Man of the World

By Darren Lock

Follow one man's journey into the seedy sexual underbelly of the late 20th century. John Regis is a man of the world. He knows how to get satisfaction, but his obsession takes him further and further away from who he really is.

Can he save himself or will he always be a man of the world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781471643774

Book preview

Man of the World

This book was written in different times and is meant to be a snapshot of the times - a portent of things to come in the virtual and real world. This was originally written for a small audience of my peers with the intention to shock, arouse, disgust and amuse in equal quantities.

I apologise to those who might be offended. I apologise to those who might be aroused. I apologise to those who are thinking that this might be autobiographical. It is not, it is just a tale told tall.

Darren Lock - 23 March 2012

This novel is copyright Darren Lock. For more information, visit www.darrenlock.com

The cover image was provided with permission by © Shotsstudio | Dreamstime.com

Wednesday 20 August 1997, 12.47pm.

The room was small but cosy and in the corner a small TV spat out a continual stream of hardcore pornography. John Regis removed his underpants and added them to the pile of clothes on the chair opposite the bed. He stood there naked in the room, waiting for the temptress to come. John looked at the TV screen and took a seat at the end of the bed.

  On the screen, a blond teenager was going down on a man twice her age. This was hardcore at its best but it did not impress John. He was only interested in the real thing, no substitutes or surrogates, no masturbation or imagination, no porn or phone sex. He wanted only to stuff his dick into the nearest fleshy receptacle.

  There was a noise outside the door and John instinctively flung himself back onto the bed. He assumed a submissive position, waiting for his fate. He took a condom from a jar on the bedside table. Tearing open the wrapper, he carefully slid the rubber skin over his engorged cock. The door creaked open and in walked his entertainment for the next half-hour.

  He knew her only as Sam. Whilst making a phone call in a telephone booth near Baker Street Tube, he had picked up her card which had been blu-tacked to the glass. It was a small rectangle of pleasure, inviting him to spend his money on an easy fuck. The picture on the card was of a woman assuming a similar position that Julia Roberts had taken on the Pretty Woman film poster. The tiny hand-drawn picture showed a woman in a tight, black mini-skirt, standing with one leg half-raised. It was clever marketing on her part.

  Most of the cards he had picked up in phone booths were decorated with photos taken from girlie mags with text that proclaimed 44DD – Beauty or Sensual Massage by genuine 18 year old. None of them actually lived up to the product at the end of the telephone line.

  But John was in for a treat today; this girl was expensive and highly recommended. A strange quirk of fate had urged him to pay this girl a visit. John was a big computer fan and frequented many of the USENET newsgroups on the Internet. While visiting the alt.swingers.uk newsgroup, he noticed a message posted by a guy advertising his web site. On closer investigation, the web site was a guide to many of the prostitutes in London. This guy had even graded them with a comprehensive points system. The girl on top of the league table was Sam and John was intrigued that he had only picked up her card a few days earlier.

  So John had paid his £80 to Sam and waited for what came next. She stood before him, dressed in a schoolgirl uniform. She pouted at him and played with her blonde, hastily braided hair. John looked at her. He was no good at role-play; he was just there for a good honest fuck. She had suggested the uniform, questioning him saying that everybody has a fantasy – what’s yours? John didn’t have a fantasy or any need for uniforms.

  Sorry, sir, she said rolling her eyes skywards with mock guilt, I’ve been a bad girl. How do you want to punish me?

  John paused. There was an uneasy silence as he looked for something to say.

  Just take off your clothes, he said slowly. He felt his mouth drying up, I’m going to teach you a lesson you will never forget.

  The naughty schoolgirl stood in front of him and slowly undressed. Off came the school tie, blouse and skirt. She now stood at the foot of the bed in a black bra and panties, complete with black stockings and suspenders.

  Do you like my underwear, sir? she asked.

  Take it all off, replied John, And make it snappy. I don’t have all day.

  Sam looked shocked at this. She’d had pushy punters before but most of them liked the dressing up and the clothes. This guy was different; he seemed almost cold to it all. She put it down to nerves. Perhaps this was his first time with one of her sort? She didn’t really care. She had his money, all she had to do now was get this fuck over and done with.

  She quickly removed her bra to reveal a small, white pair of tits. Her light pink nipples stood to attention; they were the type that seemed to remain erect all the time and would have shown up nicely through a plain white T-shirt. Then her knickers came off to reveal a freshly shaved fanny. A few sore-looking pimples caused by shaver’s rash spoiled what would have been the perfect camel’s hoof. She stood naked apart from her stockings and suspenders. She looked at John for approval.

  How many more times must I tell you? said John adapting to his role of an angry, lecherous school teacher, Take everything off!

  Sam undid her suspender belt and rolled her stocking down to her ankles. John leapt from the bed and forced the young girl forwards onto the bed.

  Bend over! he said forcefully manhandling her, You’re taking this from behind.

  She hoped that he wasn’t going to just fuck her up the arse. She was sick of all this bottom sex. There seemed to be a trend of it recently and it was getting a little uncomfortable for her. She felt the tip of his cock home into her sex like a heat-seeking missile. With one urgent thrust, John sunk himself into the girl.

  Sam had felt some big dicks up her before but this guy was something else. She winced as she felt the top of her cervix being pushed into her. It wasn’t just the length that was taking her breath away, this guy felt like he was carrying a wide load as well.

  Come on! she yelled, Fuck my cunt. Fuck my cunt, you bastard.

  John began to build up a steady rhythm with the 22-year-old groaning underneath him. He was enjoying this. Her cunt felt really tight and, if he wasn’t careful, he was going to come off really quickly. John took a deep breath and then concentrated on a patch of the wall directly in front of him. He kept up this performance for a few minutes longer and then paused, before withdrawing and stepping back.

  Sam fell onto the bed and rolled over onto her back. She looked up at this man standing over her. Her eyes instantly gauged this huge, glistening rubberised cock that was bobbing gently in front of her face. She slowly spread her legs and invited John in for a second go.

  Come on, big boy, she said with a smile, Show me what that thing can do.

  John landed on top of Sam and slipped his dick back inside her. This time he was a little more aggressive. He grabbed one of her tits and began to chew on her protruding nipple. The girl shrieked with discomfort but John had paid for this and couldn’t really care less. While he banged away, Sam scratched his arse with her nails before slowly moving her hands down to his anus. With one lightning movement, she stuck her index finger into his arsehole. John jolted to a sudden halt.

  That’ll teach you to be gentle, she sniggered.

  John realised she was joking and continued with his work. This girl was good value for money. The review on the web site was bang-on; this girl gave you a little extra the others didn’t. Most prostitutes just lie there and take it whilst you fuck away; they are just waiting for you to finish so they can run off and buy their next fix.

  It darted through John’s mind that maybe this girl was working her way through University; using this sideline to pay for her courses and her books. She certainly seemed a bit more ‘with it’ compared to the other whores he’d had the misfortune to encounter. John sniggered to himself. Thanks to this new Labour Government and their policy of getting students to pay for their courses, there would be a whole host of new teenage flesh for him to explore next year. John paused again to catch his breath.

  Enjoying this are you? asked Sam. She reached under John and began to play with his balls.

  Yeah, he nodded.

  Well when you are ready to cum, just point your dick in my direction and I’ll rub it in. Know what I mean? she giggled.

  This gave John the impetus to finish the job at hand. Although this girl wasn’t a cum-drinker, shooting his jet on her body would come a good second place. He increased the movement in his hips and he felt her grip tighten on his balls. This was an old prostitute trick to get the punters to finish quickly. Squeeze their balls, they’ll soon   jizz themselves till the cows come home.

  John felt a pressure building in the base of his penis. His balls began to slap against her flesh and he could feel the wave of orgasm about to engulf his body.

  There is a point of ecstasy that every man reaches just before he climaxes. At this point, he could truly be one with the universe as every thought drains from his mind. It is only a split second of time, the time between the conscious realisation of orgasm to the jerking physical manifestation. In this moment, there is no love or hate, no war or peace, no black or white, no life or death. It is a state of total mental blankness. Then you squirt your 10cc’s of semen and come back to earth with a bang.

  Then there is the post-orgasm examination: Was it over too quickly? Was she enjoying it? Is my dick too small? Was she thinking of someone else? Sex is a dangerous business. If you are not wiped out by one of the many diseases caused by it or killed by a freak embolism caused by blow-back, you are driven to the edge of insanity by the paranoia of performance.

  There was to be none of this for John today. He only had these feelings when he was with his wife. He had nothing to prove to this tart. John withdrew he penis and quickly pulled off the condom, slippery with Sam’s juices. He continued to manipulate his dick with his hand until he was shooting his load over the expectant girl.

  John staggered back, slightly exhausted and watched on as Sam rubbed his semen into her body. She pretended to like it but John knew in his heart that this was all part of an elaborate act she had worked out during her time as a prostitute.

  Wow, that was something, she said, looking up at John.

  That was fun, he said, moving towards his clothes.

  Just how big was that? Sam said, pointing towards John’s ever-deflating cock.

  Just over 10 inches, he replied. He felt slightly embarrassed by his deformity.

  Jesus. You should be in the movies! she laughed, That’s one of the biggest I’ve ever had. Most are tiny. Shrunken little hotdogs. But that, that was something else!

  Er, thanks, said John pulling on his pants.

  This was not the first time John’s private parts had caused a stir. As a teenager, he had to endure the taunts of his school friends in the communal showers after sports. How he hated being called Elephant Dick and for many years the nickname Elephant Man followed him around school. The worst part was that the film had just been released, so the many cinema posters around the town compounded the effect of name-calling. Although most men would give their left arm for a penis his size, he felt like a freak and wanted to be normal. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence until you find it’s covered with tarmac.

  John slipped on his jacket and was ready to leave. He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door. Sam had cleaned herself up and was wearing a dressing gown, pulled tightly around her thin body.

  Come again, she said, Next time we can have some real fun.

  I will, nodded John, but he knew that he would never come back here.

  What’s the point of fucking the same whore twice? It’s different with the wife indoors, you love them and you expect to go down on her over and over again. But you wouldn’t pay her for the privilege! It’s like having the same meal at the same restaurant over and over again. You soon get sick of it. No, he had sampled this girl. It was now time for him to move on.

  Sam opened the door and John walked out into the corridor. He felt like Lot fleeing Sodom and didn’t look back to see the door closing behind him. He made his way down the stairs to the bustling London streets below. He stepped into the fresh air and found himself not a stone’s throw away from Madame Tussauds waxworks.

  He walked along Marylebone Road for a while; the street was noisy with traffic. He stopped suddenly and looked at the cars speeding along. John saw a vacant black cab heading in his direction. Stepping slightly into the road, he raised his hand and hailed the taxi. For once his luck was in and the cab pulled up sharply beside him. John stepped up to the window.

  Where to, guv? asked the cabbie.

  Temple, please, said John in a clear voice.

  The cabbie nodded and John clambered into the back of the cab. With that, the cabbie pulled away and moved slowly off into the throbbing London traffic.      

At The Temple

  The cab drove down Regent’s Street and headed towards the Strand. The traffic was bad at this time of day, but then the traffic was bad at most times of day in the centre of London. The only exception to the rule would be anytime between 10.30pm and 6.55am; this time the streets are empty. John looked at the traffic along the Strand and remembered back to a time when he was a teenager.

  He had just passed his driving test at seventeen. It was his first attempt and he was very proud of his achievement. As a reward, his mother and father had bought him a green Mini-Cooper to fly about in. It was an expensive little motor but he loved it as soon as he set eyes upon it. The first night of owning his new car, he took her out with Jackie in the passenger seat and drove into London.

  They spent a good hour criss-crossing the bridges that arch over Old Father Thames. The unearthly moonlight and the neon glow from the nearby buildings made the river look quite romantic. Jackie sat in the care just cooing to him. It was a great night just driving about. They ended up getting lost and had to go the long way home to Walthamstow via Tottenham. But it was all good practice for John.

  The taxi pulled up in Arundel Street and John leapt out. He paid the cabbie and then dashed to the offices just off the main road. It was an office complex they shared with other companies; it came with a young guy on the door and a mini-lift that took you to each of the four floors.

  The company was called Backmann Consultants and they worked in the field of computer consultancy. John had been working there for just under four years. He had started as a software trainer, specialising in word processing packages. But now he had progressed and he was head of the Internet Consultancy arm.

  There were so many companies in the UK that needed their services. There were so many people that didn’t know their IP from their proxy server. There was so much money to be made. Now John was in the thick of this communications revolution. He was highly paid, with a fantastic company car and the perfect family waiting for him in his lovely home. What more could he want?

  As he entered the building, he knew exactly what he wanted. A female employee from one of the other companies occupying the building passed him, her tremulous breasts shuddering as she made her way down the stairs. John tried to concentrate but he could get this image out of his mind. The image was of him fucking this woman. He tried to reason with himself.

  For Christ’s sake! he hissed to himself, You’ve just had all that.

  As John Regis had grown older, he was in a constant battle with what he called his lizard brain. His lizard brain was the part of him that controlled his base functions: the breathing, eating, sleeping and fucking. But his lizard brain seemed to be hot-wired directly to his dick and the two organs had this symbiotic relationship going on: one hand washing the other and all that. He longer seemed to have any control over his sex drive and it was beginning to rule his life.

  Every woman on the street was a potential screw. Every woman, no matter how young or old, no matter how beautiful or ugly, was a target for his all-consuming lust. He could no longer walk down the street without ogling every woman or quickly glancing at her legs/breasts/buttocks. Today was no exception.

  Sam the Baker Street prostitute was not the first woman he had paid for sex. He thought that this would help him ease his unstoppable sex drive. His wife Jackie was great; she gave him exactly what he wanted. But there were times when their passions were out of sync or he simply exhausted the poor woman. He loved her with all his essence and he regarded his sexual behaviour outside of their relationship as purely a biological need. In his eyes he was not being unfaithful, he was just did this in an attempt to remain faithful to his wife.

  You see in John’s mind there was two types of unfaithfulness. The first type was the worst: intellectual infidelity where you actually fall in love with someone. What he was doing kind of fell into his second, lesser category: physical infidelity. It was just a fuck. None of this really meant a jot to him. It was just a means of release, a way of shifting the weight from his shoulders.

  He entered the offices and nodded to the receptionist on the front desk. The only problem with his appetite was that it was beginning to cost him a fortune. Even though he was in a very well paid job, not even he could afford a £80 hooker every day. At this rate, he might as well have a proper skeleton in the cupboard like a heroin habit or a touch of the old golden nose.

  John, if you could pop in and see Rick? said the receptionist.

  Sure, Sue, he said, altering his route to Rick Backmann’s office.

  He stood in front of the door and raised his hand to knock. Rick Backmann was the MD of the company and he still played a very active part of the everyday running of the business. He looked up from his desk and waved John into his lair.

  You wanted to see me? asked John.

  That’s right, nodded Rick, Take a seat.

  John sat down and made himself comfortable by loosening the button on his jacket. Rick sat opposite him and peered over the desk. His name was Richard but he insisted on being tagged Rick, he thought it was more hip than his full Christian name. John was a little envious of Rick as there was only two years separating the two men and he wanted to be in charge of his own company.

    Yeah, began Rick, We’ve just secured this great contract.

  John sat back in his chair and stared at his MD with interest.

  One of the local rags in Brighton wants you to go and train their staff in the use of the Information Superhighway, explained Rick.

  When do I have to go? asked John.

  Well…it’s going to be sooner rather than later, continued Rick, Probably at the end of the month.