I Am Marcus Lennox: First Ride
Copyright© 2026 by GueTheWriter
Chapter 1
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A newly discharged soldier reflects on his first venture into male escorting and the night that introduced him to a hidden world of sex work.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Drunk/Drugged BiSexual Heterosexual True Story Military Rags To Riches Workplace Sharing Light Bond Rough Group Sex Orgy Interracial Black Male Black Female White Female Hispanic Female Double Penetration Exhibitionism Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex Spitting Squirting Tit-Fucking Voyeurism BBW Big Breasts Size
DRIP ... DRIP ... DRIP...
The sound of a leaking faucet breaches the airwaves of the small hotel room as I sit quietly on my queen-size bed, feeling uneasy, this isn’t working. I look down at my cell phone. The time reads 12:31 a.m., but it feels like it’s already seven in the morning. I take a peek at my laptop to be sure, only to find that the time is now 12:32 a.m.
I must be doing something wrong, I pull up my Front-Page Ad to see if I uploaded it incorrectly. Opening the page, I am greeted with: “Ladies, why should the fellas have all the fun?”
The words sit in bold letters at the top of the page, followed by five pictures of myself. Some are shirtless, while others show me in tight boxers in a variety of poses. I start to smile.
I’m not a bad-looking guy: 5’8”, slim but athletic build, big kissable lips, military buzz cut, clean-shaven except for my goatee and beard. My dog tags hang from my neck down toward my pecs, completing the whole “Bring Home a Soldier” package I was selling.
I can see the marketability.
Now, I’m not the talented Chris Brown or the beloved Idris Elba, although I have gotten “a brown-skinned Donald Glover” from time to time, either way, I haven’t gotten many complaints, the ad sounds and looks exactly how I planned it.
I look back at the clock, 12:40 a.m, I got here at 10:00 p.m 2 days ago, so what am I missing?
I slaved over articles, researching different poses, other escorts and porn stars in this line of work, Sex work is hard. I did it all, from choosing the right pictures and accenting my font and text, to taking photography classes and checking out YouTube videos on what makes an appealing dick picture. I put so much science into this that somebody should call Neil deGrasse Tyson to fact-check me. I’m hitting all the checks, yet my phone and inbox are still as dry as this summer heat.
I step outside to clear my head.
Though it’s warm, the air feels nice as a slight nighttime breeze flows through my tank top and Army PT sweats. I look off into the distance and see the neighboring Bargain Bin, its lights blinding the night sky and making the stars disappear. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this line of work, hell, ever since I got out of the military, I don’t seem to be cut out for any type of work.
No big-business job. No nine-to-five. I can’t even get calls back from most side jobs just to make ends meet, why didn’t I stay in the military, you ask? The military was good to me. The pay was great, I got to travel, and it gave me a chance to get away from Oklahoma City and experience something different.
I just felt like there was more out there for me. Like I was meant for something more. Like I had a purpose, just like every other human being on this planet, now? Now it seems escorting isn’t my go-to either ... so what is? I sigh and watch a couple of people walking around the motel.
The hotel seems to complement its sixty-dollar-a-night price tag perfectly: bruised, unpainted walls, metal stairs, a sea of trash scattered across the small parking lot, and plenty of escorts and sketchy people walking around.
For a male client, this might be nothing more than another place to get a nut. But for a female client? I couldn’t imagine this being the kind of place she’d want to escape reality in—especially with my next-door neighbor screaming at his television in Spanish.
From helping my grandfather with handyman work and living off my military stipend, which isn’t much, by the way. I managed to scrounge together a good $175. That would’ve been a decent pocket change if I hadn’t spent $130 of it on this hotel room for the weekend, hoping I could actually make some money. Instead, two days of “maybes” and curious old “friends” hitting me up just because they wanted to know the tea went by quickly.
Now I’m on the last day. And it feels like the whole weekend was a waste, this isn’t what I had in mind. This was supposed to be my last shot, my last shot to prove that following my own path could actually work. I had already tried doing things the normal way, jobs, applications. interviews. Waiting for somebody else to decide whether I was worth hiring.
I thought this could be different, something I controlled, something where, for once, I could bet on myself. Instead, here I am sitting in a sixty-dollar hotel room with forty-five dollars left to my name and a phone that refuses to ring. I can’t help but think back to the first time the idea of this kind of work was ever planted in my head. It makes me reflect when I first heard
about this type of work.
She sits squatted on the floor at the edge of my military bunk between my legs, silently but firmly stroking my tip. Her smoky hazel eyes hypnotize my inner soul as she looks up at me, craving my scent as I crave hers. Each hand stroke has a deeper meaning besides the basic up and down, no, her fingertips have a purpose.
Her left hand slides up and down my shaft while her right finds a spot underneath my balls. Her $75 red nails then stray away from my dick, leaving more than enough room for her fingers to find their long chocolate dessert.
I look past her Medusa-like hazel glare to see 40DD bronze breasts bouncing between my right knee and her arm. For someone who is on her third child, her body hides that very well. A mini fupa protrudes under her chocolate mounds and nipples, with stretch marks creating a trail to her treasures hidden below. Her breasts seem to hide the fact that she has any children.
Above her right breast, on the side of her right shoulder, I find a red rose embedded in her dark chocolate skin. Connected to the rose is a black line attached to a cursive “I” that connects to a set of letters.
FREDII spells out in black ink.
I soon lose interest in the spelling when I see bright red lips slowly going down onto the tip of my member. Her mouth feels cold as her painted lips reach down to the seven-inch mark of my nine-inch manhood. I feel her tongue wiggle around the vein of my lower rod, making my balls do a little dance.
All through this, her eyes stare deeply into mine, never breaking focus and pulling me into a tranquil trance ... A pro at this? Or maybe a succubus.
Either way, she doesn’t let up her glare as she slurps and swallows the rest of the inches. My chocolate rod is covered in glistening spit. Her sloppiness is satisfying. I lay back on the military bunk, groaning and letting her operate.
By this time, I am hard as stone. This woman has everything and more for someone in her line of work. Her seven-inch record soon disappears behind bright red lips as she gets all the way down to the base, sending vibrations throughout my pole. She is so deep that her upper lip touches the center of my V-cut, she looks up at me smiling.
Definitely a pro.
I hear her gag, but she continues to hold her mark, making my tip vibrate with such velocity. Finally, she comes up off my length, a stream of saliva following a happy trail down toward her 40DDs, her chocolate chips now pointing at their next victim.
Without budging, she looks at me and smiles, definitely a succubus, as drool drips down her bright red lipstick as she devours her meal with ease.
Pulling out a condom, she quickly rips it open with one hand, puts it in her mouth, and does a magic trick down my shaft, making sure the condom is snug and fitted. She finally crawls over me. Seeing her thick legs complement her thick ass makes me grab and squeeze, feeling her smooth, soft chocolate skin.
I want her now more than ever.
Her breasts are so juicy with such a small waist. The allure drives me crazy as I bite into one of her nipples. Now she is positioning herself to take in every inch of my manhood and with a plop, she slides down about two inches. Her wetness is doing the trick. She’s drenching it.
Fredii moans devilishly as she continues to grind, moving up and down and getting more and more of my shaft inside her. I hold on to her as she does a balancing act on me, lower and lower, deeper and deeper.
She feels amazing.
Fredii dances as she rides me like a drunk girl at a rodeo bar. She finally gets wet enough that all of my shaft fits snugly inside her moistness, my V touching her V in a furious tango as the sensation tingles through my waist. I rotate her through on my military bunk as I raise my knees to prop her up on my legs as I grip her juicy, plump ass and begin to slam. Faster and deeper, I push like a drill driving into a screw.
“FUCK!” Fredii screams, loving every bit of the ride she is on. She starts to grind harder, rubbing against my trimmed abdomen. Deeper and faster we go, her juices starting to drench my sheets and the space between my legs.
I get into it so much that I begin spreading her cheeks to get deeper, letting my spear hit its mark. I can feel Fredii’s heavy breathing beneath me and hear her cursing loudly. I’m sure my battle buddies surrounding my dorm can definitely make it out, but I stay focused on her big chocolate mounds.
I tease her nipples with my fingers, gripping her juicy breasts as she slams down on my member, her ass rippling with each thrust.
Suddenly, I feel a shake and hear a loud:
“OOOOhhhhhh!”
Both of us crumble onto the bed like two wrestlers fighting for the Heavyweight Championship.
She looks over at me in astonishment as I reach for my glasses. Seeing her staring at me, then down at my package with a look of bewilderment, I finally speak up, as I pull her closer.
“What’s up?!” I state
She takes one more look at my nine-and-a-half-inch dick, still at full attention, and then smiles a half-crooked smile as she players with her toy.
“Mm-hmm...” she expresses. “Boy, no matter how many times I look at you, and then ... at that...” She stops and points down at my shaft. I laugh and start to scoot out of the bed.
“Funny, I’ve been told that tons of times,” I state as I discard the used condom and wash my hands.
“Well, it’s true...” she says in a moaning manner, laying in the bed looking at the ceiling, still sweating from the earlier sparring session. She gets up and goes to the bathroom. Her voice echoes from behind the heavy bathroom door.
“ ... For someone so skinny,” she continues, “ ... it is amazing how endowed you are.”
As she talks, I head to my closet and start putting on some jeans and a button-down shirt.
“Why, thank you. I guess that weight had to go somewhere,” I joke.
“I’m serious,” she yells from behind the door. “I am 40-plus, 25 in woman age, and I have never come across a skinny dude that can put it down like that in the bedroom. I mean, I’ve heard about y’all, but never ... DAMN!” I laugh to myself as I lace up my shoes and go to the mirror to check myself out.
“Is that so? I joke “Maybe I should be the one getting paid instead of doing the paying...”
The water from my shower cuts off abruptly. I chuckle as I wait for a response, but I hear nothing.
No sound.
No movement.
Just silence.
Before I can call out to Fredii, the door swings open. She steps out wearing a nice, thin black dress that hugs her mature yet beautiful body. Her 40DDs are pushed up nice and perky as a V-cut opens down her chest to the top of her black bra. The tail of the “i” from her “Fredii” tattoo is concealed by the over-the-shoulder strap, but Fredii is still visible.
She moves over to the bathroom mirror where I am, picks up an envelope marked Electric Bill Money, opens it, and quickly counts the bills inside.
Then she gives me one of the most curious and intriguing glares with those hypnotizing hazel eyes.