My early retirement could not have happened at a more opportune time in my life. Having bought a home in a remote village, I was delighted that my life would give me the absolute solitude I had always desired.
I had never been comfortable in the company of people, and from childhood, had always found my own company preferable. Much as my phlegmatic aloofness perplexed my parents, they eventually simply accepted it.
As an adult, my detached behaviour persisted, and any attempt at relationships soon became thwarted, as partners simply could not cope with my indifference.
Now that I have left you doubtless that I am the most self-absorbed arsehole in the world, let me at least hope that I may redeem myself by relating an entertaining story.
Apart from being an avid reader, mostly porn, I was also a total voyeur on the internet. I loved watching men masturbating. Much as I loved the live sites, I also had a penchant for the sites where straight men, are financially encouraged to perform erotic acts for queers like me. One of my favourites was Czech Hunter. On this site, the host accosts young males, and by constantly flashing notes of money and breaking down their resolve. Generally, he ends up fucking them.
Unlike the normal boring porn videos, I found the dilemma of the straight ‘victims’ breathtaking, as they were coerced by the offer of money. There was never any violence, which I abhor, but a sustained inducement of acquiescence as their resolve gradually became obliterated by cash. The process always drove me crazy with lust.
In an ever-escalating development of my perversion, not only did I start writing pornographic short stories, but also began to think of becoming a pornographer.
As luck would have it, apart from my home, I had a stunning cottage at the back of my property. I figured that with minimal effort, I could turn the cottage into a studio.
I will not bore you with all the details of the transformation, but soon had a suitable layout, lighting, and a state-of-the-art camcorder, to embark on my new ‘career.’ My pièce de résistance was a modern styled, Morello type chaise longue that I had reupholstered in black leather. The only thing missing at this point was the performers.
In the enclave where I found myself, not only was the economic situation stressful for the inhabitants, but with the added Covid pandemic, the young men in the area were at wit’s end, trying to eke out an existence. This dilemma, I saw as an incredible opportunity to commandeer financially stressed recruits, for my perversion. With most of these youngsters still living with their parents or grandparents, I was convinced that my endeavour might be fruitful. Naturally, I would have to approach my mission with great caution, to avoid being ostracised as a dirty pervert. Paedophilia had never interested me, and the young men I had in mind were eighteen years old, and beyond.
Top of my list was a youngster named, Marne. Marne was a thuggish-looking, straight delinquent… Perfect for my predilection of scuzzy men, and I wanted him with unbridled lust. At noon every day, I would watch him pass by my home, on his way to buy cheap single cigarettes from the small store around the corner from me. I knew he was jobless and hard up. My biggest problem, however, was that Marne never greeted me or acknowledged my existence in any way. Naturally, I put this down to the fact that everyone knew I was gay. Marne’s indifference, if anything, made the prospect of enticing him into my infamous ploy, even more alluring.
One day, as I expectantly hung around my front gate hoping the get the ball rolling. I was elated when I saw him coming down the road. As he got close, I greeted him.
“Hi, my name is David, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” I uttered extending my hand with a friendly smile.
The look of surprise on his face was hilarious. Added to that, the way he nervously looked left and right before approaching me was hysterical.
“Hi, I’m Marne,” he said as we shook hands.
As I inanely mentioned the weather in an attempt at small talk, I took the packet of cigarettes out of my top pocket and casually lit one. Next, feigning embarrassment, I apologized for my rudeness before extending the box and offering Marne a smoke.
As his eyes lit up from the bonanza befalling him, he gratefully extracted a cigarette before lighting it. Following that, I interrupted my mindless banter and said, “Listen… I always have a beer at noon, would you like to join me?”
“Wow, that would be unbelievable,” he excitedly exclaimed.
As I invited him to follow me to my house, Marne once more looked left and right, before awkwardly following me.
Once inside, I handed him a beer as well as offering him another cigarette. Marne now seemed far more relaxed, presumably free from the imaginary prying eyes that had haunted his sideways glances.
As he told me his life story, and how falling on hard times he had come to live with his grandparents, I had my first proper close-up look at Marne. Coarse and rough as he was, he was far better looking than I had anticipated. His attire and hands were icky, but that was hardly surprising, because he assisted his grandfather on their two-acre plot on the outskirts of the village, growing vegetables and tending to the two cows and chickens they had on the smallholding. In return, Marne got food and a roof over his head. The little money that his grandfather gave him was enough to buy his daily smokes and the odd chocolate and soda pop. Alcohol, however, was beyond his means.
As he bantered on, I could not keep my eyes off Marne’s hands. Rough as they were, they were broad and manly. What pleased me most was that his fingernails were short-clipped. In my mind’s eye, I began to imagine how sexy his hands would look, toying with his dick. The worst part of our interaction for me was that I knew I had to display patience.
The old English proverb, ‘softly, softly, catchee monkey,’ reverberated in my mind.
As Marne mentioned that he had better get back to work, I decided to play an important trump card.
“Oh, by the way, the other thing I also do at noon is to have a joint. May I give you one to take with you?” I casually asked.
The excitement on his face was akin to someone shouting, Bingo!
In the town close to where I lived, a man I knew rolled my joints for me with filters et al. I could stand those saliva-sodden joints that people passed around at parties and insisted that my joints should be like normal cigarettes. I had access to unlimited, top-grade weed, and for his efforts, I always supplied him with a few ounces of grass.
From Marne’s overjoyed expression, I did not wait for a response, before placing two joints and five cigarettes into an empty packet of smokes. After all, I did not want to spoil him too much.
“Take it easy, buddy, this weed is strong stuff,” I warned. After I walked Marne to the gate, I concluded, “You’re always welcome to pop in, buddy.”
Once I returned indoors, I wondered how long it would take before he would have his first drag.
The following day, I remained inside my house at noon. Eager as I was to see him, I decided to show restraint and wait for Marne to make the next move.
Thankfully, the day after there was a knock at my front door. My anticipation had been spot on, and I had even made a pizza for lunch.
“I hope I’m not bothering you?” he self-consciously asked as I opened the door.
“Shit, buddy, with this lockdown bullshit, it’s great to have some company. As far as I am concerned, you can pop in every day,” I reassuringly stated, before adding, “As a matter of fact, I made this huge pizza that I won’t be able to finish, so you’re doing me a favor.”
Scoffing the slices and raving about not having chicken and vegetables for a change, Marne tucked in like a kid in a candy store.
When he left that day, with two more joints and several cigarettes, I had a feeling that the ice between us had melted, and that Marne was now very relaxed in my company.
I was rather dismayed the following day when he did not pop in at noon. It, therefore, came as a surprise when there was a knock at my door after two p.m. As I looked at Marne quizzically, he explained that on Saturdays he worked until two, and then got the afternoon off. This was wonderful news for me because it meant that there were possibly no time constraints for him.
“So, you are in no hurry and don’t have to rush off?” I questioned, making sure that I was reading the situation correctly.
“No… Unless you get fed up with me and want me to leave,” Marne countered.
“No, buddy, I have no plans, so you can stay as long as you like,” I replied, offering him a beer and a joint.
I now led the way to my back veranda, hoping that Marne would ask me about the cottage. My ploy immediately paid dividends, as he asked me about the cottage.
“Oh… That’s a studio of sorts,” I replied, before continuing, “Would you like to see it?”
“Sure,” he answered.
As we entered, his eyes flicked about as he took it all in. The tripods, the camcorder, the chaise, the lighting, the flat-screen television, and etcetera.
“This is my porn room,” I quietly confessed, before asking, “Do you like porn?”
“Jesus, bro, the grandparents don’t have internet, computers, or anything like that. They still listen to the radio,” he concluded with a laugh.
As a demonstration, I turned the television on and a hectic porn scene of three men solidly fucking a woman began playing. I could see Marne’s face light up as he watched the spectacle.
“Why don’t you sit down and watch, while I go get us another beer and a joint,” I suggested. Compliantly, Marne sat on the chaise, with his eyes glued to the screen.
By the time I returned, Marne’s face was flushed with horniness. Happily, during my absence, the camcorder and lighting had also registered with him.
“If you don’t mind me asking… What’s the camcorder and lighting for?” Marne subtlety asked.
Having anticipated this possibility, I had formulated a response.
“Jeez… I do not know if I should be telling you this… However… If you can keep a secret, I’ll tell you,” I conspiratorially stated, with all the necessary pauses for effect.
“Sure,” Marne replied.
“Buddy, you absolutely, have to swear you will tell nobody,” I answered as dramatically as I could.
“I swear,” he stated, like somebody just been inducted into a secret society.
“My hobby is making porn videos,” I answered.
“Of what?” Marne incredulously questioned.
At this point, I knew that my bullshit story had to be credible.
“Well, in these economic times, there are a lot of hard-up men who can do with some extra cash. I pay them to do solo jerkoff videos for me,” I conspiratorially answered.
“Who… And why do you do this?” Marne asked with a befuddled frown.
“Well, as far as the ‘who’ is concerned, I will never reveal that information. As to ‘why,’ it turns me on, and I like to watch the solos over and over again,” I replied.
Marne sat quietly for a short while before he asked the question I was waiting for.
“How much do you pay these men?” he apprehensively inquired.
“Oh, two hundred bucks,” I casually countered.
The dilemma on his face was fantastic, and I could almost smell the avaricious machinations of his mind working overtime.
After another lengthy pause, he asked, “So, what do they have to do?”
“Well, when you’re alone, you presumably masturbate, don’t you?” I asked, before quickly adding, “This is the same. You simply relax on the daybed naked, and pleasure yourself while watching porn as I video you.”
I let my words fully sink in, before continuing, “The guys just ignore me and do their thing.”
I cooly extracted two hundred bucks from my wallet without saying another word and placed it on the side table next to him.
“Aren’t they worried that somebody will find out?” he nervously asked me.
“Buddy, I am just as anxious as they are about people finding out. I cannot afford to be the village pariah. As I always tell them, this has to be kept top secret,” I earnestly assured him.
As I watched him racked with indecision, the lust pulsing through me felt no shame. I was elated that things were going so well, and above all, his constant glances at the money assured me that my voyeuristic nourishment was imminent.
“May I have another beer and a joint?” Marne asked tentatively.
“Sure,” I magnanimously replied.
As Marne sipped and puffed, I could see the tension and anguish mounting.
“Take your time to think it over, Marne there is no rush. Just chill!” I encouraged.
As he uncomfortably moved his weight from one foot to the other, I could see that the money on the table becoming an obsession to him.
I casually threw a towel over the chaise as he sweated, reminding him of our purpose. Eventually, like a prisoner awaiting his fate, Marne began to undress resignedly in acceptance.
Every step of his denuding became an ever-increasing highlight to me. His feet were exquisite, his legs were awesome and his torso was heavenly. Marne had a lithe, slightly hairy body. As he finally stood self-consciously in his underpants, I decided to move things along.
“Take those off, Marne, and relax on the bed,” I instructed.
“Will you tell me what I must do?” Marne apprehensively inquired.
“Sure, buddy, but just keep your eyes on the television,” I coached.
As he stood naked before me, I felt my mouth salivating with horniness. Marne had a substantial uncut cock with a generous snout, and his balls were deliciously plump.
“Now just lie back on the daybed, with your left leg up on the bed. Yeah, that’s it,” I said as he did as told. “Perfect… Now toy with your dick and fondle your balls,” I instructed as I took hold of the camcorder. “Marne, now with your other hand tweak your nipples.”
To my delight, his cock began to stiffen. “Yeah, that’s great.”
After watching him for a while, with his cock now fully erect, I said, “Now lick your index finger, and push it into your snout. Run your finger around your cock-head.”
Marne was a natural and was now getting into the swing of things.
“Oh, fuck, yeah, now lick your finger again and do the same once more… Yes, fuck, yes, now pull that skin back and show me your dick-head. Mmm, yes, buddy, now rubbed your head with your fingers.”
In my mind’s eye, I had not been able to imagine how sexy his coarse broad hands would be as he went about his task. Even more exhilarating for me, was Marne had a natural sensuality that was awe inspiriting. He seemed to radiate sexuality that made one want to lustfully, subjugate him.
“Marne, now I want you to lick your middle finger and run it around your arsehole… Oh, fuck, yeah, that is incredible… Now lick your finger again and now push it into your pucker… Oh, Christ, that beautiful,” I gasped as he gently prodded his manhole as his lips quivered seductively.
“Now, buddy, stroke that dick of yours. Oh, yes, pull that foreskin up and down,” I intoned.
For the next twenty minutes, I coached him to repeat the process four times, before Marne warned that he was getting close.
“Okay, buddy, now do your thing,” I announced.
The cum-shot that I now witnessed, was one of the greatest I had ever seen. After a few impressive dribbles of spunk on his leg, Marne let go of his dick for a few seconds. Next, when he again took hold of his cock, the explosion of jizz that sprayed all over his legs and stomach was spectacular. I had never seen a man produce so much sperm.
When Marne’s breathing returned to normal, he rubbed the spunk into his legs and stomach with both hands.
When he got off the daybed and commenced dressing, he asked, “Well, David, I hope I earned my money?” Marne asked.
“Yes, buddy, you have definitely earned it,” I said as I retrieved the cash and handed it to him.
“So, are you off home?” I inquired.
“No, I’m off to the pub,” Marne answered.
“You don’t have to waste your money at the pub, Marne, I’ve got plenty of booze,” I replied.
“I know that David, thank you. The thing is, I cannot remember when last I could go to a pub and afford to buy drinks. I hope you are not offended?” he concluded.
“No, I fully understand,” I answered.
As I saw Marne to the door, I handed him a packet of cigarettes.
“Have fun,” I said, as I watched him swagger off in the direction of the pub.
I immediately returned to my studio and watched the video several times. The ejaculation sequence I observed in slow motion each time, as I almost dismembered myself.
Later, I made myself an omelette before sitting down in my lounge to watch television.
At around nine p.m., there was an unexpected knock at my door.
As I opened, Marne stood there with Ridley by his side. Ridley was a bulky man who had moved back in with his parents. He was ultra-butch and had always made me feel a little nervous. Ridley had the reputation of never backing down from a fight.
“Hi, David, I believe you have met Ridley?” Marne asked rhetorically.
“Yes,” I guardedly answered.
“Listen, we are sorry to bug you, but I told Ridley about the ‘special’ cigarettes you have, and he said he would love to try one,” Marne uttered in his inebriated state.
“Sure, come on in,” I warily answered, worried about what else Marne had told Ridley.
As we sat in the lounge, each with a beer and a joint, Ridley inhabited the seat he was sitting in, in the unmistakable manner of a thuggish straight male.
After a bit of their ‘what just happened at the bar’ banter, Ridley asserted his dominance by saying, “Marne just told me about his windfall.”
I did not reply and sat there with noncommittal indifference.
“Of course, David, an ugly mutt like me might not inspire your interest, but I could sure do with some bucks,” Ridley said in an almost pleading manner. In addition, the way Ridley now looked at me was suspiciously salacious, unlike anything I had experienced with Marne.
‘Fuck… Is this youngster coming on to me?’ I disbelievingly reasoned, ‘Or is this some fag bashing plot that he has concocted to amuse his sadistic predilections.’
Marne interrupted my deliberations, when he said, “David, please show Ridley your studio.”
As I looked at Marne sceptically, he said, “Relax David, I promise you that Ridley is a cool dude. I have known him for ten years.”
It was with great reluctance that I led the way to my studio.
Once there, Ridley said, “So all I have to do is sit there and wank?” he asked, pointing to the daybed.
At this point, I decided to take insurance and mischievously replied, “Yeah, but, if both of you do so together, it would be even better.”
Emboldened by his earlier session, and no doubt hoping for another payment, Marne quickly removed his clothing and sat on the chaise.
“What are you waiting for, Ridley?” Marne boldly uttered.
Ridley quickly dispensed with his garb before joining Marne on the daybed.
Ridley’s thickset body was incredible. In keeping with the rest of him, his chunky cock was also breathtaking. As they sat side by side watching the porn on the television and toying with their dicks, I decided to up the ante.
“I must tell you guys that I am willing to pay extra if you do some more,” I informed them.
“What do you mean?” Marne asked.
“Well, if you play with one another’s cocks, it goes up to two-fifty. Three hundred, if there is kissing involved,” I added.
“Is that where it ends?” Ridley asked mischievously.
“No, if there is sucking involved, three-fifty, and of course, if one or the other of you gets fucked, it goes up to four hundred bucks,” I concluded brazenly.
“Cool… We need the bucks, so I’ll fuck you, Marne,” Ridley stated.
“Why must you do the fucking, Ridley?” Marne bleated.
“Because I have the bigger cock, and that’s the way it works… The man with the biggest cock does the fucking, buddy,” Ridley matter-of-factly stated.
“Bullshit!” Marne countered.
“Well, ask David,” Ridley assured him.
“Yeah, I’m afraid Ridley is correct,” I confirmed, deciding to teach Marne a lesson for breaking our confidentiality.
As Marne grumbled in protest, I broke the impasse by firmly asking, “Are you guys going to waste my time, or get on with it?”
After grabbing hold of Marne’s cock, Ridley soon had Marne on his back as he commenced kissing him.
A short while later, Ridley stood and presented his dick to Marne’s mouth. As Marne began to protest, Ridley solidly took hold of Marne’s head with his left hand, and with his right hand started smearing his cock all over Marne’s lips.
“Open your fuckin’ mouth, bitch, we need the bucks,” Ridley barked.
Things were getting incredibly hot, and as I hopped around with my camcorder, I decided to join in verbally.
“Yeah, Marne, if you want the three-fifty, then you must open your fuckin’ mouth.”
The spluttering by Marne, and Ridley’s domineering skull fucking was fantastic. What delighted me most was how quickly Marne willingly succumbed and even began gripping Ridley’s butt cheeks encouragingly, as his throat got ‘tortured.’
The scene I was observing was awesome and far exceeded my wildest, earlier imaginings. If I had orchestrated the action, I could not have surpassed the thrill of what I was observing. Ridley was now in full cry. Apart from spearing Marne’s mouth, Ridley kept extracting his dick, whipping Marne’s face with it, before bending over and kissing Marne and then spitting into Marne’s mouth. Following that, Ridley once more vigorously fucked Marne’s face. The grunts from Ridley, and Marne’s compliant whimpering were fantastic. As their interplay kept repeating, I completely forgot about my meaningless financial contribution to this spectacular melee.
Not long after, Ridley turned Marne onto his stomach. With Marne’s legs hanging off either side of the daybed, Ridley mounted Marne’s body. Marne began squealing like a piglet, as his arse succumbed to his much larger adversary. As Marne’s arse got solidly plowed, Marne began grunting frantically.
Marne’s ‘distress’ was very short-lived before he commenced ululating his pleasure like a bitch in heat. Ridley’s dominance was magical and had me scurrying about with my camcorder like a squirrel in fall. Every time Ridley thumped Marne’s back with his fist in his excitement, my cock sprayed my underpants full of precum. It was like a masterclass in rough primeval fucking and dominance. How I kept my hands on the camcorder, instead of gripping my knob, I will never know.
After Ridley had unloaded all over Marne’s back, I was no longer able to restrain myself. After placing the camcorder on a tripod, I rushed over to lick the spunk off Marne’s back. Unable to stop, I also rimmed Marne’s as he squirmed and gyrated his hips.
To my delight, as Marne rose there was a huge spunk slick on the chaise. Just as someone caught betwixt and between, I had to decide between Marne’s cock and the spillage on my chaise.
‘Fuck this, I’m having both,’ I thought to myself.
After licking Marne’s cock and stomach clean, I stuck my face into the motherlode on the chaise and slurped like an out on control cum-slut in a sperm donor’s laboratory. Afterward, we returned to my house.
More drinks and weed followed before Marne faded and had to use one of my spare beds.
Later, when I asked Ridley if he wanted to use the other spare bed, he refused. As my heart sank, however, Ridley said, I rather join you in your bedroom. That night, I received the best fucking of my like, one of many that would follow with Ridley.
Occasionally, Marne was also included in our sessions. That nevertheless, is another story altogether.