Every Day Is Like Sunday

Sunday has never been a day of rest. It is often the busiest of the week. Men deserve to relax and I love them to relax all over me. Thankfully the hangover began to lift by mid-afternoon. It was gone by the time a bearded man’s cock slid into my ass.
“Daddy’s really going to fuck you good, boy,” he taunted. I appreciated this. I don’t like my men to be coy. And the good news was that he lived up to his boasts. I sucked on his thumb as he fucked me and it was satisfying to hear the repetition of ‘yes’ from him. I now have a new regular client. I hope.
Kirsty, meanwhile, shopped. I called to let her know I had one more client to see. This little old man in the East Village simply likes to watch me masturbate. It wouldn’t take long. I strip for him. Then I pose in a number of positions. But he doesn’t have a camera. He politely places his hand on his crotch and slowly rotates it. I, then, sit and begin to play with myself. The man watches. I have never been asked to touch him. And nor have I seen what lies between his legs. This can be frustrating. At this moment all I want is a cock to suck on. I lie back a little and climax over my body. The man steps forwards and towels me dry. We both smile. And that’s the little old man in the East Village.