Your Choice Sir {gay/rimming}

It was Wednesday again, and I was driving towards a building that sat in a newly gentrified area of the city. I never would have guessed that this is how my life would have turned out due to one of my hook-ups slipping me a card with the words, You Choose, with an embossed male ass in the middle on one side and a phone number on the other. I wasn’t sure what to think about it. 

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Months And Months Ago

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“Is this how I get in contact with you again?” I asked him. He had already turned towards the door of the hotel room we shared for the night. 

“Maybe,” he turned his head to tell me before pulling open the door and walking out of my life. I looked down at the card again as I brushed my thumb over the little protruding ass. I didn’t want to appear too pushy or eager by calling the number right away, so I placed it in my wallet for later. I ended up forgetting about that little piece of paper for three months. I was on the hunt for my driver’s license at the time. I didn’t come to a complete stop on a side street in a small town that my GPS had me use to get around an accident on the highway.

I got a ticket that I didn’t fight, and I gained a renewed interest in finding out what would happen if I called the number on the back of the card. So when I got home, finally, I called it as I sipped a beer while standing naked in my kitchen. 

“Please enter your given number.”

A male computer told me once the call was picked up on their end. What number? I wasn’t told about a number. I looked down at the card again. There were more numbers that I thought were an extension. Maybe that is what it was asking for. I pulled my cell from my ear and brought up the touchpad to enter in 5 2 8 1 1 and brought it back up to my ear. 

“39 Warren Ave, Wednesday, 7:35 pm. Present original number given at meeting.”

Then the line went dead. I raised an eyebrow before I pulled my phone away and looked at it as I took another swing from my beer. It was Monday now, and that ended the start of my week on a weird note. 

I set the appointment, such as it was, into my phone before replacing the card in my wallet. I placed it back by the door, close to my keys, before making my way to bed. I was tired and ready for this day to end.

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Later

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I was getting dressed, after using the sauna at my gym, when the hour alarm for the “appointment” started to ring. I had managed to forget about it until I read why my phone was making a noise at all, never mind at this time of day. I switched from the joggers and tee that I had started to get dressed with into the jeans and button-down that I kept in my locker for emergencies. Since I didn’t know what the dress code was for this thing, I thought that my better set of clothes was the right call until I learned otherwise. 

I slid into my car about eleven minutes later to plug the address into my GPS. I learned that it wasn’t that far from where I was now. I stopped along the way to grab a quick snack. Sweet potato fries and a protein milkshake. Watermelon flavored if you’re curious. The building had its own parking off on the side, and I was fifteen minutes early. So I sat there and ate the time away. With two minutes left until I was due, I got out and made my way to the front door with my wallet in my back pocket. There was no doorknob, but I did see a button for a doorbell and a camera over the door. Ok, I’m doing this. I pressed the button and changed my life. 

With each answer and piece of information I presented to them, and they verified, I was allowed one room deeper into a world that I still didn’t understand.

Finally, I entered a room where a man was seated at a desk in front of a computer, with an empty chair between us. The room itself had no decorations or windows. It was just a light gray box with lighting coming from recessed bulbs. 

“Please take a seat Mr. Bristal,” the man said as he held out a hand aimed at the seat. As soon as I thought about questioning his offer, I sat in the chair. I was already four rooms in and had at least thirty minutes invested at this point. “I’m sure you have some questions,” he started off with. My eyebrow was starting to develop a tick. I’ve had nothing but questions, but no one actually talked to me. They issued me short commands or demands in some cases. Then I was passed on to another person until I arrived here. “But first, let me introduce ourselves and at the end, if I haven’t covered something, you are free to ask for details,” he told me. 

“Ok,” I told him as I shifted in my seat and waited for him to continue. 

“We are an organization of gay men, who help other gay men achieve their sexual fantasies, within legal means and for a price,” he started. I should have known money would show up sooner or later. “The number you presented us with, represents a few things. One, the person you received it from. Two, a proclivity that you are partial to and engaged in with the person that gave you the card. And three, presenting an authentic card during an introduction meeting helps to prove that you aren’t trying to impersonate your way into our midst. Even though everyone here is of age, and has given their consent for all activities that they are involved in, legally, most of our engagements with our clients can be labeled as prostitution and therefore illegal in the law books.” He paused to gauge my reaction. I just waited for him to continue. I got the card from a one-night stand, who I went eight rounds with. Sexually. I’m not surprised that he was part of some kind of sex club. 

The man in front of me smiled wider before turning towards his computer and typing something. 

“If you were hoping to re-engage with the person that gave you this card,” he said as he turned back towards me, “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He appeared to have married his way out. It’s one of three ways an employee may leave our organization. But that information can be supplied at a later time if needed,” he stopped himself with. 

“5 2 8 1 1 was Timothy Faram and it stands for cream pie eating. There are two kinds and we would need to know your preference as to which one, to properly bill you and fulfill your desires,” the man said before pausing. “If you decide that you want to engage us for our services,” he ended with. 

“First let’s see what this would cost me?” I told him as I told myself that if the price was too high, I could still walk away. We spent the next thirty minutes fiddling with the details. I chose two activities and alternated them every other month. They were set for the second Wednesday of the month. At first. Then it became every other Wednesday I would switch. That changed the price a bit, but not enough for me to change my mind. 

Once I made my first payment, I was informed of their procedures. Voice mails were never left. Emails were never exchanged, and texts were never sent. I had to answer their calls, to be told where and when my next appointment would be. Before I left, he stood and extended his arm.

“Welcome to ‘Choices’ Mr. Bristal," he told me as we shook hands. I walked out of the only door I saw and met the last man that I saw before entering this room. I looked him over, quickly, for the third time and wondered if he was ‘orderable’. He pointed me towards a side door, and I found myself stepping down into the parking lot and looking at my car. 

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Months Later

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The pattern was always the same, even if the location never was. I punched the code I was given into a number pad that was always hidden behind a panel that replaced the doorknob to a room, if not the building, I was to report to. Inside was a male of varying age, who would welcome me before presenting a tablet that showed a grid of men for me to pick from. It took almost two months before I started to recognize anyone there. I half thought about just going through everyone on the lists before cycling through them again, but I ended up picking favorites. 

The first time was for the ‘proclivity’ I was identified with. Cream pie eating. My ultimate fantasy of this act required two people, but I was only given the opportunity to pick the bottom. And did I have bottoms to choose from. I hadn’t nailed down a type during my initial interview, and who would really want to? But I guess I was lucky that way. It opened up more opportunities for me to get off and enjoy my sexuality. 

The first time I looked at the grid of potential bottoms, I noted all the information listed there. It had their age, the amount of body hair they possessed, how long they have been sexually active, and whether or not they were a solid bottom or a switch hitter. There were also assurances that all of them were STD-free. Before I knew who’s ass I would like best to lick clean, I tried as many different types as I could. I even got to lock my lips over a virgin's behind. How on earth did they acquire a virgin, I don't know. But I made sure that the experience would be something that we would both remember.

I held his ass to my mouth as I licked around his warm and bruised opening. He bucked in my arms as my tongue pushed in and tried to pull out some of the cum that the other guy had left in there for me to taste. I was assured by my greeter that he was a documented heavy producer. Like all the others before and after him. But this guy's ass was too tight to give it to me easily. I had to coax it out of him. So I rimmed him, and his ass opened on its own, giving me my reward for making him cum a second time. 

The next Wednesday it was my turn to get fucked. Before I would watch as the bottom I picked get rammed by a stud of the club’s choosing. I would cum from jacking off from the show or as I got to taste what was produced from the slightly quivering cup that was his ass. It was now my turn to feel the force. To feel the erotic weight of a man as he became the only deity that I called god as my insides were burned, ripped apart, and knitted back together at the end of our encounter. To have others use my mouth as I was unable to stop them. Cum was going to be fucked out of me as I fed on a wet full cock or two. They would muffle my cries as I was forcefully filled from both ends. 

Here is where I showed a stronger preference for who topped me, and each time, my selection became more tailored to what I desired. Who I didn’t pick was who I sucked off. Sometimes it was one or two men that came in my mouth. Due to the stranger element of that role, I wasn’t surprised to see that it was either my greeter and, or the security guard that I didn’t always see. Other times it was a guy that may have fucked me before or a versatile whose ass I once worshipped. Whoever it was, I closed my eyes to them as their organ filled my mouth, if not my throat. On those days, I normally found myself in something of a suite, so I not only had a bed but a bathroom to clean up in. 

I was held down or held close, but I couldn’t move as I was made to receive each thrust that my top expertly filled me with. Sometimes I was given a cock to suck on from the time my ass was being prepped to receive their cock. Other times I was trembling with need as I watched them watching me get fucked. They were in whatever state of dress they wanted to be in while I stared at their crotch. Covered or not, as I waited for it to be given to me. 

Once, with trembling hands, before I was ready to explode from my ass pounding, they stepped forward and had me undo their pants for me to get their cock myself. I sucked and moaned and gripped his clothes tightly as I came in front of them as my throbbing ass was filled. When my top pulled out, he turned me over to have my head hanging over the edge of the bed, and they fucked my face until they came down my throat, and I made another mess on myself. Once they recovered, I was left to do the same. 

The variety of those encounters almost beat out the excitement that raced through me at the thought of the complete surrender that happened when I was kneeling behind a man that just experienced a force of nature and exposed the evidence to me. That I was now part of an intimate act between the two men as I tasted proof of it. My skin tingled. My fingers dug in as I became greedy and wanted all of what was in him in me. My stomach fluttered. I licked his quivering flesh as he continued to react to what happened or because of me. Pride swelled my chest at the thought, and my cock joined in. I wanted him shaking in my arms as I did what I could until he was either empty and had no more to give me or was coming himself again. At which point, I was happy to leave with a wet crotch that I would endure until I got home. 

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Presently

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I’ve made it to my destination. I parked on the right side of the road and fed the meter before crossing the street to enter a new-looking mid-size apartment building with the code I possessed. I walked into the elevator as directed and went to the fourth floor. For this building, that was the top. When I exited the lift, I looked for room D3 and rang the bell three times. I waited a few seconds to have the dark blue door open for me. I entered an apartment and looked around at all the furnishings, wondering if someone actually lived here or if the club did this to make their clients feel a bit more at ease or just to shake things up. For all I knew, this room was normally used for some other fantasy, and it was just currently available for use tonight. 

“Mr. Bristal,” the greeter said to get my wandering attention as I now looked at the pair of sneakers in the corner. I turned to see him presenting me with the white tablet. “Your choice sir?” he asked me as I took it from his warm hands. He smiled, I smiled, and my choice was picked. 

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THE END

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Hello, world,

Back in 2019, I came across a very short story on Tumblr I believe, and I sent my complaints with the plot and setting back to the author. I’m pretty sure they never got back to me, and if they did, I don’t remember. 

I didn’t even remember that I had a copy of the whole thing in my Google Docs. But I just found it, Jan 2022, and after reading it over and remembering when I wrote all this, it occurred to me that I could re-write it myself and fix all these issues. One, if there was a photo attached to this story back on Tumblr, it’s already been flagged and blocked on the site. Two, I didn’t get the feeling that the writer was that attached to the story for how it was written, in my humble opinion. 

My re-write of the story should have enough differences that it will be only considered as my own take on its central theme. I must confess. I haven’t written about this before. Yes, it’s gay. Yes, it’s sex. Yes, money will be involved. But outside of that, I’m in new territory. 

Leave comments to feed authors. 

Later.