PG Prostitute

Normally all it takes is their immediate reaction upon seeing me at their door for me to be able to guess what kind of weekend I'd have. If they're unsure or regretting their decision, it usually shows in that moment, even if they try to hide it. When that happens, I'd cringe on the inside knowing that I'd have an uncomfortable or just plain boring weekend. They'd not know what to do with me, but they'd already paid half in advance, so they usually at least try to get their money's worth.

Thankfully the man who answered the door was grinning in a very friendly, very normal way. Nothing serious had happened since I started this job, but I've been purchased by some people who were at least a touch creepy. They never did anything, though, so I had to be professional and hide my discomfort. This guy, Ian (all names mentioned except for mine are fake), seemed normal and enthusiastic.

"Hey, Tristan!" He immediately held out his arms and I accepted his invitation, giving him a big hug. He was taller and bigger than me, so I was wrapped up in his arms. He held me for a minute or so before pulling back and ruffling my hair.

"Good boy," he said affectionately.

He was in his mid-twenties, older than me. He was extremely normal in appearance: brown hair, green eyes, short hair and beard. He had an average height and weight. I tended to like the normal ones better than the wild cards.

"I was planning on watching Netflix tonight, bring over some friends."

The fact that he was okay with his friends seeing me meant he was either not self-conscious at all or had done this type of thing before.

"That's fine by me, sir."

"You cut that 'sir' business out right now, Tristan. My name is Ian."

"Sorry, Ian."

He led me to the den where his Netflix was already queued up. He sat on the couch and patted the spot right in front of him.

I sat down and leaned back into his chest as he wrapped his arms around me, firmly but not tightly. He gave me a little peck on the cheek. I responded by rubbing my face against his neck. Most people are not used to nuzzling, so I'm used to a wide range of reactions. His was to make that "aw" face that people make when they see something they find so cute their brain can't comprehend it. He ruffled my hair again and kissed the tip of my nose.

"What do you plan on watching?" I asked.

"Right now, some Bojack Horseman, but me and my friends are going to start watching Stranger Things tonight."

He read my expression correctly and smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I know we're at least a decade late, but late is better than never."

"You watch whatever you want. I won't be paying close attention, anyway."

I was sure that I had already seen about a dozen episodes of Stranger Things during various jobs, but I wouldn't be able to say much about the stories or characters. I'd be preoccupied with doing my job the whole time it would be playing.

I nuzzled into his chest some and listened to his heartbeat.

"You're really warm, Ian."

"Oh, is it uncomfortable?"

"No, it's nice."

He kissed the crown of my head before playing the first episode of Bojack Horseman.

*****

I had arrived at about 5:30 PM, and his friends started trickling into his apartment around 7.

The first guy just shook his head and smiled when he saw me.

"Holy shit, I can't believe you actually did it, Ian. I was seriously hoping you were joking."

"Dude, the kid's right there." Ian's eyes flitted towards me.

"He's just doing his job. You're the one I'm worried about. You need a girlfriend. Or at least a dog."

"It's not quite as simple as that. And this building doesn't allow pets."

He walked up to me and held out his hand for me to shake.

"I'm Brad," he said. "If he tries anything, let me know."

"I'm Tristan. And there's always pepper spray in my pocket."

"What are you implying?" Ian asked in mock indignation.

"Hopefully absolutely nothing," Brad answered, giving me a wink.

He and Ian talked over some beers and the rest of his friends came in about fifteen minutes later. They were a young couple around their age and a girl around my age. They brought pizza and more alcohol. Ian had to address the obvious, since none of them knew who I was or why I was there.

"Okay," he said loudly. "This is Tristan." He put his arm around my shoulder. "He's a professional cuddler I've bought for the weekend."

The man from the couple held up his hand in a stop gesture.

"Time out. That's a thing?"

"Yes, and he's been at it for years now," Ian answered. "I expect everybody to be cordial. Judge me if you want, but show some respect to him."

"Ignore me. Just pretend I'm a pet or something," I offered. The younger girl patted me on the head and giggled.

"I'll share him if you ask nicely, but only if I feel like it. I paid good money for him and I intend to make it worth it." He gave me another big hug and I nuzzled him.

We spent the evening watching Stranger Things, eating pizza, and getting drunk. They got drunk, at least. I hate alcohol. I was also 20 at the time, but the girl hanging out with them, who I found out was the little sister of the woman in the couple, was probably underage as well, so I didn't mention that. I'd gotten pretty good at not being judgmental in my years as a cuddle-for-rent.

They gave me pizza and some soda, but I did my best to not be obtrusive, speaking only when spoken to. Sometimes the guests of people who bought me did their damndest to pretend I didn't exist, but often I'd just be asked an endless litany of questions I had answered dozens of times in the past already. I got a few of them from Ian's friends.

"Do you actually make a living from this?" Brad asked.

I swallowed my pizza. "No. I'm in college now, and this is something I do on the weekends."

Ian was a little surprised by that. "Your website and contract looked professional to me."

I shrugged. "I've been at this since freshman year. I just know what I'm doing by now." I was on his lap again and leaned into his shoulders.

I got the one question I always got from the woman in the couple.

"Not to be rude, but doesn't it get weird sometimes, cuddling with strangers?"

"Not really. I just like cuddling, and I can be of use to others who feel the same way." I took a sip of my Dr. Pepper before answering the actual meat of that question. "I'm asexual anyway. I don't get off on it or anything, and all the things my clients can and can't do are laid out in the contract."

"That contract is legit, too. He's been around." Ian added.

"Can we see it?" the college girl asked.

Ian looked at me. "Can they?"

I nodded.

"I admit I'm interested," said Brad. "But let's wait until the episode ends at least."

The four others looked at the contract, which essentially laid out in specific detail that I would behave myself and the client would be expected to do the same. Only one part surprised them, the man from the couple pointing it out.

"It says that 'brief close-mouthed kisses placed on Tristan from the jaw up are permitted.' Isn't that a bit sexual?"

"I don't really think so." I said. "I like to think it's not if it's something a normal person would do to like a dog or a cat." I realized then that while Ian had been fine kissing me when we were alone, he hadn't done it once since his friends had gotten there. I guess he was slightly shyer than I thought.

The evening was enjoyable. The binge-watching lasted almost four hours. More pizza got ordered and more alcohol was consumed. I was working, but if I wasn't it would have been a fine way to spend a Friday night.

Most of the time I was with Ian, but I was shared occasionally. I spent half an episode being the big spoon to the college girl on the floor. Her older sister let me rest my head in her lap for a bit.

After a few beers, the two other guys teased Ian about him not kissing me.

"It's not gay, it's just cuddling, right?" Brad asked. "Nothing sexual about it at all." He came up and kissed my forehead. He ruffled my hair. "You're such a good boy!" he told me.

I could feel Ian tense just a little as he held me. I opted to not say a single word. If they wanted to gay-bait, they could. Made no difference to me. Besides, some men can get violent fast if you say just the wrong thing.

The man from the couple spotted Ian's discomfort. "C'mon dude, look at that face. The kid's adorable. Don't you just wanna give him a kiss?"

Ian kissed me on the cheek.

"Oh, come on, that was pathetic. Give your cuddle buddy a real kiss, Ian!"

Ian adjusted me so that I was facing him, and with a little red forming in his cheeks, tapped my lips with his. I nuzzled his neck and the two other guys laughed.

Later Ian laid on the couch and I was tucked in his arms. I actually fell asleep and had to be woken up after about twenty minutes.

"Sorry, Ian."

"It's fine, Tristan."

Around midnight the three other friends left. Brad had gotten drunk over the course of the evening, and as his BAC went up, so did his desire to hold me. Unlike Ian, he had no qualms about kissing me when others could see. He had been holding me tight and peppering kisses all over my face when Ian approached.

"Lay off the kid. You have a bunch of boy-toys you can play with for free with one call."

"I know, but none of them are cuddlers. They all just want me to fuck them in the ass."

Apparently, Brad actually was gay, and very promiscuous.

"I'm the one paying the money, so I get priority." Ian held out a hand and I stood up.

"You're such a hog," Brad huffed. I went to my duffel bag really quick, so I could get a business card of mine and give it to him.

Brad crashed on the couch and I was Ian's little spoon in his bed. Before we got under the covers he gave me a warning.

"I apologize in advance if I get a boner. I can't control it sometimes."

"That's fine. Just keep it in your pants."

He laughed and drew me into his embrace.

*****

This whole job started in the October of my freshman year at college. I didn't live on campus, but I had a friend who let me stay at his apartment if I paid rent and did some chores. I'm grateful for that; it's expensive as all hell to live in New York City otherwise.

His apartment had a shitty old couch that he wanted to get rid of. He gave me that task, and said that we could probably get some money for it if I sold it on Craigslist. I had made it a point to never use that site, I'd heard too many horror stories about it, but I used it anyway since he asked.

I used his account to set up an ad for the old couch and set the price at $100, with some wiggle room. Since I was already browsing, I just looked through the local ads and I found several more reasons why it was a good call to never use Craigslist. The crazier ads aren't extremely common, but they're pretty out there. One asked for a person to anonymously send a 2 Liter bottle full of urine for $500. There were several ads for guys asking other guys to jerk off with them for whatever reason, and every single one took care to mention that the poster wasn't gay. I found an ad from a dental assistant who wanted to use alginate, that weird gummy stuff dentists use to make molds of teeth, to make a mold of somebody's bare ass. New York City is a big place, and there's room for every kind of weirdo imaginable.

It was during this fall down the rabbit hole that I found an ad that got my attention. It was asking for a "cuddle buddy" (their term) to spend a weekend at their apartment. There would be constant hugging, cuddling, and spooning, but nothing sexual. I had my doubts about that last part.

What really surprised me was that the person was offering $300 for a 3-day, 2-night stay. That's a lot of money to pay somebody to let you hug them. I remember being incredulous that nobody had taken this offer yet. It was creepy, but if you had a means to protect yourself and didn't do anything stupid you'd be fine. That was when I realized that I was acting like I really wanted to do it.

I'm asexual, at least at this point in my life. I like masturbation and orgasms as much as the next guy, but I never really had any interest in putting another person into the equation. I was a virgin and didn't give a shit. I still am now and still don't care. The problem was, I really liked cuddling. It made me really happy. Back at home I could cuddle with the family dog all the time, and I really liked cuddling with girlfriends and boyfriends I'd had in high school.

(Yes, I tried dating boys. I assumed that since I had no sexual interest in girls I had to be gay. The guys didn't make me want to have sex, either.)

The problem is that it's hard to get cuddling when you're away from home and don't want to have sex. I missed it. Against my better judgment, I made my own account on Craigslist and accepted the ad's offer. Right after I was done I bought some Mace.

As it turns out, I didn't need it. The lady who sent out the ad was just middle aged, lonely, and wanted to be held by somebody. It felt odd, since I was 18 at the time, but we made it work. It was the easiest $300 I ever made, hands down.

It got me thinking, if there were other people in this city like me, and with 8 million people there had to be, I could set up an ad like it and maybe get a hit, except I'd be offering to sell my cuddling. I set up an ad for a weekend of cuddling for $100 and I got an offer within a week. I was extremely cautious, but it worked out. I ended up doing two more of these weekend rentals during my first semester.

My roommate thought it was weird, but he couldn't argue with results. Still, my parents wanted him to keep an eye on me, so he wanted me to not use Craigslist and instead make my own website. He was in school to be a lawyer, so he helped out with making up contracts and properly setting things up.

I thought that without Craigslist, nobody would know about me, but the Internet always has answers. People who are serious enough about cuddling to hire somebody for it tended to form online communities, so when I made my business known to those groups, people showed interest. It was infrequent for the first year, but as I did it more, more people heard about me and wanted to rent me. By the end of my sophomore year, I was getting about 2 offers a month, in New York City and the surrounding area. A majority of my clients were men, and you can interpret that information any way you want.

I only offered weekend stays, and always at a flat rate of $300, half to be paid in advance. That seems really high, and it is, but there are actual professional cuddlers out there (just that term sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?) that are much more expensive, like $100 an hour. I'd essentially offer to be a pet for a weekend for a much lower hourly rate.

I didn't care for the term "professional cuddler", but that's what I had to use officially. Still, I had a much better term for it I'd use in private. Ever since my roommate pointed out that this is like being a hooker, but seen through the eyes of a child, I called it PG Prostitution. It fit.

You might be thinking that this is a dangerous job, that it would be easy for predators to take advantage. You'd be right, but I was careful. I didn't have a PG Pimp, so I had to take steps to protect myself on my own. I always had the Mace with me and always told my roommate the addresses of the places I went to.

This job meant that I met all sorts of people. I held and was held by folks from all stripes. One thing I learned early on is that it was easy for me to get them to tell me stories. I'm not sure why, maybe I just came off as really trustworthy. I realized that if I asked a client about their craziest or most embarrassing story, they'd usually tell it. I also learned that most people's craziest or most embarrassing stories had sex involved in them. This post is going to be a collection of stories, about my own experiences, and those of my clients (with names changed to maintain anonymity) in my days as a PG Prostitute.

*****

Brad bought me the weekend right after my services were purchased by Ian. He was aggressive, holding my face, hugging me tight, and kissing me often. He obeyed all the rules, but was all over me at pretty much any time he wasn't doing something else. He was much bigger than me and had quite a bit of muscle, so he would lift me up and carry me around several times. He told me that I was cute often, gave me the nickname "puppy," and on more than one occasion asked me if I was absolutely, 100% sure I was asexual. He definitely flirted with me, but he never made a move. I had experienced clients like him before, but I was already on friendly terms with the guy, so it wasn't too weird.

Hanging out with him for a weekend meant that we had plenty of time to talk. My suspicion that he really got around was confirmed and then trampled to death. At one point I asked him if he knew how many men he had had sex with and he said it had to have been more than three hundred. At 25, that's fucking insane. He was strictly in the one-night-stand, hump 'em and dump 'em camp; he didn't like commitment and didn't see himself settling down any time soon. He was a strict top, never forgot condoms, and almost never banged the same guy more than once. It's a good thing he lived in a huge city.

I heard some pretty crazy stories from him. My favorite was the one he told me when we were cuddling on his bed Saturday morning.

"Have you ever stuck your dick in crazy?" I asked. This was a prompt I often used to get good stories.

"Of course, puppy. I could have been arrested because of this one guy."

"How'd that happen?"

"It was spring break of my senior year, and I had gone to the Florida Keys for it. Great sights, great towns, great sex. One day I was at the beach and I struck up a conversation with this dude who couldn't have been more obvious about his intentions if he tried. He wanted to do it immediately, but I was in the mood to take a swim, tan a bit, play volleyball, y'know, beach stuff."

"You said no to a sex proposition?"

"No, I said 'give me an hour at least' to one. This guy was either on drugs or just bat-shit crazy, though, because he refused to wait. I was snorkeling when he swam up to me and I saw through my mask that he was stark naked. I didn't even see his trunks in his hand. He ripped them off and just threw them away at a fucking public beach!"

My eyes widened.

He chuckled. "Hold on, puppy, it gets worse. Before I could say anything, he goes under and takes off my swimsuit, too! I tried to kick his ass, but he must have done this before or something because he was able to evade me and get away, no problem. Maybe I just overestimated how well I could move while in the water."

"Did nobody else see you?"

"They saw us, but weren't close enough to see we were free balling. I finally catch up to him and he's just grinning like an idiot with my swimsuit balled up in his fist. He's acting like this is all fun and games. I tell him to give it back and he says he would after I fuck him."

My jaw dropped. "In public?"

He nodded. "Naturally, I told him to eat shit and give me back my pants, but then he puts it in his fucking mouth. It was a Speedo, a small one to show off my assets, so it fit. He tells me that if I don't fuck him, he'd swallow it."

"Could he have actually done that? It sounds like it would be too big to swallow."

"Don't know, but considering all the shit he pulled, he would have at least tried. I figured I had two options, either do what he says, or get away and call for help. The first option had the possibility of my cock not being exposed to a bunch of strangers and children, so I went with that one. Still, if anyone saw us, we were in serious trouble. Public nudity is one thing, but fucking in public is way worse. This meant it needed to be quick."