A Life of Yes Ch. 01-02

And he did it. "This will teach you some of what you will need to know for the movies in Turkey."

For the next four hours--his erection lasted that long--I learned the side split, crab, and cowboy positions. He had remarkable stamina for his age. At least I discovered later that was so; I had no experience in how often most men could get it up and perform over a couple of hours until after he had initiated me. Each time he covered me and each position he took me in it became easier and more pleasurable. Perhaps, I thought, I'd give both options Marcel mentioned--modeling and selling sex--a try.

Before I left him then--only to come back to him for the next two nights for further "instruction" in being a submissive--he told me, "Grow your beard and mustache until after you've been to Turkey."

"It won't grow much," I said.

"It will grow enough. And it will be a darker color for the movie. They will dye it. Have you ever worn contacts before?"

Once again, I could honestly say, "Yes."

"Good," he said.

I didn't ask why. I was too naïve to realize that, in doing a gay sex film, I was exposing myself to the world and the filmmakers will be kind enough to me to give me some visual protection.

I also had no idea that titans of the clothing industry could be pimps too.

Chapter Two: Two Weeks Later, Istanbul

I knew that I was being routed through Istanbul en route to Turkish Cyprus because that's how all air service was routed to Turkish Cyprus in those days, and I also knew that there was a fashion show for me to wear Nigel Standish's designs in at Istanbul, but I soon learned that I was stopping there mostly because my auditioning for this movie I was told would be titled Kibris Delight wasn't over.

I had to pass muster in the sexual servicing with Altan Tilki, the producer of the Istanbul fashion show I was to model at as well as Standish's clothing manufacturer in Turkey and producer of the Kibris Delight movie. "Kibris" was the Turkish name for Cyprus and thus Kibris Delight was a takeoff on the term and candy Turkish Delight. I gathered that I was to be the "delight" of the movie.

If I passed an audition I'd been seduced into opening my thighs for.

Tilki owned the hotel the fashion show was given at and lived in the penthouse, which had a terrace overlooking the Bosporus, the busy waterway dividing Europe from Asia and linking the Mediterranean Sea to the Black Sea. It was here, both before and after a successful fashion show where I modeled clothes from suits to underwear and swimming bikinis and managed not to fall off the runway and that Tilki fucked me eight ways from Sunday in every exhausting position he could think of and could manage considering that he was a fat man with a bulging belly. He also was ugly as sin and hairy and his cock wasn't particularly long. But he was nearly as thick as he was long, he was indefatigable in endurance, and he was very, very good at manipulating and fucking me. He didn't seem to mind one bit that I initiated nothing and just let him put me in the positions he wanted and took his cock without struggle. He wanted a "yes" submissive, and that's what I was for him--that it came from inexperience didn't bother him a bit.

I now knew why Nigel Standish had introduced me to so many fuck positions. Tilki would audition me in those positions as well.

When I arrived in Istanbul and was delivered to his hotel and into his presence, he asked me, "Was your trip pleasant?" to which I said, "Yes," as I was determined to say to anything he asked, to say yes to everything. Nigel Standish had warned me, but I still found the fifty-year-old Turk intimidating. He was the first man to make me aware that being intimidated by size and demand and controlling command was especially arousing to me. I was finding that I liked to be controlled and manhandled by oversized men. I was particularly susceptible to Turks.

He was tall and very heavy and thuggishly ugly. He also was elegantly dressed and quite definitely in command. His staff tiptoed around him like he could make them melt on the spot if they displeased him, and he gave every indication he could be cruel. When it came to him fucking me, he kept me off balance. He was sometimes tender and attentive and at other times he was brutal and tore his pleasure out of me. I am embarrassed to admit that the brutal approach heightened my arousal. He fucked me often enough in the day and night I was with him to cover all of the bases.

He asked me if I knew what I was supposed to do in the fashion show, and I said "Yes," even though I wasn't quite sure--but I successfully winged that. The audience was particularly discerning. I'm sure most of them were there to enjoy the flesh rather than the clothes that were being strutted past them.

Then he asked me if I understood that I would be going on from Istanbul to make a sex movie, and I said "Yes."

He asked, to be sure, he said, if I accepted that I would be paid a flat fee of $5,000 and that meant I would be fucked, on camera, as many times as the director wanted me to be over the weekend in Turkish Cyprus, and I said "Yes."

I would have to be submissive to what was demanded of me. "Yes," I responded.

He asked me if I accepted that he was going to test me out--"Are you going to be submissive to me in every way?"--and I said, "Yes." He asked me if I was ready to go upstairs with him and I said, "Yes." He asked me to model the underwear and micro swim suits for him that I would wear in the fashion show, and I said, "Yes." He asked me to kneel to him and give him head, and, after gasping at seeing how thick he was, I said, "Yes." He asked me to bend over the patio table. I said, "Yes," and the fucking began. An hour after that, he asked me if I'd had enough, and I said "Yes." But he laughed, obviously pleased that his prowess had left me tired and winded, and he fucked me again. An hour after that he asked me if I was exhausted, and I whimpered "Yes." He fucked me for another hour. He, of course, took breaks. Other than piss breaks I used these breaks to lay there, moaning, wherever he had left me in the apartment after he'd fucked me, and to do an inventory of my still-working parts.

It was with my eyes swimming in cum, because Tilki had barebacked me--these were the uncaring days before the AIDS epidemic--and my body tingling from demanding sex that I walked the runway at the Istanbul fashion show. I must have been exuding the flush of sex, as the men in attendance--all were men, which surprised me, but it shouldn't have, I guess; this show obviously was more a male sex show than a new fashions display for potential buyers--responded to me and the other models with sexual interest. I was sure that I was getting more favorable responses than the other models were.

The attendees, a mix of bulky Turks in business suits and Mideast sheiks in white robes and headscarves, were boisterous and mouthy. The air was thick with cigarette and cigar smoke. The tables below the catwalk were littered with beer and whiskey bottles and overflowing ashtrays. Men reached out to touch me and made obviously lewd suggestions in languages I didn't understand as I walked the catwalk. From where I was walking I could look down and see more than one hand furtively placed on a man's crotch. The attention was heady, the atmosphere heavy with sex. I had just come from being laid repeatedly by Altan Tilki and I knew that, after the fashion show was over, I'd be laid repeatedly by Altan Tilki again. In some articles I was wearing, it was obvious I had a hard on. It was equally obvious that the patrons appreciated that. As the show progressed, some were more obviously fingering themselves than before. Some obviously were beating themselves off.

What I didn't know was that there would be an interlude with an Arab sheik--or at least I thought of him as a sheik. I was sexed up by it all, by the manhandling by Tilki and by the cum-laden atmosphere of the fashion show and the way the patrons had responded to me. It was in that vein that when Tilki came into the hotel room where I had been doing my costume changes for the fashion show and said that I had been auctioned off during the show and that a tall, thin Arab who was standing behind him dressed in a pristine white robe had bought me, I willingly laid on my back on the bed, opened my legs to him, and, with sighs and moan, as he crouched over me, mounted me, and penetrated me, took and took and took his long, thin cock deep in my gut.

The sheik was a handsome, hard-bodied young man. I came, every fiber of my being concentrating on the punishing movement of his long, thick shaft inside me, with a cry of passion, clinging to him in a close embrace, fingers digging into his shoulder blades, like he was a lover and not just a randy man who had won one time in my ass. It was all still new, different, and arousing to me. He was only my third man and he was young, virile, and hung. The Arab sheik laughed, pulled out of me, turned me on the bed, raising me onto all fours, mounted and penetrated me again, and fucked on, taking his pleasure, not really caring what I was getting.

"Are you having a good time?" Tilki asked as he guided me back to his penthouse apartment and his bed afterward.

"Yes," I wearily answered. I was saying what Marcel had told me I'd have to say to move ahead in the world.

I lay on the divan on Tilki's terrace, spread-eagled, on my back, one arm and leg dangling off the side, moaning low, lying flat out, fully open to anything he wanted to do--and he'd done everything I could think of and more--totally vulnerable and fucked.

He sat facing me in a chair, his fat overflowing the arms of the chair, drinking scotch and smoking brown-papered cigarettes and said, "I must say you are resilient while coming across as fresh and nearly innocent each time. Nigel has selected well. But if you go to Kibris tomorrow, you will be taxed more than I have done. This will be a fetish film. You will be subjected to acts that go beyond what we have done here. Do you still want to go?"

"Yes," I said in a low, exhausted voice. What did I know about sexual fetishes?

He laughed. And then he picked me up, threw me over his shoulder, took me to his bed... and fucked me again. He said it was because he enjoyed me not because he was still vetting me for the movie.