Men who work in experiential services

Never having actually worked in the sex industry has always been one of my regrets.
Part of this regret is political, but more so stems from a sense of self-deprecation. I am a man, and I crave someone wanting my body. This expectation has become increasingly difficult to fulfill as I've aged and my physical condition has deteriorated. I
often hear people say that those who rely solely on appearance without substance are nothing special. I possess what people call substance in many areas, but I so desperately wish someone wanted my body too.
In my youth, I repeatedly considered working in a profession that relied on my body. At that time, I didn't have strong sexual political ambitions, nor had I been exposed to sexual discourse, and I hadn't even heard of the term "sex work." I simply wanted to experience that feeling firsthand.
I applied for several jobs. I saw newspaper ads, called to inquire, and then mysteriously scheduled interviews.
But I never succeeded.
Almost every time, the final step was to ask for money. It wasn't a real job at all.
The closest I came was applying for a job as a male massage therapist. The ad said they were looking for a tall, overweight male massage therapist to serve male clients.
I called, just to give it a try, and a man with a deep voice answered.
He briefly explained that he specialized in male clients, charging 2,000 yuan per session. He originally worked alone, but some clients specifically requested tall, fat men, so he wanted to find a partner. Then he asked if I was comfortable having sex with men and if I would be willing to try it.
I said I wasn't opposed to it. Actually, I didn't know what it would feel like; I just didn't see any reason to be against it.
He arranged to interview me at a motel to see if I was really willing to do it.
On the appointed day, I was very nervous, thinking about it all day. Before leaving home, I took a proper shower, applied cologne, changed into a suit, carefully combed my hair, and brushed my teeth twice before riding my motorcycle to the appointment.
I arrived half an hour early and, unsure what to do, sat on my motorcycle smoking. Sweating profusely, I had to take off my suit jacket. Ten minutes before the appointed time, I called him.
He said he would be there soon and asked me to check into a room and give him the room number.
He also told me that another man would be coming with me, also for an interview; he was interviewing two at a time.
I booked a room as he instructed, called him after entering, turned the air conditioning up to the maximum, put my suit jacket back on, adjusted my tie, and waited, looking as presentable as I could.
After about ten minutes, someone finally knocked on the door.
I opened it and let them in. The man I spoke with was older, probably in his thirties or forties, about 17-18 centimeters tall, quite muscular, with a somewhat rugged look. The other man looked like a student, in his early twenties, half a head taller than me, and also much heavier.
The small room suddenly felt cramped with three large men.
The middle-aged man's first reaction upon entering was that I wasn't fat enough.
I didn't know how to respond; my mind went blank. Then he asked if I wanted to take a shower, and I nodded and started undressing.
It was a glass-enclosed bathroom with some patterns on it, but it didn't completely cover me, so I didn't bother closing the door.
Since I just wanted to wash away the sweat, I didn't spend much time. As I showered, I saw the two men outside also starting to undress. They were naked by the time I finished showering.
I asked them if they wanted to shower too, and they both said they had showered before leaving, so there were no further steps; it was time to get down to business.
The middle-aged man first offered his opinion on my figure. He said I looked fairly plump after taking off my clothes, which seemed to be a satisfactory response.
Then he began explaining what we should do.
The basic procedure was to start with a general massage to relax the muscles, followed by an oil massage.
Next came the teasing part. First, the oil was wiped off, then lips, tongue, and fingers were used to caress the other person's body. The focus, of course, was on the genitals; besides the penis, the entire sensitive area in the groin area needed to be well cared for.
Most importantly, it wasn't just about how to approach, but also about treating the other person as someone you liked, making them feel your engagement; otherwise, after one time, they wouldn't come back.
This wasn't unfamiliar to me; I often go for oil massages. It's just that I used to have women do it for me; this time, I was going to use their methods to serve a stranger.
After explaining, he asked the chubby guy to massage him first, but after a few strokes, the guy sat up, saying he was doing it wrong, so he massaged him instead. After a few minutes, he asked us to show him the foreplay.
Actually, I had become less nervous since the shower started, and my heart rate had returned to normal. However, my mind was still blank. Neither the chubby guy nor I spoke; we listened quietly and watched him do it, until he asked us to move on to the next stage. My mind was still a complete blank.
I don't remember how it started, nor who made the first move; I only remember that I only came to my senses after the chubby guy swallowed my penis.
My penis was in a man's mouth, and his tongue was licking around the glans—this had never happened before.
Many heterosexual men are terrified of touching another man's genitals, let alone oral sex; they even feel uncomfortable seeing two men being intimate. I am thoroughly heterosexual, that's true, but I can personally attest that this was entirely psychological.
A penis in a man's mouth is no different from one in a woman's mouth. Being touched by a man's or woman's hand is the same.
Of course, if the other person's hands are particularly rough, or if they have a prickly mustache, that might be a different story, but if you don't think about it too much, the sensation is essentially the same.
As for taking his penis in your mouth, that's a completely different feeling.
Because we've both just showered, it doesn't taste like anything; it's actually a bit like sucking on a thumb, only much larger and smoother.
Perhaps because the feeling of having sex in your mouth can't be simulated like having sex with a woman, the real feeling of "I'm giving a man oral sex" is much stronger. It feels like riding a roller coaster that no one in the world would dare to ride. I'm not referring to the feeling of riding the roller coaster, but the feeling of wanting to show off afterward.
I clearly remember that while I was swallowing and spitting out that penis, which was a size larger than mine, I had two thoughts in my mind at the same time: one was, "Wow! What I'm doing, no one else would dare to do." Of course, this doesn't apply to those who are naturally attracted to men; the other was, "They don't know, it's not scary at all."
Next, at the middle-aged man's request, we licked his nipples and scrotum, and tried several ways of caressing him. He even wanted us to try it on him.
Actually, I don't remember what he said after that. When I took his penis in my mouth, I only remember looking at it carefully before swallowing it. His penis was erect at the time, and it was quite short. Mine was already considered short, and his was even shorter than mine, but it was the thickest of the three of us. I almost couldn't swallow it properly.
I wasn't really listening to what he was saying; I was too busy comparing the differences between their genitals.
It was a very unusual experience. Although guys in the military often showered with everyone and saw other people's genitals in public restrooms, it was never possible to examine them so closely without being seen as malicious or perverted.
Later, he asked if we wanted to try anal sex, and I agreed, but we didn't succeed. When the fat guy's penis came up, I couldn't relax; I was worried it would hurt or something, and he simply couldn't get in.
I couldn't get in either; when I tried to push, it felt like forcing my penis in would hurt too, so I didn't dare to use any force.
After a few tries, I decided to give up, while the two of them started thrusting smoothly.
I watched for a while, and my erect penis gradually went limp, and I started to get bored. The middle-aged man seemed to notice that I wasn't really into it, so he stopped and asked if I wanted to leave.
At that moment, he hugged the fat guy, and I suddenly had a feeling that "this is no longer my business," so I left a third of the room fee, put on my clothes, and left.
A few weeks later, I unexpectedly received a call from a middle-aged man asking if I still wanted to do it. I figured it was better to give up than to be rejected by clients, so I refused. Ultimately, I still lacked confidence in my own body.
To this day, I haven't worked as a sex worker, nor have I had sex with a man since. However, I still genuinely envy those men and women with beautiful bodies who can arouse desire or sexual desire in others.
I think this is a kind of vanity. The poor envy those who are rich, those without artistic talent envy those who can play instruments or paint, and those with low levels of education envy those with master's or doctoral degrees. I, with my less-than-ideal physique, envy those who can earn money with their bodies.
In a way, it's all about class! Afterwards, I devoted myself to promoting sexual rights and advocating for class liberation from sexual discrimination, but what an difficult ideal this is! My own body has always been influenced by external values, and to this day, I haven't truly been liberated from class constraints.
[The End]

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Men who work in experiential services

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