'lo all. It's been far too long since I posted a story to Nifty. I made some good friends among you and I've not been faithful to those friendships. This little story is my way of apologising. Please forgive me.
I hope you enjoy. The story's set in Atlanta and the main character is a Georgian. However, as this story is most likely to be published in the UK first, I'm using British spelling - which lends itself to some interesting mental pictures. Forgive the Brit spellings please. Let me know what you think of it at Vichowel@aol.com.
THE DRILL: Of course, there's a drill - this is all fiction (nothing real about it at all), no one under 18, no homophobes (we wouldn't want to insult your sensibilities, would we?), and no reading where the state thought police will jail you for not wanting to produce your 2.5 children and have a nagging woman hanging on you for the rest of your life.
The Boy From Atlanta by Dave MacMillan
My name's John, and I'm an escort - a hundred and fifty an hour, five hundred for all night. I freelance; if you get me through the escort service, it's the same price (they just don't haggle), but you'd better be laying a big tip on me because I'm good. I'm the best fuck you've ever had or will have. My seven inches stay hard and, while I prefer bottom, I can be versatile.
I'm five foot, ten inches, and weigh a little more than a hundred and fifty. The body's smooth and lanky, and I keep it that way - the hard way. I have a bubble butt that's baby-soft and am blond and blue-eyed. I don't look twenty-one, I'm more like that teenager next door you've been drooling for.
As I write this, I'm lying nude on my bed at the Poncy - second floor, last room on the left.
Yeah, that Poncy. The run-down residential hotel facing Ponce de Leon Avenue in mid-town Atlanta ten blocks west of Cypress Street, the strip where you used to be able to pick up a boy for a price.
My window overlooks The Risen Bird, the bar where old queens meet young ones to make arrangements. The Poncy draws gay clientele that aren't completely down and out. There are abandoned railway tracks less than a mile west for the homeless and runaways who don't have the money for a bed.
Before you pick up on the inconsistency between earning power and living arrangements here, let's put things in perspective. The money's better than nice - when you can get it. But I don't see the green stuff until a customer wants me and what I've got to offer. I'm lucky if I score two hours a week through the service and get in a freelance trick at The Bird, maybe even one or two on Cypress. So, I live at the Poncy where a room rents for one thirty a week.
It's three o'clock Sunday morning and I've just got back from a date, one the service set up. I have my next week's room rent - all one thirty of it. Two hours of lying on my back and letting a Jesse Helms look-alike hump and grind his fat old gut against my arsecheeks - at forty-five percent of the standard rate for me.
I didn't even feel his dick moving in me, he was so small - though he thought I was having the greatest sex of my life. The man was generous, though - he padded my wallet with an extra sixty-five an hour.
I'd also pulled down a quick eighty on Cypress for a blowjob earlier. Eighty for a blow job! I still wasn't believing it. The fartface was a real bubbah, he was so dumb - real country. His money was green, though, and would spend well. I figured I'd get up to Phipps Plaza in Buckhead tomorrow - there or out to Lennox Plaza - and see what the new duds looked like - then I could go looking around in second-hand stores for something that looked the same.
I stroke my dick, getting into the feel of my long foreskin pushing up over the knob, making a lace doily just past my piss slit and then, as my fist slides back down the shaft, the knob popping out into the cool of the air-conditioned room.
I love my dick. How it makes me feel. Almost as much as I love how a big one ramming my butt makes me feel. That has me wishing I'd caught up with Steve before coming back to the room. Him between my legs and pumping me hard with his big one would've been something I could really get into now. Yeah!
"John!"
I glanced around the dining room of the Majestic, searching for whoever had called me. Steve was seated against the far wall and waving at me. I started towards him, idly wondering who the blond boy sitting with him was. I'd never seen the kid before and I had to admit he was cuter than shit. My dick jerked behind my jeans and I knew I wanted to see more of him.
"What's up, Steve?" I asked as I stopped at his table. The manager of Boys 'R Us was knockout handsome - long brown hair that framed a thin face. He had big brown eyes that made me think of a puppy dog. He was taller than me by a couple of inches and had me beat by a good twenty pounds - but those were all muscle. He also had a dick to die for. I never seemed to get enough of it.
"Nothing much, John," my buddy answered and rubbed a finger along his thigh. "Pull up a chair and join us." I saw he was half-hard under his jeans and glanced at the kid sitting across from him. He met my gaze with an open-face innocence that had me wanting to tear his clothes off and start humping his butt there on the table. It was a downright uncommon feeling for me to be having, coz I usually saw myself being the one closest to the table in any coupling I got into.
Steve was half smiling when I looked back at him. He'd already picked up on how this kid was affecting me. I figured right then what these two had been doing most of the night.
"Interviewing?" I asked and smiled as I sat down. I immediately turned my attention to the new kid so I could watch him blush. I got rewarded with the most even reddening of skin I ever did see.
I took the opportunity to study the kid a little more closely. Blond page boy hair surrounded a round, cherubic face. He had dimples in his cheeks and chin. Piercing grey eyes saw right through me. Even though he was sitting, I could tell he had a real tight body. He looked like the kid brother every gay boy drooled for - a yearling just come into his form. I glanced quickly back at Steve and was about to ask about ID. He'd better not be messing around with jailbait.
"John, this is Alan who's from down on the coast now," he offered, cutting me off. "He's joining us at Boys 'R Us."
I took a deep breath and decided Steve knew what he was doing. "I'm from out near Buford," I told the kid, hoping to loosen him up a bit. "Are you from near Savannah?"
"No," Alan answered, fixing me with his knock-out smile. "All the way down the state. Close to Brunswick." I started counting the freckles in his face.
The waitress was standing at my elbow when Steve punched my arm. It was my turn to be embarrassed. I gave her my order quickly and watched her waddle off.
"Listen up, youn'uns," Steve growled softly and I turned back to face him. He was leaning back against the wall in his chair, his legs spread wide.
I hated it when Steve used that word. He was only twenty-three, two years older than me. He fucked my butt three times a week. He sure as hell wasn't my daddy, that leather shit was an extra two hundred. I sure wasn't a youn'un for him. I was a man who got fucked like a man. He did manage the escort service, though - so, I kept my mouth shut.
"We've landed a nice one for night. He wants two of the cutest, freshest faces we've got-" Steve paused for effect. He had my attention. "So, it's the two of you. John, you're going to have to take the lead for Alan here - he just doesn't know all the ropes yet." He smiled and, leaning forward, patted my cheek. "It's an all-nighter and the client's already added in a five hundred dollar tip for each of you."
I gasped. Steve was talking damned close to eight hundred in my pockets tomorrow morning. Shit! I'd try to take the Empire State Building up my arse for that kind of money.
"If you get this guy satisfied like I know you can-" he glanced from Alan to me, "like both of you can. He's gonna want the two of you for three days at two thousand a day each - in a fuck film. He'll be paying us, so that's a thousand a day in your pockets."
I was light-headed. My dick got so hard it was climbing under the waistband of my jeans. I felt cool but felt the drops of sweat beading on my forehead too.
"Drink some water, John," said Steve, grinning at me. "Otherwise, you're going to pass out from all this good news."
I gulped water. I looked around us in a daze. Steve looked pleased. And Alan smiled knowingly - like he knew what this was all about and I didn't. I pulled myself together. No greenhorn hustler was going to lord it over me.
Our food came. Steve dug in and Alan was right behind him. My stomach growled a warning at all the grease I could see on my plate but I didn't listen. I wanted information. I wanted to know at least as much as this greenhorn beside me who had me ready to become a permanent top. And I was hungry.
"Ever heard of JeanCarlo Gardineau, John?" Steve asked around the whole piece of bacon he was shoving into his mouth.
"Isn't he that underwater explorer who just died?"
Steve laughed and Alan smirked. I knew right then that the boy from south Georgia was going to have those full lips around my dick as soon as I could get him alone - or I was going to hate him forever.
"Gardineau is probably THE best known porn producer in the world," Steve explained like I was stupid.
"Name me one movie he's done," I answered just to show him I wasn't born yesterday. There might be some guy out there named Gardineau who'd made a couple of fuck flicks, but I was betting Steve couldn't name them any more than I could.
"He's just come out with URGENT CONDITION," Alan offered like he was a trick librarian jumping out of a box of books. I turned to glare at him. "And I guess everybody's seen WANT ALL OF ME?"- His eyes rolled and he licked his lips at some memory I could only guess at. Nobody ought to turn a kid like Alan on like that - whoever did would make him never be interested in a normal gay.
"How do you know so much about this guy?" I demanded.
The waitress arrived at that moment and began banging our coffee cups down on the table, so he got a reprieve from answering my question. I turned to Steve and whispered: "Have you seen this kid's ID? He looks maybe fifteen."
Steve started laughing and hadn't stopped when the waitress left us to our breakfast. I was blushing a bright scarlet, and Alan sat quietly watching both of us and waiting to be let in on the joke. "What's so damned funny?" I finally demanded.
"Alan, show John the ID you showed me," Steve told him and it was the cute boy's turn to blush again. He did it so nicely, I wanted to see if it went down his chest under his t-shirt. Even under his shorts. While I was at it, I'd ever more love to get a gander at his package.
I pulled myself back fast. This was already one strange breakfast, I didn't need it to get any stranger. And I wasn't about to embarrass myself. I waited as Alan pulled out his wallet and pulled out a military ID and driver's license.
The picture was him. It showed him being born in 1980 and I looked over at him in surprise. That babyface was a year older than me? He was already twenty-two? I couldn't believe it but I sort of had to. From what I'd heard, military identification was lots harder to fake than was normal stuff from one of the states.
"I don't want this getting around, you understand?" Alan said, looking directly at me, his eyes seeing right into my soul. "My dad's Chief of Naval Operations at NATO. I've spent most of my life in Brussels and Paris. I also know a lot about JeanCarlo Gardineau - I researched him and tried out for one of his films four years ago and got turned down because of my age." He looked down at his hands. "I've grown up some since then - I can be a rentboy here in America and fuck myself silly, but I've got to keep myself pretty clean in Europe for the next six months until the old man can get himself fully retired to Brunswick."
Alan looked up and smiled at Steve. I suddenly understood my sometimes fuckbuddy and part time boss had a past. One I knew nothing about. I was beginning to figure there was some really good dirt somewhere in all of this and I wanted to hear it. All of it.
Steve filled his mouth with a forkful of eggs immediately followed by a quick forkful of slimy grits. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills while he chewed. He ripped off three hundred in twenties and put them in front of me. Swallowing hard, he said: "Go buy some clothes, John. Take Alan with you and let him pick them for you. He knows what the best looking guys in Paris are wearing this year."
I glared at Steve. I was ready to go ballistic. Hell! I was about to throw my plate of eggs and grits at the bastard's face. I worked my arse sore making my money, and there wasn't a man around who I figured had the right to tell me what I was going to buy to wear. That's when I realised there was two hundred dollars that wasn't mine, lying on the table. "Who's paying for these duds?" I asked very quietly.
Steve was watching me. "You're family, John," he said softly. "You're part of this operation. Boys 'R Us is buying because you keep your eyes open and your mouth shut."
I nodded, understanding the deal now. Anything I wormed out of Alan stayed with me. I did not throw it back at Steve when I got pissed off at him, either. It did not mean, however, that I couldn't worm everything I could out of the twenty-two year old cutie beside me. Or get him into bed which was returning as a distinct area of interest, now that I was again thinking about it.
"Let's finish eating and Alan can take you out to Lennox, John. I want you two young'uns to get along. Alan's our man with the goods on this Gardineau, and we want to supply all of the boys that Frenchman wants for this movie and anything else he wants while he's in Georgia. Whenever he's in Georgia."
We separated outside the Majestic - Steve getting into his beemer parked illegal at the curb in front of the restaurant, Alan and me trekking down the block to his car. When we stopped in front of a powder blue Lexus, I knew I'd been doing something pretty damned wrong with the way I'd been running my life.
"Graduation present from la Granmere," Alan offered as he opened my side of the car.
"Graduation present?"
"Yeah," he answered, opening his door. He grinned as he looked across at me. "I'm a college graduate now."
Every son of a bitch in Atlanta had a nice car and I was using the bus and Metro - or hoofing it. Shit! I still had problems getting my rent together for the Poncy every week. Steve I could accept, he had a sugar daddy, funding the escort service. But I now knew where things were going to go for me with Steve and Boys 'R Us. I wanted nice wheels, a roof over my head, and money in my pocket. I figured I could still be a party boy and have that going for me.
But, right now, I wanted to know more about this Alan boy. Intimate details even.
"How do you know Steve?" I asked as I got into the Lexus beside him.
He smiled across at me. This boy had dazzling teeth. I was trying not to get hard. "I got the impression Steve cut off that conversation back there."
"He did," I admitted. "He also bought my silence. So, how do you know him?"
"He was my first lover." Alan started the car and looked over at me expectantly.
"Steve?" I squawked.
"Yeah. Now, how do I get to wherever I'm supposed to be going?"
I directed him back onto Ponce de Leon towards town to Peachtree. From there, we headed up towards Buckhead until we could exit onto I-85. "He was your first lover?" I asked as we picked up speed on the interstate.
Alan shrugged. "He was attached to the Officer's Club in Brussels; it was his first duty assignment. I met him at the pool and, pretty quickly, one thing led to another."
"How long ago was this?"
"Almost five years. I'd just turned seventeen."
"Ewwww!" So, Steve was in the military and had been playing with chicken stuff - with an admiral's son, no less. I figured that hadn't been especially wise on my boss' part. "Did you guys get caught?"
"Pretty soon after we started. Dad walked in on us in the caddy shack while we were going at it hot and heavy."
"He wasn't shot?" Steve was still all in one piece. I knew almost every spot on his body and Id never seen any sign of a near death experience.
"The old man was pretty cool about it. He had Steve tested for everything under the sun and got him attached to our house for secondary duty. We weren't to do anything even remotely sexual outside of my bedroom." He chuckled. "Of course, unknown to us, dad was pulling strings to get Steve generaled out of the Navy."
"What happened?"
"Steve went back to the States with a year in service and I was left in Brussels. I went off like fireworks on Bastille Day and settled on trying to fuck the entire male population of Belgium to get even. When that didn't get through to the old man, I tried to get Gardineau to take me on as one of his team."
"And you were chicken all the time you were doing this?" I asked in wonder. I couldn't imagine letting any guy in my hometown know I liked dick when I was growing up.
"Actually no. Sixteen is pretty basically the age of consent in most of Europe. The English were the only ones who're as dumb as the Americans in pretending boys don't think sex until their eighteenth birthday."
"So, you were legal when you and Steve started?"
"Yeah. In Europe."
I laughed. "You don't act like a sex maniac now - what happened?"
He chuckled. "Dad and I had a long talk. He decided he was going to have to handle a gay son, but I was going to have to be responsible too. It boiled down to me finding one nice boy and settling down - at least until he was out of the Navy and it didn't matter any more. So, I went to university and settled down - and he's not been getting reports on me these past three years."
I pointed Alan onto the exit to Lennox Plaza. "So, what're you doing here?" I asked.
He snorted. "The family's already set up in Brunswick, school's out in Paris, I've still got my deal with the old man for another six months, and I'm bored. You can take your pick. Besides, I'd kept up with Steve. You know, the occasional letter - that kind of thing. But I knew he was running an escort service here and that sort of appealed to me." He grinned as we passed the swanky condos. "Maybe I can't paint Paris pink yet, but there's no reason why I can't do it here with Atlanta."
"Where are you staying, Alan?" I asked as we climbed out of the Lexus in the parking garage at Lennox Plaza.
"I slept with Steve last night-" He shoved his hands into his pockets. "His old man ... Steve thought you and I could hit it off well enough that you'd let me sleep with you the next couple of nights."
"You want to do that?"
Alan stopped and turned to face me. "You're a good looking guy, John. You're also the type that usually turns me on. Yeah, I'd like to get it on with you. How about you? Like what you see?"
I jiggled my eyebrows like a real villain, curled an imaginary moustache, and grinned. "You've got a warm bed as long as you want it, pretty boy." He brought a hand up to his lips and gasped like a real Pauline in peril. "Come on," I laughed, "let's go see what people are wearing this summer."
We sat on the deck of the California Pizza Kitchen at the bottom of Lennox Plaza and watched young Atlanta drift slowly past us. I hadn't spent all of the two hundred Steve gave me, but I'd put a sizeable dent in it. I still thought the red silk shirt looked more like a girl's blouse than a boy's shirt but I also figured it'd look real sharp with a pair of skin-tight black jeans I had, especially with the thick gold-plated rope necklace I'd just bought. Kewl-ness.
"John, what would you be doing if this was just a regular day for you?"
I glanced over at Alan in surprise. "You mean it isn't? Just a regular day, I mean?"
"You don't take classes or go to work?"
"Naw. That nine to five kind of life is for the birds."
"So, what would you be doing if you hadn't met up with Steve and me?"
I shrugged. There wasn't anything I consciously planned to do when I woke up in the mornings - except to live life to the fullest. "It'd sort of depend on what urge strikes me, you know?" I told him. "Maybe, I'd grab a bus up to Phipps Plaza and look around. Maybe take in a matinee movie. Look through the new stock of second hand clothes they've got at the St. Benedict Society. Maybe look up some buddies and see what they were doing. Get into a party if there was one going on - I'd do whatever I felt like doing."
"La vie d'un gamin," Alan mumbled and shook his head slowly.
"What's that mean?" I asked, wondering if I'd just been put down.
"Hmmm ... The life of a young man is how I'd translate it."
I noticed that he'd started to study me - real close. I smiled. "Know what I feel like doing right now?" I asked.
"What's that?"
"I want to show you my bed."
Alan smiled seductively. "You just want to show it to me?"
I leered and put it all out on the table. "I'd really like to go exploring too - for the next couple of hours. Think you could get into that?"
He nodded. "I think I'd better get us back downtown then - because that's what I want too."
We stood at the foot of my bed, facing each other in my room at the Poncy. I was more nervous than I had been the first time I knelt before another guy and took his dick in my mouth. My mouth was drier than the Sahara and I couldn't think of a word to say. I was not the same boy I'd known all my life.
Alan smiled, extended his hand in invitation, and said: "Come here, John. I want you."
I melted into his arms, spreading across his chest, and melding my lips to his. I couldn't believe it! I was fucking in love. With a guy I didn't even know. With a boytoy same as me. One who was about to become a whore like I already was. Holy shit!
I needed to think this through and fast. Every time I'd gone gaga for somebody, I'd had it beat the shit out of me. I was supposed to be inoculated against love and other dangerous emotions. I greeted his tongue with mine, welcoming its possession of my mouth. I ground my arse against his hands as they spread across my butt, in welcome to yet another sign of his possessing me. I knew that I was past just being infected with love.
I had already reached the terminal stages of the disease and didn't care. I was delirious as I pulled his shirt from his shorts, my fingertips finally touching his tight, hard body as they pushed the fabric over his abs onto his smooth chest.
Alan raised his arms when I had his shirt over his pecs and broke our kiss, nibbling my lips before pulling his face away. I shoved the cloth up onto his neck and dived for his exposed nipples. He groaned as my teeth nibbled first at one and then the other.
I wanted to devour him but forced myself to go slow. I wanted him to want what I did for him, now and every other time. I wanted him forever.
My hands moved to his waist button and, working it open easily, two fingers found his zipper and began to work it down. My teeth gnawed gently from one nipple to the other, back and forth, as both hands moved beneath the waist of his shorts and under his briefs to follow the slope of his arse. His clothes moved before my fingers, baring his cheeks. Only his dick tenting his briefs held them tight at his crotch, his shorts were already a puddle at his feet.
I went slowly down on my haunches before him, my lips and tongue exploring his ribs before moving down onto his belly and aiming for his bellybutton. Alan moaned as my tongue rimmed the lips of his innie navel. My hands inched onto his hips, under his briefs, moving towards me and the treasure I knew was waiting for me there. My tongue followed his pleasure trail down to the short curls of his pubes as my hands pulled his briefs out to free him.
Before I even saw his dick, I knew I was going to be impressed. It tried to reach his belly as it escaped its cotton prison and hit my ear. I figured it for seven or eight inches -maybe nine -and a knob that would have a virgin running for cover.
I licked up along the shaft, savouring its thick, veiny promise, and looked up. My hands returned to his arsecheeks - massaging and kneading them in wonder.
Alan was smiling down at me. "Suck it, John," he told me. "Deepthroat me. I want to feel your tongue and tonsils getting to know my cockhead."
I did. Like a hungry puppy. I had my lips over that knob and was wolfing that monster down faster than Alan could say what he wanted again. I had his wide head past my tonsils and buried deep in my throat before the boy could even groan. My lips were being tickled by the longest of his short curlies as I started to hum.
He moaned and groaned then. His hips humped and pulled away, controlling his dick. I started sucking then as his meat moved in and out of my throat, my tongue a chute guiding it directly to my throat every time.
I was hard and dripping in my pants, squatting before a naked god and totally fixated on his meat. Fixated, hell! I was worshipping every one of his nine inches and loving it. I couldn't think of anything I'd rather be doing. I wanted him coming in my mouth, I wanted to taste his nectar, I wanted him in me forever. I wanted him fucking me - my arse was where this baby belonged.
Alan pulled away from me. The head of his cock leaving my lips causing a soft pop between us. I stared at his dick, trying to understand why I didn't still have it in my mouth and down my throat.
"I was getting close, John," he said apologetically and gripped my shoulders. "I want to fuck you, John." He began to lift me to my feet. "Let's get you out of those clothes."
God, but I was hungry. I stared at his hard cock and drooled while he undressed me.
"Nice," he mumbled as he stepped back to study my naked body. "Very nice." He grinned.
"And you've got skin too - great! Just like the French and Belgian guys I used to..." His fingers went around my dick, making a fist, and pulled my foreskin out over my knob as he squatted before me.
His lips smoothed out my skin over my knob, pulling it to bunch together at the tip. His teeth then began to nibble gently at the bunch as his tongue played at the opening. I stared down at him blindly, trying to understand the sensations he was causing in my dick and throughout my body. No one I had ever been with knew how to do what this boy was doing to me. I was in heaven.
Alan pulled off me and looked up at me. "Spread your legs a little, John. I want to play for a while."
He dived down my dick, his lips pushing my skin back off my helmet and onto my shaft as he swallowed me whole. He headed for my pubes, his tongue a chute directing my meat into his throat. One hand went to my arsecheeks to hold me to him, the other found my balls and began to tug at them as his index finger massaged my perineum towards my arsehole
My whole body shuddered under his stimulation. Time and again.
I was his. I was a virgin again, learning what sex was all about for the first time. My fingers traced his cheeks and ran through his hair, showing Alan in the only way I could how I appreciated what he was doing for me.
His hand left my ball sack and his finger moved to rim my arsepucker. It pressed hard against my entrance and slipped into me. My balls churned as it buried itself and found my joyspot. I spread my legs wider to give him better access to where I wanted him to be. A second finger entered me and my knees threatened to give out under me.
My balls tightened and rode my dickshaft. The beginning of my orgasm spread through me. My muscles were stiffening, my hands gripped the sides of his head. A third finger plunged into me. Heat lasered through me. I tried to suck air into lungs that no longer wanted to work. White light blasted across my mind.
I threw my head back and cried out. My balls erupted and volleys of come blasted out of my dick and into his throat. I shuddered again and almost lost my balance, only his hand spread across my arse held me up.
I was dry. My dick was more than sensitive. I shivered continuously as his tongue sought every cranny that might still hold my jizz. I was weak as shit.
Alan's mouth slipped off my dick and he stood up to guide me the step sideways that took me to the foot of my bed. "Lie down, John."
"You're going to fuck me?" I croaked, my breathing still ragged. I looked back at him and knew I wanted his dick deep inside me more than I wanted anything.
He nodded, smiled, and asked: "You want it, don't you?" His fingertips traced the inside of my leg from my ankle to my knee.
I laid back and spread my legs in invitation, staring hungrily up at him. "Yeah," I breathed. "The rubbers are in the drawer of the bedside cabinet."
I watched him move. His body was even more perfect than its promise had been through his clothes. Smooth chest and wide - like a swimmer's. Tight abs that showed a six pack. A defined waist, almost a girl's. And a bubble butt that looked even better bare than it had under his shorts. My gaze reached his dick and wouldn't continue on down to his legs.
I hadn't really looked at it before. I'd been stripping him and then feeding his meet into my mouth below eye level. I'd felt it, but there had been nothing that prepared me for seeing his hard manheat. I started itching way up my arse in anticipation to being well-scratched.
The boy was big. And thick. And perfect. I couldn't wait until he was filling me up. At least, I had to touch it. "Hurry up and get up on the bed," I told him. "I'll put the rubber on you."
He grinned as he tossed me a foil packet from the bedstand. "Hungry, are you?" he asked innocently. Still facing me, he climbed onto the mattress and started to crawl on his knees towards me.
His hand formed a fist around my dick as I rolled the condom down on his shaft. I realised I was still hard when he slowly began to stroke me. "I've got your lube too - think you're going to need it?"
I studied his latex-covered helmet for only a moment before nodding my head. "That thing's pretty big," I agreed. I knew what it would do for me once it was in - it was getting it inside me that could be painful.
Alan opened the tube of lube in his hand and lifted my leg. My gaze locked with his as he squeezed lube onto his fingers. We watched each other's faces, committing them to memory as his fingers found my arsehole again. One and then another greasy finger slipped into me, opening me up again. Soon, I had three digits pushed into me to the third knuckle.
It was good. I was groaning and bucking all over the bed with those fingers pumping my arsehole. But they weren't the real thing. I wanted perfection even as my dick drooled pre-come all over my belly. "Put it in!" I moaned, trying to prop my upper body up on my elbows and unable to do so. "Give me your cock, damn it."
Alan moved between my legs and, somehow, I managed to control my body bouncing around like it was attached to a live electric wire. I watched him centre himself. I watched him lift each of my legs up to his neck. I felt his fingers pull from me and felt the emptiness left behind. I watched his whole hand grip his monster and guide it to me. I felt its wide head press bluntly against the opening of my hole and sighed. He leant into me, his body lowering onto mine, the back of my legs. His face grew as it neared mine. Our lips touched and I opened to allow his tongue to possess me. The tip of his dick eased in past my arsemuscle at the same time.
I felt Alan's dick as it entered me, but it wasn't the shot of pain I'd expected it to be. I felt myself filling up with him as he moved deeper into me, his moment slow but relentless. His tongue duelled mine. My hands went to his arsecheeks between my legs and guided him ever deeper into me.
I felt his balls spread across my buttocks, his pubes tickled my balls, and I knew he was finally all the way inside me. I was full up all the way to my bellybutton. I ground my arse against him inside me and was rewarded instantly with his massaging my prostate. "Fuck me," I told him, breaking away from our kiss. "Oh, yeah! Fuck me." My hands firmly held his bubble butt.
There was a slight flexing under my fingers - muscles stretching almost lazily - and his crotch was no longer pressing against my exposed bottom. His dick slid easily through my fuckchute as he nibbled at my earlobe and his chest pressed against mine. Another flex of his arse under my fingers - muscles tightening almost imperceptibly - and his dick had reversed direction. His chest lifted off mine. His whole body was in on the fuck, a well-oiled machine. It was like he was doing navy push-ups to fuck me.
His knob was wide enough to rub my joyspot with its every movement, his shaft thick enough that it continued the massage. In and out - a continuous, liquid motion involving his whole body. I was immediately in heaven. My butt bucked up to meet his dick, to welcome it back into me. My arsemuscles tightened to hold him as he retreated. My pole rubbed his abs and my balls rode my dickshaft.
Pleasure poured through me, rivers of it. I rode that pleasure mindlessly. We were the only people in the world - just him and me. His fingers tweaked both of my nipples. His wide-bodied dick ploughed my innards. His lips traced my jaw, my ear, my nose - whatever they could find, depending on his body's position in its fuck of me.
I was moaning. My meat was ready to explode as it rode his belly. "Give it to me, John," he whispered at my ear and I erupted on command. Volley after volley of come spewed like molten lava between us, greasing our contact. His whole body continued to fuck me slowly.
Pressure and pleasure began to build in me again, from my toes to the hairs on my head. I stayed hard, caught between our two bodies. His dick possessed my lovechute completely. I was his and, at that moment, we both knew it to be so.
I rode the pleasure coursing through my body, surfing it as I would a wave. When I opened my eyes, he was there smiling down at me, reassuring me.
A stutter had developed in the perfection I rode. It took me the longest time to realise it was there. I opened my eyes once again, but Alan wasn't smiling back at me this time. He was sweating, his face contorted into a grimace. I realised his crotch was pounding into my arse. "I'm close, John - real close. Come with me," he gasped out.
Come with him? I was a professional whore, why not? I forced myself out of the euphoria that I'd been riding and took stock of the situation. I was hard and leaking pre-come like crazy. And he was damned close, now that I was conscious of the situation.
I brought one hand off of his butt and reached between us. I felt his dick grow inside my guts as I stroked mine. That was all it took - one stroke. I had been lying there, right on the edge. My gut was instantly spasming and clutching as I began to unload.
"Yeah," he breathed as his pole lodged itself deep inside of me and proceeded to fill up the condom that covered it. My gut milked him dry as I coated us again with my spunk. Alan kissed me then, his body pressed against mine.
We lay together, him behind me and holding me to him, as we recovered. His half-hard dick pressed into my crack. I listened to his slow, shallow breathing and knew he was asleep. I let my thoughts flow, trying to understand how I felt about this boy behind me.
I'd never met anyone like Alan before. There had been men before - even before I came to Atlanta. Some of them had been fine looking too. A couple of them had even had big dicks they were happy enough to share with me. But that had just been sex. They hadn't meant anything to me. This boy holding me seemed to mean a lot to me - even after our sex together.
I felt comfortable in his arms. I'd feel just as comfortable if we both had our clothes on and he wasn't hard and had it trawling my crack. If he didn't have his arms around me, I'd want mine to be around him.
The fuck he'd just given me was the best one I had ever had. I suspected that I'd be hard pressed to ever find another guy who could do to me what he had. He was handsome, good-looking - beautiful, even. And he was sex incarnate. When you saw him, you were praying that something would happen between the two of you.
But it was more than just lust, I was sure of that. I'd enjoyed being with him at Lennox Plaza - talking with him, looking at things with him, being with him. I didn't know if I was ready to be in love but was beginning to wonder if I'd walked right into it and it'd gobbled me up before I even knew what was happening to me.
By the time we met up with Steve in the afternoon, I was one well-fucked boy. Alan and I hadn't left my room. "You're glowing!" Alan'd chortled as I started for the shower.
I looked back over my shoulder at him and wiggled my butt. "I think you've had a lot to do with that," I purred.
"Good!"
Steve started snickering the moment he saw me. "Found somebody to replace me already?" he asked quietly as we sat down in a booth far from everybody else in the Mexican restaurant and waited for our waiter. I blushed; Alan put his hand on mine, firmly taking possession. Steve nodded and calmed down quickly.
He took a deep breath and smiled at us. "Gardineau's at the Windham on Tenth Street and Peachtree, right across the street from Margaret Mitchell's house-"
I wondered what the old girl who'd written Gone With The Wind had to do with the price of eggs in China, much less this JeanCarlo Gardineau guy. Then I chalked it up to Steve trying to show off how smart he was and left it alone. "He came in yesterday - so he ought to be over his jetlag." His smile took over his whole face. "That should mean that he's up to wearing both of you out."
I studied Steve like he was a strange bug. In the year I'd been selling my butt, I hadn't met a john yet who could wear me out. Alan, on the other hand ... Alan nodded sagely.
"He wants you there at eight." Steve pulled a pen out of his pocket and took a napkin from the holder. He quickly wrote down the Frenchman's name and his room number before shoving the napkin towards me.
Such class! Such polish! But, then, I knew Steve well. I wondered if Alan had ever seen him write important messages on napkins and act like it was all right that the escort show up at the door holding that same napkin.
For that matter what did Alan know about our employer - other than the fact that Steve was cute enough to get the poor kid Alan had been to leave his closet forever.
"Alan," said Steve, leaning halfway across the table so his voice wouldn't carry. "You're not going to be able to refuse - you're gonna have to go with the flow." Again, the love of my life (or, at least, the love of my arse) nodded sagely. I looked from one to the other of them, wondering what the hell they were talking about.
"I'll take care of it, Steve," Alan told him when he didn't go on, "this afternoon. It won't be a problem tonight, I promise."
It was Steve's turn to nod sagely. I was ready to start climbing the walls with all this mutual sage-ness. I was one John-boy who did not like being in the dark. Not one bit. But I bit my tongue and decided to wait until I had Alan alone to get the scoop on what I'd been missing.
"This whole thing's vanilla - tonight, the vid, everything," Steve went on. "No extra pay, but no worry about how rough French boys get, either."
"That's good," I mumbled. I couldn't imagine Alan's perfect butt with welts. And I sure as shit didn't want any worked into mine.
"Okay, young'uns, do me up proud. The two of you alone can shove Boys R Us to the top of the escort business." I stared at my empty plate that had held enchiladas ten minutes earlier. I was still hungry.
I waved to Steve as he headed towards his beemer and Alan and I started down Ponce de Leon towards the Poncy. "What was all that about?" I asked.
"What?"
"That you couldn't refuse tonight - like you hadn't gone all the way already."
"I haven't." He kicked a stone from the broken sidewalk and didn't look at me. "I've never got fucked, John." He stopped walking and turned to face me then. There was a grin on his face but I could see the fear in his eyes too. "Looks like you'll be doing the honours. Just be gentle, okay?"
I stared at him in total shock. He'd never been fucked? And he'd been Steve's lover over there in Belgium? And slept with him the night before I met him?
That meant Steve had bottomed. Even regularly.
Steve?
"John?" His voice pulled me from my growing disorientation. "John, are you all right?"
"You fucked Steve?" I asked in a small voice.
"Yeah ... You make it sound like - oh shit!" Light dawned in his eyes. "He plays the superstud for you, doesn't he?"
"Not any more, he doesn't!" I growled.
"I thought you liked to bottom, John."
"I do. But I don't want anybody to assume I'm a permanent pincushion," I went on, not caring that this man had fucked me silly throughout the afternoon. "Sex is supposed to be about sharing."
"This will be your first shot at my butt-"
"I'd have let you know about it if I was unhappy with what was going on."
He chuckled and started along the sidewalk again. I followed. "Happy or not, John, I need you to help me to get used to being plugged - think you can do that for me in the time we've got left before our appointment?"
"I've been on top before," I answered sullenly. I watched his butt as he took several more steps away from me, I remembered my first ideas about sex with him. I smiled. I was going to pork him - and good. Real damned good! This boy wasn't going to be able to walk for a week after I got through with his arse. And he was going to love every fucking minute of it. Oh, yeah!
He pulled off his shirt as I shut the door. He had finished toe-ing off his sneakers before I could cross the room. He was pushing off his jeans and briefs as I stopped beside him. "You in a hurry or something?" I asked as he stepped out of his clothes and stood before me naked.
"You don't want to fuck me?"
"Yeah. But kissing and sucking is sort of a nice lead up, don't you think?"
"This is business," he grumbled and fell back on the bed.
"Business?"
"Yeah. The reason I didn't get it on with Gardineau the first time I tried out for him wasn't because of my age, like I told you and Steve," he spread his legs so I could see his hole. "I was still hung up on not getting plugged. I want to get on with his film troupe this time - so, I'm going in prepared."
This was all going a bit too fast for this Georgia boy. I had barely got through high school, and it was sort of like he was talking nuclear physics. Somehow things seemed to have changed drastically since he shot his last load into that latex reservoir nine inches up my butt this afternoon. I needed to be reassured.
"Why didn't you just ask Steve to pop your cherry? Or wait until tonight and have whoever cram you full of dick?"
"What?" Alan looked sharply up at me. From the surprise I saw in his face, I was almost willing to bet that all thought of the impending loss of his cherry was forgotten at that moment. But that didn't make any sense either.
"What do you need me for? I only do mechanical sex when I'm getting paid for it. And that's all you seem to be interested in."
He sat up and held his arms out to me. "Come here, John. We need to talk."
I took a step towards the bed. Then another. He scooted across the bed so he could take my hands. His gaze stayed on my face. "John, most of the time, none of the guys I've had never even thought to make things reciprocal - except maybe blowjobs. You didn't, Steve didn't, and my flatmate these past three years in Paris didn't. Maybe Steve spoiled me but I sort of got to the point that I thought being top was my right. Remember how I just took over from you?"
"Yeah," I mumbled.
"Well, Gardineau shocked the hell out of me. He wanted me to let three of his guys take my arse when he interviewed me."
"Three?" I yelped.
"Yeah-" He saw the shock in my face then and chuckled. "Not at the same time. One after another."
"Still, for a virgin-"
"I guess I saw it that way too. At least, I told myself that as I stormed out of his offices. After that, it became almost a point of pride. There wasn't anybody man enough to nail my arse-"
"But now you're going to do it, after all?"
"With you, John. Afterwards, it won't much matter in one sense - we're both escorts. Our job demands that we make it with other guys - same as being a video pornstar. I figure that, if I can accept you putting out for somebody on a call, you can put up with me doing it."
I studied him closely. "Are you saying what I think you're saying about us?" I asked finally.
He looked quickly down at his hands. "I like you, John. Both in and out of bed. I'd like to see where things go with us." He looked up then, his gaze locking with mine. "But I also want to make it in the porn industry back in Europe - not as a video star, but backstage where the money is. A guy like Gardineau has made millions and he's only in his early forties. But that means a whole different morality than the Puritan stuff I keep hearing is taking over here in the States, screwing things up for everybody."
My head reeled. Alan was saying that he wanted us to see if things would work out between us. And guys made millions of dollars directing other guys to fuck in front of a camera? Holy shit on both scores!
"Come here," he said softly, patting the mattress beside him. "I want you to kiss me. I want you to make love to me, John."
Toe-ing off my sneakers, I crawled on my knees across the bed to him. Squatting on my haunches, I faced him. He laughed as my hand touched his knee. "The lovemaking I had in mind takes you being naked, John," he said, leaning into me and nuzzling my ear. "I want you naked, boy!"
He reached out and grabbed my t-shirt at both hips and pulled it out of my jeans onto my chest. I raised my arms and he pushed it over my head. As I pulled the shirt off my arms, Alan's fingers started to work on my jeans, his tongue rimming my bellybutton.
I threw my t-shirt on the floor but remained raised up on my knees as he unzipped me and spread back the flaps of my jeans. His fingers gripped the waist and pulled the denim off my arse down to my knees. He smiled up at me as his fingers slowly skimmed my thighs, barely touching the hair on them. I shivered, my skin becoming gooseflesh under his touch.
He grabbed the waist of my boxers and yanked them down to my knees. There was nothing erotic about it, just his need taking over. "Lie down," he commanded huskily. "I want to pull these things off you now."
He moved and, grasping the legs of my jeans, pulled them over my feet. My underwear followed quickly. I was as naked as he was. He climbed over my legs and reached for the bedstand. Turning back to me with condom and lube in hand, he asked: "What's the best way to do this? So it won't hurt so much, I mean."
I sighed. We were back to the pure mechanics of his losing his cherry; all thought of love-making was gone. "Alan, if all you're going to think about is getting dicked the first time, it's going to hurt."
"Thanks."
"I mean it. It takes learning to control your natural reflexes for you to enjoy it. Just jamming something big and hard up your arse hurts until you know how to relax everything -unless you're into what's going on, that is."
"Into what's going on?"
"You're hot as hell and want to feel the guy anywhere you can, no matter what." I smiled and patted the bed beside me. "Come here and let's get you hot and bothered."
He scooted across the bed to where I was propping myself up on my elbows. I sensed his nervousness and could see the determination in the lines of his face as he reached me. "Now what?" he growled. He was nowhere close to hard; but I had to admit that his was still the nicest dick I'd ever seen.
"Lie down," I told him and followed him down. I kissed him gently, working his teeth open enough that he was taking my tongue. My fingers explored his chest as he began to relax and moved slowly onto his belly.
Alan relaxed further and our kiss became more passionate. My fingers found his soft cock and I began gently to massage its large mushroom head with my thumb. Breaking our kiss, I nibbled at his nearest earlobe before trailing my tongue down his neck and onto his chest. I licked nipple in turn before travelling down onto his belly and rimming his bellybutton. I smiled as he shivered under me.
My lips formed around the tip of his knob, and I sucked the rest of it into my mouth. My fingers moved to cup his balls and I smiled as he began to become tumescent. I sucked all of his dick into my mouth, giving it a tongue bath as it inflated more. I pulled off him then and raised his leg over my shoulder.
"You going to do it now?" he groaned, his apprehension full-strength in his voice..
Instead of answering him, I thickened my tongue and jabbed it into his hole. He yelped and his sphincter clinched against my first assault on it.
I began to lick his pucker and felt him relaxing as he accepted my tongue at his backdoor. He began to grind his hips, making sure I touched every nerve ending in that wrinkled, puckered entranceway to the pleasure he would soon know. His other leg found my other shoulder, leaving him open to what I was doing to him.
I wasn't especially into rimming. I didn't mind if some guy wanted to do me, but it wasn't something I did if I could help it. It was the idea of shit that held me back. But I had cleant Alan myself not more than two hours earlier. He'd taken my wash-cloth covered index finger up to the first knuckle before he'd had enough. I knew the boy was clean. And I really wanted him as loose as I could make him when it came time for me to put my dick in him.
He opened up slowly as I fucked him with more and more of my tongue. I got to my knees and raised his butt higher. I waited until I was sure he had enough spit coating his chute before my tongue moved along his perineum to lick at his balls and I slipped a finger through his relaxed muscle ring.
I sucked one egg-sized ball into my mouth and buried my finger in his butt. Alan bucked like a bull at his first rodeo. I let the one nut go and sucked in the other one. He groaned and I pulled my finger nearly out of him and pushed it back in, alongside a second finger. My fingertips felt the knob of his joyspot and massaged it hard. He jerked and moaned, thrashing around on the bed. I was beginning to get the idea that this boy was going to love getting fucked.
My tongue travelled across the veins of his now erect shaft as I sent a third finger into him. He collapsed. He was suddenly a ragdoll that just lay there as I swallowed his dick and fucked his arse with all three fingers.
I was tripping out on his nine inch dick down my throat and wasn't thinking of anything else. I wanted to taste him. I wanted his love juice. His fingers gripping my wrist pulled me back. "Put this on and put your dick in me," he growled hoarsely. "I want you. I want to feel you in me, John."
I saw the foil packet then and remembered what we were supposed to be doing. I pulled off of him, and out of him. Tearing the packet open, I quickly covered my dick and aimed it at his upturned pucker.
I leant into him, heading for his lips. "Push down when I push in," I told him just before my lips touched his. His hands took possession of my buttcheeks and started pulling me into him.
I felt him try to tighten his arsering, but it was too loose to be an effective barrier. The latex-covered knob of my dick slipped into his love channel easily. I held there then, the knob of my dick behind his sphincter, so he could adjust to my being there. I broke our kiss and asked: "Does it hurt?"
He stared up at me and, without saying a word, his hands on my arsecheeks pulled me deeper into him. The silence in the room was deafening. I wanted to know if I was hurting him, what he was feeling - instead there was nothing but his steadily pulling me into him. Finally, my balls spread across his bubble butt.
He snorted then. "So, this is how it feels," he mumbled, sort of to himself. Concentrating his attention on what was now all the way inside him, he clamped his arsemuscles tight around my dick and began to grind his whole pelvis around on me. "It's not bad. Not bad at all." His attention returned to me hovering just above his face. "Fuck me, John. Fuck me good."
"You sure?"
"John, it feels okay," he answered, gritting his teeth - even though his voice sounded reasonable. "I want it to feel better. I want you to make it feel better. You, big guy - nobody else. Now, fuck me!"
I could take a hint. I'd tried to give him an out - at least a reprieve - twice. I pulled nearly out of him and slammed my six inches right back into his hole. His eyes rounded like he'd just been shot.
Alan was a real trouper. He kept right on grinding his butt against me on the way in - and on the way out. Maybe he'd fucked enough guys that he knew what he needed to do to stay a part of the action. Maybe he just simply liked it now that he was finally doing it. Either way, it sure seemed like he was getting into it.
I licked one nipple and then the other, getting his smooth chest wet with slobber. I nibbled at them, pulling his hard little titties with my teeth. He moaned and started bucking up to meet my every thrust. His hands stayed on my arse bubbles as I ploughed his virgin arse. His eyes stayed open, staring at me. And he didn't make a sound except for a little moan when I bit a nipple too hard or punched into him the wrong way.
I was sweating, even with the window unit on full-blast. Beads of it fell on Alan's chest and making puddles. My breathing sounded like a freight train, even in my own ears. My body was beginning to shudder from strain. I was pounding the hell out of his arse.
"Slow down, John." I looked into his eyes and he was smiling up at me. "This is the only time I'm going to have a virgin arse. It's the only time you're going to have a virgin arse to fuck as long as we're together. Let's slow down and enjoy it while we've got it."
My dick buried in his arse, I leant into him to peck at his lips, at his cheeks, at his eyes. And, when my breathing returned to normal, I crushed my lips against his. We moved together. We made love - slowly and leisurely.
My nuts tightened and Alan ground his arse against me, our tongues duelled inside, first, his mouth and then mine. His hands explored my back and arseglobes, moving freely over my body to possess me as his own. My fingers found his nipples and stayed with them to tweak them.
We rocked together forever, and it seemed like only seconds. We learned to know each other. We fulfilled each other. I knew I loved him and would follow him anywhere, no matter what. An inch in, an inch out, his skin against mine. I knew him as well as he had come to know me, and we were complete together.
I groaned around his tongue as I erupted into his newly christened lovechute.
He smiled up at me when I finally pushed myself shakily off him. "I'm glad I waited so long, John. I had you to help me lose my cherry while I found myself. I don't think any guy I was with in the past could have given me as much as you have."
We lay in each other's arms and dozed through much of the rest of the afternoon.
Alan and I stood outside Gardineau's room in the Windham at Tenth Street at a minute before eight. We were decked out as fruity French boys - jeans too tight to be legal, silky blouses, and sneakers I'd never heard of but which cost almost a hundred and fifty dollars a pair (but then good old Steve had paid for the clothes).
I was surprised when the door opened. I'd been expecting an older man - past the lower levels of middle-age anyway. I also figured a guy who'd seen it all in queerdom would look world weary. Maybe dissipated, now that I've found the word in my thesaurus.
JeanCarlo Gardineau didn't look even forty. Curly dirty blond hair cascaded down on a wide forehead, and the warmest blue eyes I'd ever seen peered out from behind the curls at us. He was a slim man who didn't look a day over thirty ... Well - there were little lines radiating out from his eyes and real crowfeet puffing out under them. But he was young looking except for that.
"Entrez vous," he said, opening the door wide and smiling at both of us. Alan stepped inside, and I guessed we'd been invited in - so, I followed.
Alan introduced himself, they shook hands, and then he introduced me. Gardineau smiled at me, held out his hand, and said: "Enchant, gamin d'Atlanta."
We seated ourselves on the sofa across from him at his direction - translated by Alan. Gardineau began to explain what he wanted us to do, again translated by Alan. I very quickly felt left out of things with all the French flying around. In a year of escorting, I'd never needed a translator until now. Yet, here, I would have been hitting my head against a solid brick wall if it hadn't been for Alan. I didn't like the loss of control.
He wanted to know how we felt about making a fuck flick. Would we be comfortable? Did we both bottom? Top? Alan translated it all, and I felt like a stupid fool because I didn't understand a single word that they were saying.
More French and Alan told me that we were supposed to start making out, stripping off our clothes as we got hotter. I'd go down on Alan, but Gardineau wanted to see how we looked before we went any further. And, oh yes, we were good looking young men. He was pleased as long as we knew how to pleasure our bodies.
"Mr. Gardineau, do you speak English?" I asked in frustration after Alan finished translating the last time.
The French director looked at me as if I were a bug that had suddenly appeared in his soup. "Very little," he admitted, the accent thick enough to cut with a knife. "It is so much more civilised to speak French, you know."
"But I don't. I don't speak anything but English," I told him. "And the guys you're going to have in this porn movie you want to do with us - they don't either."
Alan rattled off something in French and Gardineau nodded, looking thoughtfully at me. "Kiss," he said to both of us in English.
Alan reached over to me and drew me to him, one hand behind my back and the other gently on the side of my face. Our lips touched and I forgot about Gardineau sitting across from us. My arms went around him and I pulled closer to him.
Our tongues duelled as Alan got my shirt off and managed to work loose the waist button of my too tight jeans. I rolled on top of him, laying him out on the sofa under me. He was quickly working the denim over my arsecheeks as our kiss continued.
I heard "mais oui", "bon", and "tres bien" occasionally from behind us, but was well beyond of thinking of Mr. Gardineau.
Alan had my jeans to my knees and I had his shirt open and spread wide. The crotch of his jeans was open and his naked erection was caught against mine between our bellies.
I pulled off him, toe-ing off my sneakers as my feet touched the floor. I pulled his sneakers off and followed them with his jeans. He sat up and slipped out of his shirt as I pulled my own jeans off. I climbed back on top of him and our lips locked again as our bodies began to grind against each other.
My fingertips traced Alan's jaw line, his shoulders, his chest - the front of his body from his head to his hips - learning him anew.
"Ah, amour! C'est bien." Fingertips touched the insides of my thighs and travelled slowly up to my arsecheeks. My skin turned goosepimply and my whole body wiggled under the fingertips. I knew they weren't Alan's, but I was so excited it didn't matter.
A foiled packet was pressed against the palm of my hand. "Put this on him," the heavily accented voice told me. "You will sit on him. I want to see your love for him as you fuck - your love for each other, yes?"
I was comfortable with Alan being right where he was. Where we both were. But - why not? This guy was paying, and he wanted a show. I pushed myself up on my knees, straddling Alan's legs, and tore open the condom. I smiled down at the man I now fully accepted as my lover as I spread the latex across the wide mushroom of his helmet and unrolled it down his thick shaft.
I inched up the sofa, my knees on either side of his body, until they reached his ribs. I reached behind myself, found his hard dick waiting for me, and raised it to fit against my entrance. I smiled down at him as I began to sit down on it. His knob pushed into me. I gritted my teeth at the pain of the pressure until it was past my sphincter and sliding up into my gut as I slowly sat down on him. I was hard as a rock as pain quickly became pleasure, and he reached out to form a fist around my dick with his fingers.
His fingers got my skin up onto my helmet as I felt his pubes begin to tickle the insides of my thighs. I ground my butt on his dick impaling me and knew I was in Jupiter orbit, ready to fly into hyperspace. "Suck me," the heavy accent told me, pulling me back to earth.
I focused with difficulty on the hard, veiny, heavily foreskinned weiner at my shoulder. I had forgotten JeanCarlo Gardineau and that Alan and I were being paid for this gig. It had felt so right-
I gripped his hip and, opening my mouth, leant into his crotch. My teeth were just beyond the flange of Gardineau's knob when I closed my lips on him, pulling his skin forward. My tongue explored the tight opening and found its way inside to taste the pre-come covering his helmet. Beneath me, Alan began to fuck me.
We quickly fell into a rhythm - I sucked, Alan fucked, and he jacked me. Gardineau moaned and slid seven inches of French prime in and out of my throat while he held my head to direct my sucking. It was good; it was as good as any sex I'd ever had. I was as hot as I'd ever been in the middle of sex. But part of me also realised it wasn't as complete as making love to Alan.
Complete or not, I was in Jupiter orbit and powering up the warp drive. Alan kept humping his thick meat in and out of my arse. Gardineau was doing the same thing in my mouth. My balls were churning, and I felt like I was going to blow any moment.
The piston in my mouth was the first to blow. Gardineau's first rope blasted the back of my throat hard. Then, he shoved everything he had past my tonsils and I wasn't having to swallow his thick flow any more.
Alan's fist was a blur between my spread legs. Gardineau's eruption had pushed me into warp drive. I blew. Jizz splattered Alan's chest and then his face. It ran up his forehead into his hair. It puddled in his bellybutton.
I was clamping down every muscle I had in my arse with each spasm that racked my body. I milked Alan's dick harder than his fist milked mine. He groaned beneath me and his dick grew another inch in girth. He began to unload his spunk in the rubber deep inside me.
Gardineau pulled his dick out of my throat and staggered back to his chair. I was falling out of warp drive and sputtering into impulse drive. I collapsed against Alan and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him.
"Oui!" Gardineau squealed. "C'est magnifique - you make love and the world can see it. You will both be in my American film." I glanced over at him, gasping and still trying to catch my breath. He was nodding and babbling stuff in French - to himself. It was as if he no longer realised there were two nude guys lying on his sofa, me with Alan's dick still buried in my arse. I smiled down at my lover and kissed his nose.
"Love you," he mumbled and, lifting his hips off the couch, pushed his dick slowly all the way into me.
"I love you too," I answered and wiggled my butt around on his pole spreading me wide.
My breathing had returned to normal and my skin was no longer so sensitive that I could hardly bare to be touched. I kissed Alan one more time and pushed myself up into a sitting position. I raised my butt off his still hard battering ram and stood up. Feeling awfully empty, I looked over at Gardineau and saw his meat was half-hard, his skin completely covering the head of his dick. "What's next?" I asked cheerily.
Gardineau looked up, seemingly only then remembering we were there. He smiled slightly and turned his gaze to Alan. "Do you bottom as well, mon ami? Can you enjoy him as he enjoyed you?"
Alan shrugged. "Would you like to see?" he asked.
I looked down at my dick and wondered if I could get it hard again. What we'd already had was pretty damned intense, I wasn't sure I was ready for another dose so quick.
"Mais oui," the French director answered, then glanced at me looking down at my woefully, unerect dick. "But we must give you time to regain your strength, first - yes?" He glanced from one to the other of us. "I have mango and carrot juices - would you like something to drink while you rest?"
I, for one, would have preferred a bourbon and branch or even a beer; but everything alcoholic seemed to have been left out of the equation. I wasn't sure what mango juice would taste like but was pretty sure I could live another day without drinking carrot juice. I decided that I would let Alan answer for us. After all, he knew these French guys and their crazy habits; I only knew they were some times nutty enough to eat snails. I sat down beside him, making sure our legs were touching from our hips out to our knees.
Alan took mango, Gardineau took carrot, and I opted for water. We sat in the living room, naked as the day we were born, and talked like our dicks weren't on public display. The Frenchman grilled me on the boys that Steve had in his stable.
Alan stayed out of that one, acquiescing to me because I'd been working for Boys R Us for more than a year and knew what we had better than anyone but Steve. Hell! At one time or another the past year, I'd had every guy who'd ever dropped his pants for the escort service between my legs doing the dirty.
I gave him the names of the cuties, even the part timers Steve had working for him. If he wanted boytoys besides Alan and me, he had the best selection in Atlanta. I gave him the names of the gym queens and the couple of boys I knew who had beer cans for dicks, describing everyone of them for him - down to whether the guy shaved his balls and crack or not.
"And which would you most like to feel, mon ami?" Gardineau asked finally.
"Feel?" I asked suspiciously.
"Inside you?" he explained. "Which ones?"
I'd been fucked by them all - but that was before Alan. It didn't sound right for me to start rattling off the names of the guys I wanted to fuck me again - even if it was just for a porn movie.
Gardineau caught my hesitation and guessed right immediately at its cause. "You and Alan - you are - how do you say - monogamous, now that you are lovers?"
I glanced at Alan. The Frenchman's half-closed eyes moved to watch him too.
The cutest guy in the world took a deep breath and answered: "No. Not if we're on a job. We both suck and fuck - whatever you want, Mr. Gardineau." Alan turned to me and took my hand. "He's not really asking you who you want fucking you, John. He's asking who'd give you a good fuck as part of the job we'll be doing."
I glanced over at the French director and he nodded. "Steve's got the best technique, and he looks real good," I told him. "He's going to get a guy off for sure."
"Tres bien. And who else, mon ami? Who gives a good fuck?"
I rattled off seven more names and he nodded. "Now," Gardineau told me, "Who has the nicest arse? The derrieres you or Alan would like to fuck, yes?"
I smiled at that one. Things were getting interesting, now that we weren't talking about dicks that would go into my arse in front of my boyfriend. I remembered immediately that Alan had spent his first night in town with Steve - and that I had got Alan's cherry afterwards.
I really wanted to see Steve get ploughed. Shit! After a year of having him fuck me every time we got together on something other than business, I wanted to fuck him. "The first guy you've got to sign after us is Steve," I told the French director. "Other than the two of us, he's got to be the best." I gave him seven more of my buds who had always somehow managed to get between my legs before I could theirs.
"We have our actors then," Gardineau said and clapped his hands in appreciation. "Now, I would see that Alan enjoys John as much as John enjoys Alan. This is possible, yes?"
Alan's hand touched my knee, his fingers spreading along the inside of my thigh. I turned and looked at him, finding him studying me and smirking at me. His hand started up my thigh slowly. I popped a woody that was awesome it was so big. His fingers reached my balls then, and I leant forward to kiss him. His lips met mine and opened just as his hand wrapped around my boner.
We kissed, our tongues duelling for supremacy as his hand jacked me slowly. I leant further into him, pushing him against the back of the couch. I was content to leave it with us just trading spit for a while. I liked the feel of him - his tongue, his mouth, and his lips.
His body began to call to me, a silent demand not to be left out. My fingers went to his neck and traced out his shoulders, revelling in the feel of the sinews and muscles and warmth that was my Alan. Down onto his chest, exploring its width and smoothness. Its tightness. Finding first one and then the other of his nipples and tweaking them. Time stopped and I was in an eternity of loving Alan - exploring him and feasting on him.
His fist left my rod. Behind my back, foil tore. Moments later, two hands met at the top of my helmet and worked their way over my helmet onto my dickshaft. I was beyond awareness, the movements meant nothing to me. They touched me, but they didn't. I was lost in sucking face with Alan and nothing else mattered.
Alan broke our kiss, turning his face from mine. He was back immediately, however, and kissed the tip of my nose chastely. "Let me lie down, John," he whispered as he gently pushed against my chest, pushing me back into my sitting position.
I stared at him longingly as he moved a leg between us to rest on my thigh. His other leg rose to rest in my lap. He smiled and held out his hands to me. "Come to papa," he called to me, mouthing the words.
I moved to my knees between his legs on the couch, my lips finding his nipples as his legs rose to ride my hips. "Give it to me, babe," he whispered against the top of my head. "Let's give him a real good show ... Put your dick in me and make love to me, John."
I looked down between us. His belly was tight, his chest taut and smooth. His legs were spread wide as they gripped my sides and his heels rode the top of my buttcheeks. His meat was hard and its wide head nearly reached his belly button. Mine rested on top of his but did not come close to covering it. More than anything, I just wanted to touch him, to feel him against me, and know he was there and that I was his.
I flexed my hips, feeling my butt slide over the back of my legs. My dick moved, its helmet resting between his balls, and I was looking at his arsecheeks spread in invitation to me. "Put it in, John," he whispered, pulling me from my silent exploration of his beauty, even as his hand came around his hip and his fingers found my pole. I watched as my helmet was pulled past his balls, as the very tip of my dick travelled down his perineum, to be lodged against the wrinkled pucker that was his backdoor.
Both of his hands moved to grip my arsecheeks and, slowly, he began to push on them, pulling me into him. I shuddered as my helmet began to spread his sphincter, my eyes jerked from watching him impale himself on me to look up into his face.
He was watching me, his gaze locked on mine, as my dick slipped further into his arse. He smiled when I realised he was studying me. "All of it," he mouthed the words. His fingers gripped my butt hard and pulled me even deeper into him. His smile never left his lips and he never looked away.
My balls pressed against his spread arsecheeks, my pubes tickled his balls, and my dick was buried in his butt as deep as I could make it. His hands left my arse and explored up my back until they reached my shoulders. He slowly began to pull my face down towards his then. "Kiss me!" he commanded and ground his bottom against me.
We began the dance of ultimate pleasure. I knew the words sounded corny the moment they formed in my head - my lips sealed against his, our tongues duelling, and my hips flexing to push me into him and pull me out. His hips rose up as I plunged in and his arsemuscles clamped down tight as I pulled out. My thumbs pressed against his nubs, rubbing them hard; his fingers rode my back, drawing ever tighter swirls to define the moments of the pleasure surging through him. His dick rode between both of our bellies, dripping pre come.
Nothing else mattered except the eternity of our becoming one. And that was what we were doing as we made love in front of the French director on his couch. I knew I would make love to Alan before I would even eat. I knew that any choice I ever made had to include him, the feel of him. Heat and need and fulfilment spread out over me from my dick plunging in and out of the man beneath me and consumed me. All that existed at that moment was Alan and the pleasure he was giving me.
His fingers on my back became talons, his body froze as his arse rose up to meet my dick, his heels dug into my arsecheeks. He began to shudder even as his mouth tried to consume my face. The wet velvet lining of his arse suddenly became grasping, trying to hold my pole inside him. He groaned and held me tight against him.
Our bellies were squishy wet as we again matched rhythm and we dived deeper into the world of our mutual pleasure. Alan relaxed, his fingers again drew swirls across my back and his heels rode my butt. I moved against him, my strokes long and slow, to be met by his butt pushing up to greet them, ready to gobble up everything I gave him. Our lips again locked and our tongues duelled.
He tightened up the muscles all along his smooth canal, beginning milk me on both the thrusts and retreats. His lips broke from mine and move up to my ear. "Time to come, John. We've given our boy a good show."
I was his. His pleasure was mine. I was his to direct. His arms went around me and I began to hump him hard.
I sat beside the window, staring out at the metal wing of the Air France jet and the miles of asphalt that was Atlanta's Hartsfield International Airport. Engines revved under me, rising into screams coming straight from hell. I was suddenly unsure about this.
I had my passport and I had made damned sure I had a round-trip ticket, even though Alan had ribbed me about buying it. Steve had thrown a party that was the granddaddy of all parties; the damned thing lasted two days, and I wondered if I wasn't still drunk.
I had never flown in a plane and, now, I was in one - taxiing towards one long-ass fight to Paris, France. It'd be tomorrow before I could even set foot on ground again, and it wouldn't be any I had ever known before.
I wondered what I would look like on film. Me getting fucked by nine guys in more positions than I'd ever tried. Me fucking Steve and Alan. They were the only two the French director let me have. Even so, Steve's butt was almost as sweet as Alan's. It had been worth it. Even now, I suspected that I'd have probably made the film for free just for that one experience.
JeanCarlo Gardineau had signed me up as one of his boys. Us up, I reminded myself; of course, Alan was included - he was a part of me. I had a contract to make six fuck flicks within the next year for him; and Gardineau had promised to put me together with some guy in Germany he said was as big in the porn business as he was.
I knew I ought to be happy. I was set for the next few years - fucking on film and making guest appearances meant a living. With a little help from Alan, I ought to be able to sock away enough to keep me going once my skin started to sag and nobody wanted to fuck me on camera any more. I was going to be living in Europe and seeing all those big castles and funny boats poled down the streets of some Italian city.
I was scared. This wasn't a little roadtrip to the seashore. This was Europe and that sure as shit was a long way from everything I'd ever known or seen.
"You all right?" Alan asked from beside me when we got to the end of the runway.
I looked over at him sheepishly and tried to smile.
"I love you, John," he said but his words were drowned out by the engines revving up again. They had screamed before, but now they were a hurricane. The plane began to move and I jerked my head to where I could look out the window again.
The skyscrapers of Atlanta rushed by faster and faster, becoming a blur just as the plane lurched. My eyes rounded and I felt them dry out as I stared at the blur and imagined pieces of us scattered all over south Atlanta. Alan's hand found mine and gripped it as I watched us begin to climb.
"I don't know about this," I mumbled.
"I love you, John. Remember that, no matter what," Alan told me and I could hear him. I realised I couldn't hear the engines anymore. "Everything is going to work out fine."
I wanted to believe him. I really did. I closed my eyes and turned back to face him. "Tell me about Paris, Alan," I told him then. "Every fucking detail. Don't you dare leave anything out."
"You aren't afraid, are you?" he asked, studying me.
"Not if I have you right here beside me," I answered truthfully.
He smiled. "Maybe we ought to start your first French lesson, so you can ask for coffee and a warm croissant with butter on it."