The Tale of the HEARTED GLASS DILDO… part I


Where to begin…


About 3 years ago, I was doing all of my pleasure business on Craigslist. I admit, it was definitely not the best stock to choose from, as far as men go… but it did do the job. Boy, was it a job.


Craigslist men required a specific screening process, or you would end up with some real clunkers. That place is full of pic collectors and freakz (no FREAKZ, like “the FREAKS cum out”… you feel me?) It was a 24 hour job dodging youngsters and disgusting perverts to snag that occasional traveling business man. 


During the end of my Craigslist expose, at an insane morning hour, I met a rather young looking 27 year old. He was attractive, although slightly strung-out looking. The fella looked like he could use a good washin. But friendly… Oh, he had a heart of gold. And I felt him immediately. I felt his struggle. I felt his anguish over uncontrollable events. I felt the pit he had placed himself. The connection was immediate.


At some point he asks, “how do I do what you do?”


Oh, how I laughed. “In the South?” I couldn’t stop chuckling. “Very, very difficult to get these southern belles to loosen the purse strings these older gentlemen bought them. Even for a younger man. However…” You’d certainly have to tailor such a craft here in the Bible belt. I explained the details. It was the only way.


Fast forward three years later, and the friendship had stuck. Not just stuck. Everytime I spoke with him, he showered me with praise for getting him his job. The saintly motherly figure of his mercy. WHATEVER!


First off, I didn’t get him anything. I just saw the NEED, and he felt the NEED to fill it. His male nude or barely dressed massages became pretty popular for awhile. The happy hand ending from a straight kid kept him booked with appointment; pockets loaded with cash. Everyone wanted to be the one to officially turn him. Yes. I DID GOOD.


But here we were, Aaron, Erika and I. Place: the hotel I’d been living in for the past 8 months. Erika told me her OCD was only good on OPP (remember: other people’s property), and as such, was unable to keep herself organized. Not a biggie, until I continually discovered my belongings either moved or missing. OCD my azz!


Over a 7 day period, Aaron went out for about five or six jobs. Each time his empty pockets bore the excuse of a stand-up. Being that I taught him the business, I knew his ratio was way off. Especially with regulars. 


Erika talks easily, so we got along very well. She seemed very kind hearted and fair. Except she keeps telling stories of times where her or Aaron, mostly both, took advantage of someone. That’s when I saw it for the first time.


She removed it from her bag, wrapped in a soft cloth. It sparkled and gleamed. It’s full six inches of hard cold flesh was sprinkled in pale rose colored smoking hearts. IT WAS BEAUTIFUL!


Well, one morning I awoke to find…

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