Everybody’s got a first time story. Being a 33 year old divorced guy, I thought all my firsts were long gone. You know, my first blowjob, my first fuck, my first older woman, my first three-way; I’d had some good times but I figured the rest of my sex life would be pretty run of the mill. On the downhill slide you could say.
That is until I decided to become a porn star. Well, not exactly a porn star. I just needed to make a little money and I thought fucking on camera would be a stellar way to make some cash. I’m decent looking, I work out regularly, I’m not exactly porn-big, but I’ve got a solid seven inches that can keep the ladies satisfied, and I do have a pretty damn perverted mind. Based on that resume, I figured I was a shoe-in to land a few amateur films or be an extra in a gangbang scene. All I needed was somebody to give me a chance.
I’d been unemployed for eight months and I was running low on funds and even lower on opportunities. I’d sold my motorcycle, had my cable turned off and was eating mac and cheese nightly. Luckily, I had an old girlfriend that had done some nude modeling, purely softcore stuff, but I knew her agent had fielded several offers from some studio executives looking to see if she had any interest in making some hardcore porn.
Her agent was a pretty sleazy dude, and even worse, I owed him $500 bucks on a bet he had booked for me several months ago. With some serious trepidation, I dialed his cell number.
“Hey, Bruno, it’s Jack, Jack Offman, how you doing?”
“You son of a bitch. You damn well better be calling to tell me my $500 is in the mail,” he snarled.
“Umm, well no, not exactly. I’m still out of work and still broke. I’m getting desperate man.”
“Why the fuck are you calling me with your sob stories?” Bruno barked.
“You remember when I was dating Shelly?” I started.
“Oh, yea. That little hottie was way out of your league. Never understood what she saw in you. I could have made her a big star if she’d been willing to get nasty on screen.”
“Yea, Bruno, that’s what I’m calling about, I remembered you had some connections in the porn industry, and well, I was wondering if you could hook me up?”
“Hook you up? What the fuck are you talking about? You want me to score you a little porn pussy? I ain’t no fucking pimp,” he hollered.
“No, no, man. I just want to make a couple of films. I want to be an actor, you know, fuck chicks on film for money. I swear man, the first $500 is yours,” I begged.
Chuckling, Bruno responded, “What the fuck makes you think you can be a porn star?”
“I’m not looking to be a star. I’m a pretty clean cut, all-American guy. I just wanna make a few videos, pocket some coin, and get my life turned around. All I’m asking is you hook me up with one of your contacts and let me take it from there.”
I could tell Bruno was pondering my offer, and I also knew he wanted his $500 bad.
“Alright jackass, I’ll make a few calls. I’ve got a studio in mind that would be just perfect for you,” Bruno replied, a slight hint of mischief in his voice. “It’s not a big studio, probably not one you would have heard of, but no fucking way you’re gonna start out on top. Matter of fact, I think your gonna start on the very fucking bottom,” he guffawed.
“That’s perfect, Bruno. Thanks, man, I owe you one.”
“No turd face, you owe me $500 big ones. If they agree to see you, I’ll call you right back.”
Bruno came through and got me an appointment to meet a guy from FudgePacker Films. I’d never heard of the studio, but I was definitely looking forward to pounding some tight bunghole. I had screwed a couple of ex-girlfriends in the butt. I never understood how those cuties could handle my cock getting shoved up their tight backdoors, but I sure as hell had enjoyed it. They couldn’t walk right for a week afterwards and I never got a chance for a second round with any of them. But these FudgePacker girls would be pros.
The studio turned out to be a room over a garage in a kinda shady part of town. Not what I’d expected, but I guess these guys have to keep the overhead down. I figured the less they spent on rent, the more they could afford to pay the actors.
Eric was a no nonsense guy. “I’m the director and head photographer,” he introduced himself. “I like your look. Fill out these forms, we’ll take some pics to see how photogenic you are and then I’ll send you over to the clinic for a health screening. If everything works out, I’ve got a project shooting next week that I can use you in.”
Damn, this guy didn’t mess around. I had a thousand questions floating around in my head, but the only one I was able to spit out was, “How much does it pay?”
“You’ll make the standard rate to start; $1,000 a scene. You in?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I replied, already doing the math in my head. I could fuck two chicks a day, five days a week and be literally swimming in cash.
“Good. Strip down while I set up some lights and I’ll snap some shots.”
He took several photos, complementing me on my abs and my firm ass. “I especially like your toned, smooth chest,” he commented.
My idea of a male porn star was Ron Jeremy, the short, fat, hairy “Hedgehog” of porn fame. But if this guy thought my gym toned body was OK, who was I to question him. He never mentioned my dick, but I just assumed that meant he thought I was adequate in that department too.
Later in the week I received a voicemail from Eric, giving me an address, a date, and a time. He signed off the message with, “Be on time and be ready to fuck.”
I hit the gym extra hard that night and blew a huge load on the shower room floor dreaming about the hot little piece of ass I was actually going to get paid to fuck. Things were definitely looking up for me.
I showed up at the appointed time and met Eric at the front door of a little bungalow up in the hills.
“Hi, Jack, glad you made it. You’ll be working with Toni Granite today. Do you know Toni?” Eric asked.
“Nope, never met her,” I responded.
“Very funny,” Eric chuckled. “Well I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Toni is a real pro and will take charge of the sex scene. You just follow Toni’s lead and have some fun.”
Eric showed me to the bathroom where a cute little babe was ready to do my prep. “This is Jessie,” Eric introduced. “She will get you ready and fill you in on the scene.”
“Do I have any lines I need to memorize?” I asked, a proto-typical neophyte.
“We’ll mark up some cards, but generally just go with the flow and feel free to adlib. Toni will cue the action by ordering you to your knees. From there, you give a little oral then up onto the kitchen table on your back and Toni will fuck you. Got it?”
“Got it,” I responded. Sweet, I thought, I eat a little pussy and then turn it over to Toni to mount me and fuck my brains out. Based on the stirring in my jeans, I didn’t have to worry about getting a boner, I was already half way there.
“Out of those clothes, cowboy,” Jessie ordered, as she patted the seat in front of the mirror, “and jump up here so I can fix you up.”
I was slightly embarrassed to strip down in from of Jessie. She was cute in a very goth sort of way; probably 5’5″ tall, with deathly white skin, coal-black hair, sexy, full red lips and a tight little body stuffed into a black leotard and a pair of ripped levis. Her nose was pierced with a big silver ring and a barbed wire tattoo circled her bicep. I only hoped the talent I would be fucking was half as hot as Jessie.
I stripped down and Jessie gave me a whistle, “Damn, stud you are looking good. I can see you are already getting excited about your scene,” she giggled, staring at my rapidly growing erection.
I grabbed a robe off the wall, trying without success to hide my misbehaving boner.
“That robe is perfect,” Jessie replied, “just what this scene calls for. Throw on this gold wedding band and you are in costume.”
“Tell me more,” I implored as I sat down in the makeup chair, slipping the ring on.
“You are at home. You’re wife is at work. The kitchen sink gets clogged and you have to call a plumber. While waiting for the plumber, you are surfing porn on the computer and you pop a boner. I can see you are a method actor,” she giggled, as she pinched my hard dick through the thin material of the robe.
“Sorry,” I managed, truly embarrassed at my too eager cock.
“Nothing to be sorry about, cutie,” she continued. “Anyway, the doorbell will ring and it will be Toni the plumber, come to fix your clogged pipe. As it is doing now, the robe will poorly conceal your sexual excitement, Toni will notice and from there, the sex will get steamy, wet, and furious. A bunch of corny dialogue, some hot oral sex, a good ass pounding, and finally, jizz everywhere; I think that will about do it.”
Wow, Jessie was so nonchalant about the whole thing. Before I could ask any more questions, Eric screamed from the kitchen, “On the set, Jack, let’s make a movie.”
“Good luck,” Jessie hollered as I headed to the set. “And take this, you’ll need it,” she laughed as she tossed me a big bottle of lube.
“Let’s get a shot of Jack at the computer terminal, jerking off as he surfs some porn to open the scene,” Eric directed.
I sat at a blank computer and played around with the mouse in one hand as I slowly stroked my still hard cock in the other.
“Great, great,” Eric shouted. “Now, when Toni rings the doorbell, you quickly stand up, wrap your robe around you and answer the door. We are going to play this as a straight scene, you being married and all. So I want you to stay in character, Jack, the big, strapping heterosexual. OK?”
“Uh, yea,” I answered not really sure what all that movie-making lingo meant. Eric didn’t have to tell me I was a heterosexual; hell I was going to fuck a hot porn star, for money. Maybe it was just his strange way of giving a pep talk.
“Action. Doorbell,” Eric instructed.
I opened the door, excited to see the talent I would soon be butt-fucking mercilessly.
“You called for a plumber?” a deep, very male, very manly voice asked as a very not-female guy stood framed in the door, his plumber’s uniform stretched across his massive frame, his tool belt slung from his waist.
I froze. What the fuck was going on? Where was Toni, the cute little porn starlet I was expecting to screw? Who was this Neanderthal and why was he in my scene?
“What are you waiting for, Jack? Read the fucking cue card,” Eric demanded from behind camera.
I was in shock, but I turned to the card and read in a horrible deadpan, “I’m having some problems with a backed up pipe.”
“I can see that,” the plumber responded, his eyes darting down to the tent protruding from between my legs. “I’m sure I can help you with your pipe but first can you show me the kitchen sink.”
“Show Toni into the kitchen,” Eric directed from off camera as my brain struggled to grasp the situation.
It hit me, Toni wasn’t a Toni but a Tony. The name was embroidered onto the front of his plumber’s uniform, “Anthony”. That fucking Bruno, he set me up. I wasn’t going to be screwing any hot little tuna. This was a gay film and Tony Granite was the only goddamned porn star I was going be getting any action off today.
“Move it, Jack,” Eric shouted, “I like the apprehension in your face, but you’ve got to pick up the pace. We ain’t got all day.”
What was I gonna do? I needed the cash bad and now that Bruno knew my cell number, I could expect to be getting some serious pressure to pay back that debt. I quickly rationalized; sex is sex right? This is a low rent, low budget gay fuck-flick. Nobody was going to see it. Certainly nobody I knew would see it. I’d have to fake my way through this and make the best of it.
I showed Tony into the kitchen. As we passed the computer screen, he turned to me with a big smile on his face, “That’s some hot fucking shit dude. I can see why your pipe is acting up,” he snorted as he squeezed the bulge growing in his chinos. “Your wife approve of your web surfing?”
“What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her. The sink is over here,” I read from a prepared cue card. “Do you think you can fix it?” The dialogue was scintillating, exactly what I would expect from a b grade porn flick.
This Tony dude was a piece of work. I’m not small, 6′, 180, but he had me by a couple of inches and at least 30 pounds. He was a big Italian stallion, dark and hairy with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow, long curly hair and a pair of serious, slightly psychopathic eyes. He was the kind of guy girls went nuts over; big, misunderstood, and a tornado in the sack.
He knelt down, opened the cabinet and stuck his head under the sink. He grabbed a wrench off his tool belt and clanged around on the pipes for a few seconds. Emerging from the cabinet, he looked up at me and with a straight face answered, “All this pipe needs is a little Drano. But I think your pipe,” nodding toward my crotch, “will require a complete roto-rootering. I forgot to bring my plumber’s helper so I need you to be my helper today, Mr. Smith,” Tony snarled as he reached out and thumped my cock through the thin material of my robe.
“I’m not gay,” I read, feeling a line had never been delivered in a more heartfelt manner in the history of acting. “I’m married.”
“Good for you,” Tony replied as he stood up and poured some liquid down the stopped up drain. “That problem’s fixed, now back to your other problem. I’m not gay either, but I’m horned up and I need some action. The way I see it a mouth is a mouth and an asshole is an asshole.”
Picking up a picture of a petite little blonde off the counter top, he continued, “I wish your hot little wife was here to pay the plumber, but I guess I’ll have to make due with her faggot husband.”
Oh great, not only was I in a gay film, I was gonna be the bottom. Eric had said that Tony was gonna fuck me I just didn’t know that Tony would be sporting a big boner and that my ass would be his target.
“Cat got your tongue, Mr. Smith?” Tony growled as he massaged his package through his pants. “I can see by the big top you’re sporting in that robe that you like the idea of being my little bitch.”
I looked down and was shocked to see he was right. My dick was still rock hard and the robe barely concealed my boner, a wet spot witness to the precum that was leaking from my disobedient tool.
“Why don’t you get over here and get on your knees, faggot,” Tony ordered. “My tool needs some preparation before it’s ready to plumb your virgin hole.”
Unsure of what I was getting into and shocked to see how my dick was responding to this unbelievable turn of events, I did as he ordered, dropping to my knees, my face a mere few inches from his crotch. A $1,000 was a $1,000 and I was out of options financially. I had sent out hundreds of resumes and the best my software engineering background was gonna get me in this pathetic job market was a job running a cash register at a fast food joint.
Tony unzipped his pants and fished out his cock, a massive slab of uncut sausage, thick and dark, his curly black pubes neatly trimmed. With a grunt, he yanked out his large nuts, cleanly shaven, his balls dangling several inches in his sweaty, wrinkled sack. Without warning, he slapped my face several times with his flaccid cock before smothering my nose in the musky scent of his nutsack.
“Suck my cock bitch,” Tony commanded. “Suck it like the little cockloving whore that you are.”
I hesitated, hoping that something would happen…a fire, an earthquake, maybe the end of the world…to make this stop. When Eric piped up, “What are you waiting for, Jack?” I knew it was now or never.
I closed my eyes, held my breath, and stuck out my tongue, licking the head of my plumber’s wicked tool.
“That’s a good little queer,” Tony moaned as I felt the head of his cock twitch under the pressure of my wet tongue. “Open wide and take that big cock into your mouth.”
I hesitated again and this time Tony took control, slapping my face hard with his cock. When I opened my mouth to protest, he grabbed my head in his strong hands and forced his prick into my open pie hole.
“Work that tongue around my cock you little whore,” Tony groaned, his soft cock stuffed into my unwilling mouth. “Suck that cock like your fucking wife would if she were here.”
I felt his cock start to stiffen in my mouth as I worked my tongue under his shaft, feeling the big vein pulse with excitement.
“Oh, yea, suck it like you mean it,” Tony encouraged.
I licked up and down, using my hand to jerk his spit covered dick.
“No hands, faggot,” Tony ordered. “Just use your mouth.”
I took him back into my mouth, but as he grew more erect, I freaked out; no way this guy’s big cock was going to fit down my tight throat. He grabbed my head and thrust deeply. As I started to gag, I reached up and grasp his dick in my hands, trying to prevent him from forcing more down my throat.
He slapped me hard with his hand, “I said no hands, faggot. Why don’t you stand up and strip naked.”
I stood up and removed the robe, my hard dick springing up, straight out from my body.
“Jerk that dick, Mr. Smith. You can use your hands on your own dick, but not on mine. Got it homo?” Tony ordered.
I reached down and wrapped my wedding ring bearing hand around my cock, feeling a pulse of electricity shoot through my horned up body. I jacked it slowly, using the precum to lube my rod.
“You’ve got a nice bod, Mr. Smith,” Tony said. “Why don’t you turn around and bend over. Show me that pink virgin hole I’m gonna be deflowering.”
I bent over, spreading my ass cheeks to give Tony a wide-open view of my backdoor.
“Oh yea buddy,” Tony moaned, “I’m gonna rip that tight little hole to shreds. You’re actually lucky your wife ain’t home today, cause I’d have ruined her forever for your little pecker.”
As I turned back around I was taken aback by the gigantic appendage now protruding from Tony’s pelvis. His cock was still not completely hard, but it was menacing; this guy was a real porn star.
“Get back over here and get down on your knees, cuntface,” Tony commanded. “Make my dick as hard as yours is.”
I did my best to take his cock back into my mouth, feeling the warm, pulsing bone grow even harder as it inched down my throat. Tony thrust forward, the head of his cock driving back against my exposed throat. I reached up, grabbing his hips to stop him from completely impaling my face on his menacing weapon.
“I said no hands bitch,” Tony barked, as he reached to his tool belt and whipped off a roll of duct tape. “Put your hands together behind your neck,” he ordered.
As I hesitated, Eric piped in, “Follow Tony’s lead, we are getting some hot footage.”
As I put my hands behind my head, Tony tore off a long piece of tape and wrapped it around my wrists and then wrapped it around my neck, effectively locking my hands in place behind my head. I was naked, on my knees in front of this gay stud, effectively immobilized, and completely at his mercy.
“That’s better, bitch,” Tony laughed. “Now beg me to fuck your face, you little cunt.”
“Please fuck my face,” I deadpanned as the director motioned for me to follow Tony’s lead.
“Yea, bitch, you want me to stuff this big cock down your eager little throat, don’t you faggot?” Tony asked.
“Yes sir,” I replied, as Tony stepped back, stripped off his uniform, and put back on his rugged work boots, a gold chain around his neck, a pierced nipple, a pair of white gym sock and his boots his only articles of clothing. He was buff, his abs a rock hard six pack and his thighs the size of a Tour de France bicyclist. His body was covered in a pelt of black fur and his cock stood fully erect, a fucking sky scraper rising from the flat plain of his ripped stomach.
“Open wide,” Tony ordered as he worked his prick back into my gaping mouth. With my hands locked behind my head, my elbows stuck out like two big handles; Tony grabbed these handles and pulled them forward as he stuffed inch after inch down my throat.