This is a "true" story, which began when I was 35 years old, just divorced. The divorce cost me everything; house, car, bank account, leaving me with the clothes I packed in my suit case.

Thinking, that there was nothing else that could happen was a mistake ... the job I had for almost 10 years, gave notice that they were going out of business. The company gave everyone 2 weeks pay and I was out of work. Finding a job was impossible, no one was hiring ... I finally found a job, but the company was in Chicago, 50 miles from where I lived. I used the last of my money to move there and get a studio room.

I worked the night shift from 4 p.m. to midnight, always looking for overtime, which was rarely available. One morning, I was in a diner having coffee looking at the "want" ads hoping to find either a better job or a part-time job, when a guy sitting next to me interrupted me and started a conversation.

"Having any luck?" he asked.

Responding with a "No" and adding that it is hard finding anything. We began talking, with him asking if I was new to Chicago .... I told him yes, and then began to let him know about my struggle. Here I was talking to a stranger about my "lousy" life, but not knowing anyone, it felt good to at least talk about it.

Finally, after about 15 minutes of me "ranting", he introduced himself ... his name was Paul; in turn I said, "Nice to meet you, I'm Anthony."

We spoke a little more, then Paul said he had a meeting to go to. Just before leaving, he gave me his business card and wrote his cell phone number on it.

"Give me a call later."

I said I work the 2nd shift, which will make it difficult to call.

Anthony said, "Call me when you are done ... I'm a night person, so I'm always up."

I did call him after work, and was surprised that he answered on the first ring ... he said he was happy I called.

"What are you doing now?" he asked, and before I could answer he asked if I wanted to meet for a drink or coffee if you like. I told him a drink would be fine, actually after the day I had a drink would be what I needed.

Paul was already at the bar when I got there ... sitting at the end of the bar. Anthony, what would you like ... a scotch on the rocks. After putting away 3 drinks, and feeling relaxed, Paul started talking about his life, some bad relationships, including his failed marriage. He said he gave up on women ... all they know how to do is drain you emotionally.

"Now," he said, "when I need some "relief", I pay for the attention."

I found myself agreeing with him about bad relationships, and laughed about paying for it. Paul laughed, and said, "Now don't take this wrong, but I don't always look for a woman ... be honest with you men know how to take care of me better; I don't consider myself "gay" but what goes on in Private is my business."

I was embarrassed and he new it, but I said, "You are right "it's your business."

After a couple more drinks, I began asking him more about his "private" life. I was not a unaware of what goes on, but never experienced anything.

Paul began by saying, "I'm not making love to a guy ... no kissing, things like that, but I do enjoy a nice getting 'blow job"; and in the right mood, even more adventures."

Now, with all the drinks I had, he had my attention.

"How do you meet these guys, pick them up on the street?"

"Hell no, I'm not looking to get caught by the cops, or get robbed or get some disease ...

I have a friend who has a business. Guys, like yourself, in their 20's, 30' even 40's work for him.. They all have regular jobs, but like to make extra money ... very discreet, no worries."

"Paul, they have jobs and do this on the side ... 'why'? For a lot of reasons, some are bi, some are straight, enjoy some change of pace; but mostly the money. When I get in the mood, it costs me $150 for a "blow job" ... no hassle, no nothing."

With that, he changed the subject ... a little later, he said we better leave before the bartender closes.

"If you want, I live a couple of blocks from here ... we can have a drink at my place."

His apartment was unbelievable ... it was on the 10th floor with a view of the park. As we had another drink, he excused himself, and came back in a robe ... wanted to get comfortable, he said. I was still curious about the conversation we had, and he smiled when I asked a couple of more questions.

"So, Anthony "how curious" are you?"

With that, he let his robe open, revealing his erect cock ... I'm glad we weren't going to compare sizes ... he was big, about 9" and thick. I couldn't stop looking, that's when he put his hand behind my head and pulled me down to his cock.

"Go ahead lick the head, no one is here, just you and me."

I'm not sure "why" but I started licking the head of his cock, tasting the pre-cum ... then he told me to put it in my mouth, again doing as he instructed.

I began sucking the head of his cock, each time feeling him pushing my head further down, until I started to gag. My mouth was stretched open and his cock was at the back of my throat ... as I sucked him, he kept telling me how great it felt ... I could feel his cock getting even harder and swelling up in my mouth. Without warning, he held my head down on his massive cock as he began to shoot his cum down my throat, telling me to swallow all of it, don't lose a drop.

When he finished, he let go of me ... he pointed to the bathroom. I ran in and tried to spit out the cum and get the taste out of my mouth. Finally, I returned to the living room ... ashamed of what just happened.

Paul sensed that I was upset, "Anthony, you were curious, so what's the big deal ... no one will know. It doesn't mean your "gay" ... again, if it is exciting no one got hurt."

I didn't want to talk anymore ... just wanted to leave. I wasn't mad at Paul, I could have stopped, but I didn't. I got my jacket and told Paul I had to leave.

"Well, Anthony call me tomorrow if you can."

I got back to my apartment, and as I put my hand in my pocket for the keys, there was paper in my pocket. Once inside, I looked ... there were 4 $50.00 bills. Paul put the money in jacket ... what had I done.

The next morning, I paced, thinking if I should call him.

(to be cont.)