum. She pulled back, looking up at me.

“It’s fine,” I assured her. “It’s just extra sensitive after. Keep going.”

She licked over it again. She reached to grab the shaft and I let go. She put her lips on the head in an open-mouthed kiss. She pulled back to lick the cum off her lips.

I extended my hand.

“There’s plenty here,” I offered.

She took my hand in hers and licked it clean before inserting a finger and sucking it.

“There,” I said. “That’s it exactly.”

In a second she had released my hand and had a few inches of my cock in her mouth. Once there she gave me a strong jerk with her fingers wrapped around my shaft and one last wad of cum shot onto her tongue.

She gave an excited, startled grunt as her eyes flew open. But, she didn’t release my cock. She sucked until it was limp and empty.

“That was amazing!” she exclaimed. “Does everybody’s taste like that?”

“I might be biased or just used to it. But, I think mine is better than anyone else’s that I’ve tasted,” I admitted. “And, everyone who’s commented on it has agreed that it’s unusually good.”

“Really,” she said, staring at my wrinkling meat in her hand.

“You’re welcome to ask Blaise or Ezekiel.”

She seemed almost in a trance as she lightly caressed my limp cock and cupped and rubbed  my balls.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever had a dick in my mouth or tasted cum,” she said. Her eyes shot up to my face. “This is the first time I’ve had one in my hand.”

She continued stroking and caressing my cock and balls. She lifted my cock to examine it from every perspective. She bent down to look closely at my balls.

Her eyes darted up to mine and she noticed I was watching her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I just - . I’ve never been this close to one. I’m fascinated, I guess.”

“You can examine it as closely as you like,” I said. “But it might be easier in the bedroom.

“And, I can take care of you, as well.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You seem a little  - needy,” I said, using my eyes to direct her to the wet spot in the crotch of her jeans.

“I’ll need to clean up first,” she said. “I came straight from work.”

I showed her the bathroom and the bedroom where I would be waiting.