WARNING

This story details explicit gay sex between men, teens and boys. If you find this kind of thing distasteful, or if you are underage wherever you live, then stop reading this now, and delete this file. The story is completely fictional; the author does not condone or encourage any of the acts contained herein.

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Craigslist

Chapter 71

By: Tim Keppler

 Edited by: Bob Leahy

I've never actually been in a relationship before. That's not to say that I haven't had sex pretty regularly, as you do if you're a porn actor. It's just that it never meant much. I couldn't let it mean much. It had to be impersonal. I guess another way of saying this is that, before my relationship with Ian and Leslie, I'd had a fair amount of sex, but I'd never made love to anyone. Having sex and making love are completely different, I've found, and that's because the starting point is completely different. When you have sex, the objective is to get yourself off. If you bring some pleasure to the person you're with at the same time, well, all the better. When you make love, the objective is to bring as much pleasure as possible to the person you're with. Full stop. You see the difference? Sex is all about you. Making love is all about your partner. But by that definition, making love requires one component that mere sex does not. You have to be in love with the person you're with. Why else would bringing them physical pleasure be so important to you? You have to already love them. Otherwise, stroking them, caressing them and kissing them won't be as intensely erotic as those acts have become for me. They might cause my partner pleasure, but if I'm not in love with him, they won't make me hard. That's why porn actors spend an awful lot of time "fluffing".

So, I guess what I'm saying is that I've never been in love before, and now that I am, I wonder how I ever lived without it. The inverse is also true. No one ever loved me before. My parents sure as hell didn't, nor did my siblings. No one. No one ever loved me...until now. That's sort of tragic when you think about it, to be unloved for the first twenty-two years of your life. I'm making up for all that now. Now I'm both in love, and loved, and not by one person, but by two. Leslie and Ian both love me, and I love them with a depth of feeling I didn't know I was capable of. I honestly didn't know what this would feel like, this sense of devotion, this intense desire to care for them and to surrender myself to their care. It feels warm and enveloping, and it makes me very emotional when I think too much about it – like now. I am completely and utterly in love with them, which surprises me a little because initially I was mostly drawn to Ian. He seemed more...vulnerable...somehow. I think I was put off by Leslie's obvious strength, both emotional and physical. As I got to know them better, though, I realized that I was drawn to them equally, which presented a real problem. Which one should I go after?

I'm not a home wrecker. I told Ian that more than once, but probably only because I thought I was attracted to him. If I wrecked their home, he'd be provided for. He'd get me. But two things quickly became clear. First, Leslie and Ian are totally devoted to each other. There's no wrecking ball big enough to smash their relationship. Second, I realized that I was falling for both of them, which confused and frightened me. I moved in with them after a couple of months of seeing them regularly, but I figured that the relationships we'd forge would be two way – I'd have a relationship with Leslie, I'd have a relationship with Ian, and they'd have a relationship with each other. I wasn't thinking three dimensionally. It wasn't until we had dinner with Ian's family that I realized where our relationship could actually go.

Ian's father has three partners – Jason, Dinh, and Kenny. All four of them are in love – with each other, with all of each others. I mean, they're seriously in love. They live together, sleep together, make love together, share similar interests, and jointly raise three children – Evan, Kai and Kevin – having already raised Ian. They are the perfect couple...or, I guess that should be quadruple. As a quadruple, they've been very successful. They're all very smart, but they're also emotionally very mature. They've found ways to complement each other intellectually and spiritually while supporting themselves based on their joint interests and skills. They're very creative, by the sound of it. Jason is a concert musician, Kenny is a computer-game developer and lyricist, Tim is a non-profit administrator and computer-game developer, and Dinh is a student and software engineer. First and foremost, though, they're a family.

I'm sure there are lot of different ways to make a relationship like theirs work, but I'd bet you there are a lot more ways to screw it up. Theirs seems to work because they all really love each other, because none of them seems to have an inflated ego – there are no prima-donnas. Also, their careers and interests don't directly overlap, so there doesn't seem to be any competition among them. Most important, though, they have a patriarch. While I don't have the sense that their world revolves around Tim, he is pretty central to the identity of the family. Jason and Kenny aren't shy about teasing him or laughing at his idiosyncrasies, but the way they talk about him makes me think that their world is largely his design, and his design is multi-dimensional. They don't seem to have individual two-way relationships. They all seem to have relationships with the family as a whole. It's really interesting. Ian, who is just about to complete his M.A. in psychology, is planning a doctoral dissertation on polyamorous relationships that will feature his own family. He's already been admitted to the doctoral program at Stanford. His dissertation should be of interest to the faculty and his doctoral committee given that two of his father's partners – Kenny and Dinh – both teach at Stanford, and a third – Jason – graduated from their music program. Ian describes his family as a commune, but a commune in which everyone is sexually connected to everyone else. "It's monogamy times four," he says with a snort. That pretty much covers it.

That's the relationship that Ian wants for us, I think. He's crazy about Leslie, and defers and caters to him, but I think there was something missing. Chatting with Jason recently, I think I figured out what that something is. "Tim is a leader," he said. "He's very wise, and charismatic. But...his wisdom and charisma can be a little...intimidating. I love him...very much, but I...umm...needed someone...else. I needed someone I could confide in in a way I couldn't...can't confide in Tim. I needed a `best friend'. Kenny is that. He's my best friend. And now Dinh, too, has joined us. We just feel so...natural together. I'm not sure Tim and I would have...made it... No, I can't think about that! We are very, very happy together. I can't play `What if?'."

What was missing for Jason, and now for Ian, was a best friend. I think that's what I am. When I first met Ian and Leslie, I thought I was drawn mostly to Ian, but I think the reality was that he was drawn to me. He was looking for someone to love...differently than he loves Leslie. With Leslie, his love is white-hot and passionate. With me, his love is comfortable. With me he'll shop, or go to the movies. Those aren't things he does much with Leslie.

What's ironic about this, of course, is that this is my first relationship, as I said, and my first relationship is not with one guy, but with two. My parents would be livid if they knew.

I grew up in Michigan, in a little town called Pau Pau. It's mostly a farming community. My father was a mechanic, and my mother was a...homemaker. We lived in a farmhouse my parents inherited from my father's side of the family. I had two brothers who were both older. I'm the baby of the family, and the runt of the litter. While Frank and Jim were playing football and baseball, I was playing tennis. While they were listening to Metallica, I was listening to Paul Young. While they were helping my Dad work the farm, I was reading. Most of my friends were girls. Most of theirs were guys, all part of the football mafia. We didn't really function very well as siblings. Well, I didn't, anyway. Jim and Frank functioned fine. I was the one who was misplaced – misbegotten. Consequently, when I came out, there was little sympathy to spare for me.

I didn't actually mean to come out. I'd known since I was about twelve that I was gay. I'd known for a lot longer that I was "different". At around twelve I found myself with a serious crush on Mr. Knox, my sixth-grade teacher. He was young, and really cute. Boys have crushes on men they admire, and for a while I was able to write off my feelings as admiration. But, after a while, I realized that what I wanted from Mr. Knox went well beyond the admirable. I longed for physical intimacy. I wasn't really sure what that meant at the time. I wanted to go swimming with him. I wanted to go camping with him. Sometimes, I sort of wanted to...umm...be...naked with him. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to be touched by him. I wanted... I don't know what I wanted, but at some point I realized that my classmates didn't want any of these things from Mr. Knox. They wanted to rub noses with Teresa Crawford, a girl in our class who actually had tits. The idea revolted me.

When I was sixteen, I was sure. There was a movie called Parting Glances. It was the first gay movie I ever saw. No one memorable was in it. A friend of mine, a girl, loaned it to me, and I'm pretty sure she was trying to tell me something. It was about a guy who's dying of AIDS, and the relationship between him, his former boyfriend, and the guy that former boyfriend was currently living with. I cried through most of it, sobbed. It wasn't a particularly sad movie. Most of was upbeat. But...I couldn't stop crying. I had to watch it three times before I could say I'd seen it through the tears. Anyway, there was this one character, a young NYU student, who went to a going-away party for the protagonist's boyfriend. The boyfriend was going off to Africa. I don't remember why. This NYU student was cocky and confident. "I asked my dick what he likes," he said, "and he pointed to the boys in the room. That's how I knew." I'm not sure that's how the scene went down exactly, but that was the gist of it. Suddenly, I realized that there were other guys out there like me, that I wasn't a total freak. And, I realized that it's sometimes hard to know what you are. It was a liberating moment, a moment that had me in tears for three viewings of that video, and for several days after that. I realized that the recognition of my homosexuality would change my life forever.

It did. In the course of the next two years, I told my friends. Some were okay with it, most were not, either telling me that I was a faggot, the lowest form of life, or simply gravitating away from me. Most didn't repudiate me, they simply left my orbit and I didn't see them much anymore.

Then, when I was eighteen, I told my parents. Why'd I wait? Because what I thought might happen actually did happen, and I wanted to be emancipated if my assumptions were correct. I told my mother first. I thought she might be more...forgiving. She wasn't. She freaked. "How could you make these choices, Shawn?" she wailed. "How could you do this to me? To us?" She lectured me, and cried, and lectured me some more. And then she called my dad at work, and he was home in an instant, or what seemed like an instant. He didn't cry or lecture me. He cursed me, called me a queer and a faggot. He told me I was no son of his. Then he told my brothers, and they started pushing me around the house, hitting me, and beating me. This went on for five days. My parents gave me an ultimatum. I could go to one of those reparative-therapy camps sponsored by Exodus International, the ones that are supposed to turn gay guys straight, or I could get out of their house. I actually thought about it. I'm ashamed to say that. I actually thought about surgically removing a part of my identity, something like a lobotomy. Finally, I refused to go to the camp. I gathered my clothes and the stuff I had that was important to me – photo albums, and a couple of CDs, and left. I had enough money in a savings account to get me to L.A. and to feed me for about a week, and by that time I had a job – of sorts. I was a model.

I'd like to say that that I'd gone out on that first day in L.A. and begun beating the bushes for jobs, but I can't say that. I was so depressed that first day that I could barely function. I went to a Starbucks for a coffee, and I was sitting at a table, near to tears. A guy came over and asked if he could sit with me, if he could share the table. The place was pretty full. There really wasn't anywhere else to sit. I nodded, hunched over my coffee. "It's a really nice day," he said. "Why are you so glum?" I glanced up at him. He was maybe 35, and really dark. Maybe he was Indian. He was cute, and really friendly. We started to talk, and I told him what I'd been through. "I work for a place that could probably help you with some of this," he said. "You're going to need money to survive here. L.A. is not a cheap place to live. But, you need to understand that what we do isn't for everyone. Some can enjoy it, and some can't. It pays very well, though."

I was intrigued, and it showed. "What company do you work for?" I asked.

"Falcon," he responded. "We make videos."

I nodded, having no idea what he was talking about. "Videos?"

"Adult videos. Gay adult videos." I must have looked confused. "We film guys having sex...with each other."

I was on autopilot now, processing what he'd told me. At that time, I really hadn't ever...umm...had...sex before. Really. I'd never been in a movie, either. We talked some more. We talked for maybe two hours. In the course of that time, he convinced me to do both – to have sex and to star in a movie. That's how my film career began. Jeeze Louise! I sound like Matt Damon or William Shatner when I say that, "And thus began my career in the cinemaaaa." The guy gave me his card with the address of Falcon's business office, a place in Beverly Hills, believe it or not. His name was Deacon James. I was to meet him there tomorrow for a screen test and, if that went well, for some "preliminary coaching". I think he knew that he had a virgin on his hands. Based on what happened next, I think he was counting on it.

The next day, I found the address. The building was nondescript. There wasn't even a sign marking it as Falcon. The only door I found was locked, but there was a doorbell and an intercom. I rang it. A woman's voice emerged from the intercom asking who I was. I told her, and I mentioned Deacon's name. She buzzed me in, and I walked down to the end of the corridor and turned left, as she'd told me to, and there she was, sitting at a desk, working on a computer. She nodded to me, and took me to Deacon's office. He wasn't there at that moment, but breezed in maybe fifteen minutes later with another guy. They asked me to take off my clothes.

I hadn't slept very well the night before. I was just too nervous. I didn't look great. My eyes were puffy, and my posture was lousy, I guess, because they kept telling me to stand up straight. When I got my clothes off, I was really embarrassed. I don't think I'd ever felt more naked before. I kept trying to cover myself until, finally, Deacon asked me to lace my fingers behind my neck. I did. Then I turned slowly so they could see every inch of me. "Bend over," the other guy said. I did, and he pried my ass cheeks apart and stroked my asshole with his finger. I must have jumped a foot, but I stayed bent over. Finally, they told me to turn around and...beat off.

"Here?" I asked, alarmed.

"Yeah," Deacon replied.

I did it. I beat off in this cluttered, dusty office in the middle of Beverly Hills in front of these two guys. It took me about ten minutes, but I came, and it was a gusher. I guess I was more excited than embarrassed. I actually shot across the room. It seemed like a javelin event. I wondered whether they were going to measure the distance, but they didn't. After I'd cum, they told me I could get dressed. Then they had me sign a bunch of forms. I don't remember all of them. There was a contract, of course, a non-compete form saying that I wouldn't make videos with anyone but them, a model release, and a bunch of other stuff. And then Deacon gave me $5,000 in cash, an advance, he said. He knew I needed money, and I think he wanted to make sure I'd come back. He knew I'd spend some of this, and that was how he could be sure I'd be back to do the video. And he was right, because I had some serious second thoughts. Is this how I wanted to start my career? Did I really want to get naked for a bunch of pervs? What if I wanted to become president some day? But I needed the money, and he knew it. I needed to eat. I needed to find a place to live.

And so, I did come back. I came back four days later for my first video. Deacon had told me not to beat off for those four days. "We own your spunk, now, Shawn. The number-one draw for porn videos are the cum shots. I want you horny, really horny. You're probably going to need to cum several times the day of the shoot. Save it up."

I did, but it wasn't easy. I usually beat off at least twice a day. Not doing it for four days in a row was agony. But I made it. I made it to Friday.

Surprisingly I slept very well on Thursday night. I thought I'd be too nervous to sleep, but I wasn't. I woke up refreshed, and looking great. I got to the Falcon office at 8:15am, fifteen minutes early. There was a van there to take the models to the shoot location, and that was great because I got to meet everyone as we drove across L.A. There were two Latino guys, seriously buffed but with limited English, which was okay for me because I'm pretty fluent in Spanish. There were two Caucasian body-builder types, the core of Falcon's brand. Falcon likes them big and beefy, mostly, and these guys fit the bill. The biggest one must have been 6'5" at least, and was built like Arnold Schwarzenegger in his Mr. Universe days. He was also rather effeminate, which I found a bit...incongruous. The last guy, besides me, was this spectacularly-beautiful Asian guy. There aren't many Asian guys in Pau Pau, Michigan. At last count, the total was zero. I'd never seen anyone who looked like this. Almond-shaped eyes, long, raven-colored hair, and a really-beautiful face. He was petit, probably 5'7" tall, but really defined. I asked him where he was from. It was a really stupid question, and the minute it was out of my mouth, I wanted to take it back, and I did. "No. That was a really stupid thing to ask. I'm sorry. Ignore the question."

He smiled. I'd just sealed our friendship. "I'm from Palo Alto, up north. I grew up there. I moved here three years ago to go to school, but I dropped out. I'm not big on school. What about you?"

"I'm from Michigan. I just got here six days ago."

"Wow," he said, giggling. "You work fast, or was this a dream come true?"

"Umm...I don't..."

"Porn, I mean."

Now I understood. "Umm...no," I giggled. "I was `discovered' at Starbucks." We both laughed.

"Is this your first gig?" I nodded.

"S'cool. We all have to start somewhere. You're mine, by the way. Deacon told me I'd be with a newbie for this shoot. These guys have been at this a while," he said, motioning to the others in the van. "You're the newbie. What do you like to do, I mean, when you're really having sex?"

"I...umm...," I began, but then ground to a halt. There're a lot of things I could have said at that moment. I could have fabricated something specific, "Oh, I like to suck dick and get laid." I could have been vague, "Oh, I like to do anything." I could have been laid-back and open, "I'm pretty flexible. I like to work that out with my partner when we get together." Or, I could have told the truth. I dropped my head and stared at my feet.

"You say you're from Michigan? How old're you?"

"I'm twenty," I replied, still staring at my feet.

"My name's Ming, by the way. My parents never gave me an American name, and I like my Chinese name so I kept it. Deacon liked it, so I kept it as my `professional' name as well." He reached over and gave me a sideways hug. "Pleased to meet you," he said. "And you are?"

"I'm Shawn."

He hugged me again. "Pleased to meet you Shawn." Long pause. "Are you a virgin, Shawn?" he asked softly.

I nodded.

He hugged me again. "That's cool. So, you'll be doing a lot of learning today. It's a little weird, I guess, having your first sexual experience filmed for posterity, for the enjoyment of `the viewing public,' but we have to eat, don't we? Let's try to...umm...make it be...fun."

I looked up at him and he smiled. It was a genuine smile. There was a sincerity about him that I hadn't expected. And then he giggled. "I don't think I've ever fucked a virgin before. We're going to have to do some serious...rehearsing." At the time, I had no idea what that meant, but I found out soon enough. When we arrived at the "studio," Deacon gave Ming a small cloth bag and motioned us into a room with a bed. The other two couples would be the first to film their sequences. This was our opportunity to "rehearse".

"Don't let him cum," Deacon called, as we disappeared into our room.

"Let's get naked," Ming said to me softly, and he began to take off his clothes. God, he was beautiful. It wasn't that he was especially muscular, he was just really...stunning. It made me really want to touch him, something he picked up on quickly. "It's okay to touch, Shawn. We're going to be doing a lot of that pretty soon." Initially I was really embarrassed. I mean, I was standing there naked with a hardon in front of a guy I'd just met minutes ago. My desire couldn't have been any more obvious. He was flaccid, but smiling. He emptied the contents of the cloth bag out onto the bed. There were three dildos and a bottle of something.

"So, here's the thing. In our scene, I'm going to fuck you. This is unusual. Usually the Caucasian guy fucks the Asian guy. But, we're a little unusual for Falcon anyway. They don't usually feature an Asian guy like me, or a white twink like you. And neither of us is hung like a donkey, which is what they usually look for. I think they're expanding their brand, trying to compete with Bel Ami and YMAC. So, if I'm going to fuck you, and if you've never done that before, we need to...get you ready. The problem is, the first time you get fucked, it can really hurt, really hurt. So we need to stretch you a little. We have two hours to do that. In the next two hours, we're going to work these dildos into you. We'll start small and get bigger. Okay?"

I nodded, uncertainly.

"Lie down on the bed, on your belly."

I lay down...and waited, with real fear. But, initially, it wasn't so bad. Ming worked the smallest dildo into me, and then just left it there, stroking my back. He left it in place for maybe fifteen minutes, letting me get used to it. Then he pulled it out, and started to work the medium-sized dildo into me. This one was a stretch. It hurt, but he went slowly, applying a lot of lube. And he started to kiss me, first on the back of the neck, and then on the face. After about ten minutes, he had it inside me. He left it there, and left the room, returning maybe twenty minutes later. By this time, it felt okay. It still felt like an invasion, but wasn't uncomfortable. Withdrawing it, he lubed up the last dildo and began inserting it. This one hurt. It hurt a lot. Again, he went slowly, and this time he began kissing my lips. I'd never kissed another guy before, and this was really...nice. His lips were soft, and his tongue was...active. He probed my mouth, and I was really turned on. After maybe ten minutes, he stopped kissing me. He'd managed to get the dildo all the way in. He left the room again, and came back thirty-five minutes later. I'd fallen asleep.

He woke me with a kiss. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

"I'm just going to leave that last dildo in place until we're ready to do the scene. There's not a lot of acting in adult video, or if there is, it's usually pretty awful. The premise of our scene will be that I've picked you up at a gay bar. I take you to a hotel room for sex. It's your first time. Art imitating life," he said, giggling. "Then we'll do it, okay?"

I nodded.

"Are you attracted to me?" he asked. I was a little confused. I wasn't sure whether he was fishing for a compliment, or trying to gauge whether we'd be professionally successful together.

I rolled onto my side, allowing my hardon to pop out. "Umm...yeah," I replied. "I think you're really beautiful."

He smiled and nodded, leaning over and kissing me. I rearranged my dick so that it now pointed down toward my feet, between my legs, and rolled back onto my belly. I noticed that every move I made caused the dildo to shift inside me, and every time that happened, my dick got a little harder. It was sort of an intolerable itch. I really, really wanted to get myself off right then. Actually, what I wanted most was for Ming to get me off. I really wanted to start kissing him again. I really wanted for him to touch me. Ming read my thoughts. "Soon, baby! But you have to save yourself for the video."

I nodded.

"One more thing. When we do it, there are going to be a lot of other people in the room with us. Sound guys, lighting guys, cameramen, and makeup. God and everyone will be there. You need to try to ignore them. Pretend they're not there. Concentrate on us, on me. Oh, yeah, and try not to cum. Put it off as long as you can. If you cum, they can work around it with creative editing, but if you hold off, they'll get one cohesive take – and you'll get a lot more pleasure. This is probably the only video you'll ever do where it's all about you. This is about popping your cherry, honey...for the benefit of the viewing public. `Me so horny. Me love you long time'," he said in his chinkiest and sluttiest Vietnamese accent. Then he paused and smiled. "I will make you feel good for as long as you let me."

When we finally did the scene, it was nothing like I thought it would be, but, then, I'm not sure what I thought it would be. I walked onto the set, butt naked with the dildo still up my ass. I was made up – a little eye liner and some highlighting under my eyes. Ming slid the dildo out of me, and I dressed in the street clothes I'd come in – jeans and a polo shirt. Deacon explained what he wanted, and we went for it, entering the set, a hotel room, through the entry door. The moment that door closed, Ming sealed his lips to mine, wrapped his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. "You sure you're a virgin?" he said, finally breaking the kiss.

"Yeah," I replied, smiling.

"How'd I get so lucky?" he asked in a really slutty voice.

"Probably has something to do with how beautiful you are," I replied. Where the fuck did this dialog come from? Who knows? He smiled, and kissed me again. Then he dropped to his feet and began undressing me. When he got to my underwear, I knocked his hands away, and began undressing him. God, he was spectacular! He was slim and smooth, almost pretty. I pushed his underpants down to his ankles, and his erect dick sprang free. And then he pushed my underwear down, exposing my erection. There were four cameramen moving around us, and you'd have thought they'd have been distracting. They weren't I wasn't even aware of them, even though when my underwear came down, there was a guy there waiting for a close up of my dick.

Once we were both naked, Ming pushed me onto the bed. I looked at him, confused. "What do I do?" I asked. I wasn't looking for stage directions. I really didn't know what to do.

Ming pushed me backwards so I was lying flat on my back. "Don't sweat it, baby," he said, lustily. "Let me do the work." Then he slid on top of me, sandwiching my dick between his legs. He started to kiss me, and we kissed for maybe five minutes as the cameras circled us, shooting us from every imaginable angle. Breaking the kiss, he began to lick my chest, nibbling on each of my nipples. I honestly can't describe the sensation of having someone's mouth on my nipples. It is...delicious, and to my amazement, my nipples became hard...erect. I didn't know they could do that. Moving lower, he began to lick the creases of my legs, right next to my dick, and then he licked my balls. At this point I moaned, and he came back to my face, and kissed me again. "Remember, Shawn, don't cum." Next, he moved back to my balls, and licked them a bit more before spreading my legs wide apart...and (I still can't believe he did this), licking along my ass crack. That surprised me, earning him another moan, but was nothing to what he did next – he actually spreads my ass cheeks and licked all around my asshole, finally stroking the hole itself with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck!" I screamed. "Oh, Jesus! Oh...oh...OH!"

I started to squirm, but he didn't stop, driving his tongue into my asshole. You just cannot know how good this felt, so good that my dick had started to leak. I hadn't cum, but it was leaking...something. Finally, he licked up my crack, across my balls, and right up the shaft of my dick to the head. Then he swallowed me, and I screamed. I don't mean he just took me in his mouth. He actually swallowed me. I could feel the head of my dick hit the back of his throat, and then it just kept going. He swallowed at rapid speed, massaging the head of my dick with his throat. I screamed again, and then started to moan non-stop. If he'd kept this up, there'd have been no way I could not cum, and he realized this. After a few moments, he pulled off me, and moved back to my mouth, kissing me passionately. He was trying to calm me down. He was trying to make me last, to keep me from cumming too soon. After a few minutes of passionate kissing, he returned to my dick and swallowed me again, pulling off of me just as I was about to cum. He did this over and over again, keeping me right on the edge of orgasm while cooling me off as we kissed. Finally, he told me to turn over, and positioned me on my knees with my face on the pillows.

"I'm gonna fuck you now, baby. Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, please," I replied.

"That's sweet, baby. Ask me again."

"Please fuck me! Please..."

I heard something tear, and the snap of...what? A condom. And then he was inside me. There was no pain at all. He simply slid into me in a single thrust. I felt his dick fill me, and the warmth of his body on my back as he hugged me. Then he started to withdraw, but I didn't want him to withdraw. I wanted him inside me. He thrust again, and he was back where I wanted him, but withdrew almost immediately. The rhythm began. Thrust...withdraw...thrust...withdraw. And each time he thrust, I saw stars. I started to cry. I don't know why. I just couldn't help it. I was sobbing. After several minutes, he reached around, and started to stroke my dick, knowing, I hoped, that there was no way I could hold out against this. Suddenly, he leaned into me, his dick fully inside me, and nibbled my ear. "You can cum now," he whispered. That's all it took. I began to spasm, shooting rope after rope of cum, and then he started to shoot. "Oh, Jesus!" he screamed, clamping his arms around me and riding me like a horse. After a couple of minutes, I collapsed, Ming still on top of me, still embedded in my ass. We panted, collecting ourselves. Finally, he flipped to my side, and started to kiss me again, hugging me tight.

"That was incredible, baby!" he said, brushing my tears away with his thumbs. "You were amazing!"

Then I heard a voice from the back of the room. "Cut!" I opened my eyes, and remembered that we were not in a hotel room. We were on a sound stage. This was a movie, a video. But, Ming didn't move.

"You really were incredible," Ming said, kissing me one last time before hoisting himself off the bed.

I wiped my eyes, and pulled myself into a sitting position, looking around me in a daze. I saw the cameras, and the makeup lady, the lighting and sound guys, and Deacon, the director. They were all there, and they were all looking at me. All of them. Finally Deacon moved toward me as I sat on the edge of the bed.

"That was fucking awesome!" he said. "Fucking amazing! And that's why we're not going to include in the anthology we'd planned."

"What?" Ming said, from across the room. "It was unbelievably good! Why wouldn't you use it?"

"It's too good for the anthology. It needs to be a feature. It needs to go out on it's own. It's one of the best things I've ever filmed. I'm not going to bury it in an anthology. You guys have just earned yourselves another week's worth of work. We're gonna build this out. We're gonna build a storyline around it. Then we're gonna distribute a full-length video, and rake in the cash."

I made $10,000 for that video, and Ming and I became friends. There's a chemistry between us that worked on screen, and we were subsequently paired twice more for Falcon features. Unfortunately, that chemistry didn't work off screen because...well...Ming's straight. He's gay for pay. "Sorry, Shawn," he said gently that evening over a bite at a local diner. "My girlfriend will only let me fuck you if I bring her enough for the rent and a nice pair of shoes. I enjoyed it, though. You're really...sweet."

I lived on "modeling" for about a year before moving to San Jose. I realized that I wouldn't be able to do this forever. At some point I'd be too old to be attractive to the guys who buy this kind of video. I needed to get an education, to get some marketable skills other than fucking. And, I hated L.A. I found the gay scene there really...superficial. There was so much attitude. There's attitude everywhere, I know, but it just seemed really thick in L.A. Why San Jose? I needed a place with a university, one I could afford, one I could get into, and I needed someplace I could afford to live. San Francisco was too pricey, and it's sort of a gay ghetto. San Jose, from all I'd heard, was pretty friendly, pretty accepting, and pretty laid back. And, it's close enough to L.A. that I could fly in for video shoots if the opportunity came along, as it has several times. Usually, I stay with Ming and his girlfriend for the few days needed to film a video. It's easy money. The rest of the time I'm a waiter – at Chili's and at Stuart Anderson's (the Square Cow as we refer to it affectionately). I haven't been back to Michigan since I left, three years ago, and haven't heard from my parents or siblings in all that time. They really did just write me out of their lives. I haven't really missed them, though. I mean, if they can discard me so easily, what did their love mean anyway? That's why I said that I wasn't loved in the first twenty-two years of my life. They loved someone, but that someone wasn't me. The lack of a family did make life pretty lonely, though. But, I'm not lonely anymore, not since I found Ian and Leslie.

What do I love about them most? Well, they're really into each other, and they're both really into me. All of us like music, and movies, and the theater. And we're all pretty physical. We like to hike, and bicycle, and especially to dance. And, of course, they're both gorgeous, aren't they? Gorgeous and...umm...experimental. I've had a fair amount of sex. Working as a porn actor, you have to. But Ian and Leslie are a lot more creative than Falcon, and have introduced me to some stuff that I frankly wouldn't have done for money. Some of the stuff we do requires a lot of love and a lot of trust. Spankings, for example. I guess spankings are pretty common in Tim's house, but I'd never been spanked, and would never have allowed myself to be spanked for a video. But, Ian said that spankings were erotic. "Why?" I'd asked.

"Mostly it's because you're giving up control to someone you love and trust. It's a submission thing. There've been a lot of psychological studies done on this, here, in Germany, in the UK, and in Japan. You surrender your body to someone else you know is going to cause you pain. In a lot of cases, you're bound as part of the `scene,' which is a further act of submission. Tim used to like to do it this way, Jason told me, but now he prefers to leave the guy getting spanked loose with the added threat that if he moves, he gets more strokes."

I seriously didn't like the idea of getting spanked, but when we had this conversation, I realized that my dick was hard, really hard. My barometer of the erotic was pegged at 45º. And, we have this "one-time rule". Anything any of us comes up with we have to do at least one time. It's a really-good rule. It forces all of us to be adventurous.

"Who'd spank me?" I asked.

"It should probably be Leslie," Ian replied. "I'm not really dominant. That's his place. Ask him."

I did. I asked him. He looked a little concerned. "Did Ian put you up to this?"

"Well, I guess. We talked about it."

"And...?"

"...And, I'm...umm...scared. But he says it's...erotic."

Leslie looks at me skeptically.

"He says you'll enjoy it, and that I will, too."

"I don't...umm...think that..."

"I want you to do it," I say. "I want you to spank me. It's about submission, he says. I want to give myself to you, to put myself in your control. I trust you. I want you to spank me. And...I have to. Ian wants me to. I have to do what he wants me to at least once. Please, will you spank me?"

He continues to look at me skeptically. Finally he nods. "Okay," he says. "But, I'm giving up my turn to decide what we do next week. Next week, it's your turn. You decide what we do `at least once'."

The evening of my spanking, which is actually the next evening, Leslie tells me to strip and lie on my belly on the bed. Ian is sitting on the couch against the side wall, watching. "Umm...I don't know if I can do this unless you...umm...tie me up. Could you...umm...do that?" I ask.

He nods. Once I'm naked, he ties my wrists and ankles to the bedposts with a foam cushion under my belly that raises my ass in the air. My dick hangs over the cushion, exposed, and the only reason that's interesting is because it is as hard as steel. Once I'm secured, Leslie starts to spank me...with a piece of leather that's two feet long and a quarter-inch think. Jesus-fucking-Christ does it hurt! I'm sobbing by the sixth stroke, sobbing like I've never sobbed before. And still the spanking continues. On the seventh stroke I scream, really scream. On the eighth stroke...I cum...spontaneously...uncontrollably. I cum in a gush, and it seems to go on for hours. Then I collapse, sobbing.

It's Ian who comes for me. He comes and unties me. He moves me to the couch and hugs me. I'm still sobbing. He hugs me, and kisses my face. He strokes my back, and keeps kissing me.

"You okay?" he asks.

I can't say anything. I'm too choked with tears. I nod. Leslie joins us, also stroking and kissing me. After maybe fifteen minutes, I stop crying and hug them both. "He was right," I choke. "Ian was right! That was incredible. I'd call that intense love." Ian giggles.

"Yeah. You have to be really into each other for that to work, but if you are, it's pretty amazing." The three of us move to the bed, Ian and Leslie shucking their clothes. We nuzzle and kiss for maybe half an hour, rubbing our bodies together. Then we make love, and in the course of the next two hours, there's an awful lot of coupling, and an awful lot of copulating. I take Ian, and Leslie takes me, I suck Leslie, and Leslie sucks Ian. It's a mini-orgy, a very satisfying mini-orgy, and by the end of it, we're all exhausted. Ian is the first to fall asleep. Leslie is next. Me? I lay awake for a while, lying between them, reflecting on my life and how lucky I am. I've traded my repressive parents and siblings for a family that adores me and whom I adore, and it's not just Ian and Leslie that I think of. I now have a place in Ian's family, too, and a very special relationship with Tim, his partners and his kids. I love every one of them with a devotion I just can't describe.

I'll be your dream, I'll be your wish I'll be your fantasy.

I'll be your hope, I'll be your love be everything that you need.

I love you more with every breath truly madly deeply do...

...

I want to live like this forever,

Until the sky falls down on me.[1]

Published first at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Nemo-stories/