Gay Boy Does a Porno

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Ass

INTRODUCTION

Dear Reader–If you haven’t read the previous Gay Boy Story here are a few paragraphs to introduce our hero. This story dates from an episode that took place about eight months ago. It was just before the Harvey Weinstein scandals broke.

————

YOU CAN CALL ME DONNIE, most of the guys do. My real name shouldn’t interest you. Don’t I have a right to some privacy? The reason I use an alias is because of my sexual activities. I admit it, sometimes it’s play for pay and sometimes it is free. It depends on my mood and if the rent is due. If I’m a bit behind I’m up for sale. Ha, Ha, that is my behind is up for sale. But if today is Monday, for fee or free, you can be sure I’ll be fucked before Tuesday arrives.

I’m 22, but I look younger. I’m about 5’10”, well I say I am, I’m really 5’9 1/2″, calling it 10 inches just sounds nice. This sex business is all about appearances. I have natural sky blue eyes, they almost look fake, but they are not. Some clients call up the escort agency and ask for me as “Donny Blue Eyes.” That’s ok with me, what’s in a name anyway? Sometimes when I’m sucking dick they raise up my head and look into my eyes and I’ll feel their love and deep pleasure as they fill my mouth with their sweet spunk.

Sometimes guys gaze into my eyes and tell me they can see into another world, more BS. When it gets to sex, guys will lie about anything. Tell that to your younger sisters. I guess deep down you’ve got to love cock to make sex a business and a passion. I do love cock. Every size, every shape, every thrilling ejaculation that I cause is a victory.

What do I look like? I’m a slender white boy, even a little fragile looking, with a natural bubble butt that I’ve enhanced with a few years of gym membership. I prefer to look more like a dancer than a muscle man. I’m not into muscle building. Some escorts fuck or get fucked for money but most of the time, for me, it’s the excitement, the adrenalin rush of real sex that drives me to do the things I do.

That is the real payoff. Money is just a necessary extra. In America, I’ve learned, there is no such thing as a free lunch. After all is said and done, come the first of the month ya gotta pay the rent.

I have blond straight hair, to be truthful it’s medium blond, but I drop it few grades so I can pass as a surfer dude. Believe me, that look gets the middle age guy’s rocks off. Freud might suggest they are attracted to me because they fantasize about fucking their own sons. I don’t know about that but I’ve run into some weird shit. I do have full cupid lips, really too fem for a boy, but if you look closely you’ll realize they are the perfect lips for a cock sucker.

I come from Utah, born into a Mormon family, probably of Scott-Irish heritage if you trace back far enough. In the outback of Utah there still exists the old religion’s penchant for having multiple wives. Believe me, it still goes on, polygamy. Since there are 8, 9 or 10 wives to each older man, the young guys are cast off, or should I say kicked out. They are too much competition for the older guys who are not willing to share their pussy posse with younger more handsome dudes.

o/o

JUST LIKE ALL OF YOU I’ve watched porno. Some is exciting, some funny and some is just stupid. I was over at the Trannifanny Club in West Hollywood some months back. I’m sorry to say I’ve heard the barn like dance club is going to be demolished and another mega apartment building is going to take its place. Trannifanny a huge dance club/bar that serves transsexuals but also a large gay clientele. It was near closing time, what they call the “last call,” when this strange announcement came blaring across the loud speaker,

“Attention all people here tonight, you are invited to stay after closing for an audition with Skinflint Productions to appear in their newest porno epic. You must be over 21 years of age, have a recent medical clearance and be willing to perform pornographically. Each person chosen will receive payment for their performance.”

When the club closed, the group of young gay guys who had come with me, pushed me forward, encouraging me to participate. I gave up resisting and walked to the center of the dance club where a small crowd was assembling. In a short time all the clients had left and the dance bar closed for the night. I found myself in a circle with about twenty other volunteers.

A guy with a ponytail and a clip board began to interview us one by one. While waiting for him to arrive I saw a young woman, she said her name was Glenda. She was a blond, probably about 28 or 30, wearing a baseball cap with the Skinflint logo, appropriately two large testicles. I saw her looking at me, and then coming towards me.

She had on a very tight outfit, her nipples almost breaking through her silky see-through blouse. She asked permission and then took a Polaroid face shot of me. Then she asked me to drop my shorts. I obliged. She looked at my cock and sort of grimaced,

“Not big enough,” she said.”Ok, turn around gaziantep swinger and bend over.”

I did as she said and could hear the camera whirl out two or three ass shots.

After I’d exposed myself I had to sign a waiver of some sort. I didn’t pay much attention to the legal mumbo-jumbo.

“Well, you have a very nice ass,” she commented before moving on to the next guy.

She seemed to be enthusiastic about my bubble butt, but not impressed with my genitalia which may not be of a monstrous size but everyone says my shaved dick and balls are damn near perfect. After her criticism I figured I was a porno has-been.

About ten minutes later she returned to me.

“Show me your butt again.”

I dropped my drawers and she walked behind me.

“Do you mind?” she said. Before I could answer she stuck her lubed third finger deep within my asshole. I hadn’t expected that. When her long finger reached my prostate, my dick jumped up like it was performing a Saint Vitus Dance.

“You’ll do,” she said, “if you can take a big dick as easily as my finger. Expect to get fucked a few times at least.”

“No problem.”

Oh God, I was in, I was going to be in a real porno. What did that mean? Where was my career headed? Or my rear for that matter?

I should also mention that this Glenda was a bit more than she seemed. I’d noticed a large swell in her slacks. If that’s a large clit, my nuts are peanuts. Of that I was sure. There wasn’t any standard vagina down there. It looked more like she was packing and I don’t mean a six shooter.

Then it dawned on me, stupid me, she must be a tranny. Some of these Hollywood trannies are so perfect they can easily pass as real women. That’s why when a man makes a pass at them they usually say,

“Do you know I’m a transsexual.”

How many trannies have been beaten when the get fucked by a stranger who only at the last moment realizes she has a cock and that he, the guy, is now gay? Of course fucking a tranny doesn’t make you gay, but some crazies think it does.

A few minutes later, the chubby guy who turned out to be the director finally arrived in front of me. I think I was the last one he dealt with. He kept smiling and I was sure he was a gay. I’ve gotten pretty good at picking up on stuff like that. He took my name, my stats, address, phone number, age, height, cock size and sexual preferences.

“Oh, you are the bubble butt, cock size doesn’t matter.”

Then he asked me, “What is your stage name?”

“Well, some guys call me ‘Donny Blue Eyes.”

“Let’s shorten it, Donny Blue, yeah that’s the ticket.”

Then for some reason he clicked his tongue.

Then he asked to see my ID to check my age. I guess because I look a few years younger.

“Ah, let me take a quick look at your ass.”

I guess the chick had put in a lubed word about me.I dropped my shorts. He was holding one of her ass photos and comparing it to the real thing. He patted my firm ass and smiled,

“You’ll do for the fuck fest scene,” he said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Oh the usual, you’ll get fucked by a monster cock in the last scene where the guys have a party and they pass a beer bottle around and take turns sticking it in their asses.You know, the usual gay stuff.”

I didn’t know bottle fucking was a usual gay thing but I said nothing. I guess he could tell from the look on my face that something wasn’t right.

“That’s it?” I asked.

“Oh no, I’m just kidding you. Look Donny, it’s the usual fuck and suck stuff. Don’t worry, just about everyone fucks or gets fucked, you’ll have a good time.”

The shoot was scheduled for the next morning. Those of us who’d been chosen were told to go home and get some sleep. It was way past 2 am by then. We were all to met the next day at 11:30 am back in front of the club where a commuter bus would drive us out to a studio in Culver City.

o/o

It was one of those magical foggy Hollywood mornings, the low hanging clouds obscured most of the landmarks, but every now and the they would lift enough to see a snatch of a distant building. I’d taken a bus down to the club which was just past a huge lumber yard on Santa Monica Blvd. A group of day laborers had already gathered there waiting to get day work.

I smiled, remembering a young Guatemalan I’d met a few months before at a taco stand near there, who worked as a day laborer. He’d said sometimes he was picked up to do fixit work for gay guys who had houses nearby. He said they’d tip him extra if he let them blow him at the end of the day.

“Did you let them? Blow you?” I asked?”

“Ah si, porque no?”

o/o

I got there about a half hour early, which gave me a chance to converse with the other guys who were chosen. I figured they were all novice porn actors like myself. Turns out there were only 8 of us, myself included.

Let me describe them for you.

TOM was one of those gay guys that we’d call a “Bear.” Believe me, he wasn’t very pretty. Tall, overweight wearing old fashion mechanics jeans that came up to his hairy neck. He looked like the auto mechanic along an abandoned road just outside the forest. If you’ve seen that horror movie you’ll know what I’m talking about.

Tom was about 38 years old and had a long crinkly beard. He said he grew up in Pennsylvania in a little hick town near Hershey.

“That’s where they make the famous chocolates,” he added.

I assumed right off that he must have been chosen as the guy with the big dick, but I didn’t ask. There was nothing fem about him, you would never have guessed he was gay unless you caught on he was a “Bear”. The twinkle in his eye reminded me of a Santa in the department store back when I was a little kid who positioned me on his hard lap in a strange manner, if you get my meaning. Tom was very warm and friendly which is typical of “bears.”

BILLY was truly gorgeous, he must have been in his early twenties. He looked like the guy from the “Doors,” you know, the singer. Oh what was his name? He died of an overdose in France. Oh yes, Jim, Jim Morrison. His father was a navy guy if I recall. Jim wasn’t just beautiful but also a skilled poet. Almost all the Doors songs came from a notebook of his poems.

Jim came to Hollywood to be an actor but confided in another acting student, “It ain’t acting anymore, music is where it’s at.” I remember that quote from some slick magazine, not exactly, but that was the gist of it. Anyway, this guy Billie was so good looking I would have gotten down on my knees right then and sucked his dick. I’m not embarrassed to say that.

I asked him if he knew anything about the production. All he could say was he thought they were funded under the table by the Weinstein group. That didn’t mean anything to me.

“Oh, I said, who are they?”

“Only one of the biggest producers out here dummy. Didn’t you ever hear of Miramax?”

“The hotel?”

“Asshole, that was their film company, that was before they sold it.”

“I thought you said, ‘Mirror.’ That it was a mirror company.”

“Look dummy, let me rest, I’ll talk to you later.”

“I hope I get to blow you,” I said before I realized, the words had left my mouth.

He smirked. Then he pointed at his crotch,

“This my friend is the golden phallus, whoever mouths it will know happiness and peace. Now fuck off.”

RUFUS was the only black dude in the group.He said he was a vet.

“A veterinarian?”

“Naa, a vet from the Desert Storm in Iraq.”

“Oh, gotcha.”

He was about 5’6″ with an athletic build, close shaved hair cut, a thin mustache close to his lip like the old time jazz musicians. In fact, he said he was a guitarist and he gave me a business card that said he did parties. He said he also did gigs around town with different bands and just to call him any time, he’d get me free tickets. If it was a club I could just walk in.

Ruffus said he was from Mississippi and believe me, he was as black as tar. I liked him from the moment he let go with his thick southern accent and when he smiled his teeth were perfect and white as enameled porcelain.

He was carrying a small wooden box with shiny brass closures. I don’t like to ask questions so I didn’t say anything about the box. It reminded of a movie James had, “Belle Du Jour” where there was this big Japanese guy who carried into the bordello a box that contained Spanish Fly. The French lady ate the fly and got so horny she almost got fucked to death. I wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing or not but I don’t need any Spanish Fly to open up my ass.

VINNY stood away from the group. You could tell he was a bad ass, you could see that right away. He had on a beat up leather jacket and a leather cap with a shiny brim over his dark greasy hair. He wore western boots. He even had an old style long western style mustache, do they call them ‘handlebar mustache?’ Maybe he did westerns? Or was he a member of the Village People? His jeans were so cut up that I expected his cock to burst out at any moment through one of the holes. He had to be nude under there as there was no sign of underwear. I think bad ass guys who look dangerous are sexy but at the same time they scare me. I’m a faggot, not a hero.

I tried to make small talk but before I could say a word he asked me,

“Do you like to party.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean do drugs, cocaine, heroin, oxycontin?”

“No, I’m sorry I’m not into that stuff yet.”

“Yet? Are you stupid or something?”

“Maybe, I was raised a Mormon and that stuff wasn’t even around where I grew up.”

“Listen,” said Vinny, “just go back and talk to the other guys, I gotta rest up for this bull shit porno.”

“You don’t think it will be fun, maybe we could get famous.”

“You are a fuck’en idiot, vamoose!”

I moved back to the group.

DELMAR, as you might imagine was from north of San Diego.

“Is that your real name?”

I figured he was named for that town.

“Yeah, my mom was a hippy and whenever she got pregnant she named that kid after the town she got fucked in.”

“Wow,” I said, “is that true?”

“Of course not, I was named after my grandfather.”

Delmar looked to me like a guy who was in another world. He was smoking a joint that smelled like a country skunk. He stood there with a skateboard balance against his leg. The skateboard was painted red with a white stripe on the edge. I think it had a script that said, “ride the waves” but the letters were so worn it looked like “ida aves.”

He wore those worn out canvas Keds sneakers with the smooth pebbly bottoms that the skateboarders wear and real cut back short jean pants. They were so short that one of his balls was hanging out whenever he bent over.

His hair was long, down around his ears and sort of a yellowy blond. I had no doubt he was gay. He kept wiping his nose with the back of his hand. The running nose meant he was either sick or into cocaine. I think it was the latter. In fact when the show began it was Delmar who asked if they had brought drugs for the actors. I really didn’t care for him, he seemed like a loner. In my experience drug users will slit your throat for an extra dose. I was determined to keep my distance.

WANG FONG was Chinese, he was bald and probably 35 years old. He said he worked as a clerk in the Ralph’s Supermarket over on 3rd Street and La Brea. He had an infectious laugh and kept cracking jokes. He said he did stints as a comic at the Improve and other Comedy Clubs. He was about my height, 5’10”, taller than most Asian guys I’ve been with. I asked him why he thought he was chosen and he pointed at his crotch. I’d didn’t ask a 2nd question but when he moved his hand to unzip but I stopped him.

“Don’t you wanna see Mr. Big? Carrie Bradshaw just loved him.”

I didn’t catch the reference and figured that was his girlfriend,

“I don’t want you to spoil the surprise,” I said.

“Why’d they pick you? Was it your keen sense of humor and knowledge of current events,” he asked.

I pointed at my bubble butt. He smiled,

“I’m gonna leave some Oyster Sauce up there.”

Everyone laughed.

“This Chinese noodle never gets soft,” he added.

“Sound good to me.”

HAGAR was an Armenian, a Russian Armenian and like most of his co-nationalists was covered with hair. His chest hair and neck hair were thick and full. He was obviously a muscle builder. He almost crushed my hand in a handshake but I sensed no homosexuality about him.

“Are you gay?”

He put his finger over his mouth and leaned down to me, “I need the money.”

I liked him immediately. He was a chess player and was in the middle of figuring out a chess puzzle from the LA Times Sunday section. Although he spoke English with a strong Russian/Armenian accent, he spoke very well. He said he was trained to be an engineer in Moscow but was not able to practice in the US until he was certified, a lengthy process. In the meantime he was always in need of money. When a friend called and said they were paying $500 for a day’s shoot he rushed right over. He needed money to bring his wife and child over

“Where are you living,” I asked.

“I stay with cousin in Glendale. You know Glendale. It capital of Armenia.”

“Really?”

“Ah yes, when you get a birth certificate in Armenia it have a map of Glendale printed on it.”

“Are you kidding me.”

“Yes, I make joke.”

Since he was working off and on as a day laborer this day’s pay of $500 was very significant to him. He said he was supposed to play a straight policeman who interrupts the gay party. He knew more about the script then I did. He also said he was supposed to get seduced by a woman at the party.

I said, “Ok, but so far I hadn’t seen any women.”

“Not real woman, maybe that good looker tranny at sign in?”

I guess Hagar had the same suspicions I had.

o/o

The mini bus arrived at 11:30. We all climbed in. The driver, a large black lady with two tits like watermelons inside her white shirt, made Delmar throw away his joint.

“No smoking on the bus,” she said.

I sat next to Hagar and we talked about immigrant experiences. I told him all Americans, with the exception of the Indians, were from immigrant families, otherwise how did we get here?

‘I think the Indians old immigrants, come from China.”

I didn’t know that. I gave him a brief synopsis of Mormons in America and he remarked,

“In Russian they sent all of you to the Gulag.”

I nodded, “Believe me Hagar, they killed a bunch of us before we got to Utah.”

“You believe in all this religious stuff,” he said. Obviously he was a non believer.

“I haven’t figured it all out yet, maybe I never will. There must be some rhyme and reason to all of this but I just don’t know.”

“I tell you my little friend,” he said, If you think guy with a long beard watching you get fucked, he is a voyeur or you is fucking in private. If you think he watching, I have a big big bridge in Moscow I will sell you…cheap.”

We both laughed.

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