Thinking I knew everything nearly twenty three years ago, I ventured out into the big wide world after a really serious argument with my step father, and ended up homeless on the streets of a very busy European city. Most days were fine at the very start, in essence of getting food and receiving money. But once I was mugged and lost everything I had, I soon began to become hungry and desperate. One way of obtaining money was something another homeless guy told me about, and that was to hang about the bridge at night, meeting men who wanted their cocks sucked. The thing was, like anything you can earn money from, there were others who controlled who earns what. I tried without contacting anyone and ended up in a bad way. Unable to seek out the police or visit a hospital, I got on with things and ended up not being able to eat for nearly a week.

Eventually I approached one of the men who'd attacked me and he said if I proved my worth, he'd consider letting me take one of reserve points close to the bridge. I knew it was a place where the less wealthy approached guys for sex, and I also knew it could get violent. Yet I needed money and I needed food.

At this point you might be wondering why I didn't seek out some welfare workers, or people of a religious background. The fact was, I had. It got me no where, as I was too pig headed, too stupid and too full of personal rage to listen to anyone. My price for getting a "spot", was to allow my previous assailant to stuff his cock down my throat. His was my first, and apparently I was born to suck dick. Finishing him off by swallowing his load, he told me I needn't go the reserve spot, I could have a place on the east side of the bridge.

Five men's erect hard and often already leaking cocks. That's how many I sucked on that first night. One guy wanted to fuck me, but I wasn't having any of it. So he told the bridge minder, who in turn reported my lack of enthusiasmto the bridge master. Two days I spent learning my lesson. Two days where I didn't get the money I was owed for sucking cock. That's right, money wasn't paid to you, it was paid initially to the bridge minder for services rendered. And it was two days where I begged for what little food came my way.

On the third day I entered the cafe where the bridge master held his "Meetings". There was a room at the back where he entertained young guys who he liked for sex. The bridge minder had set up our meeting and I knew I was there to be fucked. For a back room in a cafe, it was palatial, warm and had food and wine ready for me, once I'd come across for the thick set man who's growing cock I was looking at as he stroked it.

Sucking on his dick as he'd requested, I heard him telling one of his men I was good, really good and he'd be ok. The man left and I was told to undress. Taking the shower I was ordered to have, he then lay down on a large sofa and beckoned me over. Making me kneel up, he smeared something on my arsehole and thrust into me in one long shove. It hurt, boy did it hurt. yet I knew if I went with it, I'd be able to make good money. Thinking back now, he didn't last all that long, ten minutes maybe. But it was ten minutes in which I learned I could take a thick seven inch cock up my rear and survive. There was no condom. I was a virgin, free from risk on his behalf and he knew it. Thinking it was over as I felt his spunk flood into my bowels, I pulled off his cock. He had other ideas though and made me lick his cock and balls clean. No sooner had I licked off any remaining remnants of cum from his cock, he got dressed and whistled.

They both wore condoms. One after another his personal minders visited that back room and spent their loads up my arse. It was his way of treating them and controlling me. I was his and he'd just cemented my services for his male sexual industry.

I ate, drank wine and got pissed out of my head. I drank my fill and then some, until I passed out from too much alcohol and good food. Awaking the next morning I was in a warm comfortable bed, and I had a cock up my bum as I was being spooned. It was a man who I'd not met, yet someone I later learned not to cross. He emptied his balls up me, told me I'd been amazing all night and only then did I realize he was my first real client.
I'd passed what ever test it was to bring me into line. I didn't see the bridge for five months. Not at night anyway. Each night I was chosen to entertain men in the back room of the cafe, and I became something of a main choice for lots of discerning men. I lead a very easy life for a while, then like everything else in that world, it was smashed
apart.

A new bridge master rose, and I became a bridge tally. Just one more fuck hole to service working men and guys who didn't mind fucking under the arches. One night after eight months of sucking cock, and leaning against cold walls ready to be fucked, as I was leaving the bridge, I met the same man who'd taken my first night. I knew he wasn't someone to mess with, yet I was still young and thought I could get more money out of him than he needed to pay. It backfired and I ended up being visited. A really bad mistake and it cost me some broken ribs, a busted nose and the loss of five front teeth, to go along with the panda bear look.

Bizarrely it was an American tourist who gave me the opportunity to leave. He wasn't looking for sex, but only wanted directions. By then I wasn't selling my body and had gotten myself sorted out. We talked and he listened like no one had ever listened to me. All night it seemed, we spoke about our lives and eventually he arranged to meet me the next day. He helped me get my documents back, or copies, and I was then able to apply for a replacement passport.
Not wanting to return home after the argument with my step dad, and my mothers refusal to listen to my side, I buried my doubts and took the flight.

I'd been so wrong, so idiotic and stubborn. They knew I'd been in the city I'd called home, and had looked for me. Yet I didn't want finding back then. I knew everything, right. I remember the bridge master telling me a guy who knew my name was looking for me. He said he thought it was an English officer, but had covered my tracks as I was earning too much money for him. He didn't know it was my step father.

My mother and step father are still together and I've reconciled with them over my many errors. I have a family of my own now, and a good job. It's strange looking back and reviewing my past mistakes. I was young, foolish and didn't want to think I could be used. How wrong I was.

Life has a way of completing a circle sometimes. Without knowing it last year, my wife booked us a weekend away to
the city I'd spent earning a bridge master money in. As we walked over that bridge during the early evening, I saw two young men walking to one end. I was about to challenge them, when a policeman walked over and they spoke together in their own language. I later asked the same policeman out of ear shot from my wife, if those lads were "bridge workers". He looked at me with a knowing look and told me "Those days have finished my friend".

That man saw me sigh with total relief, he also saw me grin like a Cheshire cat.