tagFetish2 Men 1 Cup

2 Men 1 Cup

byexpressiveness©

A man was sitting in front of a mirror with lights all around it. Two girls were hurrying to get his make-up fixed, because, as they said, no one in the industry goes without make-up, not even the men.

The man was in his late thirties. With his dark hair and his big eyebrows, people would generally describe him as charismatic. Still he exposed doubts to the girls running to get his make-up done.

'It's just that... I'm kinda unsure about my position now. I'm 38. I mean, what am I doing here? Why don't I get a real job?'

Then a young man with trembling hands entered the room.

He must have been 19, maybe 18, but no older than 20.

The boy sat down in front of the enlightened mirror next to the first man. The second he sat down, two girls showed up to do his make-up.

'Hi sweetie, we're here to do your face. Now don't worry, we're just gonna make you look a little browner on camera. You look so pale!'

The older man looked at the boy. He had never seen so much anxiety in a face.

'Are you all right there, son?'

'Yeah,' he said in a trembling voice, 'yes. How long have you been in this?'

'For about twelve years now,' the man answered in honesty, 'and I've never done any scene like this before. Why are you in it?'

The boy looked down. 'It's just... I don't want to have any inhibitions. No inhibitions,' he said with a sudden strength in his voice.

The other man agreed. 'No inhibitions.'

Together they walked through the complex. They came across rooms with all kinds of themes: girls with men, girls with black men, big men with small men, grandma's with grandpa's. Around the place there were tables with attributes: dildo's, gas masks, teddy bears. Animals were scattered around the rooms, animals like dogs, cats and horses, though they even saw an Indian guy with an elephant on a string.

Then finally they had reached their room of destination. It didn't have a bed like lots of the other rooms had, instead there was a table with two fragile chairs besides it. On the table was a large glass.

The young boy looked at the glass with pupils that were bigger than ever. It was as if all the fears he had ever had, were concentrated in this glass.

'So this is it,' the dark haired man said against the staff. It was not until then that the younger fellow noticed the camera's and the camera personnel that were all over the place.

'Yes,' a man in a chair with 'director' on it said, 'time for some action.'

He stood up to explain some things.

'In the first scene, we will focus on you,' he directed the younger man to the table, 'here's your cup, you know what you have to do.'

The boy nodded and stared into the glass.

'And you,' the director said to the other man, 'will have to make sure not to get in front of the camera's yet. Because if you do, he will have to do it all over again.'

The young boy's eyes widened.

'Now, some music!'

An assisting girl pushed the play-button of a CD-player in the corner of the room. The romantic 'Lovers theme' by Hervé Roy sounded throughout the room.

'Good,' the director commented. He sat down in the chair saying 'director' again.

'When I say cut, we start,' the director said, and right after that he said: 'CUT!'

The boy stood with his back to the camera, but turned his head around to see the cup, which he was holding between his legs.

He stamped with his feet a bit, like dogs do when they're about to excrete faeces.

The boy's anus widened. A thick piece of poop came out. Although it had the light brown colour of diarrhoea, it was a big and long piece. After this, more pieces came out.

When the boy had finished pooping, he looked in the camera with something that looked like the beginning of a smile on his face.

'CUT,' the director screamed. 'I can see you ate what we told you to eat. Excellent.'

Now the boy really smiled, with a triumphal glance on his face.

'Now put the cup on the table, boy,' the director said, sitting in his chair and looking at the screenplay. 'It's time for you to enter the scene,' he said to the charismatic man.

As both men sat in the chairs, they stared at each other. They knew what was about to come.

The director mumbled to himself: 'Didn't we forget anything? The cup, the lights, some romantic music, it's all there. Oh right,' he remembered, 'get these men some spoons!'

Instantly a girl came running forward to hand the men their spoons.

The spoons were long and had a small eating part, as if they were used in an ice cream bar.

'CUT!' The director's scream announced the final scene.

The boy looked anxiously at the man.

The man poked the yellow brown mass with his spoon a bit, took a bit of it in his mouth and swallowed it.

The young one followed his gesture. He took some of the brown mass in his spoon and ate it.

The camera zoomed in on his face. His eyes showed a combination of disgust and willpower, as if they expressed how the repulsive taste of poop was unsurprisingly close to its smell.

Now the older man began to take bigger parts on his spoon. He didn't chew, he just swallowed.

Then, at a certain point, he encountered a part he could not deal with.

He tried to swallow it, but it came back to his mouth and he spit it back in the glass. Then he gulped it down for a second time, but it came up again and he let it flow in the glass. The piece became more engulfed by the man's spit, but still he could not get it down.

The boy, still stiff from fear, watched this process repeat several times.

Then the man had swallowed it. A few seconds after the piece of poop had gone down his stomach, he began making a repetitive gesture with his body, as if he was bowing.

Then he stood up, straightened his back and leaned over the boy.

The man's stomach clinched, he opened his mouth and a big stream of vomit came out.

The vomit, which was largely yellow ochre coloured with greenish parts of food in it, came out in a stream that was almost unbelievably fat, long and lasting. When the man was done vomiting, he wiped his chin by using his hand.

The young boy had yellowish vomit over his head, his hair and his chest. With his hands he cleaned his face a bit and he stared at the man.

His back was bent, his body clinched, and the previous look of fear in his eyes was replaced by a look of sadness.

The old man caressed his vomit-covered face with his hand. He bent over to the boy to kiss him softly on his vomit-covered lips.

'Don't go off script,' the director shouted.

But the boy rose and kissed the man firmly on his lips. They French-kissed, swallowing once in a while because of the bricks of vomit sliding down the boy's face.

The man made the boy to turn. The boy lay his hands on the table, with the poop-filled glass in front of him, and spread his legs apart. He made the swinging gesture with his butt again, but this time it was not to poop.

Behind him, the man let his hand glide past his erected penis, decided it was hard enough and tried to put it in the firmly formed boy butt.

It didn't work.

One of the camera personnel shouted: 'Use the poop!'

The director gave both the cameraman and the actor an angry look.

The man nodded behind the young boy's back and dug his hand in the glass. He grasped a hand full of poop.

The poop he smeared over his penis, making it brown with parts of poop clinging onto it.

The rest of the poop he forced against the boy's butt. With a few fingers he probed the poop back into the butt.

He cleaned his hands a bit by smearing the remaining poop over the boy's firm butt cheeks. It created clear hand shapes of poop on the white butt.

To add a bit extra, the man slapped the boy with his hand.

'Don't!' The director was furious now.

The staff however advocated otherwise.

'Hit him!'

'Fuck him!'

'Don't listen to the director!'

'Fuck him hard!'

The man, cheered on by the cameramen, took his dick in his hand and slit it through the poop in the young boy's asshole.

The boy gasped. His eyes closed a bit. He pushed his butt so that the penis would pierce his ass completely and he took it all.

The man started shoving his dick inside and outside of the boy's poop-filled arse.

His hands were cupping the boy's vomit-covered chest muscles. His fingers circled the boy's erected nipples and cleared them of vomit.

The camera personnel reacted to the scene by scattering all over the place. All around the table, where the boy was being fucked, camera's and cameramen were witnessing the spectacle.

The man fucked the boy without remorse or empathy, he fucked him hard and fast.

At a certain point the man took a break to kiss the boy's lips. The boy kissed back.

The man licked some vomit off the boy's cheek to share it with him in a French kiss.

The personnel cheered. They went wild.

'Yeah man! Fuck him!'

'Give him what he needs!'

'Fuck harder!'

Some cameramen were still rolling their camera's, excited to capture what was happening, and some were jumping, wooing and applauding.

The director tried to break the scene.

'Stop! This is not in the script! You two, stop it! CUT!'

The man and the boy gave each other a look of understanding. They quit fucking.

The director looked at them with an expression of anger and disbelief.

The man took another grasp of the poop in the glass. The boy made the same gesture.

'What are you doing with the cup...' The director could not believe it.

Then, in a sudden attack, the two men smeared poop all over the director's neat suit and over his face cheeks.

The director still had a look of being dismantled over him, when the man rid his front and pushed his poop-covered penis against the director's crotch. The boy slammed his arms around the director and jammed his erected cock against the backside of his poop-covered suit.

Together they masturbated their dirty cocks by using the director's body. They painted, moaned and pumped against the director until their cocks shot white loads of sperm over him.

The camera staff applauded, raised their hands in the air and bonked their bodies against the threesome to express their excitement.

Then a man with a red cap and a name card saying 'Director' entered the room.

'Cut,' he calmly said, with camera's behind him being turned off.

'Excellent work,' he commented, 'good acting.'

'Thanks,' the poop-and-sperm-covered 'director' said.

All 'camera personnel' and the actors were handed towels to clean themselves.

While they were cleaning up, the man with the 'Director' name card reminded them: 'Don't forget! I'll see you all at next week's auditions for the sequel, 1man1cup.'

The boy sighed.

This time, the boy showed neither fear nor arousal, he showed sheer excitement over what he had just been part of.

He smiled at the older man. As they were still standing quite close to each other, the boy made a gesture as if he wanted to kiss the man one last time, but he didn't.

'Hey,' the man said, 'if you want to kiss me, kiss me. No inhibitions, remember?'

The boy agreed. 'No inhibitions.'

They kissed and smiled at each other.

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