tagGay MaleThe Road to Stardom

The Road to Stardom

byAnotherDay©

The year was 1999 and I'd just graduated from university. My name is Michael and I'm 23 years old. I scored a job, thanks to my Uncle, with an accounting firm in Los Angles, found a small apartment, and things were looking pretty good. I had a girlfriend who was the manager of a gym in the area and she was kind enough to give me a free membership. My life was moving along pretty well and I felt great about the future and what it all held for me.

Then things changed quickly and not in a good direction. My boss, who turned out to be a bigger idiot than anyone realized, was arrested for embezzling to support his massive coke habit. With his arrest, the firm closed and I lost my job. My girlfriend took a job at the corporate headquarters of her company and she moved back east. Then my car's transmission died and I didn't have the money to fix it, so I was forced to use my bike for any and all transportation. I was pretty down on my luck at this point and money got very tight. I spent the majority of my days looking for work and hit the gym every night since I was pretty well broke and couldn't afford to do much else. The only upside to this was the fact that riding my bike all afternoon from job interview to job interview and my nightly workouts at the gym put me in the best physical condition of my life. By the time a month went by, I'd transformed my 6 foot average build body into a lean, 170 pound statue without an ounce of fat.

I knew if I didn't find work soon, I'd have to make that dreaded phone call to mom and dad to ask for either money or to move back home in disgrace. I'd been on the job hunt for over a month and was about to give up when I landed a position as a new car salesman at a dealership not very far from my apartment. It turns out that I'm a pretty crappy salesman and since my paycheck is based mostly on commissions, my financial situation didn't improve as much as I'd liked. I'd taken the job as a stop-gap measure to pay rent, hoping to keep on looking for accounting work somewhere, but I kept at it and I'd make a sale every once in a while.

It was a typical day on the lot, most of the other salesmen were busy with a potential buy and I was reading up on some materials. When I looked up, there was a man in the lot eyeing one of the cars so I jumped up and approached him. We introduced ourselves and I started the process of getting him into the car so we could take it for a test drive. His name was Marty and he said he was looking for a new car and to trade in his old one. I was successful and as we pulled off the lot, I started to talk about the performance specs of this particular model.

Marty interrupted me and asked where I was from. "I'm from a small town in Indiana, south of Indianapolis. You've never heard of it," I told him. He looked at me and said "You have a very down home, innocent look about you. How old are you?" I told him I was 23. "You seriously look a lot younger that. You could pass for 18." I'm pretty used to people telling me I look younger than I really am and my usual response was "Thanks. I hope I look this young when I'm 70."

The remainder of the test drive went well. We made it back to the dealership and as I was reaching for the door handle to usher Marty into my office, he stopped me. As we sat in the car, he looked at me and asked if I've ever done any modeling. I told him no and he told me "You have a very innocent look that's exactly what I'm looking for. You'd do very well, I think. I just lost a guy and I need a replacement. Have you ever thought about doing porn?"

"Porn? Me? Are you kidding?"

"Listen, I'm not going to bullshit you and waste your time. You've got the look that I'm after. You're obviously in great shape..." he grabbed my left hand and looked that the palm "...and judging by the size of your hand, your penis is probably about 7 inches long. Am I right?"

"I, um...., I, uh....." was all that escaped my mouth.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his business card, and handed it to me. "I'll make a deal with you. You seem like a good kid. I need a new car and I'll buy this one tomorrow afternoon if you come to my office tomorrow morning and just talk to me. You won't have to do anything except listen to what I have to say and listening never hurt anyone. Come and do the interview in the morning and I'll be here tomorrow before closing to buy this car. What do you say?"

I said "I don't know Marty...." I looked at his business card. It read "Marty Pinner, Filmmaker" and gave an address and phone number.

"Look, Michael. Just think about it, ok? If you show up tomorrow morning, the worst thing that will happen is that you'll get a cup of my good coffee and listen to my sales pitch. If you do, I'll come back here and listen to your sales pitch. Is it a deal?"

I looked up at him and said "Sure. It's a deal. I'll be there at...what time do you want me there?" I looked at the address on the card and figured it was about 2 miles from my place.

"Make it 10:30. Does that work for you?"

It did and we said good bye. All that night, no matter what I was doing, I couldn't stop thinking about what I was getting into. Sort of the angle vs. devil on my shoulders. The Angle would say "There is no way you're doing this. Your parents will kill you!" Then the devil would say "You're only going to talk to the guy. What's the harm in that? You might get laid!" I hadn't had sex in over a month, so the devil held the upper hand for sure. On and on the argument went on in my head all night. In the morning, I was faced with that age-old question that everyone must ponder at least once in their lifetime: "What is the proper dress for an interview in the pornography industry?"

When I walked into Marty's office, there was a young man behind the desk, most likely his secretary. The man looked to be about my age and he looked vaguely familiar. The name plate on his desk said "Barry Pinner." He looked up at me when I entered and I told him that I had an appointment to see Mr. Pinner at 10:30. He smiled and asked me to have a seat and then picked up the phone. As he spoke, I realize where I knew this guy from: he goes to the same gym as I do. He put the phone down and said "Marty will see you now. Please come with me."

I got up to follow him and said "I think you go to the same gym as I do. It's about 10 blocks from here."

He turned to me, looked me up and down and said "Yes, now I remember you. You're there in the evening, same time as I am." He opened the door and I walked into Marty's office.

"Michael, come on in! Barry, please get Michael here a cup of coffee." I shook hands and took a seat across the desk from him.

He started his sales pitch matter-of-factly and I listened as I sipped my coffee. Honestly, I'd decided against doing it as I rode my bike over but I figured I would listen anyway. As he talked, I started to reconsider things. He was offering me $500 per scene I did and I'd be contracted to perform in three scenes. The contract would terminate in 30 days or at the completion of the third scene, whichever came first. "Of course," he said, "there are some added bonuses in the contract, but that's for legal to sort out." I could make $1,500 in less than a month? Maybe more? I could get my car fixed and expand my job search! At that moment, I decided "what the hell?" and told Marty that I was interested.

"Good," he said. "The first step is to get you physical. I have a doctor friend of mine who will do it for me today. He's about three blocks away and I'll have Barry call to see when he can see you."

"Why do I need a physical?"

Marty said "I need to know that you're free of disease and infection."

It turns out that the doctor could see me now and his office was fairly close. It was a rather thorough physical exam, to say the least. He took three large vials of blood and a urine sample. Then he proceeded to poke and prod every inch of my body for what seemed an eternity. When it was over, I headed to work at the dealership.

True to his word, Marty showed up that afternoon and bought the car. I even got him for the extended warranty. Sucker.

Three days went by when my phone rang one morning. It was Barry. He told me that my test results were in and could I stop by to speak to Marty in an hour? When I showed up, Barry ushered me into Marty's office and sat down on the couch while I took a chair across the desk from Marty.

"Well, Michael. You're clean as a whistle! Not a thing wrong with you. Are you ready to take the next step?"

When I asked what the next step was he said "Well, we need to take some pictures of you and we'll do a screen test for the video camera. This pays $250. I'll pay you in cash if you'd like."

"Sure," I said. "When do we do this?"

"I have a camera crew right here. We can do it right in this office."

Barry got up and went out the door. When he came back, he was with three guys carrying their gear. There was a video cameramen named Charlie, there was a sound man named Stu and a still camera photographer named Aaron.

They quickly put their gear together and in about 5 minutes they were ready to start shooting.

"Ok, Michael. Take off your clothes and stand by the sofa."

I felt a little apprehension at first, but I figured that it was part of the gig and nothing these guys haven't seen before. So, I stripped. I stood naked in front of the camera with my hands behind my back while Marty asked me a series of questions.

Everything was going smoothly, for about 30 seconds. Then I started to get an erection. I was pretty embarrassed and even apologized, but Marty quickly told me that he needed to see that too. The flashing of the camera and the thought of someone taking pictures of me naked got me hotter and hotter and in no time, my 7 inch cock was pointing at the ceiling. "Very nice," Marty said and he continued with the questions. At one point, I heard the still photographer say "He needs to lose all the hair." I did some posing here and there and then Marty said "Ok, Barry. Do your thing."

Barry walked from behind the cameraman and dropped to his knees right in front of me. I realized he was about to start sucking my cock when I said "Wait! Marty! I'm not gay! You never said anything about gay porn!"

"No," Marty said. "And I never said it wasn't gay porn you'd be doing. Listen, look at it this way: you're not gay. You're just a guy getting a blow job. What's the big deal? We can discuss the other stuff later. Just let Barry do his thing. You might like it or we might decide you're not right for this. But for now, just roll with it. Just imagine Barry is the hottest chick you've ever seen."

Barry had moved forward as I backed up. I'd gotten back to where I could feel the sofa against my calves as I kept saying "Wait!" over and over again when he reached up and took my cock in his mouth. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, it was warm and wet and wonderful. I just closed my eyes and I let it happen. He sucked me with expert precision, taking it all in his mouth and then slowly working back to the tip. He twirled his tongue around my cock head and then sucked me down to the root.

The still photographer was moving around and all I could hear was the click of his camera as he caught all the action. The video cameraman had moved to my right to get a better view as the soundman kept the microphone above my head to catch every moan that escaped my mouth.

"Oh, my god. That's fucking amazing," I said as moan after moan came out of my mouth.

"Open your eyes, Michael. Look at him. Put your left hand on his head and control what he's doing, Michael," said the cameraman. I did and Barry took his cues from the pressure his head. I moved his head down to the tip of my cock and held it there while I moved my hips to thrust my cock into his mouth.

"You're gonna make me cum," I said as I looked down at Barry. The image of another man sucking my cock no longer bothered me. I'd not had sex in a long time and I could feel my orgasm building in my balls.

"Not yet," I heard Marty say. "Sit down on the couch." When I did, he told me to slide forward so my hips were just off the cushion and I leaned back. "Now, put your right leg over the arm rest. We need to draw this out. Barry: tease him for a little while before you make him cum."

With my leg over the arm of the sofa, I was fully exposed. Barry wasted no time and went to work licking and sucking my balls. He really knew how to tease a guy and he seemed to be enjoying this as much as I was. He took my balls in his mouth and sucked lightly, then he'd let them go and run his tongue all over my sack. He grabbed my cock and slowly stroked it as he worked over my balls. Then I felt his tongue move underneath my balls and lick my anus. My eyes opened wide and I let out a long moan. "Ohhhhhhhhh, my. That's good. Do that." And he did. He flicked his tongue over my hole several more times and then grabbed my left leg and pushed it up.

"Hold on to your leg while he rims you," Marty said. "That's it. You're liking this, aren't you?"

"Yes, God yes." Every time he touched my anus, it was like a shot of electricity through my body. Barry continued to stroke my cock as he rimmed me. It was something I'd never experienced before and I was loving it.

Then Barry licked his finger and started to make circles around my anus. Again, the feeling was unreal and another series of moans escaped my mouth. My eyes were wide open now as I looked down at him. He was stroking my cock and looking up at me, smiling. Then he slid his finger into me. "Oooooooo, that's new," I said. Barry slowly slid his finger into me and found my prostate gland. As he massaged my gland, he put my cock back in his mouth and sucked me again. This time, he wasn't stopping. Up and down he bounced on my cock, teasing me with his tongue and the extra feeling of his finger up my ass sent me over the edge. I was looking down at him and both cameramen came in close for the finale.

"Oh, God! I'm gonna cum!"

Barry pulled off my cock, aimed it up to my face and started to stroke faster. I closed my eyes and just let it happen. The first shot of cum landed on my right cheek. The second, third and fourth made it all the way to my sternum. The last few filled my belly button with cum.

"Holy shit!," Marty said.

"Oh, my God! Look at all that cum!," Barry said.

I looked down and it looked like my chest was covered in cum. It was everywhere. I was breathing hard and could only manage to say "Holy shit. That was the best I've ever had. That was unreal!" I laid there to catch my breath while the cameramen continued to do their thing. Finally, they stopped.

Marty gave me a towel and I cleaned myself up. As I dressed, he said "Look kid, I'm going to be honest with you. That was something I've not seen in this business in a long time. You may not know it, but you have a gift. I have to have you under contract."

"I don't know, Marty. It's not that I don't want to do it, it's just that I'm not gay."

"Said the guy who just got a blow job from another guy." He handed me an envelope and inside was $250 and what looked like a contract. "Take this home and read it. It's fairly self-explanatory. You can do this in your spare time. The offer is for $500 per scene you're in and incentives for doing special things. If you let a guy cum on your face, you get a bonus. If you let him cum in your mouth, the bonus is bigger. Things like that. We'll give you a fake name and if anyone ever says anything, you can always deny it. They say everyone in the world has a twin and yours just happens to be a gay porn star."

"Yea. I'll think about it, OK?" I shook his hand and he said "That offer expires in 48 hours, so don't think too long. Just sign it and bring it back to me before that time and we're in business. If not, good luck to you."

That night, I was standing in my little kitchen trying to figure out what I was going to eat for dinner when I heard a knock at my door. I looked through the peep hole and saw Barry standing there with large grocery bag on his arm, so I opened the door.

"Hey, Barry. What are you doing here?"

"I hope you don't mind," he said, "but I got your address off of your employment form and I thought I'd drop by to talk to you. I brought Chinese food."

I let him in and we headed for the kitchen. He pulled out the food and then moved the bag aside. We served up some plates and we sat down on my couch to eat.

"Nice place," he said.

"Yea, it's not much, but it's home. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Look," he said. "You really are something special. You have a unique look that is perfect for this, you've got a great body, and you cum in buckets. The money is good and the work is easy. Everyone you will work with is tested regularly and part of the contract that everyone must sign states that you can't have sex with anyone not already in the system. So, if you're worried about catching AIDS or something, you don't have to worry. It's all very safe."

I still wasn't sure and I said so. We talked while we ate and when we were done, Barry pulled out a joint and asked if I wanted to get high with him. Never one to turn down a good buzz, I found a lighter and we passed the joint between us. In no time, I was pretty stoned and Barry started talking again.

"You'd be surprised at how many guys in the stable we have are actually straight. I'd bet half of them for sure. They just do this for the money and they have a little fun along the way."

"Well, I'm straight and all and I can totally see your point, but I just don't think I could do it."

"I really think that once you try it, you'll agree that sex with another guy isn't all that bad. It's actually pretty great. That's why I work for my Uncle Marty. I'm gay, so I really like it. I get to give the new guys the couch test. And I have to tell you: Today was the best couch test I've ever seen. You're a natural. We watched the tape after you'd left. It was nearly perfect. You're very photogenic and you really could go far in the business if you wanted to."

Go far in the business. That was not at all what I'd hoped to accomplish when I moved to LA. Here I was trying to make an honest living as an accountant and now I've got a guy in my apartment who was sucking my cock a few hours ago trying to talk me into becoming a gay porn star.

"I don't know, Barry."

Here I was trying to make an honest living as an accountant and now I've got a guy in my apartment who was sucking my cock a few hours ago trying to talk me into becoming a gay porn star.

"I don't know, Barry."

We talked back and forth for another 30 minutes: Barry telling me the plus side of the argument and me saying "I don't know" over and over again. I was pretty high by now and Barry was starting to make a lot of sense. Just try it for the three films. If you don't like it, you can quit and that will be that. What's the harm in that?

It may have been the pot, or it may have been the fact that I was pretty well broke, or it may have been the fact that the bills were due and I only had enough money to pay about half of them, but I said "You know, fuck it. Why not? I'll do the three movies and I can quit after if I want."

Barry stood up and went to the bag in the kitchen. "Good," he said. "The first order of business is to get rid of all that body hair. Your contract states that you need to be hairless below the neck line, except your arms. You can keep the hair on your head and arms, but the rest must go." He pulled a bottle of something out of the bag and told me to get undressed and into the shower. I stripped and stepped into my shower. Barry told me that this was hair removal cream and he would put it on me and then I could rinse off after 60 seconds. He started with my legs and moved up. When he got to my groin, he said "Now, this might sting a little" as he applied the cream to my pubic hair and balls. He continued up my torso and did my underarms and then started timing.

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byAnotherDay© 6 comments/ 25914 views/ 31 favorites

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