I’ve been thinking: Shouldn’t I come up with a screen name? I’ve been going by my real first name Eddie. But perhaps now that I am getting to be some kind of a porn celebrity, I need a nice pseudonym.
I like the name Ricky. The guys in the studio think that it is a nice “top” name. Ok. So I ask them for a second name. The camera man, Mickey, suggests Cumover. Everyone boos him down. I need a name that hints at sex but is not vulgar. Something classy. Sam, the director comes up with Dickson. Bland. Besides, Dickson? No, too obvious. Hardman? Nix. Maybe, Ayr. It sounds exotic, but anyone who speaks Arabic would immediately realize the Arabic word for cock. Finally, I settle for Ricky Dormid. I know, I know. Not much of a pseudonym, but it has a ring to it. It sounds natural, not forced. And it’s memorable.
Today, unlike six months ago, everything is rosy for me. I have just checked my bank account. $45,000! Yes, forty-five big ones. I have never seen this kind of money before. And this is after I have done some serious spending. I have moved out of the tiny studio to a two-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor of an up-scale apartment building overlooking the river. I have bought new furniture, modernistic and just the essentials, but classy and functional: a place where I can lounge around in my briefs or even in the nude without being afraid of someone in another building seeing me. There is also a nice balcony for which I have bought two resin-armchairs and a small coffee table.
I have also spent a lot of money on a new wardrobe. Not that I had much of an old wardrobe. Six months ago, all I had were a couple of pairs of jeans and some 8 or 9 t-shirts. Now, however, I have acquired some very classy threads.
Also, a big chunk of my porn income has gone out for a new car. No more second-hand lemons for me. I can’t brag too much about the new car though. It’s a small Smart, fantastic as a town car where I have had no trouble parking it. And, it’s new!
And, oh yea, I have paid my university tuition for two semesters.
All in all, I’ve done pretty well using my cock. Well, and my body also. As a porn star, I don’t really have to act or to memorize script. All I have to do is maintain my good looks and fuck on screen. And I do that extremely well, judging by the kind of money I’m making.
I have kept my old job, editing manuscripts, not for the money but for the normalcy. I need to remind myself that the porn stuff cannot be my life. A couple of years, maybe. Or a bit longer. But after that, there has to be something more solid. I can’t send my parents a lot of money though, which sort of breaks my heart. They will definitely start asking questions that I wouldn’t want to answer.
The sex? Oh, well. To be honest, since I started the porn stuff, I haven’t had any normal sex. I have fucked the cameraman, Mickey, and the director, Sam. I have even fucked the photo-shoot guy, Rudy. But these have all been related to my role in the porn business. Even the married dentist that I met in a bar and who kind of picked me up, even him, he picked me up because he had seen me in one of my porn flicks and he had fell in love with my dick.
I can say that during the past six months, I have fucked more ass than I have throughout the rest of my life, ever since I started having a dick that can fuck. Having said that, and in spite of all the fucking I am doing, I yearn for a sex partner with whom I can share more than my bed. I want to go out with him, watch him laugh and eat and jog, cook for him, buy things for him, sit on the balcony with him, just share moments that I would cherish later.
I am lounging by the set, in jeans and button-down cowboy shirt, waiting for my partner to prepare himself for the next scene we are about to shoot. He’s been gone for almost half an hour now and the crew is starting to get restless.
“How fucking long,” Mickey complains, “does it take to clean ass?”
I wink at him, reminding him of the time I fucked him without cleaning ass. He should remember the smell of his ass as he farted every time I pounded him. The condom I used came out brown with his shit! This is something that cannot be allowed to happen on camera, of course. My partner has to be squeaky clean.
I have to admit that shooting a porn flick is not as easy as many tend to think. There are lots of preparations other than cleaning ass. For this scene, I had to spend more than one hour under a tattoo artist’s hands as he imprinted a star tattoo on the right side of my neck. It will fade off eventually, maybe a week or so, but it looks quite good. Sam, our director, claims that this will mark me as the “top” in the movie. My partner, Freddie, has had a revolver tattooed on one of his butt cheeks. The revolver points down sideways at his hole. That’s where my cock would “shoot!” A bit tacky, but that’s porn for you.
I get up and walk over to the coffee machine for a cup of coffee. I have already done two scenes with two other men. The second guy, Nicky, bit my cock as I fucked his face. I have noticed a red mark on the side of my cock shaft. Damn! It’s not going to look good. The bitch! Nicky is quite a cocksucker but this time he has gotten ahead of himself and has bitten on my rod as I choked his throat. I am wondering if I’m going to be too sore to maintain an erection.
Freddie finally comes out and is ready.
“It’s about fucking time,” Mickey grumbles.
I grab his ass cheek jokingly. “Come over for a fuck later,” I invite him. He moans, licking his lips.
Freddie is also wearing a cowboy outfit. He looks very sexy, very fuckable. We make out with a lot of kissing and grabbing, him grabbing and rubbing my crotch, me doing the same with his bubble butt. And then I undress him.
Freddie is smooth all over, shaved pubes, armpits, legs and butt. His skin is marble white and marble smooth. I remain fully dressed, and Sam focuses on Freddie’s body and on me fondling him. I stroke him to erection. Freddie is hung, almost as big as me, but he is very slim and has a boy-like body. I usually prefer some hair on my men, especially in their crack. But Freddie is as smooth as a baby.
I lick him all over and place him on a pile of straw. At first, Freddie complains about the straw pricking his skin. Sam cuts, and one of the crew members brings a blanket to place under Freddie’s naked body.
We resume, mainly me working Freddie’s body with my mouth and tongue and hands. The camera is focused on Freddie, not on me. The scene is all about him. I don’t mind that much except that it can wound a guy’s ego when his body is regaled below someone else’s. But I guess Sam knows more about this and what his audiences like.
Now it’s Freddie’s turn to undress me. Again, Sam makes sure the camera stays on Freddie’s face and hands as he unbuttons my shirt, pulls down my zipper, rubs my bulge. Freddie uses his tongue on me. But all Sam shoots of me are the areas that Freddie is servicing.
When Freddie takes my hard cock into his mouth, the cameraman finally spans out. I glance at the monitor, and there I am, standing tall and erect with Freddie on his knees licking at my engorged cock head. I like the way my butt muscles ripple whenever I thrust into Freddie’s mouth. Here I am, getting horny over my own butt!
I fuck Freddie on his back, a straightforward vanilla fuck with only a few slaps on the butt as I pound his smooth ass. Again, I watch my own butt as I rip into Freddie, and again I’m horny over my own shape.
We fuck bare. Sam makes sure to test all his actors. We are all clean and audiences love to watch bareback fucking. Sam calls this marketing. I call this the perfect fuck. I guess Freddie loves it also, telling from the moans and groans he makes, not all of which are an act. I guess the feel of bare skin rubbing in and out of your ass is never to be passed over.
I finish the “money shot,” splashing Freddie’s ass gun tattoo and his twitching hole with my creamy jizz, and then re-inserting my still-hard cock into the slimy rim muscle and pounding him for a few seconds before I finally slide out and lie on top of him, giving him a final kiss.
“Beautiful,” Sam says as the shooting stops. “Freddie and Eddie, you make a fucking hot couple. I know this is going to be a hit.”
I beam and Freddie smiles, both of us sweating and breathing hard.
“Can we have an encore?” Freddie jokes, running his hand through my chest hair.
“Anytime, babe. My ‘gun’ is always ready for you.” I slap his butt, sticky with sweat and cum.
Showered and dressed, I am ready to leave, when Sam approaches me.
“Eddie,” Sam says with a smile. “I’m having some friends over this evening for drinks. Would love to have you join.”
“For drinks only?” I wink at him.
“Yes, Eddie, for drinks only, unless…”
“Unless?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Well,” he hesitates, “a couple of friends asked me the other day if they could meet you.”
“Hmmm,” I scratch my head. “Meet me or meet my dick, Sam?”
“Come on, Eddie,” Sam says. “You know that you are hot.”
“I know I’m hot, Sam,” I retort, starting to get angry. “But I’m not your hot boy to merchandize to others.”
I really do resent it when people assume that they own you.
“Listen,” Sam was appeasing. “Tell you what: It’s your decision. If one of the men or the other—or both—becomes too forward, just walk out. No hard feelings. But if you like what you’re seeing, then again you decide. Deal?”
I hesitate for an instant. I don’t want to make Sam angry. He has directed hits and he has been always fair with me. Besides, the time I fucked him, I enjoyed myself. If the decision is mine, then what the fuck? I might as well.
“Ok,” I acquiesce. “Fine. Sam, I like you, you know that. But there really will be no hard feelings if I don’t make your friends happy?”
“None, Eddie. Come on, stud. Just come over. Ok?”
“Ok.”
I walk into Sam’s place, carrying a bottle of Chianti. I know that this is his favorite wine, and I thought that it would be some kind of a friendly gesture especially if I decide to reject his friends’ advances. It’s not that I am too picky about sex. I’m a porn star, for chrissakes. But somehow this feels like prostituting myself. Or rather that Sam is prostituting me.
“Oh, Eddie,” Sam meets me at the door, big smile on his face. “That’s so sweet of you. You remembered.”
“Of course, I remembered. And it’s not only the wine, Sam,” I winked.
“Shit, Eddie. Come in, stud. What can I get you?”
“A lemonade if you have any. Or just water.”
Sam regards me with an incredulous look. And then he nods and walks away to the kitchen.
I saunter in. I spot Mickey, the cameraman, and make a beeline to where he is standing, talking to another guy, young, tall, dark, and handsome.
There are two other men in the room, sitting on the leather couch facing the chimney. They are older, perhaps Sam’s age, mid-thirties. Both are wearing button-down shirts and dress pants. One of them is bearded, the other is wearing glasses. I have noticed them studying me as I walked over to where Mickey and the dark guy are conversing. I nod to them with the touch of a smile and continue towards Mickey, attracted to the dark guy like a magnet.
“Hey, Ed,” Mickey calls me over. “Glad you could make it. Come meet Jake.”
Jake is maybe 5 inches taller than me. He has the most beautiful male lips I have ever seen. I place him at maybe 25 or 26 years old. And as I approach I know that I want him in my bed. His facial features are chiseled like a god. His teeth are glaringly white against his red lips and dark skin.
We shake hands and I introduce myself. The chemistry between me and Jake is instant. I wonder whether it’s both ways, or just me. I can’t tell from his body language.
Sam walks back, holding a glass of frizzing water.
“I got you some Perrier,” he hands me the glass.
I hate mineral water, especially the frizzing one. But I take the glass and thank Sam.
“Have you met everyone yet, Ed?”
“I’ve met Jake,” I say, sipping at the horrid Perrier.
“Oh, let me introduce you to my friends,” Sam says as he pulls me by the hand.
I already feel like some merchandise, paraded. Damn Sam! Why would he put me in such a situation?
“This is Mack,” Sam says as both men stand up and the bearded one extends his hand.
“Nice meeting you, Ed,” Mack says, smiling. His hand is sweaty and I shiver inwardly. I can detect some white hairs in his thick beard.
“And this is Drake,” Sam continues with the introductions.
I shake hands with the eye-glassed Drake, who looks younger and is clean shaven. The glasses are thick and I can see green eyes, somewhat larger than normal. Somehow, I think that they look sexy. Both men look fit, but I don’t sense any forwardness from either of them. I take a breath of relief.
There are trays of finger food all around and bowls of various salads, Greek, tabbouleh, and other exotic kinds that I don’t recognize.
The music is sweet and soft, the lights are low and discreet and the conversations are amiable and friendly. All in all I find myself enjoying everything, especially the handsome Jake.
I know that I am going to get laid tonight. I know that the men in the room are gay. Two of them, Sam and Mickey, I have already fucked. Two others, Mack and Drake, seem to have something for me since they have asked Sam to arrange the meeting and their body language towards me is not that innocent.
But it is Jake that I am attracted to the most. He doesn’t give out gay vibes, but if he weren’t gay, why would Sam invite him? Every minute, I feel that I need to take him home with me.
Sam is on his third drink, Chianti, of course. He has started to wobble a little. To my utter surprise, he reaches down, grabs my hand and pulls me up.
“Dance with me, Eddie,” he says, his voice starting to get hoarse.
There’s nothing I could do. I don’t really want to dance with Sam. I want to dance with Jake. But how can I say no? He has been so gracious with me. I get up as Sam wraps both arms around my neck. I am taller than Sam, and I hold him around the waist. He glues onto me. And grinds. I smell wine on his breath. But all the same, the feeling of two arms around my neck and a body grinding on me, I start to erect.
I’m wearing light tan linen pair of pants and a pair of boxers underneath. I chide myself on this choice. The linen fabric, although loose, is much thinner than denim, and the boxers don’t hold back an erection.
I feel as if there are four pairs of eyes boring into the back of my head. I turn Sam around. Sure enough, Mickey, Jake, Mack and Drake are watching us. Mickey has his hand on Jake’s thigh, but Jake stares at me; my heart flips and my cock hardens at his stare. Strangely, I don’t picture him under me, my cock pounding his ass, but rather me under him! I’m top! But my mind now has conjured Jake fucking me!
Sam and I break. There is no way I can hide my erection. So I don’t. I look at Jake. He is staring at me with a thin smile and one eyebrow raised. Before I bring myself to move, Drake gets up and steps towards me.
“If I could have a dance with you also, Ed?”
His green eyes are bulged behind his glasses and he looks sexy. So I smile invitingly. Like Sam, he places his arms around my neck, and I automatically grab his waist and pull him towards me. I can feel my cock prodding at his groin. He moans into the side of my neck.
“You are so beautiful, Ed,” Drake whispers in my ear as I grind on him.
But who I really want is Jake. I let Drake enjoy my prodding and grinding for a minute or so, and I break. Drake’s green eyes tell me how horny he is. But I move straight towards Jake, my cock tenting my pants, and put my hand forward for him.
“Would you like?” I ask. I can hear my heart pound.
The expression on Mickey’s face is murderous. Are those two a couple? But if they were, Jake wouldn’t accept my dance invitation. On the contrary. He immediately takes my hand, stands up and pulls me towards him, placing his arms around my waist. It feels funny for me to wrap my arms around his neck. I’ve never danced like this with another man. Does this mean that Jake has set the roles?
I feel Jake’s cock, hard, pressing on my hip. I grind. It is now my turn to moan.
“You and Mickey?” I whisper into his ear.
He shakes his head in the negative, and I heave thankfully. Without any warning, Jake kisses me, right there, in front of everyone, in front of Mickey, as if he is telling everyone that he is not tied to anyone.
Oh, my God! I just melt. Those thick lips. The dark skin of his face. The lithe body. The hard cock. I am about ready to cream myself. They say you can tell the way a man fucks by the way he dances. Jake holds me tightly and controls me totally. He owns me. I’ve never felt like this with another man. Is he Mr. Right for me? Or is it because I haven’t had normal sex for such a long time that sex has become something mechanical, routine? I don’t know. All I know is that I need to split this place and drag Jake over to my bed.
As if reading my mind, Jake whispers, “Do you want to leave? With me?”
Oh, fuck yeah. Yes. Yesss.
There is a sorry look in Drake’s green eyes and a thin smile on Mack’s face as we leave. Mickey is scowling. Sam is five wine glasses in. He just smiles and waves us away.
Eons pass until we reach my apartment, which is a mere 5-minute walk away. I am on fire. Is this the way bottoms feel about their tops? Am I now a bottom for Jake? All I think about is how Jake is going to top me. It’s so weird, so sexy, so dazzling. I, the hot porn stud, am shaking at the prospect of getting fucked! Incredible!
We are inside. As I close the door behind us, I feel Jake’s arms around me, and he lifts me up. Up! He lifts me up into his arms. Fuck! Jake is carrying me, like a baby. He plants his lips on mine as he moves me towards the sofa.
“You are so beautiful,” he hisses.
I’m in a total daze. I have tried to fight being carried like this, like as if I were his girlfriend, like as if he is the man. But then I feel I belong. I am in this man’s arms, and he’s carrying me, his arms are bulging with the weight. My heart races.
Not letting go of my lips, Jake puts me down on the sofa and climbs on top of me. He places his body full on me and I feel the heat emanating from him through all the clothes between us. I can also feel his urgency with the hardness pressing and throbbing on my crotch. We make out.
Slowly, Jake and I break and start to get rid of our clothes. It isn’t stripping or anything like that. We are too hot to waste time teasing each other. Jake stands naked next to me. He is a god. His dark skin is silky and shining as if oiled. His chest is smooth except for a very light patch of hair almost indiscernible in the middle. But from his navel down, Jake is deliciously hairy. His thick pubes curl around the base of his hard rod, which angles upward some 8 inches, hooded. His lower thighs and legs are hairy and muscled. Even his feet have some hair along the arches.
I bend and lick Jake’s cock head. Damn! It’s hot, not as in sexy-hot but as in actual heat-hot. My hand encircles the thick shaft as I push my tongue under the skin. This is my first uncut cock. This is my first black partner. This is my first top!
I suck hungrily. Jake plays with my hair. I am kneeling now, on my knees, worshipping my god, towering above me. I take him in slowly, inch by inch. I swallow. All of him. He moans and arches his back. My hands hold onto his muscled and hairy thighs. He is all man, feeding me, and I shamelessly suckle on him.
After a few minutes of serious cock sucking, Jake raises me by my armpits and we kiss. He gently pushes me back onto the couch and he once again climbs on top of me. Now that we are both naked, our skins mesh onto each other. He grinds on me. I jump a little when I feel his hand move down between my ass cheeks and starts to knead up and down my crack, the finger rubbing around my hole. My God! Jake is preparing to fuck me.
Jake raises himself on both arms. I watch his rippled black chest as he moves one hand and applies spit on his cock and inside my crack. Instantly, he is there, his cock throbbing against my rim muscle. Still not penetrating, Jake lies back on top of me, his full weight crushing me. I try to relax against his thrusting cock. He penetrates and I scream into his mouth. He drives in all the way. I am skewered.
I wrap my legs around Jake’s waist, prodding him deeper into me. I am intoxicated by his smell, his black, sweating skin, his hard pulsating cock. I am getting dizzier and dizzier as he pounds my ass, his body plastered onto mine, his lips sucking on mine, his tongue probing deep. He has both his hands to the sides of my head holding me in place, not allowing me to thrash. I am crushed under him. I revel under his crush.
When Jake comes inside me, it is his turn to scream into my mouth. All the while, he has not once raised himself off of me. Our bodies are squishing with our sweat. The second I feel his cock engorge inside my fuck tunnel and start to squirt, I explode. The sweat between our bodies is now mixed with my own semen as he empties his nuts into me. He remains on top of me when he finishes dumping his load. His cock remains in my ass, his tongue remains in my mouth. I feel him flex. I can hardly breathe as I squeeze my ass around his cock shaft. The intensity of my orgasm and of his fucking has left me totally breathless.
Finally, Jake raises himself off of me, his cock slipping out of my ass, dripping, his semen seeping onto my thighs. I feel so empty. I feel a “bottom.” I have just been fucked by this masculine man. I’m seriously, irrevocably in love.
We are still together now, five weeks later. Is Jake my Mr. Right? We lounge on the balcony of my apartment, sipping lemonade, looking at the view of the river, chatting about nothing. We walk around bare-footed, sometimes in our underwear, sometimes naked. We cook together. We watch TV together. We take walks together. Jake is comfortable with my porn status.
“As long as you come back to me,” Jake has told me, “you can fuck whoever you like on camera. You go out with anyone else? I’ll cut off your nuts and feed them to the dogs.”
He has definitely put it graphically. There is no way I would want anyone other than my Jake. I’m a top porn star with a steady top lover who I think will remain my lover till forever.
End of series.
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