Sebastian Finds Himself

I had just met Craig and we seemed to get on well together- we just hit it off, as the saying goes. Then, thanks to Craig I had met and now worked for Mike and we had also got on together - no problem; but I had no one to whom I could talk to about my innermost thoughts. I wanted desperately to find a partner with whom I could finally say that he and I were an 'item'. But how did one find such a person? Was it chance or destiny, whatever that means? Philosophically, I thought, "Well, you are not doing badly at the moment and you are not unhappy, so why worry? Revert to your Mr Micawber posture and hope 'that something will turn up', which, as you will see later in this story, it did.

Chapter 18

Suddenly my cell phone rang. It was about six thirty on a Friday night and I wondered who on earth it could be as I knew hardly anybody in New York. I answered and a man with a highly cultured voice asked me if he was speaking to Sebastian. I told him he was.

"Well, Mr. er er." he stuttered.

'Just Sebastian will do," I replied, "that is what everyone calls me."

Now this was a spur of the moment fib as I had already decided that if my male escort business ever truly took off, I would just be Sebastian to my clients with the only contact a mobile telephone number and no one would ever know where I lived or who my friends were.

"Well, er, Sebastian, I am the private secretary of Monsignor Gandolfi, who is the person in charge of the St. Saviour's City Mission, with which establishment you are no doubt familiar."

He was already beginning to sound as pompous as Woody Prick had done at school and gave that same superior ponderous intonation to everything he said. I guessed that I was speaking to someone who was accustomed to addressing everyone except his most intimate friends, with their full title. So, I could hear from his hesitation that he was having difficulty in addressing me as Sebastian; it just made him feel uncomfortable. Well, I had never heard of St. Saviour, or his mission, but I let that pass and listened to him as he went on.

"Monsignor Gandolfi wonders if you would be kind enough to spare him a few moments of your precious time, as he has a number of things he would like to discuss with you, He has heard of you from a mutual acquaintance (from whom, I wondered) and, in the light of what he has learned about you, feels that you may well be able to help him resolve a problem which is bothering him."

My god, I thought, all this flowery language to tell me that this 'man of the cloth' is looking for someone to fuck him, for that was my reading of the situation, for in what other way could I conceivably help this guy? This conversation was so completely different from the very direct, brusque sort of way I had perceived New Yorkers to touch on what was, after all, a rather tricky subject with someone unknown.

So I said "What exactly does Monsignor Gandolfi wish to see me about?"

The voice continued. "Monsignor Gandolfi, has merely charged me (again this archaic language) to try to arrange a suitable appointment for you to meet him and it is not for me to say what he wishes to discuss with you. Might a meeting be possible, do you think?"

Taking the bull by the horns I said. "Yes of course, what day and time did he have in mind?"

Gandolfi's secretary droned on, saying, "Monsignor Gandolfi is, as you will realise a very busy man and is more or less totally occupied with his pastoral duties during the day. I wonder, therefore, if I might ask you whether and evening appointment might be possible?"

This was all getting so long winded, so I said, rather abruptly. "OK - what day and what time?"

But my brusqueness did not have any effect on the long winded, verbal trajectory which this character was intent on following.

"Well," he said, "It is now just before seven o'clock and Monsignor Gandolfi wonders if you might possibly be able to see him some time this evening. It really is most pressing matter he wants to discuss with you."

So there it was, this cleric wanted it now, if not sooner. I adopted a somewhat loftier tone and asked the man to hold the line whilst I checked my (non-existent) engagements book. I then told him that I was, in fact free as I had had a cancellation of a previous appointment for later that evening and that if he would kindly 'impart' to me the address where I could find Monsignor Gandolfi, I would try to be there by seven thirty.

I am sure that I heard a vague sigh of relief from my 'interlocutor" - a sort of 'mission accomplished' sigh - but he nevertheless went on in his wordy way to thank me profusely for my understanding and gave me the address and the nearest subway station. What a horrible job, I thought; having to act as a pimp for your boss, for I was dead certain what was going to happen.

So in the subway, I tried to collect my thoughts together and decide on how I would address a Monsignor. I had not the slightest idea of the hierarchy of the Catholic Church, and I had sort of assumed that a Monsignor was part of that establishment, but frankly if asked to swear on it, I could not have done so: I was basically a total ecclesiastical ignoramus. I had not the faintest idea of how one addressed a Monsignor. I wondered about Your Holiness, but then I remembered that that honorific was reserved for the Pope: of that I was sure. So was it , your Eminence, your Reverence, or Reverend or simply Monsignor, or could one say Your Grace? I finally opted for Your Grace, as it had a nice ring about it, although I had not a clue if it was right or not.

I finally arrived at the address, which turned out to be a rather imposing New York brownstone house, where I was let in by a female house keeper, who ushered me into the presence of the great man himself. One thing I had definitely decided on the subway journey, was that if the meeting was, as I strongly suspected, to do with providing this senior cleric with sex, I was not going to take any humbug from him. From the way his secretary had addressed me over the 'phone, I realised that I was entering a very formalised and pompous, wordy environment and I was determined not to allow myself to be intimidated by it.

Monsignor Gandolfi was seated behind a massive desk and was wreathed in the sort of tent-like garments one always associates with the clergy, when it wishes to be formal.

"Welcome, my son," he began (I was already beginning to feel I was going to hate the whole thing) , "thank you for coming to see me on such short notice and so late in the evening, but the matter was rather urgent as my secretary has probably told you."

"What exactly did you want to see me about, Your Grace? (that seemed to go over smoothly, right or wrong)." I replied.

"Well, my son," (I winced internally to myself) he went on, "I was talking to a mutual friend (what mutual friend I asked myself) earlier today and he told me that you had rendered him a very delicate service for which he was extremely grateful."

"And what service might that have been," I asked. And then it suddenly dawned on me: it was Mike, my boss, who had mentioned my name to this character: Michael O'Shaugnessey, an Irish catholic! Of course, that was surely it - it just had to be!

"Well, my son, (I was rapidly wishing he would drop the 'my son' bit as it was driving me around the proverbial bend) it really is concerning a very delicate matter and I hardly know how to begin to broach the subject with you."

I decided to take the bull by the horns and make stab in the dark and said, "What exactly did Mike say about me?"

His Grace did not realised that I had hoodwinked him into revealing his source of information, and went on in his platitudinous way to say that Mike had indicated to him that I had performed a very intimate service for him, for Mike that was, and that perhaps I could do the same for the Monsignor. So there it was. Mike had revealed all and Gandolfi wanted me to fuck him exactly as I and suspected from the word go.

I thought before going any further I would play a cat and mouse game with His Grace before letting him off the hook, so to speak, and said, "What intimate service did Mike actually say I had done for him?"

I could see from his face that Gandolfi was having a hard time to put into polite words what he clearly knew I wanted to hear. There was a slight pause whilst he collected his thoughts and decided what to say.

"Well, Mike told me that you had been able to calm him down by administering certain stimulating actions on your part." he said finally.

Once he had got so far, I decided to cut to the chase with the coup de grace and said totally brutally, "Oh, is that all? Mike just told you that I fucked his butt did he? Did he not tell you that he had a return round and gave me the same treatment? Yes, we had a great time, as we spent a good part of the afternoon together. He's a really good operator with his cock is Mike. I really enjoyed the reaming he gave my butt."

This truly was a 'Schadenfreude" moment for me, an instant where one takes pleasure in the misfortunes of another, but the moment I had uttered these words, I was filled with remorse and shame at what I had said, which was not the words of a gentleman - and, even though I was gay, I considered myself a gentleman, for with all its faults Sheldon Academy inculcated into its pupils a sense of right and wrong and of correct behaviour towards others. Why had I gone so wrong and strayed from straight and narrow? What had I gained by rubbing Gandolfi's nose in the dirt and making this elderly man feel utterly wretched? I wished in retrospect that I had thought before speaking, but what was said could not be unsaid and I had to live with myself. I can tell you that at that moment I felt as wretched myself as I had clearly made Gandolfi feel.

Poor Gandolfi, had not had a clue now to get around to the crux of the matter and we were still not yet at the moment where he could actually put into words why he wanted to see me. I could see him still wincing under my harsh words and wondering how he could force himself to tell me that he wanted me to do for him. It was just that he could not bring himself to say the appropriate words. So at that stage I felt I simply had to help him and to try to redeem myself in his eyes for my appallingly bad behaviour of a few moments ago.

So, I said, very gently, "Your Grace, am I to understand that you have called me here to ask me if I would administer some anal stimulation to you personally?"

"You put it so frankly and so directly," he said, "but yes, that is what I want. It is against all my church stands for, but I just want some young man to stimulate me (the poor guy simply could not bring himself to say, 'have sex with me') to relieve my well nigh unsupportable sexual tension, which is why I requested my secretary to ask you to come here this evening."

So I said, again very gently, "Your Grace, beneath all your clerical clothing, there is a man and whatever your Church says, it will never alter the fact that you have the same sexual desires as any other man. You have nothing to be ashamed of. I will be happy to service you to try to help you to relax. Now, I do not know what you learned from Mike, but I am, in fact a Professional Male Escort, which is a polite way of saying that I am a professional copulator. I am a completely homosexual male who sells sex to other men to earn a living. Now my fee for the type of service you require is $500 cash. (I had screwed up my courage to ask for such a large sum). Do you want to engage my services under these conditions and if so, when do you want me to render my services to you?"

"$500 is perfectly acceptable," said Gandolfi and immediately opened a drawer of his desk and handed me five one hundred dollar bills, "and I would like you to work on me right now: I just need some immediate sexual relief."

As we moved off from his office into another adjacent room, where there was a day bed and a table, and I started to strip off.

He took in my nakedness and said, "My goodness Sebastian, you are an amazing young man and I have to say that you certainly appear well well equipped for the job to hand."

I will end the story of how I fucked Monsignor Gandolfi here without going into the finer details of our coupling, in which I finally delivered him from his sexual frustration, except to say that Gandolfi urged me on to pound him as hard as I could as that was what he wanted; so I took him at his word and gave him my all. I think he enjoyed my 'ministrations' but I know I certainly did: the old boy was, at the end of the day, a great fuck! The fact that he was old enough to be my father or even my grandfather, did not seem to matter at all. He was just another human being wanting some sexual relief and I was happy that, at the end of the day, I had been able to help him.

Before leaving I said gently to him, "You now know what I can do for you and you know my fees, so if you want it, just call and we'll make an appointment. Don't feel embarrassed in calling directly. I fully understand your sexual needs and you can rest assured that knowledge of our liaison will go no further." And I have to say that I truly meant what I had just said; I really wanted to redeem myself for the way I had verbally treated this older man, for which behaviour I felt utterly ashamed of myself.

Then to my utter surprise Gandolfi said, "You know Sebastian I am infinitely grateful to you for what you have done for me this evening and what I would like to do is to arrange a regular meeting with you, say twice a month on a Friday evening, as tonight and your fees are quite acceptable. I am only happy that I have found someone who can meet my needs, a task which you have, this evening, admirably fulfilled."

And with that, regular booking for my services, I left. You know, I was still wondering about the correct form of address is for a Monsignor. Especially when a young stud like me has his cock stuck up the old boy's fundamental orifice.

On the subway going back north, I reflected on what I had just done, How did I, a young guy not yet twenty years old, feel about copulating with a man old enough be my father, if not my grandfather? Well, once I got started, the age difference seemed not to matter; I was just fucking another man as I had done before, no more, no less, and as far as I was concerned the fact that I was servicing an older man made no difference.

I was relieved that I had clearly redeemed myself in Gandolfi's eyes for my quite unforgivable behaviour, and the proof of the pudding is in the eating and I had come away from Gandolfi with plateful! I arrived home feeling quite relieved that I did not have a black cloud hanging over me: conscience can be an uneasy companion!

Chapter 19

Saturday morning dawned and I realised that since starting my job at Mike's Bar, I had not been back to the gym and I truly felt that I needed a workout: so I decided that I would go over there this morning and see what I could arrange with Jonathan. I had more or less resigned myself into becoming a paying client at the gym where I had been working until just a few days previously.

I had just packed my things together to leave, when the 'phone rang and it was Mark, my bartender buddy from Mike's. "Sebastian, I completely forgot to tell you in the rush yesterday, but I am having a party at my place tonight to which you are invited. It will be quite a hot evening- if you get my meaning - all the guys from Mike's will be there and a few others whom you do not yet know, but as a newcomer to New York it will help you fit into the community. Not to mince words, we are all of us gay and I thought that you could meet some other guys socially and have a relaxed evening. Bring a bottle, and come around nine o'clock."

Mark left me his address and 'phone number and I saw that he lived not far from from where I had had my place on the upper West Side. So, I had Saturday evening fixed up. For all my rapid progress into the New York sex scene and I have to say that I had never been to a gay party before. Prior to my arrival in New York, my sex life had been exclusively with Charlie and since then, apart from my newly acquired clients, it had been limited to Craig , a one-time stand with Mike and the totally unexpected liaison with Gandolfi. So I was curious to see what a young gay party would be like: would it be my scene or not and would I meet anyone with whom I thought I might have some sort of an affinity? Well it was a sort of suck it and see occasion, about which I had not the slightest preconception.

Saturday morning was a quiet time at the gym, and Jonathan greeted me like a long lost buddy. "Go ahead he said, feel free to work out." And with that, he left me to it.

I had the place almost to myself until, about thirty minutes later, Jonathan suddenly reappeared, stripped off his T shirt and started to exercise next to me. I could see that his eyes were fixed on me, especially on my crotch, where my cock was making a tantalising bulge in my thong. Jonathan had a superbly proportioned body, not that over- muscled look of the dedicated body builder, but that of a guy who liked to look good and took the necessary exercise to maintain what he had got. As for his cock, I could but speculate, as I had never seen the guy naked, but to judge from the bulge in his training shorts, there was nothing lacking in that department either. All in all, Jonathan had the perfect figure to be running a gym and moreover, looked like a very exciting sex prospect..

Towards noon I stopped and went off to get a shower, only to be followed a few minutes later by Jonathan, who took the shower next to mine. I could now take in the full physical profile of this stud and I have to say what I saw made my cock start to stir. Jonathan had a superb body, but as for his cock, which I was seeing for the first time, well this was also perfection. It was not as long as my own weapon, but it was perfectly proportioned. Beautifully cut it culminated in a superb knob with a very well defined rim, a feature I had always liked and the whole thing was pulled together by the fact that he was wearing a triple cock ring. This ring, which is to my mind the best type of cock ring on the market, made one united whole of his cock and large balls. It was absolutely stunning and I can tell you that I was already beside myself with desire. Just looking at him gave me a real release of adrenalin and I guess that the effect showed.

Jonathan looked at me and said, "Well, Sebastian, what a magnificent guy you are. I have been watching you for some time now, along with all of my customers who happen to be working out at the same time as you, You do realise don't you, that you have a magnetic effect on everyone who sees you, gay or straight and even for most of the guys who have never actually seen your cock other than in your training thong, just one look at you makes their cocks start to rise. You know, a man's cock is piece of uncontrollable flesh. Well one look at you proves the point, for your cock had already started on its upward journey which tells me something,"

Jonathan, who concluded his comments with a laugh, was but repeating what Craig had already told me several times: that I was something special with a magnetism which just drew other guys towards me. I was beginning to realise that they might be right. I knew I looked good, but what made me so different from other guys? I clearly had some sort of personal magnetism, but I could not for the life in me figure out what it was. I was a good looking guy with with a big cock, but there were lots of others like me - or were there? What was it that made me different and attract other men's attention so easily? I really had no answer, but anyway, I could see where we were heading with this our first encounter.