Toby – A Male Escort’s Journey
Toby – a sample chapter is below. This is the beginning of the story, where it all begins.
Dallas, Texas – Present Day
Pelting rain against the back of his neck caused him to flinch, while the sound of thunder—as if to provide a soundtrack—boomed loudly in his ears. A dog nearby barked in rhythm with the thunder and yelped when the lightning flashed across the dark sky. The smell of the rain itself was refreshing and comforting, inspiring visions of sitting in a log cabin —perhaps with a tin roof — enjoying a coffee and a cigarette with only forest surrounding this heavenly, mythical place. For just a brief moment, he was in that conjured image. He could almost smell the fresh air around him of the bushland and the large trees, singing as the rain sated them, as it ran down each of their trunks to the ground where it streamed from little rivers that joined into larger pools. Local wildlife drank from the water at the base of the trees, and for just a few moments, he was amongst it all. It didn’t matter where there was, it could be in the Amazon or somewhere in Europe, perhaps even in Northern Queensland so long as the picture fit and the temperature was just right.
He waited patiently for the last car to pass by him, so that he could put his athletic legs into good use and sprint across the road. The water dribbling down his back no longer bothered him, nor did the squelching of water inside his sneakers. His thoughts were too focused elsewhere, between the place he’d rather be and the place he was about to enter. He was not with the present moment. Apprehension and resignation were the two conflicting emotions because he knew he had to do this.
He realised he no longer wanted to go through with this. Halfway across the wet road, he questioned his motives for this visit. By the time Toby reached the other side of the road and stood almost directly outside his recently-passed mother’s apartment, he had changed his mind several times. Luckily, no other cars had passed or he would have found himself indecisive and flat – in the centre of the road.
At least I wouldn’t care about being wet and cold.
He looked up and recognised the apartment and shivered, but not from the cold. Toby had lived there from the day his mother brought him home from the Dallas Hospital until the day he’d left— it seemed so long ago. The years had been harsh on the exterior; he figured that would more than likely be the case on the inside too. He wondered if the years had also weathered his mother. He wouldn’t know. He would never find out because it was too late.
Where once a dark-green railing encased a small balcony with well-kept plants, a barren and rusted eye-sore now stood in its place. If any plants were there, he couldn’t see them. There wasn’t any evidence that an attempt to tidy the exterior had taken place. Would the inside be as ravaged as the outside? As ravaged as he felt at that very moment?
A futile succession of arguments for and against began, as he soaked up every single rain drop that landed where he stood. The lightning briefly illuminated the inside of the apartment on the first floor, just a flicker and only for a brief moment. But it was enough for him to have seen her. She had looked as though she’d been staring right at him – smiling, almost happy to see him return perhaps. Emotions pulled him back to a time when he had cared about her. A memory shot through him, he was a boy and she had held him against her bosom and sang to him. His heart ached at the memory and guilt permeated every fibre of his body.
Toby began to question the information he’d been given. Had there been some mistake? She had died, they had been sure. A heart-attack, they said. Her dental records only confirmed what her purse identification had told them—she was Andrea Peccone, and she was very much dead.
He looked up again, hoping another lightning bolt would illuminate the inside again. He knew it would, and if there was one thing he had learned, it was patience.
The argument about whether he was going to enter the apartment or not was over; the new one on whether or not he had seen a brief glimpse of his dead mother began. He waited, ignoring his body’s plea for shelter and warmth. Luckily for him, nobody else was mad enough to be walking the streets or they might consider Toby to be a little crazy if they were to see him standing in the rain, looking up at the apartments, expressionless and dripping wet.
By the time the next flash of lightning speared through the sky, he’d concluded it had only been his imagination. The next flicker of light – oh so quick he almost blinked and missed it – proved that nothing stood there.
He made up his mind, even as he walked to the door facing him – equally as neglected as the apartments to which it led – that he was going to enter. He pulled out the key with the red tag, the name of his mother and the address someone had thoughtfully written on it; as if he could ever forget where he had come from. Without giving himself another opportunity to second-guess his own decision, he opened the rusty lock – which groaned and scraped – but eventually gave way and allowed him passage.
He was assaulted by ghosts from his past. The smells, the memories, the flashbacks, the voices he recalled all too well and a flood of emotions. The stairs creaked as they always had, yet this time, they also threatened to crack – perhaps break – and finally swallow him into their depths. The long-awaited son finally welcomed into the deepest reaches of the house’s shadows to end things where they’d all began.
The steps spoke of years of use as he walked up the central staircase. He thought it was a miracle that he had convinced himself to continue to the apartment door. He wasn’t surprised to see the once-varnished brown door looking forlorn and forgotten. The lock resisted, he shook it several times and remembered that he needed to pull it out slightly, before it finally accepted defeat and let him inside. How time had not let him forget an action he’d performed a thousand times, perhaps a thousand years ago. He was very different. Taller for sure, much more muscled too—he could break the door with his strong arms if he wanted to. Perhaps the door sensed this and knew it would be a futile exercise and gave up its feeble fight. But he knew he was delaying the inevitable. Go in.
She had died here – he could smell it right away. The air was rotten and decayed. From the corner of his eye, he saw movements in the shadows which quickly disappeared when he tried to focus on them. He impulsively flicked a switch by the door and wasn’t surprised that the power was out. He’d been forewarned that his mother had been bankrupt. She’d been cut-off weeks earlier by the power company before she’d died. There would be no light to guide him. The sudden quiet inside the dank-smelling apartment was almost too much for him.
He pulled out his phone and used the flashlight app to show him that which he didn’t really want to see; the home where his life had started and in some sense, where his former life had ended. A home he’d tried desperately to forget, full of ghosts he didn’t want to re-visit and a past that would never fully release its grip on him.
He wasn’t expecting a tidy apartment, and he was surprised to find one. He wasn’t expecting to remember everything either, but he did— every single detail in the dark room was exactly the same. He also wasn’t expecting to find his dead mother sitting on the large couch looking up at him, but he did.
In that moment, Toby decided he no longer wanted to be back at home.
Barcelona – The Time Before
They shared another two lines of coke, more for the excuse to stop and to talk and take a breather than for any real need to get any higher. Toby was already pretty stoned and had been thinking a lot about getting back to reality lately. In fact, he knew he would have to. He’d built such a tolerance to everything that he needed almost four times as much as his clients to get even a light buzz. He thought that he could stop as soon as he was ready. He knew he’d been saying that for over a year but continued saying it anyway, because he desperately wanted to. The reality was that he was very much addicted to it all, and he knew it. Wasn’t acceptance the first step towards recovery?
She laughed and stroked her tits and licked her lips, Smokey, light-green eyes smiling naughtily at him, then her hand trailed down to her pussy and she inserted a finger inside it, wiggled a little bit, then brought it out, put it to her mouth and sucked on it. She laid her head back onto expensive soft-looking pillows, finger sliding in and out of her mouth as she continued to moan with sounds of pleasure.
“Mmmmmm…” Her eyes closed and she moved her face towards the heavens; she was excited by her own juices. Her hand once again travelled down to her pleasure centre, and her finger paused for a very brief moment before sliding back inside.
Toby knew that he could end it, he could make her cum just a few more times and exhaust her, but he looked at his phone while her eyes were closed and noted he still had another 15 minutes to use up. He forced a smile and began to stroke his dick, accentuating the length with long strokes, slowly wanking from the very tip and back to the base. He played with his balls and feigned excitement. He looked at her the whole time; it was what she wanted, he knew. Her hands went from her clitoris, which she kept opening with two fingers, to her average sized breasts – which she’d started circling again with her fingertips.
Her dyed-blonde hair – with a touch of yellow – splayed neatly around her long face. She lay back on the bed and spread her legs further. He could see everything. He leaned over and thrust his tongue deep inside her, glad that she’d waxed it all off. He pushed it in as deep as he could and began to feel muscle ache, then protracted his tongue and rested a few seconds, then pushed it in again even as his jaw ached. Her response was orgasmic and her legs pressed against his ears a little too hard, causing him to struggle to free himself and breathe. She almost screamed before she gushed again and released her death-grip on his head. He pulled away quickly, pretending he wanted to watch her cum, but more so because he didn’t want to taste it. She shivered, then looked at him, like an innocent child discovering she’d done something wrong. Toby moved up and lay on top of her; he kissed her, and she moaned. Then he pushed his dick inside her again. She was so moist it went straight in— all 9 inches of it. He thrusted in and out, very slowly – watching her face – only kissing her when she opened her eyes. He watched her the whole time, he knew she liked that, it made her feel connected to him, it made her feel that this was something more. Time was ticking and he controlled it. He pulled out of her and turned her over, then moved to the edge of the bed and pulled her with him. From her behind, which is how she loved her finale, he inserted it again and moaned loudly. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, so he quickly grabbed his phone while she wasn’t looking. Seven minutes. He could get away with it now.
He rammed it all the way in and she pulled away from him, gasping loudly. It had hurt, he could tell. He pulled it out and did it again, as though he hadn’t noticed. A few more thrusts and she came again, then again, then he fucked her so hard, she moaned like she was in pain. He made her cum one last time, then flipped her over and threw himself on top of her. He put it inside one more time and he made love to her for an entire minute. His well-practiced rhythm now underway, to show her how excited he was that he was cumming, he was going to do it really deep. Just as she looked like she couldn’t take much more, he slowed down and faked his finale. He moaned out loud as he mimicked an explosion inside her and tensed his body, giving her a believable performance. He lifted his head and let out a loud, deep “Ohhhhh.”
Fucking academy award for Toby Peccone, world’s best orgasm faker.
She smiled at him, exhausted. He smiled back as he collapsed next to her, allowing her to use his arm as her pillow. Quickly pulling the condom off and masterfully scrunching it in his hand, he didn’t want her to see that his seed wasn’t inside it.
“Each time, I feel closer and closer to you. Can you come tomorrow? Same time? Please?”
Like a little girl, her eyes – which had lost their urgency and were sated— begged him to say yes.
“I’m booked out, but I can skip school again and get a tutor tomorrow night to help me make up what I’ve lost. Though he’s expensive… He probably wants about €200.”
She quickly reached over and grabbed her purse. It was hot-pink and had a design and a logo which Toby thought he recognised. Out came a thick stack of Euros.
“Oh, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Sometimes I think you’re paying for my education.” He looked down craftily, mimicking a look of discomfort. Almost ready to tell her that she shouldn’t, if it was needed.
She leaned forward and lifted his head—her kind and nurturing look. One that said, I will look after you… my purse is open just for you.
Which is exactly how Toby liked his clients to feel.
“Shit, I better check the time, baby. I’m supposed to get to school.” He pulled out of their embrace and checked his phone… four minutes.
“Oh yeah, you are a naughty girl, you made me late.” He said it to chide her, but did it with a cheeky smile. She wanted to believe she’d made him late for school and he encouraged it. It was more profitable that way.
“I’m sorry, boy…I don’t want you late for school. Mummy got carried away. Can you forgive your mummy?” She was coy, a little sweet and innocent and clearly not able to keep track of time.
Toby might have found her attractive and perhaps even fun to be with, but she was too old for him. Besides, his lifestyle didn’t allow for a lover.
“You’re forgiven, Mummy. Your boy’s gotta get away now. Same time tomorrow then? Can you wait that long for me?” He added a small sad smile as though he truly would miss her, then hurriedly dressed.
“Mummy will try and wait son. Mummy will miss her boy.” Her body, looking lithe and sinewy was toned. Toby was amazed that a 62-year-old woman could look so good. The best body money can buy, he guessed.
“Bye, Mummy, I’m off to school now.” He blew her a kiss, grabbed his phone and keys and rushed out of the door.
He checked his phone and was pleased… a minute to go. Good work, boy. He rushed to the stairs, walked down one level and pressed the elevator button. He worried that she would come out to wave him off and there would be an uncomfortable moment as he waited for the lift; so he waited on the next floor. Walking wasn’t an option; he had another two clients backed up and no break until after, then he would have his time for other things. He needed all the energy he could conserve.
As soon as he stepped outside, the bus he needed coasted along slowly. Excellent timing, thank you.
**** The End of Sample ****
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