Date: Mon, 14 Oct 2002 10:58:12 +0100 (BST) From: rimboy Subject: Putting on a show This is a fantasy story involving gay sex. It is not my intention to shock or offend, so if you are under 18 or it is illegal to read such stories where you live (you have my sympathies) please exit now. Otherwise, enjoy, remembering that this is fantasy and may include sexual practices that are unsafe in the real world. I really enjoy hearing what you think about my stories, so mail me if you have any comments Putting On a Show What on earth was I doing here? The thought kept going through my mind as I sat there waiting for the red light to come on. Half of me was hoping that it never would, the other half knew that I desperately needed it not only to come on but also to keep coming on all day. I needed the cash; that was the answer to my question. I needed all the money I could get and this seemed, at the time, the quickest option for earning some easy money. The other reason I was here was Mike. Because it was he who had suggested it. I knew him vaguely from the gym I used. We sometimes helped each other out in the weights room and occasionally had a drink together afterwards before heading home. He seemed a regular, easy-going guy. Once or twice I'd caught him checking me out in the showers after gym, but I'd always put that down to what lay between my legs. I'm hung. My balls started dropping and my cock growing when I was about 12 and didn't stop till I was 15. Now I pack 2 egg- sized nuts in my low-hanging ballsac and my uncut cock is 5 inch even when soft in the showers. Trust me, none of the guys at the gym have seen it when it's erect: then it weighs in at just under 10 thick, veiny inches. So, I'm used to guy's checking me out. Gay or straight, they can't resist taking a good, long look. So, I never thought that Mike might be coming on to me, I just thought he was impressed with my equipment. Now I wasn't so sure. Mike had met me in the bar after gym just by accident. I must have looked as miserable as I felt because as he settled into his seat he said 'So, what's wrong Ry'? 'Why the long face - you hoping to drown your sorrows with those beers?' He'd got it spot on. So even though I didn't know him that well, out came the whole story. I'd lost my job, my girlfriend had moved out and not only did I need to find a new job but also make up her share of the rent on the over-priced apartment she had talked me into taking in a supposedly up-and-coming (read expensive) part of town. The beers loosened my tongue, and Mike kept lining them up - so when he'd told me about this place as a way of earning good money quickly, it had seemed like a really good idea. Well, I can't blame the beers or Mike either. I'd made this decision by myself in the cold light of a hangover the next day. I'd rung the number he'd given me and the day after that here I was, sat on this bench in this locker-room set, waiting for the red light to go on. Mike's idea - he said he'd done it a few times when he was a grad student - was that I should do Internet sex. You know, the sort of scenes for sad fuckers who type in their card details to watch guys strip and play with themselves. He said I was goodlooking, fit, hung (he smirked when he'd said this, but I had been too drunk or was it desperate, to challenge him) - I'd make a wad of bucks in a few weeks. Now don't get the wrong idea; I am as straight as they come. I haven't fooled around with guys since I stopped doing circle jerkoffs when I was about 16. Even then guys had hit on me. I got used to the guys staring at my heavy cock as they jerked off and later in college or in restrooms guys were always checking me out. But ever since 16 I had rarely gone more than a couple of weeks without a regular girlfriend and in between times there had never been any shortage of eager pussy waiting to be filled. I had nothing against gay guys, hell I might even admit to getting off on their admiring attention. Certainly I had got used to it. Here I was, 24, 6'2", blond and green-eyed with a firm, muscular but not gruesomely over-developed body: of course the gay dudes drooled over me. To be honest I was just a tad arrogant about my effect on both guys and girls and there was a side of me that enjoyed flashing my pale, globed butt, firm hard thighs, slim, flat waist and heavy swinging tool in the locker-room. OK, I admit it; there's a thick streak of exhibitionism that runs right through me. Who could blame me with the something this size between my legs? Even when I make out with girls I love to watch myself in a mirror. One of the hottest scenes I'd ever had was with a girl I'd fucked for hours in a hotel room while two guys watched from separate windows across the street and jerked themselves off to the show we were putting on. So that's what I was doing here. The thought of stripping, and showing off my body got me vaguely horny. But I was nervous. Would I get the dialogue right? Would I get a hard-on? Would there be enough punters to pay the rent until I could get a proper job? Still, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that part of me was just a tad excited at the prospect of jerking off to a bunch of unseen admirers. There was no rehearsal for this - and the interview had felt strange. On the 'phone I'd said I'd pulled a few tricks at college, just to give the impression that I knew what gay punters wanted. When I'd got here for the 'screen test' just one guy interviewed me. He was tall, in his early thirties and not at all the sort of dodgy dude I had thought would run a business like this. He looked me over with cool appraisal, looked at his notes then back up at me. 'You gay?' He asked. I wasn't sure what to answer. I needed the job; did they only want guy guys for 'authenticity'? Fuck it, I couldn't deny I was straight. I gave him my best cool look. 'Nah, man, I'm straight, but I don't mind gays checking me out' He smiled. 'Good, straight guys usually last longer in this business'. 'Let's see what we'd be paying for: strip'. Of course, I knew they'd want to see my body, but I was startled by the brusque order. I started stripping. I didn't give it much thought, just took my clothes off like I was getting ready for bed. When I got to my CKs and socks he slapped his hand on the table and said. 'Now just slow down - you gotta strip better than this on screen'. 'You ever do this before?' There was something in his voice that made me nervous. 'No, sir' I answered. Fuck, I thought, where did that 'Sir' come from? The dude was only a few years older than I was and I was sir-ing the guy? Still, I needed this job. He got up. 'Well, you're a good-looking boy, but you gotta put more feeling into taking your clothes off'. 'Try again, imagine you gotta turn me on by taking off your underwear'. It was on the tip of my tongue to say 'Fuck off' and walk outta there. But I didn't. I did my best. Slowly inching my CK's down, showing the top of my pubes, turning to show off my butt crack and bending down to pull off my socks. Finally I was naked and I stood in front of the guy as he looked me over. He smiled. 'That was better - and the punters will love that' he said, nodding towards my heavy dick. But you might wanna shave your balls and your asscrack. That drives most of the guys wild'. 'So you'll hire me Sir?' (Fuck, that Sir again) 'Yeah', he looked down at his notes, searching for my name, 'Yeah, Ryan, we'll hire you'. I almost sighed with relief. I started to dress. A sudden 'No' stopped me. 'You wanna start now, you might as well get dressed in character. You look like pure jock material. Put these on'. He went to a cupboard, and threw over some gym kit - slightly soiled jock, tight shorts and T-shirt. Grubby white sox. 'Your own gym shoes will do', he said. The clothes were tight. They showed off my body like I was some sort of slutty male whore, which, I suppose, was what I was going to be. He threw me a cheap gold chain for round my neck to complete the trashy look. He gave me a few guidelines: spin it out, the punters had to pay extra for every 5 minutes online. Strip slowly, do what the guys ask (most of them had mics, some used the high-toll 'phone number), but make it last: early ejaculation (mine, not the sad losers watching) was not encouraged. Deferral was the name of the game. 'Some of my boys use Viagra to keep hard - that gonna be a problem for you? I can get you some if you need it. And you might wanna use a cockring; there's an adult store just down the street'. 'I never had any problems keeping hard, Sir'. 'Good, well, we'll see, I'll be watching how you get on'. *** The red light came on as my first punter chose my snapshot. I started doing some stretching on the bench. I put my arms behind my head and did a few ab curls, I turned and stretched over, let him see my tight ass as it stretched the thin nylon shorts, turned and cupped my packed jock-enclosed crotch. Then his voice came into the room asking me to take off my T-shirt. He sounded hesitant and young. I wasn't prepared for that, I'd thought of them all as old, pathetic jerks. This guy sounded like a college student or something, not much younger than I. I slowly stripped off my top: my John gave a gratifying groan as my hairless, smooth chest and flat stomach were revealed. I stroked myself in what I hoped was a sexy way. The voice became more confident: he wanted me to feel my nipples. I did and was startled at how sensitive they felt. I pinched them slightly and he groaned again and as he did I felt my cock jerk just a little harder. 'Pull them harder, pull and twist your nipples harder'. This was a second voice; another punter had joined the show. I hadn't quite realised that this would happen. I'd thought it would be one on one. Stupid, I know, but this second guy startled me. I did as the second voice asked, pulling my hard nipples and pointing my chest towards the camera. The gasps of desire from both my voyeurs were unmistakeable and rather arrogantly I thought 'This is gonna be easy'. I've already admitted that I have an exhibitionist side to my sexuality but I wasn't prepared for how much I was enjoying this. My cock was thickening and bulging my jock. As I pulled and tugged on my nipples, my cock stiffened and I spread my legs wide on the bench to make sure my punters could see. A third, much rougher, voice barked an order. 'Put your hand down your shorts, rub your cock, show us the top of your pubes'. Something in me didn't like this third voice. I'd had the first two in MY control - this guy's voice suggested that I was the one following orders, that I was the one being controlled. I almost rebelled: but then remembered why I was here. I needed money: and fast. The orders and demands came fast now and, as slowly as I could, I complied. I fondled my swollen cock through the thin shorts and ribbed jock. I pulled my shorts down to show the top of my dark blond pubes. Turned and showed just the very top of my ass crack. As the demands grew something clicked in my head and I started to put on a show. I became like a whore, shamelessly displaying my body - even smiling like a slut at the camera and running my tongue over my lips. 'Take off your gym shoes and socks, sniff them, rub them on your nipples' Fuck, what sort of faggot shit was this? Sniff my socks and gym shoes? What kind of perverts were these guys? But I had to admit that I was getting so horned by all this. The sweatiness of my sox sent blood rushing to my cock, the feel of the rough material against my swollen nipples really got me hard. The orders continued 'Take off your shorts'. Spread your legs'. 'Sniff your pits'. 'Bend over and show us your ass'. By now I had 'lost' two punters - I heard the deeper breathing then soft groans as they came - but I had gained about 6 more. They competed to make me do more and more. Finger my ass. Sniff my finger. Show my cockhead. Eat the precum from my fingers. Some of these things I hadn't done since I was a permanently horny teenager and I had forgotten just how much of a turn on the smell of my ass on my finger could be and just how much I had always enjoyed licking my pre off my fingers when I beat off 5-6 times a day. At the back of my mind, despite my horniness and excitement. I guessed that I had been 'on show' for about 40 minutes now. My cock was aching for release. Several guys had begged me to take off my jock and show my balls and full cock, and so horny was I that I knew I'd have to cum soon. I turned. Pushed out my bubble butt ass and slowly pulled down the strap. I bent over the bench, parting my butt cheeks, running my fingers up and down my butt crack. I heard the camera zoom in, they knew I was getting ready. I turned over and straddled the bench. All my punters were now breathing audibly, moaning as they jerked their cocks while they watched me. I showed off my full balls, slapped my leaking cock a couple of times, licked more precum off my fingers and started to jerk. Slowly rubbing my fist up and down my swollen member. One by one I heard the guys watching shoot their loads. Some did it quietly. Some yelled out loud. Finally it was me and the guy who'd been the most vocal and demanding in his orders. Now he had me kneeling on the bench. Two fingers up my ass, the other stroking my cock. He had me face the camera then he began a barrage of abuse. 'You fucking dirty slut, you dirty faggot, I wanna see you cum you worthless piece of faggot shit, you're getting off on this more than I am. Suck your ass-smeared fingers you pussy-boy.. As the verbal abuse got more intense, I realised that I had passed the point of no return. He was really turning me on. The things he said, the tone of his sharp, masterful voice, I couldn't help but respond. I knew that he was getting off on this and that turned me on even more. I was approaching my orgasm. 'Yeah, I'm gonna make you cum, you faggot pervert, I'm gonna watch you splash your cream all over that bench, gonna watch you lick up all that hot cum from that bench like the cum-drinking slut you are' Even as my mind protested against what he was calling me, his words pushed me over the edge. I groaned loud, started yelling 'Yes, make me cum, make me shoot' and finally I came. 8,9 no 10 long heavy splats of white balljuice hit the bench in front of me, it was an indescribably good cum. My whole body jerked with the power of the feelings that shot through my churning balls and swollen cock. Deep in my ass my fingers stroked my burning prostate as I shot out the copious load of thick spunk. 'Lick it up, eat it' the voice repeated insistently. 'Eat it'. 'Lick up all your faggot juice'. The voice was thick with desire. I couldn't. Having cum, the shame of what I had done and felt as I had orgasmed made me redden and flush. It made me disgusted with this whole scene and suddenly the commands that seconds earlier had excited me and taken over my whole mind and body now seemed sick and perverted. I turned towards camera to switch it off, just as I heard the disembodied voice groan out loud as he jerked himself to orgasm. As I cleaned up, my mind raced with what had just happened. Why had I been so turned on by the whole experience, what did it mean? Was I really a faggot like that guy had said? Why had he made me so horny that I had just experienced one of the best cums I could remember? Could I continue to do this? Hope you enjoyed this story. Let me know what you think should happen to Ryan next.