WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT BY: MOORE
PART 6
Chapter 21
Time flies when you're having fun and fun was what I was having in the summer of 1964. Washington Baths one day a week for a late night of sucking and fucking with Sandy and the other fags on the staff. Max was paying me directly now, an increase to fifty bucks a week for being his fehgalah and taking good care of his elderly friends too.
The money was troubling to me at first. Boy whores around Times Square sold themselves, sucked dick and got fucked for money, but I rationalized. I didn't ask to be paid and would have gladly serviced Max and the other old queers for free. Therefore, I wasn't a whore. A fag? Yes. A cum eating cocksucker? Absolutely. A pussy boy? One look at my not so pink pucker and you wouldn't have to ask. But I wasn't a whore, a boy prostitute like the boys who sold their services around Times Square.
Mitch, whenever he wanted to use my mouth, was a dream to suck off with his great big hairy cock and his huge loads of sperm. Stuart was Stuart, a pain in the butt. Not that I'd ever let him fuck me, or Mitch either. Well, maybe Mitch if I could get ever him alone. Stuart was still on his macho-man power trip, calling me a faggot cocksucker, making me suck him off only from my knees and only if I was completely naked. Kissing his ugly dick and smelly balls, even taking his piss was fine. Making me beg, not only to suck his cock, but beg him to cum in my mouth rather than waste his load on my face was a waste of time better spent on the blow job itself.
Circumstances might change when high school started in September, but for now it appeared that neither Mitch or Stuart had told anyone else that I was a fag and a cocksucker. At least none of the neighborhood boys were avoiding me or laughing at me or giving me funny looks when we got together to play ball. No one had taken me aside and asked for a blow job and there were a number of cute boys, friends of mine who wouldn't have had to ask very hard.
Father Peter and his newly ordained nephew, Paul, were due back from Rome in a couple of weeks. The three of us had a date to meet at the church on the 16th of August. "To pray," Father Peter had written on the postcard with the picture of Michelangelo's famous statue of David...the naked statue of David. I'll be on my knees and naked, just like I was on the day they left. Father Peter will be praying for me to open wider so that he and Paul can both get more of their dicks in my mouth. The double load of cum will be worth the effort.
Things at home couldn't have been better unless Mark moved into my room on a permanent basis. Incredibly, my mother and Mr. Levine were dating. They were staying out late most every night; which meant the house was empty, which meant Mark and I could get naked and party without the fear of being discovered by our respective parents. It also meant that he was staying over to keep me company. Mark was spending nights with me, in my room and in my bed, we were sleeping together...naked.
It was the last week in July, our parents had just left for the evening when Mark dropped his pants and a bombshell. "They're sleeping together, Steven! My father and your mother are having sex at my house!"
"They're what!? How do you know?"
"I found a used condom and foil wrapper floating in the toilet bowl at home. A Sheik pre lubricated, same brand my father keeps in his night table. Sperm was still inside...pretty good load too."
"Maybe it was Cindy's," I said, grasping his cock, but unable to grasp the idea that my mother was having sex with a man. And not just any man...Mark's father.
"My sister, no way. Cindy's on the pill so she doesn't need a rubber to fuck one of her guys and she wouldn't use one for a blow job. Must run in the family because she likes a guy to cum in her mouth as much as I do. Speaking of which, are you planning on getting undressed before or after you blow me?
I stripped slowly, thinking about my mother and also about the time I had fucked Lorraine, my first time with a girl. Remembering the revelation, the awesome truth I thought I had discovered that night and thinking how naive I was back then only a few months ago. Of course women liked sex. What's not to like? Intercourse, fucking was one thing, but my mother?
"Do you think they have oral sex?" I said, falling to my knees in front of Mark. A mental picture forming of my mother naked and on her knees in front of Mr. Levine, his penis inches from her face much like Mark's penis was in front of mine. Her hands on his balls...
"Who?" Mark teased, playfully running his dick around my lips.
"What do you mean, who? Our parents. My mother, your father. Do you think my mother..." I paused to lick away a drop of precum, "...my mother is sucking your father's cock?"
"So what if she is," Mark said, sliding his hardon into my mouth. "Knowing my father...shit, I gotta go. You mind?"
"Mmmmm," I mumbled, backing off Mark's dick, keeping just the head clenched between my lips while he slowly emptied his bladder.
Mark was right of course, as he usually is about so many things. So what if my mother was having sex, fucking and sucking and doing whatever she wanted to do with Mark's father or any man. Who was I to be critical, to judge my mother or judge anyone else for that matter?
Mark let out a sigh of relief. "Guys like us could put American Standard out of business."
Me judge another person's behavior? Me, a teenage faggot who drank piss and enjoyed it, a cocksucker who'd spent the afternoon on his knees in a Times Square glory hole servicing anonymous horny guys on the other side of the wall for the fun of it, a pussy boy with an itch so deep inside my boy cunt that it could only be scratched by bending over for any big hard dick that wanted to fuck me. Ridicule and scorn is what I faced every day as a queer boy. Tolerance and understanding, if I wanted it from others I had to give it in return.
I felt cleansed and refreshed as I swallowed the final squirt of Mark's warm urine. My conscience was clear and untroubled as Mark boned up again in my mouth. With my hands on his ass and my nose in his pubic hair, I began to suck the cock I knew so well.
We were still laughing five minutes later, giggling like little kids when the phone rang. It was a brief conversation. "That was your father." "The stud?" Mark said, which started us laughing all over again. "What did he want?" "Nothing. Probably called to make sure we were still here before he and my mother hop into the sack." I was laughing so hard my sides hurt, and tears were streaming down my cheeks. "We going to let them have all the fun? "C'mon, Mark, let's fuck," I said, reaching for the lube. "Not so fast, Steven. I'm sucking you first tonight, get your big load in my mouth before I fuck you. Just because you can suck your own dick and cum in your own mouth, doesn't mean you have to do it. Eating your own sperm last night was a selfish thing to do." I can lick my balls too, like a dog, a neat skill Sandy taught me the first time we fucked. The old queers at Washington Baths get a real kick watching me suck my own while the guys take turns in my upturned ass. Max wants to film me doing it so he can watch me when I'm not around. He knows a man with a studio in the Village who can do it. I told Max I'd think about it. "I'm sorry about last night. You were fucking me so good, I only just licked the tip a few times and I came." "I felt your ass squeezing my dick. Must have been one hell of a load I missed out on." "Yeah, it was big," I said, hopping off the bed and wiggling my ass in Mark's face. "My loads have been getting bigger and I'm cumming with more force too since I started taking cock up my ass." "I've noticed and my mouth thanks you," Mark said as he spread my cheeks and slid into me in one long easy stroke. I've also noticed that your sperm is thicker and the taste is stronger, more intense." "Giving up my ass, becoming a pussy boy is the best decision I've made since I realized...oh god, Mark, your dick feels so good in me...since I realized I was a faggot and decided to become a cocksucker." "Yeah, well, Mitch Greer sort of helped you "decide" to become a cocksucker. I only helped you with the fag part, Steven. Watching you bone up looking at pictures of naked African boys in National Geographic made me think, hope that maybe you were queer like me. I was so hot for you...so turned on. If Larry wasn't there that day I would have followed you into the bathroom and queer or not I would have sucked you off right then. "And I would have let you do it," I said, watching the precum ooze from the tip of my dick, and thinking how strange it was to be having a normal conversation with my best friend's cock lodged up my ass. "You lost that last hand on purpose, didn't you, when we played strip poker a few days later?" "Guilty, your honor. I wanted you to see me naked to get you hot. When Larry chickened out and it was just you and me playing, Steven, I had to be the one to lose my clothes first. When you let me peel off your shorts, when I saw your body, I had to feel you, smell you, bury my face in your balls." Mark began to pump me harder. "You certainly did all that." "And it was fantastic, Steven, but not nearly enough. I wanted your dick in my mouth. I wanted, no, I had to suck your cock." "And then your sister came home." "She's not here now," Mark bellowed, pulling out of my ass and pushing me towards the bed. "Fuck my face, Steven, I'll finish with your ass later." He did. Fucked me three times, in fact, before he fell asleep naked and sweaty in my bed. The blow job that came first was a classic, the kind of head only a fag can give and only to a boy he really cares for. Mark used all of his ample skills on my dick and balls, nearly driving me out of my mind in the process. I rewarded his efforts with more sperm than even an experienced cocksucker like Mark could swallow. We used the overflow of thick slippery cum to lubricate my ass for his cock. Mark slept soundly cuddled against me with his arm across my chest. I dozed on and off, still basking in the afterglow of our coupling and the smell of sex that hung heavy in the air. A hard dick in my mouth right then; one more lazy blow job, one more blast of sperm would have been heaven. I settled for the cum, Mark's cum, that was leaking out of my well fucked and well filled pussy. Mark was proving himself to be a surprisingly forceful top to my submissive bottom. We both liked to suck, but Mark was no pussy boy. Unlike me, a fag who would bend over and spread'em for almost anyone, Mark didn't let anybody fuck him.I didn't hear the front door open or the footsteps on the carpeted steps. But I did hear their voices.
"That's Steven's room, Harry. Mine is down the hall." My mother's voice in the hall outside my room was the only warning I had that she was home and by then it was too late.
"I'll just peek in, Mary, see if the boys are asleep. Why don't you slip into something more comfortable."
Mr. Levine! Holy shit! Mark was snuggled up against me. I couldn't move. And the covers were underneath us. The door opened, silence and then a gasp.
"What's the matter Harry?" My mother whispered in response to Mr. Levine's loud gasp. "Are the boys okay?"
It took a moment for the other shoe to drop, during which time my sleeping bedmate decided to move his hand from my chest to my balls. "Oh my, Harry. They're both stark naked! And what is that smell?"
My bedroom door clicked shut, but I heard them talking in the hall just the same.
"I don't understand, Harry. Why would our boys sleep together naked? And Mark's hand...
"Mary, sweet innocent Mary, I guess it's time we had a little talk. There are things I should tell you...should have told you sooner about my son. There are also things you evidently don't know about yours. You see, Mary, Mark is a homosexual, has been for years. You better make some coffee, it's a long story."
Chapter 22
"Did you hear what I said? Your father came into the room last night, Mark. My mother too. They saw us...in the bed together, naked."
Mark, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, was unconcerned. "So what? How about that shower?"
"I heard them talking, he told her that you were a homosexual. God only knows what he said to her about me and all you can say is let's take a shower?"
"I'm a fag, I woke up horny. You're a fag. I feel like fucking you in the shower."
"You're joking, right? My mother's downstairs with your father, I think he stayed the night. She's gonna be up here the minute she hears us moving around, ready to kill me and you want to fuck me?"
"Sure, why not? You're still a fag...same as you were yesterday and same as you'll be tomorrow."
"Steven, honey, Mark. Breakfast in a half hour, boys. There's two clean towels in the bathroom for your shower. Hurry, I'm making waffles."
"Sounds like your mother, huh, making breakfast in the kitchen? The woman who's going to kill you? When she gonna do it, huh, after you eat your waffles? She doesn't sound very angry to me."
"No she doesn't," I had to admit. "And she only makes waffles on special occasions."
"This is a special occasion," Mark said with a laugh. "It's not every day a mother finds out her son is a fag. Hey, c'mon, cheer up. Did you think you could hide it from her forever?"
"I don't know, I never really thought about it." Truth is I had thought about it, worried about what I would do, what I would say if my mother found out about me. My father killed in the line of duty, one son killed in Viet Nam, another son stationed in Germany and her youngest son a fag. How much pain and sorrow could a person live with?
"Jesus, Steven, with all the guys you've been with it was sure to come out eventually. At least she found out from my father who knows what it's like to have a fag son, rather than from some stranger."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Of course I'm right...have I ever been wrong?" You'll see, it'll work out okay for you same as it did for me. You've been liberated, Steven...now let's use those towels your mother put out for us."
Yet again Mark proved to be right. My mother hugged me and Mark too when we came down to breakfast, said she was okay with my choice, and asked Mark if he was staying over again tonight. Whatever Mr. Levine said to her had worked like magic. Mark was right, I had been liberated from subconscious guilt and fear of discovery and on a lighter note, liberated from my Fruit of the Looms.
Later in the week, after he fucked me in the shower for the third morning in a row and we were getting dressed, Mark said it was time to give up my Fruits.
"What, no underwear?"
"Not that kind. You still have the posing strap, don't you? Wear that until we get to Sebbe's place later and we'll pick out some new stuff. I have to meet a guy on 125th Street at noon so let's meet up at Sebbe's around one."
Sebbe, I knew, had boxes full of colorful underwear from low cut bikini's and snug fitting boxers, to jock socks and thongs. Fagwear, Mark called it, the kind of underwear that only a queer would wear. The kind Mark wore. The kind of underwear I wanted to wear, but hadn't wanted my mother to find in the laundry or in my dresser. Now that she knew I was queer and was okay with it, it didn't much matter what I wore.
"Yeah, okay, Sebbe's at one, but I might be a little late if the filming takes more than an hour. I wish you'd come with me to the Village instead of going to Harlem to get more pills. What is it this week? Uppers, downers? Green, red, yellow?"
"Pink uppers," Mark said with a smile and a wink. "Special color for cocksuckers like you who can't get it up."
"Go ahead and make jokes. I'm worried and you make jokes."
"Loosen up, Steven. It's not like I'm using heroin. Oh, can you lend me ten bucks?"
"No," I said with a smile and a wink of my own. "I won't lend you a dime, but bend over and spread your cheeks, faggot...I'll give you ten bucks for a piece of your ass."
What was meant as a joke became a test of Mark's willingness to sell his ass for the money to buy drugs. I wouldn't have fucked him if I had seen the tears in his eyes, but I didn't so I did, fuck him doggy style that is...and gave him one extra dollar for licking my cock and balls clean. The trips to Harlem continued on a regular basis, but he never again asked me for any money.
"You're really going to do it?" Mark asked as we boarded the train to Manhattan." "Yeah, I think so. It's not like I'm making a porno film. One copy for Max and his gay friends to watch when the summer's over. The old guys gets such a thrill out of watching me suck my dick...I finally gave in and agreed to do it for him." We rode in silence for a while, Mark fidgeting next to me each time the train hit a rough patch of track. "How's your ass?" I whispered in his ear even though the car was empty. "Fine." I knew better and the guilt was gnawing at my gut. "I'm sorry, Mark, really sorry. I shouldn't have fucked you. I'm the pussy boy, not you. Please forgive me...please. I'll do anything." "Anything? Anything I tell you to do?" I handed over my clothes and rode the rest of the way to Manhattan sitting alone in my posing strap and yellow flip-flops. By the third station stop I no longer cared that I was practically naked or that the car was no longer empty. I got quite a few stares and double takes, but the strap was so faded from washing that COCKSUCKER was hardly visible unless you got real close to my crotch. Chapter 23 The studio occupied the entire top floor of a four story walk-up on Grove Street in the Village. Max had given me the address and the name of the person to ask for, but he wasn't sure of the name of the place. I studied the list of company names before opening the door to what I hoped was the right place. The same list was on the wall behind the receptionist. Adam and Adam & Sons, Inc. Ballz Incorporated Coxx Communications Fagtime Enterprises, Inc. Fairy Tail Videos Unlimited Jumping Jock Productions Man To Man Studios Queens & Kings Co. SureShot Partners "Steven Ryan to see Mr. Preminsky. I have an appointment at twelve." "Take a seat sweetie, I'll let Otto know you're here." The receptionist, a boy pretty enough to be a girl, returned in less than a minute with a cup of coffee in his hand. The long hair, makeup and polished nails would have fooled most people, but not another fag. "Otto will be out shortly, he's just finishing a scene. Can I get you a coke or something while you wait, Steven?" "No thanks. I'm fine." "Name's Bruce," he said with a wink. "And I think you're more than fine...I think you're divine. Oh, you are gay, aren't you?" I nodded. So much for one fag trying to fool another. "Are you here to audition? We get so many cute boys so don't be too disappointed if you don't get the part." "No, no audition, no part," I said quickly and left it at that. Bruce was a shameless flirt. Kneeling down at my feet to pick up a paper clip was almost too much. "Get off your knees, Bruce and get back to work." A short man waving a big cigar sent Bruce scurrying as he came striding into the reception area followed by two gorgeous hunks in jock straps and football jerseys. "Good work today boys," the short man bellowed. "We'll do the cum shots on Friday." "I could cum again today, Otto," one of the hunks said in a high pitched voice that didn't match his bulky body. "Dribbles, maybe, feh. Remember boys, this is a SureShot production and the queers who watch my films expect to see cum shots, powerful spurts of cum...not dribbles. Listen to me. Go home, rest. I'll produce the movie, you boys be ready to produce the sperm on Friday, and lots of it." "Steven Ryan to see you, Otto," Bruce said, smoothing his skirt, as the hunks turned and went back down the hallway. "He has an appointment." I stood as Otto strode over to me with a puzzled look on his face. "Max Klingenstern sent me." "Speak up boy, I'm a little hard of hearing." "Max Klingenstern," I repeated. "From Washington Baths?" "Max, sure. I know Max." "He called you about making a film?" "I make lots of films, tapes actually. Can't turn them out fast enough when the porno market is hot like it is these days." "A film about me." "You got the looks for it, blond boys always sell. Are you straight or queer?" "Queer, but..." "I might be able to use you if you don't mind working with negroes. The colored's like watching a naked white boy on his knees servicing one of their own. So you'll suck black dick?" "Yes, but I'm not here for that," I said quickly and explained why I had come to his studio. "Yeah, Max did call a few weeks ago about a special boy...a private tape he wanted me to make for him. You'll have to remind me, my memory and my hearing are fading faster than a hooker's looks." "That's me." I lowered my voice, " Max's fehgalah?" Otto's hearing and memory returned with a vengeance. "Max's new fag," he boomed. "The fag who can suck his own cock! Bruce?" "Yes, Max?" "How many boys come in here claiming they can suck their own dicks?" "Six or seven a week," Bruce said between giggles. "So much fun to watch them try." "A big waste of time. How many can do it?" "Not many. Only one boy so far this year and that boy, I measured it myself, had a ten inch cock. Shame he was so ugly, and the pus pimples on his balls left marks on my face. The best most boys can do is lick the head and cum in their mouths, but very few can actually give themselves a real blow job." Otto put his arm around my shoulder and looked me in the eye. "How big is your dick?" I would have said thank you and goodbye if I hadn't promised Max. "Five inches, but I really can blow myself. Lick my balls too. I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true." "I believe him, Otto," Bruce said, seemingly in my defense. "Wilson's not due for a while. Why don't I see what Steven can do while you review the script? I left it on your desk with the changes you wanted." Otto shrugged as Bruce came over and took my hand in his. "Fags," he chuckled, turning away from the two of us. He paused to relight his cigar then turned around and said. "Use mouthwash after you finish seeing what he can do, Bruce. I don't want to smell semen on your breath." "Follow me, sweetie," Bruce said once Otto had closed the door to his office. Studio Five is a bit shabby, but the bed's okay. I haven't sucked a five inch dick in ages. Even the fluffers have to be at least seven inches in case they're needed to service some over paid stud who can't get it up on camera without a dick in his ass." "I really can suck my own cock, Bruce. Not just cum in my mouth. I can swallow all five inches and I need you to film me doing it." "Love the undies," Bruce giggled when I dropped my shorts. "My boy friend and I both wear posing straps too. His has BIG DICK, mine has CUM PIG on the pouch. Wanna see?" "Maybe after you shoot the film," I said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You do know how to use the camera, right?" "Betamax system," Bruce replied, holding up the camera. "Easy as going down on a five inch dick. You want me to lick your balls a little? Get you hard?" "I'll take care of my boner, you take care of getting it on tape. When I'm done with the blow job, after I cum in my mouth, you can lick my balls then if you want to." I flipped my legs over my head as the camera's light came on. My sack was nice and loose so I let my balls dangle over my face while adjusting myself for maximum penile penetration. "Holy shit!!" Bruce sputtered when he saw my cock sliding into my mouth. "Wait!! Hold it!! Don't move!! I have to get Otto. Don't move, I'll be right back." Studio One was bigger and better decorated too. There were three cameras, on tripods, rather than the single hand held camera in Studio Five. Bruce had been banished from the set. Otto had called` in a production team to shoot my little gift for Max. Director, cameraman, soundman, lighting director and a serious, no nonsense fellow named Clyde who was prodding and poking my body, closely inspecting every inch and reporting his findings to Otto. "The skin is perfect, not a blemish," Clyde said. "The hair is like silk and the blond color will photograph well. Shave his pits and pubes and with that tiny dick he'll easily pass for a pre-teen." "Good, Otto said. "Very good." "The lips, well, the lips and his knees are what you'd expect to find on a queer boy who spends a lot of time on his knees with a dick in his mouth. Not much you can do about the lips I'm sorry to say...the effect of extensive cocksucking is irreversible. The anus has been penetrated, not roughly, but often. A dab of rouge will temporarily restore the pink color. The penis is well cut and, as you can see, hardens quickly under the least bit of stimulation. The erect shaft is smooth and straight, and see how the nicely rounded testicles snuggle up underneath? Ejaculation should be sustained and quite forceful." Otto seemed pleased when Clyde was done with his poking and prodding. "Steven, baby," he said. "I'm going to make you famous. Every queer in New York is going to be jerking off to your tape." "But the tape is for Max," I protested mildly, wondering how many queers actually lived in New York. "Oh, yeah, for Max," Otto said. "I'll talk to him about that." "We're ready to roll, Otto," the cameraman called out. "How long is the scene?" "Long as it takes and use all three cameras. We'll edit and add the usual blow job sound track later. Boy sucking his own cock, licking his nuts...it'll be worth the expense. How about it, Steven baby, ready to blow yourself, suck that baby dick of yours and give me a cum shot to remember?" "Places everybody," the director shouted. "Quiet on the set. Lights, and roll tape, aaannnd action." I gave myself one great blow job. Head, shaft and nuts all got a thorough workout. I gave Otto the cum shot he wanted too. It was my idea to open my sperm-filled mouth for the camera before swallowing my load. I got a round of applause from the crew as soon as the director said cut. I was still naked on the bed when Bruce returned, followed by the biggest and blackest man I had ever seen. "Wilson was getting impatient, Otto," Bruce said. "Okay if he comes in?" "Sure, sure," Otto said. "Wilson, baby, sorry to keep you waiting. We'll be ready for your scene in a minute or two...soon as your fag partner shows up. You been saving up those baby makers like I told you?" "I ain't cum or took a bath for three days, Otto. Take a look, my balls is about ready to explode and the shit built up in my foreskin is ripe." Wilson had a club between his legs. A black club and a set of balls that made me feel envious of the cocksucker, whoever he was, who was going to service that jaw breaker piece of meat and take a three day load of cum. I gathered my stuff, ready to dress and head uptown to meet Mark when Bruce quietly said that the fag wasn't coming. "He called in sick, Otto. I forgot to tell you." "You forgot to tell me!" Otto bellowed at Bruce. "Forgot to tell me you fucking good for nothing...Get your clothes off, Bruce. My biggest star is here to finish his film and that's what we are going to do. I need a boy, a cocksucker for Wilson's scene and your the only one I've got." "Oh no, not me," Bruce whined. "No way." Wilson took a step toward Bruce. "Wazza matter queer boy? You 'fraid to suck my..." Bruce fled and Otto, after a moment of silence, slowly turned to me. "Steven, baby," Otto said warmly, his arm going around my shoulder. "Let me introduce you to Wilson." The scene was easy according to Otto and it paid a hundred bucks. A simple blow job, maybe five or ten minutes of sucking Wilson's massive black dick and taking his load on my face. Mine was the only speaking part, lame as it was. "PLEASE SIR, I WANT TO SUCK YOUR COCK, ONLY PLEASE SIR, PLEASE DON'T CUM IN MY MOUTH." Otto had me practice my lines over and over until I got just the right tone in my voice. "You're playing the part of a submissive teenage fag, Steven," Otto explained. "A queer boy from the south who loves to suck black cocks, the bigger the better. But, and here's the irony of the entire film, you like to suck black dick but you it hate when a black man cums in your mouth." Otto laughed when he saw the puzzled look on my face. "Yeah, I know," he said. "You fags really like cum squirting into your mouth, but just follow the script, okay. Wilson's going to cum all over your face. You got that, Wilson? On his face, not in his mouth." Wilson nodded and took off the rest of his clothes. Naked, he was gorgeous. A body that spent a lot of time working out in a gym. His upper body was smooth, hairless and his light brown nipples stood up like erasers, contrasting nicely against his coal black skin. I knew exactly where my mouth was going first when the cameras started to roll. We did a quick run through, then took a short break to allow Wilson's substantial erection to subside. Ten minutes later he was ready. Otto had agreed that I could start with his nipples and lick my way down his rock hard body as I drifted down to my knees. "Kiss his balls first, Steven," Otto instructed...like I wasn't a fag and didn't know how to service a hot stud. "Now lick the shaft and his balls, nice and slow. Stop when you get to the head, kiss the tip a few times then look up, bat your eyes and say your line before you take him in your mouth and start to suck." My performance was flawless, submissive fag all the way, though I did ad lib some by licking Wilson's pungent arm pits after doing his nipples, and taking each of his sweaty balls in my mouth instead of just kissing them. Wilson was good too, very good. A pro at using my cocksucking mouth and throat, going in deep without making me choke and ruining the scene. "The kid's good, Otto," someone said behind my back. "Hell of a cocksucker. Wouldn't mind a go at that mouth when the shoot is over." It's hard to smile with a dick thrusting between your lips so I beamed inwardly at the compliment. "He is good," Otto replied. I like the way he's bobbing his head to meet Wilson's thrusts and how his hands are working Wilson's balls and ass. And would you look at his hardon? The kid's a natural, a born cocksucker to keep a stiff dick like that." Wilson almost blew the scene by blowing his load in my mouth. He pulled out after one huge spurt of warm cum though and had plenty left to leave my face a drippy, sticky, sperm covered mess. "This fag has the makings of a star," Otto exclaimed when Bruce returned and begged to lick the cum off my face. "Get his phone number, I can always use a fresh faced cocksucker."I ended up making three short interracial cocksucker films for Otto before school started in September. Hardly starring roles, I played the part of a young schoolboy in each film, an innocent looking white kid who somehow always managed to wind up on his knees with a black man's dick in his mouth. Cocksuckers, I discovered during my brief career as a wanna be porn star, had it easy. All I had to do was suck dick and let a bit of sperm dribble out of my mouth at the end of the scene.
The real porn stars were the talented black men who had to get it up on demand, keep it up throughout the endless retakes and on cue, ejaculate a full load of cum into the cocksucker's mouth. A limp dick and premature ejaculation was an occupational hazard that quickly ended many careers.
The money was terrific, but the hours were long and unless a member of the film crew wanted head during a break, all I got was one cock to suck and one load of cum the entire day.
Otto also wanted to cast me as a piss-pig in a raunchy full-length feature film that was going to be shot on the building's roof top. Tar Beach it was called and the people who worked in the surrounding buildings got quite an eyeful when rehearsals began. It was a lousy part I decided after reading the entire script. The cum-pig got to suck the five big dicked stars in the film, he got to eat load after load of semen. The piss-pig got pissed on and got to drink piss from their dicks...and in one scene, clean the rim of a filthy urinal with his tongue. That, plus a big event at home ended my short film career.