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L & H Escorts
Scott sat on the edge of the hotel bed and looked again at the number on the back of "The Beat.” His third and last night in the big city. Tomorrow back on the plane and back to his small town where everyone knew his everything. He knew he was gay since he was 17, now at 39 he was long out of that closet, but still in another. He had recently figured out what he wanted in another man, but was having no luck in getting it. 
The travel guide recommended "The Kegs.” He tried striking-up three conversations there. One guy looked Scott up and down, turned on a heel and walked away after hello. The second guy at least smiled before moving off. The third guy was friendly but kept his eye on the door.

Then he tried the bar where men that looked like him went. He had four offers in half an hour, none of which was interesting because they all looked like him. It was always like that for him, no shortage of offers, but not what he wanted. He had always been attracted to bigger guys, he was just now admitting it to himself. He had to be sure his fantasies were real. If it took buying a man, then he would. 

"Good evening, Duke’s Escorts. How can our men serve you?”

"Uh, Hi.”

Great, thought Alex. Its a quiet night and now a newbie calls. Should be good for a laugh.
"Yes sir, how can our gentlemen serve you?”

"I, er, uh... how does this work? 

"Well sir, when were you looking for a companion?” 


"Yes, and have you visited our web site? Which one of our gentlemen will suit your occasion?” 
They’re all with clients who have overnight options anyway, good luck bud, thought Alex.

"Well, they’re not quite...” Scott was sweating. Relax he thought, this guy doesn’t know you, what does it matter? "They aren’t quite what I was looking for.” 

Now this was getting interesting thought Alex. Newbie grows some balls, or it could be a cop new to the game. "Well sir, we have the finest and most diverse stable of men in the city. But if what you’ve seen doesn’t suit your social event needs perhaps you can describe what you had in mind and I can make a referral.” If this was a sting, the cop would have to be damn good to get into details here. 

"They’re not big enough.”

Alex couldn’t suppress the laugh. "Most of our clients don’t think so!” This WAS a live one. 
"Can you be more specific with proportions?” Might as well make him suffer.

"I’m looking for someone who’s about 38 to 40...” 

"Forty years old, well...” Alex grabbed his secondary list of guys on call. There had to be a daddy in there somewhere. Robert was about 40.

"Uh not 40 years old. Age isn’t the thing...”

"Oh, I’m sorry. Of course, you meant length in centimetres? From Canada huh? What is that in inches?”

"Um no, about 40 inches,” Scott was really sweating now, "...about 40 inches in the waist.” He blurted out. He was waiting for the laughter. It didn’t come.

Two years in the business, and Alex hadn’t heard this one. Finally, a request that made him speechless. He realized he was holding the phone a little tightly. 

The silence on the other end, not being cut off at each sentence from this jaded little chatterbox queen gave Scott the courage to continue.
"Yeah, I wanted to meet a guy, uh, average height, but kinda husky.”
There was still silence on the other end. 
"Maybe about 200, 210 pounds, smooth, local boy with brown eyes, black hair.” Scott had drawn pictures, he had been to web sites and printed dozens of photos of big guys to use for .... so he knew the dimensions of the man he wanted. Scott could hear the dispatcher breathing, but nothing else. "Hello?”

"Oh, yes, well I’m looking through our directory, anything else? You sound like you know what you want.”

"Hey thanks for your time, I mean, this is the first time I’ve called an agency.”
The cynical gnome in Alex’s head said ‘duh,’ but he was too in rapture to voice it.

Scott continued, he felt braver now, he could always just hang up: "I’ve always wanted a guy with about a 40 inch waist, mostly soft, not a hard round, beer gut. But hanging over, you know, thick love handles, deep belly button, not much hair. It would be great if he had some muscles underneath, but no abs showing. Big soft muscles maybe. Just..., you know, a bigger guy...” Still silence. Yeah, he’d done it. The dispatcher was probably recording this for the others to laugh at later. "Look, maybe I should...”

"Oh, uh sir, I’m, I’m still looking...” This was a lie. Alex was holding the phone with both hands so he wouldn’t drop it. Damn! Why didn’t they get him a head-set? His palms were almost dripping because the caller had just about described his own body to a ‘T’. He knew he didn’t have anybody like that on any list. As the caller continued, an idea began to swell in Alex’s head...

"It would be great if his belly button was pretty deep actually, kinda wide...”
Alex was lifting his shirt. This must be some cruel joke. That’s it: it was Todd.

Todd was the agency stud. No body collected more than Todd. Highest referral rate, most sleep-overs, fastest turn-overs for hourly. The stats on his page on the site were:
22 years old, 6 feet, 175, 7% body fat, 31 waist, abs, strawberry blonde and shit-eating grin. And he knew it. 

Nobody gave Alex more crap than Todd. Luckily, he didn’t have to see him in person very often. But on the phone it was always: "Hey, AleXTRA! How’s it hangin’ over?” And Todd was always trying to goose him in the belly when he passed. Alex used the desk as a shield when possible. Neal, the boss, said be nice to Todd, even if he was an asshole. He was their star quarterback. This must be a Twisted-Todd plot thought Alex. God, I’m 31 and sometimes it feels like high school again around that jerk. 

Alex found his voice again. "Sir, I need to check our standby list, may I call you back?”

"Yeah, uh, I’m in room 323, the Maxwell.” Click. Well, it was worth a try thought Scott, best to be fresh for the flight tomorrow anyway.

Alex carefully laid down the phone. He had never heard this one. Why didn’t the guy just go to "The Kegs?” It was bear night. This definitely didn’t smell right, but it wasn’t a sting, the police weren’t this creative. Must be Todd.

"Maxwell on Mark’s, Jason speaking, how may I help you?”

"Jason, its Alex with Dukes. We got anybody with you tonight?”

"Yeah, saw two go up, 518 and 112. Somebody in trouble?”

"No, just want to be safe. I confirm those two, but I just got a weird call. Room 323.”

"Oh him, he’s a looker! Like 5’11’’, underwear model type. Third and last night here. Went up about half an hour ago. Looks like he just got back from the clubs, alone. I couldn’t catch his eye.”

"Nobody else with him? Have you seen Todd tonight?”

"No man, what’s up? You think a sting?”

"Not unless 323’s got buddies in other rooms.”

"Nope, just regulars on either side of him. Nothing new.”

"Hey thanks man.” Alex hung up. He shivered a little, but it wasn’t cold. Maybe this was for real. Alex had always been on the thick side. His mother proclaimed how healthy he was until he was a teen. The puppy fat wasn’t going away, he wasn’t growing into it, it was along for the ride and growing with him. His father would stare at Alex’s stomach and stopped smiling much at him by puberty. His older brother Andrew was in cross country. 

Buying clothes, ordering food. He could always feel people staring, hear them thinking. He wasn’t super big, his belly just wasn’t firm, it moved on its own, danced under his shirt for attention. He dieted all his life, down a little, up more, down again, up a little more. On a good day the scales told him 206, on a 5’9” frame. He was at the gym 3 times a week, he had good arms and pecks somewhere down there. It wasn’t all fat, just about 30% of him. He hid under long-sleeve shirts, a baseball cap even indoors in the winter. A tickler of a goatee to distract from the roundness of his cheeks and lips. 

Jason told him he’d have better luck with guys like himself. "Laurel and Hardy was a comedy team, man.” Jason might have figured out that Alex fancied him. Jason could be an underwear model himself; Alex endured all his trick stories, fantasizing that he was in Jason’s shoes. 

But at the same time, Alex liked his body. Secretly, he loved rubbing his belly, he thought it looked sexy, loved his bellybutton. It was one of a kind. He’d massage his gut with the left, jerked off with the right. Sometimes he’d play in front of a mirror for a turn-on, try on tight clothes. Just seemed like no one else thought his body was sexy. He met other big guys at "The Kegs.” Always the same thing though; just three zones: lips, crotch, ass. If he was lucky, they might brush his belly on the way to his dick. And all the while he would dream of a guy with abs, strong enough for Alex to lay on top of, a guy who would clean his navel out with his tongue, someone who would give him head with both hands on his love handles or belly, and not by accident. Some jock who was turned on by him, Alex, and his spare. 

Minutes had gone by. Alex knew they had no one on call that would fit this guy. He could do this. He could do this. He would be fired instantly if Neal found out. No great loss, just what would he tell the unemployment agency? Last job, secretarial? It was a quiet night. He could do this. 

"Duke’s Escorts calling back.”

"Oh, uh good, I was starting to think...”

"I think I found someone.” Alex lifted his shirt again. "31 years old, but looks younger. 5’9”, about 206, 38 inch waist. Not completely smooth, dishwater blonde, but brown eyes.”

"Oh, uh, great. When can he meet me?” Scott was trying to stay calm. This might happen...

"Your room at the Maxwell, within fifteen minutes. Our headquarters are nearby.”

"Hey, that’s great. How long can he stay?”

"That’s between you and our staff.” Alex found his official voice again with a commonly asked question. "What kind of wardrobe would suit your occasion?” Stupid standard question; they always asked that to keep up the façade that their boys were actually going to accompany a client to the opera. Stupid question because Alex’s apartment was on the other side of town, he couldn’t change clothes if he wanted to. 

"Uhmm, let’s see,” Scott was pacing with excitement, grinning. "Tight jeans, a t-shirt riding up. You know, more important than his clothes, he’s gotta like it. I mean, I need to kiss him where ever I like, he’s got to be patient with me. I mean, don’t tell him this, but if I spend a lot of time on his belly, you know..., oh, how do I say this, if I keep tonguing his navel..., if I, uh..., chew a little on his belly, he can’t freak, okay?”

Alex did know. He had both hands tight on the receiver. Seconds ticked by. "Oh of course sir, our gentlemen are very perceptive to our client’s needs. If he’s not performing as you need, feel free to instruct him. " Thank god for little company phrases to save him. He had to hang up soon and sound cool or he was going to chicken out. "I’ll call his cell number and give him your location, brief him, and send him over.” 
Oops, Alex almost forgot a standard question:
"We have you at the Maxwell, room 323, but to confirm, you are the only party in the room? How should I describe you to him?” This last wasn’t a standard question. 

"Yes, oh, I’m 6’ 175, blonde, green eyes, I work out. My name is Scott. Hey, remember, don’t tell him about the navel, thing, I don’t want him to fake that. What is the name of your escort?”

His voice almost cracking, "Alex. Expect a knock in less than 15 minutes. Thank you for choosing Duke’s.”

Both men hung-up and took several deep breaths. Then looked at watches or clocks. 
Shit! Less than 15 minutes! Both had their heads in their hands thinking:

Okay, Alex think this through.
Okay , Scott think this through.

You’ll finally get what you want. You’re paying. Take charge. If you want to give him a three-day hickey above his belly button, then do it man, this is your chance! He had forgotten to ask the terms. He looked at the cash in his wallet. He hoped it would be enough. 

Stupid shit-head! You’ll lose your job. So what. Stupid job. You could wave the cash in front of Todd’s face. It could be so cool if this guy bought you for the night and paid tops.
Damn, these jeans are tight, glad its not the cargo pants tonight, but this shirt’s way too big, doesn’t show my belly at all. Alex stood up to re buttoned the top two on his 501’s. It was always more comfortable to have them undone when sitting. He sucked it in to button. Only the arch below the rib cage disappeared, that tire couldn’t. Once secured, he pushed his belly back out, arched his back. Better, he thought, the shirt hem wasn’t touching his jeans any more, there was a draft from underneath now. Buttoning the jeans up had pushed his gut out a little. Maybe I should tuck the shirt in, really show the curve. Yeah, this Scott will like that. The guy just might be genuine. Sounded like he gave a real name, he didn’t have to think about it. Alex looked at his reflection in the office window. It was 1AM. Hey, it’ll do. This guy’s going back to where ever anyway. What the fuck.

Scott looked in the mirror, shirt off. He worked hard to get those arms and dinner-plate pecks, but the abs came naturally. He got all the attention he wanted with his shirt off, but all this time it was attention from the wrong guys. He liked his body on him, but not on other men. Maybe all big guys only liked other big guys. Maybe that’s why he was still single, always struck out. Relax, he told himself. It doesn’t matter if this trick likes you, that’s why you’re paying him. 

Condoms and lube packet, computer on defrag so if he didn’t make it back to the office soon, Neal couldn’t see when Alex had logged off. He could check for messages remotely. Act like you’ve done this before. Alex was on the street walking quickly. He was used to his tummy jiggling when he walked, but that night he was very aware of the vibrations. What if the client was just experimenting, changed his mind and wanted someone skinnier? He had heard some war stories about how brutal clients could be since they were paying for it. Hey, he thought, this isn’t about him liking me, its not a date. Its about showing Todd not everybody wants a jock. At least Alex could collect the minimum fee for showing up and leave if the client baulked. 

Half-way there Alex froze. He realized that if he spoke, the client would recognize his voice, the voice the client had told his secret desires to and asked to not instruct the escort. The spell would be broken. He’d have to use a trick he heard the guys talking about once. The "silent treatment.” He would let the client do all the talking. Jason was doing a late check-in and saw Alex try to sneak past the hotel desk. Alex saw him look surprised out of the corner of his eye as the elevator door closed. He’d think of a story later.

Room 323. Relax; pretend you’re hot and this guy will believe it. Act like Todd. 
Alex knocked. 

Scott reminded himself to relax. Act cool, you’ve had sex a thousand times before. Act like you’ve paid before. This isn’t a date for god’s sake, he’s a gigolo. Get what you want. 

Scott opened the door with eyes down. He swung his gaze slowly up from the guy’s Vans. Solid calves, big thighs in tight 501’s. A steel blue shirt, long-sleeves, baggy enough to hide the top buttons of the jeans. Not a look that screamed for Scott’s attention. The black baseball cap raised to show a face with cheeks just slightly curving under the chin, adorned with a devilish goatee. Puppy-dog brown eyes, thick eyebrows, full lips. He didn’t think the stranger heard him breath out the word "wow.” Cute AND a solid build. All his plans to act casual flew out the window. If this guy said anything, just one word, he would be at his mercy. The blood was draining quickly from his brain to be used elsewhere. He totally forgot to ask price and duration of visit. 
"Ahmmm....You must be Alex. Come in. Please.” 

Alex touched the bill of his cap as if to say hello as only the Marlborough man could. He was getting into the role. He was sure he heard the guy whisper "wow.” Or maybe that was him. The client was tanned, shirt less, smooth, and looked like an anatomy text. Ripped body, long blonde hair, green eyes. Your basic Tarzan with a gold navel ring. In jeans himself, and bare feet, BIG bare feet, hairy. Chiselled face. My god, BIG hands. The client barely stood aside as Alex made his way inside. He brushed past and felt the client scanning down his back side. 

Aww..YES! Fantastic. A solid, round, wide butt. His weight wasn’t just in the belly. Judging by the calves, this guy had carried his weight all his life. Wrestling in high school maybe, but never the track team. A little shorter than Scott had imagined, but hey, this was a human being, not a Mattel doll made to order he reminded himself. But he was so damn close. 

"D’you want something to drink?” Asked Scott. Dumb question. Mr. health food only had bottled water and juice for the morning in the tiny fridge. This was an economy hotel, not the Ritz. The escort shook his head and stood in the foyer. There was just one weak light on by the bed. Some light coming in from the street light outside. "I need some water.” announced Scott. His mouth had gone badlands. He crossed the room, swigged, set it down by the night stand, and came back to stand in front of the the escort who stared straight ahead. 

Scott took charge then and slowly lifted the cap. A buzz cut. Long hair would have been nice, but now there was nothing shading those eyes except long lashes. 

Alex froze, didn’t know what to do next. Look away! God, he looks into your eyes and he’ll know you’re not a professional. Look distant, bored. Alex dropped his long-lashed lids a little. Now the client was a cat, moving around behind. His hands were just catching the hem of Alex’s t-shirt slowly drawing upward, a curtain on a stage, maybe afraid he would spook Alex. 

Now Alex felt one finger hit his skin on the left, tracing the edge of his jeans toward his spine, the edge of the jeans curved by his curves. Scott felt like he was in church. Here was a real man, with love handles larger than his hands. The jeans were cutting in, but curves were fighting back, pushing out, enough to lift the denim and make a span, a bridge where the flesh wrapped around and met in the middle. The jeans were lifted by this enough for Scott to slip one finger in there. Right were the small of the back should be, but this guy didn’t have one. Good. His backside was an anchor, a foundation for, a solid prelude to the belly in front. 
"Take your shirt off for me, slow.”

Alex simply raised his arms, waiting for the client to take command. Scott couldn’t wait. He finished the lifting. Now he could see a little fuzz in that cleft leading down to the ass. No bones or muscles showing anywhere. Good. Good man. He moved his eyes upward and lost a heartbeat. As the escort held his arms upward, Scott could see two ripples, rolls above the love handles on each side, rolls that didn’t completely stretch out, but deepened when the escort lowered his arms again. Big arms. Round shoulders. Good. Healthy corn-fed muscles, marbled, soft, large. Not lean, not cut, no veins to be found. Breath Scott, breath, he told himself. Good advice, but he wasn’t prepared for Alex to turn around. So he laid his hands on those wide handles, imagined his fingers to be feathers and began to trace forward, following the jeans as the placard stretched and rolled over, curving down toward the floor, warped by this tire. He was using his hands to burn a map in his mind, confirm the vision he was having. He felt the top button of Alex’s jeans with his right thumb and with that, it sprang open, a mouse trap tripped. He felt Alex’s belly relax a little from some release, and then shiver as if cold. His slab had moved down some without the support. 

Breath Alex, breath, he told himself. He began drawing his hands behind him, up the client’s thighs to that muscled butt. Iron one minute, soft the next.

Scott knew he had to see with his hands first before he could look at Alex’s belly with his eyes. He resisted the temptation to find the navel, save the sweetest for last. He ran his hands up to the pecks. Again, round, big and soft enough to fill each hand, bigger than Scott’s large fingers spanning. He could feel the nipples, wide as 50 cent pieces (another sign he had always been big?), little hair so easy for the tongue to find later. Now he thought he was ready. 

He began to let his hands drop, his hard abs pressed against Alex’s padded backside. Alex involuntarily sucked his stomach in. He had always been a little ticklish. Scott began to breath down his back as they stood there. In his ear. Then he was lipping Alex’s jaw line, moving toward the cheek. Alex turned his full lips into Scott’s. And Scott kept one eye down the front of Alex. Alex couldn’t keep it sucked in any longer. He sighed. Scott whispered, "Relax, I like it round, full, I like your belly. That’s why I asked for you.” 

With that, Alex released all his muscles, slow and steady. Scott thought of a river flooding. He heard the second button open without help, and now he could see Alex’s navel. 

It was a large open "O.” No lip over the top or bottom. No way it could be pierced, a funnel. The walls of that cave were not pushed-in by fat on the sides. Just a perfectly round crater, an innie, maybe two inches deep. A hint of interior stretch marks. Had this guy been fatter at one time? Scott imagined a tight t-shirt spanning Alex’s belly, cloth creased into a canyon where the nipples pulled, creased where the arch started below the rib cage, and best of all, the cloth would span over that grotto of a belly button like shark skin over a drum, making a flat dimple 3, maybe 4 inches wide. Scott moved to face Alex, hands on his wide hips again. They lip-locked like vampires, Scott moving one hand to Alex’s cheek, one to the space above his butt in the back. A little bead of sweat was travelling down the canyon to moisten his butt. Alex’s hands had been all over Scott, but mostly he was immobilized by how this man was touching and kissing him. He didn’t feel in control. He was not acting cool or distant. 

Scott moved down to a nipple and nursed, his hands squeezing, slipping down into the back of Alex’s loosened jeans, measuring his ample butt. Massaging the cheeks. Everywhere his hands went on this guy, a solid, rubbery handful was waiting. Scott’s underwear was getting sticky with pre-cum, he could feel his balls going blue, but he didn’t care, he wasn’t going to rush this. Didn’t care how much this guy charged him. He realized then that this man was either a good actor, or he was really enjoying this too. He traced his tongue over the belly arch through some short blonde downy hair, down the mid line, aiming for that glorious navel. He was starting to loose control too. 

For 20 years he had been in the scene; clubs, bars, gym, the beach. It was always the same with every man he had been with. He would always look at them and wish they were fatter. He would try any guy who had even a few pounds over him, the tiniest amount of belly fat was better than none, but he could never get the truly thick guys. Scott had learned he would only get about a minute of nibbling on a belly before the owner would take Scott’s head in hand and move it down to the man’s dick. One strategy was to get the other guy off first, then while he was too much in bliss to argue, Scott could return to the guy’s gut while he got himself off. All the while imagining that the trick liked it, was fatter, was arching and pushing Scott’s face into a fat, warm heaven. He was always begging, bargaining. He looked up at this guy, at Alex.

Alex was looking down, mouth open, eyes half closed in a trance. Scott was looking up with a question in his eyes, a little boy pleading. Alex answered by simply mouthing the word "please.” Once, then he mouthed it again, before he slipped into nirvana, a tongue slipping into his navel, wet warm lips sealing around it. Drilling. He locked his knees so they wouldn’t buckle. Scott held both love handles, hard, sinking his nose and face into 
Alex’s belly, holding his breath because air could not break the seal. Hungrily nibbling and sucking, licking. He opened his mouth as wide as possible, wider than for any dick it had ever encountered, and he tried to suck some of that warm blubber inward without biting. He pulled with all his might, and there was deep, rubbery resistance. He held that dome of belly fat, a mouthful, and bathed it with his tongue. He heard himself making noises like some animal growling over food, and thought: "oh god, I’m freaking this guy out I bet.” He pulled away, looked up and saw Alex zombied. Knowing what was coming next, even though this guy was a gigolo, Scott thought he should began to go down on him, sheer habit. He would pull down the jeans, roll the elastic of the BVDs down. But before he could, something unusual happened. Scott felt Alex’s hands on his face, fingers gently lifting from the jaw. Alex was pulling Scott’s face back to his belly. The last buttons on Alex’s 501’s were under strain from a different pressure. 

He plunged his nose back into Alex’s cave and heard Alex give a long, soft moan. Scott’s head was buried for an eternity, Alex’s hands lightly holding his head there, telling him in sign language to stay right where he was. At last Scott looked up at Alex’s sweet face. Scott turned back to stare at the belly inches from him, watched it quiver in sensory shock with each breath from his nostrils, saw the rabbit tracks of fur leading to the crotch, and he moved his hands to relieve the tension on the last of those buttons. He didn’t want to bore this guy with his fetish, even if he was a gigolo. Alex’s hands stopped his, and Scott looked up again. Alex grinned, no acting involved, took Scott’s face in his hands and moved it back toward his waiting belly one more time. Alex had never experienced a man worshiping his body. Touching him some place besides his ass or his dick. Loving the belly he loved too, getting off on that part of him others scorned him for. He heard Scott whisper "thank you,” once to him, maybe the second time to the gods. 

Alex thought, why rush, I can get a blow job any time. But this...
Scott thought, I’ll pay for 24 hours with this guy if I can afford it. I can get my rocks off any time, but this... He happily plunged his face back into heaven, and in this way, and others, the night disappeared. 

Daylight came in the window and Alex wedged an eye open. He could hear that Tarzan, Scott, breathing deeply behind him. They were spooning. Two big tanned muscle arms wrapped under and over him in perfect tension. They moved up and down with his breathing, but were holding tight enough to not drop aside. Scott's thumbs, both, were tucked inside Alex’s belly button to help with this. Alex looked down at his pale belly. Above and left of his navel were archipelagos of hickies that had blossomed; a happy pox. Bright red on his white skin; they weren’t going to fade for at least a week. He felt a little proud of these badges of affection. They weren’t sore, but his nipples were. Oh, and his dick! It was going to be silk boxers for a few days. He just wasn’t used to that much friction in one night. And there was other evidence too, proof the night hadn’t been a dream. Clothes everywhere, used condoms. He’d better warn Jason about the stains above the bed on the wall. Some observant guest might see a distortion in the wallpaper. Alex had surprised himself. He hadn’t performed like that since high school, maybe never. In fact sex had never felt like this before. He tried to reach the phone and see the time. 

Scott gave a petulant moan when Alex started to pull away, like a sleepy child having a teddy pulled out of his arms. He took a deep breath and drew in Alex tighter. He was not letting go of Alex, not in his dreams anyway. Alex dialled the office, punched the code. Good, no messages. No one would be the wiser. If anyone asked, he’d say he felt sick and left early. He could get Jason to promise secrecy in exchange for juicy details. 

Scott couldn’t pretend to be asleep any longer. He felt a wave wash over him, remembered the night and knew he wasn’t dreaming. In sudden wakefulness, he told himself he just had the first real sex of his life. No pretending the whole night. He was allowed to do everything he ever imagined with a guy who had a gorgeous belly, body. He had never been so satisfied. He gave Alex another squeeze. 
"Good morning. Oh boy, I must owe you a ton of money for staying here all night.”

Alex had seen it when he looked for the phone and reached over to the wad of cash on the night stand. He fanned the bills in the sunlight. Damn! That was twice Todd’s record night. 
"Its all yours buddy, I’ve never had a night like that before.”
Alex said "Me too,” to himself and crashed a little inside at the thought that he might never again. He didn’t care about the money or Todd any more. 
"I bet you hear this from all your clients, but if I had a man like you, I could do him every night like that for the rest of my life. Course, he’s need about 5 more pounds then you have, right about here.” Scott slapped then pinched Alex’s jelly roll.

He felt Scott’s thumbs sink back into his navel, maybe trying to stretch it, his fingers fold under his tire. No man had ever touched him like this, genuine. Slowly, he laid all of the bills but one back on the night stand. 

"This one is for my boss, my commission. You keep the rest, my treat. Only, you’re taking me to breakfast. And I’m warning you I’m always hungry in the morning.” 

Scott’s eyes flew open as he recognized the voice, Alex turned his head, they looked each other in the eyes, no pretence, and they kissed again. Breakfast was rescheduled for brunch, then lunch. There would always be another plane tomorrow. 

Source: http://www.bellybuilders.com/messageboard/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=744
Category: fantasy | Added by: existimator (2012-08-30) | Author: Sharkboy
Views: 3806 | Comments: 1 | Rating: 3.7/3
Total comments: 1
0   Spam
1 Theo   (2013-06-02 23:26:14)
Thanks so much for writing this. Im a chunky big masculine guy with a 44 inch waist and have always wanted the experience of being somebody's escort for the evening. To have someone pick you out and actually pay to spend time with you is this fat boys dream

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