Male Prostitutes Unexpected Encounter with the Deputy Director of Tax Fraud

Once a week, Michael visits his PO box to collect his mail. Usually, its junk mail posted by many of the retail outlets he uses to do the jobs he does. But today, there was a rather official looking letter from the Inland Revenue Service querying his taxes. Michael opened the letter and found that an appointment had been made to visit their office at 10am that very same morning.

At 9:45, Michael was sitting in the reception awaiting his appointment looking very nervous. He handed the letter to the girl at the desk when she returned from visiting the powder room a few minutes later.
“My, God, you must be in some real deep shit,” the receptionist said, throwing him a look of dread. “Very few people get to see the Deputy Director of fraud.”
Michael swallowed hard and tried to break a smile.

He was led down a long hallway to an outer office where an oldish woman was sitting behind a huge desk reading a file.
“Sit down,” she said, sternly, pointing to the chair in front of her desk. “I must warn you that these conversations are recorded and audio taped for security purposes and will be used against you, should a prosecution be sought.”
Michael nodded and smiled nervously, fidgeting as he scoured the room looking for the camera.
“According to your file, you haven’t paid any taxes for over three years, and you aren’t claiming any State Benefits. Why is that?” She stared at Michael sternly over the rim of her spectacles.
“Well, I don’t have a job, and filling in those forms for job seekers allowance is a real pain in the ass. So I just didn’t bother!”
“How do you live without an income? You must be getting money from somewhere?”
“I live off the land, and when I’m not doing that, I sell my body!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I screw women for money.”
“You’re a male prostitute?”
Michael raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Yeah, but times are a bit lean at the moment. I haven’t had a decent shag in ages.” He cupped a hand over his scrotum as if jiggling his balls.
The Deputy Director’s eyebrows disappeared in to her hairline and her neck seemed to extend several inches out from her shoulders as she unwittingly leaned over to take a look. Her face flushed and her eyes showed great excitement. “Where do you live, I don’t seem to have an address for you, just a P O box number.”
“Why, were you thinking of paying me a visit sometime?” Michael laughed at the surprised look on her face. “I will give you the first one free.”
Her breath was heavy and her heart began beating wildly. “But I’m sixty, why would you want to have sexy with an old bird like me?”
“Remember the old saying, ‘Many a fine tune has been played on an old fiddle.’ well, to me, you’d be a Stradivarius!”
She locked the door eagerly, pulled down the blinds, then phoned her secretary instructing her that she was not to be disturbed. She looked nervous on as Michael began to unbutton her blouse before pulling it out of the waistband of her skirt. The bra she was wearing was quite unflattering like those from the 1950s, full padded cups, a wide breast band and the straps looked to be cutting into her shoulders. Michael unfastened the hooks and eyes and let it fall down her arms. Her breasts were small and quite firm for a woman of her age and the nipples were dark brown and pointed.
Michael squeezed them gently as he lashed his tongue over her stiffening tips.
“Oh, God, that feels so good,” she sighed, unfastening the zipper at the back of her skirt. She let it fall to the floor, and within seconds, her large panties and nylon hose were around her ankles, exposing the magnificent triangle of black pubic hair.
“Wow, I love a hairy pussy,” revealed Michael, brushing his fingers through the curly mass. “Bend over your desk!”
She obeyed his command, lowering her stomach and raising her ass into the air. He slipped two fingers into her moist slit, while the other hand gently probed her swelling clitoris.
“Fuck me, Michael, fuck me!”
Michael licked his fingers, wiped saliva onto

Explore my other stories

THE END