Matt's Story - Pt. 01

BEGINNINGS - THE TAIL OF MRS. DOROTHY HUDUSCKER

####################### Part 1 ################################

The ringing in my ears had cleared just enough for me to hear "And if ever catch you near my wife again you sonofabitch, I swear I'll kill you!" Through the flashing stars in my vision, I saw the back of a pair of muscular legs, thatched with graying hair, in workout shorts as they stalked away from me, climbed into a Mercedes and sped away.

I sat there, my back against my car door in the fitness center parking lot, probing my teeth with my tongue through the blood in my mouth and slowly moving my jaw to see if it was broken. Nope. At least he hadn't punched me in the nose.

I dragged myself up, ignoring the stares from people in the parking lot, and got into the driver's seat of my new Tesla. It struck me as a little funny that the guy who had cold-cocked me into my car door had in part unwittingly paid for same car. I started the car and said to myself "Shit, I'm going to have to change fitness centers again."

####################### Part 2 #################################

Hi, my name's Matt. A pretty average name for a guy who is just slightly above average in almost all respects: height, weight (okay, a little below average here), fitness, looks, intelligence. The only exceptions are my level of empathy, the size of my cock, my sexual endurance and boundless curiosity. Put it all together and it makes me pretty good at what I do. I'd like to call myself a gigolo but that would be, as my Aunt Lenora would say, putting on airs. Nope, I'm engaged in one of the world's oldest jobs and part of the original gig economy. I'm a male prostitute. And I'm damn good at my job.

5 years ago, I was a 22-year-old moderately promising collegiate baseball player with a long shot of going pro. But, due to a rather unfortunate misunderstanding with the athletic director's wife, I lost my scholarship. And by misunderstanding, I mean he caught me in a motel room balls deep into his wife. I'm pretty sure a teammate ratted us out, but I never found out who.

I still had dreams of a baseball career, but I needed to make some money first. So I made my foray into the gig economy. Fortunately, a wealthy alumnus with a love for baseball had "gifted me" with a pretty nice car my freshman year so I drove and delivered for several well-known services. And boy did I hustle. That first year I drove around the clock at times and was willing to take almost any call as long as it didn't look too sketchy. And it was thanks to my hustle that I picked up a call at 1 am for a ride from one Phoenix's luxury hotel to another one cross town. That's when I met Mrs. Hudsucker, and she changed my life.

"Hi, Matt?" Mrs. Dorothy Hudsucker was somewhere in her mid-40s,, well dressed and elegantly good looking in the way only lots of money can achieve. She was standing in front of the large, covered entryway to the hotel with her designer luggage and standing a few feet away when I rolled down my window.

"Yup." I glanced at the cracked screen of the iPhone mounted on the dashboard of my Acura. "Are you Dorothy?"

She nodded and came closer. "Listen, can I change my destination?"

She looked like she might tip pretty well, so I said. "Uh, you'll have to cancel this ride and order another one. I'm happy to wait."

She breathed in a sigh of relief and began quickly thumbing the screen of her gold cased phone, her long glossy nails flashing in the light from the lobby.

The ride came up on my screen. Phoenix to Tucson?? Jesus, that was at least a $200 fare! But it would take me the rest of the night by the time I got there and back and I would miss a lot of other fares in the process.

"Ma'am, that's an awfully long ...."

She reached into the clutch dangling from her wrist, opened her wallet and pulled out two crisp 100 dollar bills. "Will this tip help? And I'll pay to fill your tank as well."

I started to open my door, giving her a chance to back up. "Let me get your luggage ma'am."

I set Pandora to a soft jazz station, because that felt like what she might like, and got on Interstate 10 East towards Tucson. Okay, it's actually going south from there, don't ask me to explain it. She didn't talk for about the first twenty minutes. I glanced back at her in my rearview every once in a while, one of the rare highway lights would light her briefly. Not bad, I thought. Her hair was in an elaborate looking updo above a high forehead. Her eyes were wide set below a pair of finely sculpted eyebrows. Elegant nose, wide soft looking mouth. I couldn't make out her figure much, but from what I had seen of her getting her luggage into the car and her seated in the back she looked extremely fit.

"It is Matt, right?"

"That's right Ma'am."

"Sorry, a lot on my mind. Tell me Matt, do you have a steady girl?"

Not your typical opening, but sometimes drivers could almost be like bartenders or hairdressers. People would share the most remarkable personal details of their lives or ask extraordinarily personal questions of drivers. And drivers have been known to do the same. The stories I could tell.

"No Ma'am."

"Really? But you're so young and good looking."

Interesting, I thought.

"Thank you Ma'am. Very kind of you to say."

She laughed. "And so formal and polite. Quite unusual for someone your age."

"Just raised by an old-fashioned mother Ma'am."

"Well, it seems she did a wonderful job. She and your father must be very proud."

"I hope so Ma'am." I didn't mention that my father had left when I was young and my mother had recently passed.

In the far distant south, I could see the flash of lightning against dark, low clouds. Monsoon.

"Am I driving you home Ma'am?"

"Yes, why?"

"Looks like Tucson might be getting a pretty decent storm."

She leaned forward a little, peering through my front windshield. I got a whiff of her exotic perfume, spicy and dark. And her tailored top pulled open a bit exposing the upper curves of her breasts. They weren't large, but looked firm and high, although she might have been wearing a pushup.

She sat back and muttered "Perfect."

"Ma'am?"

She huffed a little. "Matt, please call me Dot. The 'Ma'am' thing is making me feel old."

I laughed. "Okay Dot, but you certainly don't look old."

A soft smile. "Thank you, Matt., That's very nice of you to say."

I've always had a little thing for older women. They know what they want and tell you, both in bed and elsewhere. No guessing, not much in the way of games. And they seemed to like me. The AD's wife wasn't the first older married woman I had taken to bed in college. It wasn't unusual for wives of well-heeled alum to have an eye out for the 'talent' on the team.

"Dot?"

"Yes Matt?"

"Do you mind if I ask what made you want to head home tonight instead of to the hotel you were going to go to originally?"

She grimaced. "Because my husband's an ass."

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."

She was quiet again for a few miles.

"Matt? If you had a steady girl and you suspected she had slept with another man, what would you do?"

"Well, I suppose I would definitely confront her about it."

"What would you do if she said it wasn't true?"

I shrugged. "I guess it would depend on how I found out about it and whether I thought she had been honest with me in the past."

"Do you think 20 years of faithful marriage would be sufficient evidence of honesty for you to overcome a vicious rumor from a lying bitch?"

I raised my eyebrows at her sudden vehemence, but I tried to laugh it off and lower the tension. "Hmmmm, well that would mean we'd been married when we were toddlers Dot. So, kind of hard to say."

She rolled her eyes at my reference to the difference in our ages. "Ouch."

"Sorry."

She laughed mirthlessly and was quiet for quite a while. I could hear the distant thunder of the storm over Tucson as we closed in on it.

"Wow." I said. "That looks like a powerful one." Monsoon storms in Arizona are impressive. Huge, jagged streaks of lightning were arcing from cloud to cloud every 30 seconds or so and it looked there were a lot of ground strikes. The crack and rumble of thunder was loud even inside my well insulated car. Huge raindrops, with a trace of hail, were starting to pelt the windshield and roof in a wild tattoo of sound.

I exited the freeway and was on one of the main east-west thoroughfares that cut across the foothills section of the north side of Tucson. The shoulders of the road, and half of the right hand lane, were flooded.

"Dot? Am I going to have to drive through any washes to get to your house?" Arizona is a little weird in that it doesn't have a lot of storm drains, relying on natural washes to move water. Some of these cut across roads and they can be dangerous to drive through when high with water. These situations are common in the foothills.

"Just one, and it doesn't usually fill unless the storm goes on for a long time,"

I looked at the water on the road. This storm had been parked over the city for a while, and it looked like it was centered on the foothills. "If it doesn't look passable, is there somewhere else I can take you? I can't risk it."

"I'm not sure. It's 3 o'clock in the morning so I can't impose on friends. Let's get there and see what happens."

Following the directions from my phone I pulled north up a steep 2 lane narrow road leading up into the really wealthy part of the foothills. The storm was getting wilder, and the flash of the lightning and thunder crack were almost simultaneous. I crested a hill and looked down the steep incline. Sure enough, my headlights shone on what looked like some pretty deep and fast-moving water. The low spot was posted with a large "Do Not Enter When Flooded" sign.

"Dot, I really don't think this is safe."

She had taken off her seatbelt and was leaning forward between the front seats. Her hand was on the back of my seat. "I think it'll be okay. I've cleared that in my BMW. Can you try please? I really want to be home tonight."

"Dot, I can't afford for anything to happen to this car. And I don't need a 'Stupid Motorist' citation." In some cities, if you drive into a posted wash knowing that you might not make it, you are cited and charged the rescue and towing fee.

Two more crisp 100-dollar bills appeared in my peripheral vision. "Please Matt." She was close enough that I felt the air from her breath brush the side of my neck.

I reached up, grabbed the bills, took a deep breath, and gunned the car down the hill.

The front of the car hit the water with a loud, low 'KATHWHUMP!!' and a huge wash of water flew over the windshield. The car started to slow down, and the engine was laboring. I was muttering to myself "Oh shit ... oh shit..." and jammed down the accelerator. The car hydroplaned a little, but the tires finally grabbed and drove us forward. I could hear the slosh of the deep water against the rocker panels. Fortunately, the wash wasn't terribly wide and as the car hit the uphill side the tires got more purchase and we shot out of the wash, sliding a little. I worked the steering wheel and feathered the brakes saying, "Oh fuck ... ooooh fuck ....", terrified that we would plunge off the road down the steep drop off on the right. The car straightened out and I got it stopped. I leaned my head on the steering wheel, a little breathless "Thank you God."

Except for her heavy rapid breathing Dot had been quiet the whole time, clutching the back of my seat. Suddenly she laughed in delight. "That was EXCITING!!" You did GREAT Matt!!" and she squeezed my shoulder. I looked down at her hand and then up into her face. She was grinning widely, and her eyes were bright with excitement.

"Okay, exciting is one word for it. I just hope I can get back out."

She leaned forward a little more and looked up through the windshield. Her perfume hit me again, mixed with a hint of sweat from her excitement. "I think this will let up soon. That wash empties fast. You should be fine. My place is just up the hill on the left. I'll open the gate when we get to it."

#################### Part 3 ####################################

I pulled up to the enormous decorative wrought iron sliding gate and Dot opened it with a command from her phone. I pulled through and onto the large, cobbled circular drive in front of the home, which matched the scale of the gate. I guessed it was easily 15,000 square feet or more, a fine example of an Arizona foothills mansion. Low, sprawling, flat roofed mission style architecture with lots of architectural and landscape lighting highlighting its most striking features. There were three side by two car garage doors angled off if it. I whistled low.

"Matt, would you mind terribly pulling into the garage to let me out. I don't want to get soaked getting in the front door." With another set of commands to her phone, one of the three large garage doors rolled opened, revealing one empty spot next to a large black Land Rover. I could see a Bently in the second two car bay next to it. I hesitated but then pulled in. The heavy drum of the rain stopped but the loud snap and grumble of the thunder continued.

"Well Dot, this has certainly been an interesting trip. And don't worry about filling my tank, the cash you've given ...."

A blinding flash filled the garage. CRRRRRRAAAAACK!! BOOOOOOOOM!!!!! The lights in the garage went out. Fuck.

"Wow, that was close. I hope it didn't hit the house." she said and got out of the car. She flicked on the flashlight on her phone and started to slide her hand along the side of the car, making her way to the door to the house. It didn't do much to light things up, so I grabbed my big LED flashlight from the center console and aimed it towards where she was walking. She looked back at me "Thanks."

I nodded and sat there as she made her way to the door. The blue, white light was powerful and lit her tight behind nicely. Her light-colored tailored trousers were a loose weave linen, and I could see the dark outline of shapely legs. I may have imagined it, but I thought I could just make out the unmistakable line of a dark thong. Nice, I thought.

She touched the cypher-lock panel next to the door, but then looked up at the ceiling, laughing a little. She fumbled in her clutch and produced a key, waving it back to me with a chagrined look. "Matt, would you mind waiting a few minutes while I check the house? If lightning hit the house ..."

"No problem, take your time" I called back.

She disappeared through the dark doorway. I could hear the faint click of her heels on the floor and saw the light from her phone moving around a little. She came back out. "I think everything is o ....."

SSSSSSNRRRAAAACK...BOOOOOOOM!!!!!

She jumped a little, her eyes went wide. "Wow, is that getting worse?"

I sighed and nodded., got out of the car and retrieved her luggage from the trunk. As I rolled it up to her I said "Should be an interesting drive home." The rain had gotten harder.

"Do you want to wait it out a little bit? See if it lets up before you start?"

I turned and looked out through the open garage door. With the power out and the heavy clouds it was black as pitch, but I could tell the rain was sheeting down heavily and visibility would be nil on the road I had taken to her house.

"I'd appreciate that, Dot, thanks. I'll just sit here in the car."

"Oh don't be silly, come in."

I was kind of shocked at the risk she was taking here. "Dot, you don't know me okay. That's really not safe. I'm sure your husband ...."

She snorted. "Given the mood he was in when I left him at the hotel, I'm sure he wouldn't give a damn. And the fact that you're concerned is very sweet. Please, I insist." She stepped aside and gestured me in. She didn't reach for the luggage.

The house was huge. My flashlight lit up high exposed beam ceilings, oversized heavy expensive looking southwestern furniture and what appeared to be original artwork on large canvases on the walls. There was lots of custom ornate looking cabinetry containing bronze southwestern sculpture. "Wow, nice collection of art."

"Thank you dear. I'm proud of my work and appreciate you noticing."

"What, this is your work? Holy cow!"

I ran my flashlight over a very large impressionist looking desert landscape. I walked towards it "Impressive." I had dabbled in art a bit and was always curious. "Tell me about this one."

She came up beside me. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, there's real power in this. It looks .... sad?"

"Very perceptive Matt. Let me tell you about it."

And for the next hour, as the unrelenting storm continued to rage outside, she answered my questions about her work. All of it was powerful and deeply emotional. Our discussion about a 2-foot-tall bronze of a standing figure of a Native American, one foot up on a rock and gazing into the far distance, was interrupted when her phone beeped briefly. She pulled it from her pocket and looked at the screen. Lighting flashed through one of the windows and lit her face, anger crossed her face briefly. She ignored the text and jammed the phone back into her pocket.

"Your husband?"

Her jaw was tight. She nodded.

"Won't he be worried?"

Her expression changed. She looked at me. Like I said, I'm pretty empathetic, weirdly so at times. I saw it all there. Loneliness, despair, a marriage that was empty of love, passion and most assuredly sex. She looked at my face and eyes intently, searching for something. I'm not what she found but she leapt at me, curling her fingers into the hair on the back of my head and pulling me into an open mouthed and extremely passionate kiss. She released my head and began pulling at her own and my clothes frantically. She was making small pleading noises.

With the most minimal of foreplay, I took her on the large leather couch. She thrust her hips up against me, her legs spread wide and waving in the air with my thrusts. She clutched at my back, my hips, my shoulders and my hair. She writhed and her cry of passion when she climaxed was somewhere between a triumphant laugh and a sob. It blended with a loud roll of thunder. I had my hands braced against the back of the sofa, panting and quivering with my own passion and exertion. I had been leaning at a 45 degree angle as I had fucked her, my legs stretched out behind me with my feet braced against the footing on the massive low table in front of the sofa. I held that position as she came down from her orgasm, still inside her, feeling the ripples of her orgasm subside.

"My god." she said, looking up at me. "You're still hard as a rock."

I nodded, panting, unable to speak.

"You didn't cum." she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I shook my head, still breathing heavily. "No ... condom."

She gasped. "You can control it that well?"

I nodded.

She smiled slyly, disengaged us, spun around so that she was on her knees on the couch facing away from me. The distressed leather of the sofa creaked a little as she positioned herself between my still outstretched arms, her hands grasping my forearms. She looked over her shoulder, grinned and wiggled her hips. "Show me." I fucked her to three more powerful orgasms.

"God Matt, finish it. Cum .... God ... cum inside me. I want you to."

I was shaking, laying across her back and holding her breasts, my cock jerking and throbbing inside her. My voice shook a little, I was struggling mightily to stay in control. "No Dot, I won't do that. It's not right."

"Well I can't take it anymore. If you won't do that, then I'll do this." She raised up, pushing me back, ducked out from under me, spun around and took me into her mouth. I stood up straight and gently put my hands on her head. I groaned and she chuckled a little in her throat. She popped my cock out of her mouth and looked up at me with an amused smile. "Seems like you're okay with this." She returned her mouth to me and took me all the way down her throat.