I’m just going to come right out with it – I have a strange job. A very strange job. It’s the kind of job where you hesitate when someone asks you what you do for a living. Then you start to stutter while trying to come out with the right words; then you backtrack and make out that you’re something you’re not, just to get out of a sticky situation.

I’m a shower attendant.

I know what you’re thinking, what the hell is a shower attendant and what do they do? I actually applied for the job that was advertised in the local paper. I had no idea what it involved. I’ll try and make it easier on your mind. Try this definition –

I’m a shower attendant at a sex club.

Now, that must have made things a lot easier for you. No!

Well, you’re either dumb or I’m not explaining myself clearly, so here goes!

I stand in showers, in a sex club, waiting for people to wash; no, not waiting for others to wash themselves, waiting for people that I can wash. The showers are a bit on the big side and I’m not alone; there are three or four of us men in the shower at the same time. It’s not what you think though. I’m not making this any clearer, am I?

That’s because it’s hard to explain. If you saw what I did it would be easier.

Right – here goes, one last time.

I work in a sex club that has larger than life shower cubicles, a bit like a sports facility where people have communal showers. There are perhaps four shower heads along three of the walls, and we, us men that is, stand in the corner of the shower, on hand to offer support and a helping hand to the women that come in.

The women normally come for their shower after they have been entertained in the sex club. All sorts of things happen inside, but it’s my job to ensure that the women who enter the shower afterwards are looked after - if they want to be.

There are rules of course. What fine establishment would it be, without rules? Us men, cannot approach the women, or make the first move; that is the first rule. But, if they approach us, and request us to wash them clean, or if they want to flirt with us then we are free to flirt back. The second rule is that if the women want to touch us, they can, but we cannot touch them back unless they say we can. It can be frustrating but rules are rules.

It’s a simple job, an entertaining job and a frustrating job all at once. I get to see so many beautiful women pass through the shower. Some come in and wash themselves, ignoring me and my mates. Some flirt with us, often coming up to us with a handful of shower gel and soaping us up as they also wash themselves. There is a rule (rule three) that says we are free to react to any manipulation, which is just as well under those circumstances. Some women come into the shower and request that we wash them. One even got all four of us to soap her down and wash her clean and she never touched us once. She climaxed though, just before she left the shower. Some just tease us and soap each other’s bodies leaving us to watch. That is rule four; we can watch and get turned on. That’s what makes it frustrating.

I can tell you that there is a male shower as well, and they are currently advertising for some female shower attendants. Fancy it? I don’t know what their rules are or what they have to wear. The mind boggles at the thought but I hope it’s a butt plug with a tail and waterproof tassels. I haven’t seen a lady shower assistant yet so I don’t know. When I do I’ll let you know.

The first time we opened, women would walk into the shower and gasp in surprise at seeing us there; then they would giggle and laugh at us. They would wash themselves in a hurry and leave as soon as they could, still giggling. I don’t think they knew why we were there. They soon got used to us though, and now, six months into this new job, I’m a valuable part of the scenery. They seem to like me.

There’s something else I’ve not told you.

We have to wear a certain adornment, if you can call it that. Okay, maybe not an adornment, a cock ring. A big cock ring that is much wider than normal. One that sits tightly under our balls and around our cocks; one each that is, not one between us. It pushes our balls upwards and outwards and our cocks look like they are perched on top of them. Think of those African women that wear rings around their necks to extend them – it’s a bit like that, only rubber. Rule five states that we must wear them at all times and rule six states that we must be shaved as well. I’ve never come across so many rules.

Anyway, I think you have all the information you need now. That is what I do for a living.

You’re laughing? Thanks!

But there are upsides to my job. Some of the horniest women on this planet walk through my shower. Trust me when I say that. I have seen slender women with small breasts and legs as long as their bodies ask me to wash them between their thighs. I take my time with them obviously. Rule seven is that if you are asked to wash someone, be pedantic and do a good job. It wouldn’t do for one of these women to talk to the management about sloppy work.

I have been approached by some short, plump women too; one I particularly remember didn’t quite come up to my nipples. She must have been under four foot and I had to kneel down to wash her large and pendulous breasts; they needed washing too as they were covered. She seemed to love the attention I paid her. I know I loved it. It was a shame that her husband came looking for her, because I think she was getting turned on at the thought of my growing appendage and how it stuck out from my body at such a sharp angle. Not that I’m deformed, it was because of the adornment.

The best for me though are the curvaceous or burlesque looking women. Their bodies have a profound effect on me, and believe me when I tell you that my cock looks comical when it’s bound in a ring and eight inches long. It points away from my body like it’s surfing on the tidal wave called balls that support it from underneath. It’s comical.

The thing about curvaceous women are – well, their curves. I like the flesh that covers their hips. Their thighs are often silky and their breasts are often large and their bottoms are just – gorgeous; all positives in my world. I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed but most burlesque women are also extremely pretty. Very attractive, and with eyes that sparkle like cut diamonds and accompanied by a supporting act of a come-on smile.

Their minds are also filthy. But, I guess everyone who comes in this establishment has a filthy mind – right!

There is a purpose to our presence. It is to serve those that have paid a lot of money to get into the club, and as such, we too get paid quite handsomely. Let’s face it, apart from the constant wrinkles around my fingertips, it's easy money, and there are perks.

I know – you were waiting for me to get to the perks, right!

I remember one woman like it was yesterday. I heard her before I saw her. Her voice was loud and invasive, until she turned the corner of the shower with her friend, at which point she just shut up and looked at us in awe. I would describe her as wonderfully curvy and she had an instant effect on me. I just stood in the corner and watched her friend walk up to a shower and put it on. She asked one of my associates to help her, which he did; pouring shower gel over her body, wiping it in and lathering her with prolonged swipes of his hand.

The curvy woman sidled up to me and looked me in the eye. She wiggled her breasts at me and giggled.

“I think I need to get this washed off,” she said, wiggling her breasts once more.

I looked down at her and smiled. She was covered in thick white creamy fluid, and she didn’t come pre-prepared with her own shower gel. It was in her hair, over her face and her breasts were ninety percent white. I reached for the tube of gel and squeezed it out into my hand, lots of it. She offered me her hand and I squeezed some into that as well.

As I reached down to start at her shoulders, she started to soap my balls, lathering them and causing them to move as they jostled for position in the palm of her hand. They didn’t stop moving as she washed them. My cock grew instantly.

My own hands had reached her breasts and were slowly washing all the come off her. I could see her eyes close and open and I knew this was not going to be a quick wash-and-go. She turned around and leaned into me. Her plump and gorgeous bottom replaced her hands as she wiggled it over my balls. My cock pointed upwards towards the small of her back, gently touching it every now and then. My arms reached around her and I washed her breasts clean with long, extensive strokes of my own. The whole scenario couldn’t have been more perfect for me.

“Wash me everywhere; I need to get cleaned before my husband sees me.”

Her words turned me on even more than her actions. I found that I was closing and opening my eyes and that long lingering sighs left my mouth as much as the sounds that left hers. I placed more shower gel into my hands and let them wander over her bottom and into the crease of her backside.

“Yes,” she moaned, “do make sure you clean in there; it’s the first place he’ll look.”

I uttered the obligatory ‘oh, fuck’ under my breath as I pushed my soaped finger up her anus.

“I’m finished, Gwen. Are you going to be long?”

Gwen opened her eyes and looked at her friend.

“I’m going to be a little longer, I’m afraid,” she smiled back at her.

Her friend grinned and then left the shower room.

Gwen’s hands came around her body and I felt her grasp my cock. She stroked it upwards, reaching the top with one hand before the other grasped the base. She repeated the action over and over. Her upper body swung to and fro as she stroked it. Rule eight stated that if we came while being manipulated, we were to make sure it was thoroughly washed away. I was sure that I was in for some extra cleaning activities with Gwen.

But, to my surprise, she stopped stroking me. She must have sensed my closeness as she turned to face me.

“We don’t want to waste that, now do we,” she said, looking innocently into my eyes.

I shook my head in disbelief.

Gwen reached down to my cock ring and started to pull at it. These things don’t move all that easily, not when my cock is hard and my balls are full to bursting, but she was adamant that it was coming off. Rule nine states that it is acceptable for a woman to remove a cock ring and rule ten states that as soon as possible, the cock ring must be replaced, unless within ten minutes of the end of your shift.

Gwen got it off, the cock ring that is, and started to stroke my freed member with some urgency.

“You know where it’s going – don’t you!”

I nodded. She smiled and turned around. She opened her legs and bent forwards at the waist. Her breasts fell forward. I looked at the invitation before me. The sweep of her hips over her luscious bottom was almost too much for me. Gwen then looked at one of my colleagues and wiggled her finger for him to join us.

I started to push my cock into her lovely warm cunt as he approached. By the time his cock got to Gwen’s mouth, my cock was fully in and retracting, ready to push in again. She leaned against him, hands on his hips as she sucked the very end of his knob.

The other two guys looked on with huge erections of their own, but their time would come and it would be me in their position next time.

Gwen’s muffled sounds hummed into the cock head that was preventing her from being verbal. I started to thrust a bit harder, grabbing her hips and pulling back on them as I did so. She was a heavenly fuck, to say the least. Her pants and moans were encouraging and I was proud that it was my colleague that came first and not me. His ejaculate caused Gwen to pull back from his cock allowing it to splash onto her skin.

With her mouth free, the barrage of sexual depravity escaped for us all to hear. She started panting the words fuck, fuck, fuck, and then the words I’m cumming.

I came inside her the moment she started slumping away from me, her legs buckling from under her. It took both of us to hold her up and when my colleague grasped her under her arm to lift her, I saw that her body was physically shaking with her orgasm.

Gwen finally settled enough so that she could stand up on her own. I started washing her face and hair once more to get everything out of it, and I finally let my hand drift to her pussy to give it an exceptionally good clean.

I wasn’t expecting her to kiss me afterwards, but she did.

With regret, I watched her leave the shower room. It would have been nice had I had actually met her in the club and not at the end of the night. Would I have kept up with her? Who knows? Would we see each other again? Who knows? Did she care?

I struggled to put the cock ring back on despite my wilting member. I had thirty minutes left and remembered rule ten.

Three more women entered the shower after Gwen and her friend, but the thirty minutes passed without any further excitement.

On my way out of the club, the manager pulled me to one side. The look on his face told me everything and I had obviously displeased him.

He shook his head and frowned at me.

“You’re sumfing else,” he said, his voice bordering on sarcasm.

“Look, I’m sorry, but have I done anything wrong?” I looked at him dumbfounded. I was sure I washed and cleaned everyone as good as I should have.

“You ain’t done anyfink wrong, mate,” he replied, “far from it –”

He tossed me an envelope; inside it was a piece of paper and on it was a commendation from a person called Gwen. I read her wonderful words and beneath them was a phone number and an ‘x’, just the one though. Personally, I would have given her three, but then, I’m a nice guy.

I couldn’t help but smile and I left the venue with a huge grin on my face while pulling my phone out from my rucksack.

Well, I guess those are the perks. Do you fancy my job? Leave me a comment below if you do and remember, comments are required to let people know whether you enjoyed something, or not, as the case may be, like Gwen did; some of us need the encouragement.

So if you do meet me in real life, and you ask me what my job is, don’t be surprised if I hesitate and tell you I’m a doctor.