Simon and Sebastian A

A homoerotic story written by

Jason Land

PROLOGUE

This is a sequel to my first story, which is entitled 'Sebastian -The Male Escort', which gave an account of my education at a private school in Sheldon, New York and how, on leaving school I moved to New York city and through a variety of circumstance, found myself acting as a paid Male Escort, which turned out to be a very profitable business for me. My first story ended about three years after my arrival in New York, by which time I was a well established Male Escort and I am now on my way to a naked body building competition organised by an outfit called MuscleCock-Asia, in Taiwan. This is the story of how I came to find Simon, the love of my life and how our life together developed. I have called it Simon and Sebastian, even though I am the narrator: it simply had a better impact than Sebastian and Simon. Now read on.

CHAPTER 1

By way of a quick recapitulation, and as an introduction to this tale, let me just tell you that my name is Sebastian Watson. I am 25 years old and am, by profession, what is euphemistically called a 'Male Escort'. I live and work in New York City and most of my clients are wealthy business men. For the uninitiated, a male escort is nothing more than a man who performs sexual acts on other men for money: in short I earn my living (very well, I might add as there is a big demand for my services among top business executives in New York) by administering what is called anal stimulation to my clients; anal stimulation is a circumlocution for saying that I fuck their butts.

Although I am a professional copulator, I do not indulge in most of the, to my mind utterly revolting practices, common among gay men. I fuck butt, allow my own butt to be fucked, suck cock and allow my own cock to be sucked and that is about it. For some reason I have an utter revulsion to most of the other aspects of anal male sex: so I guess many other gay guys would consider me as a bit of a prude, but for myself I consider that I exercise my judgment and discrimination, which coupled with my professionalism, sets me apart from the crowd. But make no mistake about it, I really enjoy my job. I am a top flight fucker and can bring most of my partners to a huge orgasm without recourse to much more than my cock. So that is just the way it is and my clients seem to like it that way, as most of my business is repeat bookings and new clients come by word of mouth recommendation.

Most of my clients are happily married men with families, but who, in spite of a satisfactory conjugal sex life with their spouses, still feel the occasional need to take another man's cock up their arse from time to time. My success as a male escort resides in the fact that I am (no false modesty here) a well set up young stud: I have a muscular physique ,which I maintain by regular visits to an upmarket gym in New York and mother nature has blessed me with a large thick penis, which is one of my key attractions. My clients just adore seeing me strip off for them: I can see them beginning to drool at the thought of what is to come as they fix their gaze upon my rock-hard ten inch cock.

Whilst I have many friends and three regular non-client sex partners with whom I enjoy what I have chosen to call recreational sex, I have not, to date, found my life's partner. I still live completely alone and feel that I am missing that 'something' in life, which makes it all worthwhile. I live in hopes that one day I will, somehow, somewhere, stumble across the man to whom I feel I can truly relate: in short I dream that one day I will meet a guy with whom I can fall in love and that we two together can become what is today termed an item.

CHAPTER 2

I had been at work in New York for about three years, without taking a break, other than a few brief weekends in the sun with my closest friend, Craig, at a gay resort in Florida. By way of entertainment I had taken to following a sort of fantasy blog called MuscleCock, whose editors publish a blog devoted to the competitive antics of a wide selection of very heavily muscled men with huge cocks, which brings me to the beginning of this story.

I had been following the preparative bouts for a competition called the MuscleCock-Asia, which was to take place in Taipei, Taiwan. The MuscleCock competitions are open to contestants of any nationality, but given the Far East venue, the vast majority of the entrants for the Taiwan event were from East Asia. I had been attracted by the incredible physical quality of many of the competitors, who, in my mind, were the equal if not the betters of Caucasians. And so, after three years with no true vacation, I decided to shut down my escort activity for a couple of weeks and go to Taipei top see firsthand what the competition was really like in the flesh. And so I, a true blue American, who had had never been further than New Jersey booked myself a flight to Taipei and set off on a vacation for amounted to two weeks of muscle and cock watching.

I had been following the build up to the MuscleCock competition for several weeks on the blog site before the competition itself actually started in Taipei and I had more or less decided on the guy I was going to support, much in the way fans support a football team, even though it is not necessarily their home town team.

My favourite among those in the previews shown in the blog was a guy called Yan Cheung. He was a really handsome Asiatic, Chinese I assumed from his name, although I was not at all sure. I guess he was a light heavyweight, by which I mean he was at the lower limit of the weight scale which the competition uses to place contestants in their weight category. Suffice it to say that this young stud was picture book perfect for me. He had a magnificent physique, which avoided that knotted muscle look which so many body builders affect with a view to projecting their masculinity and aggressiveness and this was enhanced by a ten inch soft cock of beautifully balanced girth (so many of the guys seemed to go for length and forget about the balance so that their cocks look like pieces of hosepipe hanging between their legs) and beautifully cut, to boot, so that the heavily lipped head was perfect displayed in all its glory and was truly worthy of the epithet, knob.

Before I got to Taipei I had never seen this guy in the flesh, but he already pushed all my buttons and just looking at still shots of him on the blog made my own cock start twitching and oozing a little precum, so you can see just how I felt about Yan Cheung.

I had taken a nice hotel not far from the congress hall where the MuscleCock contest was taking place and could walk there in about five minutes. I had already seen several heats, for the competition is somewhat complicated as different weight categories perform separately and have to complete a certain number of heats before moving on to the next stage.

It was not until my fourth day there that I finally saw Yan Cheung in person. And let me tell you that in the flesh he more than fulfilled my greatest expectations. He was not the most muscular guy of his category, nor did he have the biggest cock (which I had learned counted for quite a lot in the scoring of the contestants) but he was aesthetically way above all his co-competitors in my eyes. At the end of the day, Yan was placed fourth even though he had made ten impeccable cum shots, which are an obligatory part of the stage performance.

These cum shots are coordinated with certain programmed classical bodybuilder poses and flexes, and the aim is for the experienced competitor to synchronise his cum shot with his flexing programme. The whole procedure totally amazed me. I really had no idea how any of the contestant managed to produce so much sperm in such a short time: it simply shot from their cocks like water from a fountain and was often targeted at one of their co-competitors, so that by the end of the round, most of the contestants on stage were dripping another guy's cream from their chests, arms and faces.

It really was quite an amazing sight, of which at the end of the day I was not at all sure I approved. But who was I to judge? I was a newcomer and really had no clear idea of precisely what everyone expected. But to judge from the applause, the ability to shoot cum in quantity and at regular intervals was a key element of the 'sport', for that is the word the organisers used to describe what was happening: it was a sport!

That evening, walking back to my hotel, I realised that I myself was beginning to feel quite sex starved. Remember that as a male escort, I had sex virtually every day with two and sometimes three of my clients and in the evening and at weekends, I had my friends for recreational sex. It was now well over a week since I had had any activity of any kind and I was beginning to feel withdrawal pangs, which were intensified by the fact that I had just had the pleasure of seeing my 'idol' of the contest in the flesh for the first time: the tension inside me was building up to an untenable level and I had to do something to relieve it -- but what?

I suppose I could have located the gay bar district of Taipei and trawled the bars there, looking for a suitable casual pick-up for a one night stand, but as you know from my previous story, sleazy bars and the types that frequent them are just not my scene. Then I had a bright idea. It occurred to me that I had got started on my present career some three years ago, by taking a temporary job as a trainer in an upmarket New York gym, where I had not only met my now best friend Craig, but had also become a friend and regular sex partner with the owner of the gym, a terrific guy called Jonathan.

And so, thinking back about how I had found my feet in New York, I thought that perhaps if I went and had a drink in the bar of a really plush hotel, I might just find some guy to whom I could relate and that perhaps we could have sex together. After all, my friends back home were always telling me what a magnet I was to other guys, so I thought if I have this magnetic gift, then I had better go out and find some iron filings, so to speak, to attract towards me! But the long and short of it was that I desperately needed sex, and as soon as possible as the withdrawal symptoms were beginning to become very serious.

Just across from the congress Hall where the MuscleCock contest was being held, was the finest hotel in Taipei, the Taipei Imperial Palace, so there was my target. For the MuscleCock contest, as a spectator, I had worn just normal casual clothes, nothing extrovert or too sexy looking, but now as I was seriously on though prowl, I decided that I had better make myself look as attractive to other men as possible.

I should add here that in my professional life, I usually wear a conservative business suit so that I am dressed in a way which does not offend the sensibilities of anyone I might meet on the building on the way to my assignment, which is often in my client's office. But I do nevertheless have some really sexy clothes, which make the most of my figure and particularly of my crotch, which I occasionally wear when I want to be outrageous with my friends or at a party.

And just such an outfit I had brought with me, for one never knows what one might need and I wanted to be equipped to fit any occasion. So I stripped off and slipped on my very best cut thong, which I had chosen to make the most of my cock. I then pulled on a fitted shirt, which hugged my body and emphasised my pecs and completed my outfit with a pair of designer jeans which made the best of the parts I really wanted to vaunt: my arse and my cock and balls. I pulled on a clean pair of socks and a pair of light shoes and I was all set to go. I picked up my satchel, for I always carried lube and condoms wherever I went and set out for the Imperial Palace Hotel, which was but five minutes away on foot.

As I entered what had to be one of the plushest bars in Taipei, I sensed that many eyes were upon me. My New York friend, Craig had told me so often, I had this magnetic quality and I was finally beginning to see what he meant. As I learned somewhat later, the bar at the Imperial Palace was reckoned to be the best upmarket gay pick-up place in the city. I walked up to the bar, slightly self consciously, and ordered a glass of champagne.

As the bartender placed the glass on the counter in front of me, I turned to my right just as the guy standing beside me turned left towards me. I could not believe my eyes, for whom was I standing next to but Yan Cheung himself in person. I, of course, recognised him immediately; how could possibly not, for this guy was my idol and here I was standing right next to him; he, of course had no idea who I was; after all, how could he as we had never met. We were both about the same height and I sensed that for a moment he was sizing me up and I saw that his eyes had immediately dropped to my crotch, which as I have told you earlier I had made the focal point of my outfit that night.

"A man of discernment," he said, by way of an opening remark, in perfect American English, looking at the glass of champagne on the counter, "and just looking at you, I guess that you are here for the MuscleCock?"

I nodded yes.

He then continued, "I'm Yan Cheung, by the way. I'm actually competing in the heavy weight section off the contest."

"Sebastian Watson," I returned. "I actually knew who you were as soon as you turned towards me just now, as I saw you on stage this afternoon."

I did not elaborate to tell him that I had been following him on the MuscleCock web-site as he prepared himself for the competition. I was already feeling my cock stirring in my pants, just with the with the sheer excitement of finding myself not only standing next to, but actually talking to the man who was my personal favourite in the competition. I truly had the hots on for this guy, though he did not know it!

He continued, "Well in that case you have seen it all. I don't know how well you thought I did, but I somehow think that I shall be lucky if I even get a placing now that I have seen those heavy bruisers I am up against; they really are something else and I am not sure that I am even vaguely in their league and after years of training now that I am on stage for the first time in a competition. I am beginning to wonder if I am truly cut out for this so-called sport."

"Oh, "I said, "I thought that you made a good effort on stage. In my eyes there is more to the game that just being the biggest and the greatest cum shooter: aesthetically. I thought and still think that you were easily the best man out there earlier today. You may not be as heavy as some of the others with their knotted, cast iron muscles and ill proportioned cocks, but you have a beautiful muscular body and, frankly, as we are talking turkey here, you have an absolutely sensational cock, with perfect balance between length and girth, which makes you very appealing."

"I only wish you were right," he said, "but the way these things are scored by the judges, aesthetics do not seem to count for much: it's all about brute force, bulging muscle and cock size coupled with an ability to shoot cum until the cows come home." and he ended with a laugh.

It was obvious to me by now that we were just starting what could turn into a very interesting encounter and as the ice was now clearly broken and we were becoming more relaxed with each other, I put to him question which had been on my mind since the moment he first spoke to me.

"You know Yan, you speak absolutely perfect English, where one earth did you learn it?"

He smiled at me and said, "You have been tricked by my face, which told you that I was Chinese, whereas I am in fact a fourth generation Chinese American from Los Angeles. So in fact, I never actually learned to speak English as a foreign language for it is my mother tongue, but as we are here in Taipei, you naturally assumed that I was a native Chinese. In fact, this is the first time I have been out of the United States and in spite of my Chinese ethnicity, I neither speak, read nor write any form of Chinese: I am just as American as you yourself clearly are and Taipei is just as foreign to me as it must also be to you."

He clearly intended to go on and so I sat on a bar stool, sipped my champagne and listened to him. It is amazing how much of their private lives two strangers will divulge to each other on first meeting, presumably because they are like two ships passing in the night, blinking their lights at each other, but never destined to meet.

And so he continued. "In fact, my great grandfather came over to America from somewhere in China, ask me not exactly from where, towards the end of the nineteenth century. He was one of thousands of Chinese who were recruited to work for a pittance on the rail road which was being built at that time to join the Eastern States to the West Coast. In fact according to family history, he worked on some of the worst part of the project, as the railroad crossed the mountains separating California from the centre of the country."

"When this job ended, he found himself in California and eventually gravitated to what was then a small town, called Los Angeles and what is today the second city of the United States. He married a girl, from China and neither of them apparently ever learned to speak English. They earned a living by doing that very Chinese thing, which was to open a laundry, for there they could easily get by without speaking English. Together they had but one child, my grandfather who was born an American citizen in Los Angeles, which is where the family has been ever since."

Yan continued with his family history, "The next generation, my grandfather, started in life by selling real estate. It was at the turn of the last century, about 1900, I guess, and Los Angeles was buzzing: it was in process of rapidly growing from a miserable cow and oil town into the vast metropolis we have today and real estate was a good business to be in. My grandfather, who spoke Chinese at home with his parents, spoke English in the street as he had attended an American school then made a fatal, but at the same time life-changing, decision; he met, fell in love with and married an English girl whose parents had emigrated the America from England some twenty years earlier."

"The decision was fatal in terms of family, for the Chinese see all other ethnic groups as 'foreign devils' and at that time, to marry one was just one step too far. So the upshot was that my Chinese speaking great grandfather disowned his son on his marriage and never ever saw his new daughter in law."

"My grandfather, who was trying to earn a living in the real estate business, as a commission agent selling land and real estate, took a major decision to move out of the Chinese community and resettle with his new wife in what I suppose must have then been a working class Anglo neighbourhood and by that simple act, severed completely all his connections with the Chinese."

"But, like all Chinese he was a hard worker and gradually succeeded in building up a realtor business, which, by the time my father was born had three offices in the Los Angeles area. As his English wife spoke no Chinese, English became, perforce, the language of the household and when my father, their only child was born, he was raised speaking only English."

"By the time my father was twenty years old, the real estate business had blossomed and Cheung Realty had no less than twenty offices in greater Los Angeles. My Anglo-Chinese father took over the business from his father, my grandfather, when he was about thirty and for the next thirty years worked hard at developing the business until Cheung Realty was one of the biggest real estate brokers in the Los Angeles and surrounding area with nearly fifty locations and an annual turnover of nearly 500 million dollars".