Flip Mecum Ch. 04

"You don't need to change anything. You're perfect. My best dancer. My most profitable boy. And now my most promising stud porn star." He pushed his stuff back into the shorts and turned to leave. "Don't screw it up, Flip. Be careful with Michael. Don't fuck with me. You'll regret it. I promise. He's not what he seems. If you two were not dynamite on the screen, I would have sent him back to LA already. He's definitely bad news."

I smiled back as innocently as I knew how (which wasn't much). Was that an idle comment or threat? Or did he know or suspect something? He was obviously not Michael's fan. And as I finished up, it hit me: Michael Archangel? And that txt about worship? Naah. Just coincidence. I went upstairs to finish dressing for my date with Michael Archangel—how appropriate for Sunday brunch!!

The Purple Onion was a popular young café with a large garden behind the restaurant. Low key jazz during the Sunday brunch and the de rigueur complimentary mimosa. I arrived a few minutes late and spotted Michael already seated inside, but near the window. It was really too warm to be outdoors, even in the shade. I approached the table and, after bending over to kiss him on the forehead—I didn't dare hit his lips in public--decided to try a little banter—as though the txt exchange had not been the height of literary promise. "I see you decided to sit inside. Afraid the sun will melt your waxen wings?"

Michael's smile faded. "What is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me a fairie? Just because I'm so light and nearly hairless? Give me a few hours and I'll show you what a fairie can do with his magic wand. You're going to paradise, babe. And not the heavenly kind. I let you top last night as a courtesy. I'm gonna take you down so hard you'll think you are in another world, babe."

"Well Marty dropped by this morning as I was sorting costumes. He called you Michael Archangel."

"He can call me anything the fuck he wants as long as he keeps signing the checks. My name is Bjorn Andersen. They cast me as an angel in one of the early porn flics. I was supposed to seduce a straight homophobe with my angelic beauty. Needless to say, he wasn't straight any longer when I got through with him. But, I got the nickname, and it stuck. And I can assure you that, despite how I look, I am NOT an angel. I intend to prove it to you this afternoon."

"Who said an archangel can't be a good lover? I'm told they are the best kind. Clean, hairless, blonde, horse-hung. You qualify with the looks. And by the way, I can't wait. I've been hard for over an hour, and I'm leaking—so I stuffed a cloth in my jock." He looked a little shocked that I would fake my size on a "real date", but at first he restrained himself. Instead, he just licked his lips and bated his eyes seductively.

"I thought you looked a little bigger when you walked in. You don't need it, Flip. You are one of the biggest guys that has done me—on film and off."

"I do if I'm not to scandalize proper Houstonians. You always turn on my precum spigot. If I spend more than five minutes with you my underwear is soaked and my slacks have a telltale spot."

"Fuck. Enough of this idle banter. Let's order. Keep it light lover. I'm intending to put you through the most rigorous workout you've ever had this afternoon."

We each had a salad. I had a Diet DP. He had lemonade. "That shit is going to acid wash your guts, Flip. It's worse than alcohol." While we waited, I asked a little about his background. He repeated the story: college-acting major-LA-waiter stuff as before, leaving out the before and the after. As though it were rehearsed. "How did Marty find you?"

"Actually he didn't, but it's complicated."

"I'm not a dum dum, and we've got time, Michael. I want to know everything about you—EVERYTHING."

"Okay. You asked for it. I was making porn films, and you of course understand that directors and producers get free samples as part of the deal. One of them did drugs big time. I got involved—initially provided by a producer. Then his supplier moved in. Within a month of so, it turned out that my drug bill was higher than my film earnings. I thought they were gifts. How naïve! I had a tab. With interest, the debt kept growing. Finally, my pimp-producer, a guy not unlike your Marty, gave me a few days to pay up. When I couldn't, he told me he was going to get payment from my body. He sold my contract to Marty to pay off the drug tab. I was escorted to Houston by one of his flunkies and introduced to Marty. He tried to put a neck ring on me—like yours. I told him to fuck off. That I wasn't wearing a neck ring. That I'd disappear if he tried anything. And he's lose his investment.

Apparently Marty didn't have the muscle that my LA handler had. So he relented. I made a film the next day. He liked it, and he paid me half the going rate—"until I redeemed my contract". I used it to sublet a cheap apartment from a UH guy who'll be returning for classes in a few weeks. And now I'm making films on a per-film-cash basis. Marty keeps half of the normal fee to pay off the LA debt. So long as I don't cross him and continue to show up for filming, I'm gonna be okay. But, Flip, I'm at the edge here. I know I'm a good actor. And certainly I have the body to do porn. But porn is not going to be my life. I think one or two more months should pay my debt."

I sat there silently, realizing that his story was probably true. I knew how Marty treated me. And his warning fit very nicely. "Just tell me one thing. Do you still use?"

"No. I smoke a weed now and then. But, I'm clean, I swear."

"I won't say a word, Michael. I really like you, and I hope we have some kind of future. But, I think Marty pretty much controls the porn flic industry in this town. There may be a few others, but he's the king. So we can't really afford to fuck with him. At least not until you've paid off what you owe, and I bank a little more." I noticed a few interested looks from a neighboring table. I guess we had been talking in normal voices—and certainly our story was more interesting than the typical small talk at a brunch. "Let's finish this discussion later. I'm not sure how comfortable I feel in here. There are too many ears."

We finished, and given the long line that was standing at the door waiting for a table, Michael called for the check and paid (in cash, I noted). We rose from the table, and as we got ready to leave, I heard two louder-than-whisper comments. "Fantastic asses on those gay guys. I'd plug either if I got a chance." and "Two disgusting fags if I ever saw them. Why don't they stay away from decent folk?". I looked over at the two tables. The first comment came from a well-groomed, well-dressed stud with a good looking partner while the second came from a tee-shirted beer-bellied ugly shit, scarfing down pizza—alone, with a giant beer mug on the table. Isn't it curious how at the same time and in the same place, two different guys can have such different opinions? And as one of my Sunday school teachers used to say: "Ugly words come from an ugly soul."

We made our way to Michael's apartment—a studio in an old building next to the gym, obviously university housing by the condition of the building and the furniture inside the one large room. "It's not much. But, it's mine for now. And it gives me a chance to have some privacy and independence. Porn is good honest work, and it pays well. But, I'm not exactly padding my Actors' Equity resume with the parts I've played. My goal is to save up enough to leave here. Maybe go to New York and start all over. You, however, are definitely a roadblock in my careful plans. I never anticipated a potential relationship. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about you. But, enough depressing talk about me. It's time for our Sunday playtime. Strip off those duds, Tex. I'm plannin' to do some ridin'."

"I sure hope that you haven't had any speaking parts in Westerns—even porn Westerns. That Texas accent is about as bad as any I've heard." He stared me down, and I started to strip. Well, maybe not so quickly. After all, that is one of my professions. I gave him the full personal strip performance. He whistled and pulled me into a bear hug.

"God, you're beautiful."

"So we're getting religious again. I thought you said that the angel stuff was an accident."

He laughed—such a deep wonderful sound after our depressing conversation—and threw me on the bed. He was obviously not a professional dancer/stripper. It took him about ten seconds to be standing before me starkers, legs akimbo, holding out his hardening semi for my attention. I was happy to oblige. I reached out, pulled him to me and ingested his pipe. I started to suck and swirl my tongue as my fingers reached under to probe his hole. His knees weakened and he bent into me to allow a decent cock-wash from my talented tongue. One hand grabbed and used his balls to hold him in place while the other continued its exploration of his hole. He was already coloring and breathing deeply.

Suddenly his attitude changed. "We're movin too fast bro. I know were both pros and pretty jaded when it comes to sex. But I'd like to try something different. We're gonna do this nice and slow, maybe even romantic. I've never been seduced, never felt so strongly for a guy that I was willing to give myself to him. But we've both taken directions on the porn flics. Let's try something this afternoon. I'm gonna seduce you so convincingly that I'm gonna turn you from straight to gay. Too bad you're already naked—and gay. But I'm sure you've heard of method acting. Getting in your clothes could have been part of the seduction."

"Are you seriously asking me to redress? Really?"

Michael's smile broadened as he sat on the edge of the bed and bent down to take my lips. He was a terrific kisser. Maybe it's something we learn in porn film school. Within a few minutes, I was breathless, my legs were rigid—as was another pretty important organ useful in sex.

He moved and stretched out over me. My legs encircled his thighs and drew our dicks together. My hands went around his neck to hold him into our kiss, as his teased my nipples.

I thought to myself: this guy is incredibly handsome. He's smart. He's a great actor. What does he see in me? I just a South Texas cowboy with no education and not much in the way of prospects.

Apparently, I wasn't thinking, I was speaking. He drew back from the embrace. "Thanks for the compliments, Flip. But, let me tell you. You are the most beautiful man in the city. You are the epitome of hungry, dark sex—the kind that makes blood boil and boys and girls fight over you. With just a tiny bit of talent and acting lessons, you could be the heartthrob of Broadway. By the way, I presume you can sing?"

"I used to sing in the church choir. But nothing more. All I'm gonna be good for in a few years is wiring tract houses."

"Oh, I don't think so. But let's get this rodeo started." We rolled around in the bed, massaging erotic zones, rubbing our cocks together, and stroking each other. Then the mouths came into play and we moved into a 69—Michael on top. Our arousal soared, and both of us showed darkened color. Finally, He rose and lubed both of us. I moved to straddle, but he stopped me.

" First of all, despite how we look, I'm gonna be the cowboy this time. But wait. It's time to set the scene, lover: you're a straight, well maybe a closeted gay and a virgin. (That will definitely test your acting skills, boy.) I'm your best friend since grade school. We've jerked a few times together, but we've never touched each other. I've decided I want to fuck you, and I know I have to seduce you to get in your ass. You need to be surprised, reluctant, afraid, and all the other emotions that are part of being a virgin newbie. Let's go."

Again I protested, "Shouldn't we redress?"

"Are you fuckin' kiddin'? Make believe you've got clothes on. Surely that's going to be the easiest part. Let's start on the couch."

We moved to the couch and sat next to each other, staring at a blank wall. "Now imagine we're staring at a widescreen. I've just put on some porn, MMF, for an icebreaker. Wow, look at the knockers on that girl. They're bigger than her damn head. She's turning back to the pillow. Look at that ass! I'm hard already. Take it out, Flip. We can jerk together."

I was getting into the scene. It was like filming. "No way. I'm not jerking with you. I'm not gay. Not a single bone in my body. But, if it's what you want, you go ahead." With those words, I cross my arms tightly across my chest and stare straight ahead. My pecs popped and the crossed arms ballooned my bis and tris. I tried to look uninterested, or even shocked. But the guy sitting next to me waving his long thin dick my way was too much, and I had a raging hard-on which is painful in my pants and gives me away. That's always true. We can say what we want, but the dick tells us and all the world what we are really feeling. There's nothing we can do about it. Michael reaches over and mimics pulling down the zipper. His hand reaches in and he grips my cock. He realizes it's wet. I've been dribbling pre-cum. He bends over and licks the precum from my shaft. Then he swallows the cockhead. (None of this requires imagination. He's really doing it. He's got me.) No one could resist a guy like him. So I reached down and held his head in place as I began the face fuck. God that felt good. Every time I launched my ass from the cushion, I bottom in his throat. He coughed more than once. Until he pulled off. I was expecting that he would finish me off or flip me to start a decent fuck fest.

"That was way too fast. I didn't get a chance to seduce you at all. You're too easy."

"Michael, your seduction began when we met on the first set—and when you whispered that you were going to go easy. Or maybe it was the first time we danced at the Peacock. Just looking at you was turning on all my motors and when you entered me in that first film with your big long dick, you had me. I couldn't wait for our first date. We don't need to construct scenes. I'll be available to you whenever."

"Let's take this back to the bed. You're a lousy actor. We could never make a film with this plot. But, fuck, that mammoth dick is attached to one of the sexiest guys I've ever met in my life. You are the guy I want to be with and to make love to. And I really don't care whether we are being filmed and watched by cameramen, lighting engineers and a director. You do something to me, Flip. When I'm near you, I start to vibrate. I'm like a worker bee attracted to the sweetest nectar in the world. I can't get enough."

It was his turn. So I walked to my bed and stretched out on my back, legs spread in total openness to anything he wanted. Fortunately, he knew exactly what he wanted—one of the great advantages of dating a porn professional. There isn't a lot of fumbling, unless it's intended as seduction. He pushed my legs up and out and I quickly wrapped my arms around them and pulled back, rolling my ass into him as he knelt between them. His lively tongue was on the rim, then pushing deep inside almost as quickly. That tongue was absolutely the most professional that has ever taken me. While he was deep and swirling with his tongue, his lips locked and he began to suck. Involuntarily, I pushed my ass forward into his face, trapping his nose in the cleavage. I couldn't take any more. I was going to cum prematurely. So I pushed him back. "Give me a little break, Michael. I want this to last."

He released my legs, moved up and straddled my chest, batting my lips with his rigid member until I opened, and he moved inside. Then it was my turn to use my tongue to produce pleasure. I swirled and ran my tongue along the bottom of the shaft before digging in to extract his delicious precum. When I penetrated the slit, I thought he was going to levitate from the bed. I felt it. He too was near the edge.

So, he backed off and lubed. I pulled my legs up and he placed his cockhead at my entrance. He pushed a little, and I automatically drew him all the way in until I felt his balls on my ass. I released my legs and tightened them around him, holding him in place. It felt so good to be filled by someone I liked, maybe loved, when so often it had been perfunctory and commercial. It WAS different with someone who cares. And for whom you care. Everything is about giving pleasure and showing affection with that pleasure. We rested like this, motionless on the outside, but feeling the love deep inside. I could actually feel his heartbeat in his throbbing dick. The blood rushing into his pole to keep it rigid for me. It was better than any vibrator that I've ever used. Then, I realized I was so near the edge, that soon I would be beyond the point of no return. I signaled him to fuck me, hard and deep.

Michael began to pump slowly inside, expertly massaging my prostate and "ringing my bells" as they say. He had one of the most talented pelvic thrusts that I've ever had. It was like a slow dance bump. Every thrust resulted in a sexy hardening of his glutes and a direct shot on my most sensitive nut. Over and over he pitched, hitting, scraping, then pulling off. Only to repeat again. I could see the motions in the mirror next to the bed. He absolutely had the best stroking technique in the world. He was a 10. Too bad there isn't an Olympic sport in thrusting! He'd take the gold without any question. The visuals in the mirror and the repeated punch of my nut brought me to the brink. He could tell I was near. But, this time, I had crossed the line. There was no turning back. I started to spasm. He had brought me to a total body orgasm.

So he speeded up and just as he felt my first wet spasm, he collapsed on my chest and our lips clashed. I felt his final thrust and the heat of his cum deep inside. He was planting me. And I definitely wanted him to plant me. I needed his seed in me. I hoped it would somehow draw us closer together. I thought we were most of the way there. But who can predict the future? Michael had dreams. And I hoped they included me.

Minutes later he rolled off my chest, but maintained the embrace, and we fell asleep--something you never did with a customer. A little while later, I nudged him. "We need to take this to my place. I can't be out all night. Marty thinks I'm at lunch with you and then the gym. There are limits to how far I can push him."

So Michael walked me home—and decided to stay. "I want to sleep with you all night, Flip. We don't need to do anything more. Just sleep in my arms."

That sleep was beautiful and wonderful. But it ultimately turned out to be the cause of trouble, and perhaps the beginning of the end of my time at Peacock. I learned later that my apartment mates returned very early the next morning while Michael was in my bed. Spotting two naked guys in bed wrapped in each other's arms early in the morning didn't require much imagination. Here was a man on the third floor—against house rules. And the man was one that I had been working with in various films. And there were no secrets at Peacock.

I knew the next morning that Billy had seen us. He made that absolutely clear and showed me the cell photos he had taken of us nude in bed in each other's arms. I knew he was looking for a way to enlist my support in changing things with Marty. He knew that I was the star and Marty's favorite, and he assumed that Marty would yield concessions to me that he would never to the other dancers. Billy had me. And he knew it. The secret of my nascent relationship with Michael was out. Definitely out. Maybe not to Marty yet. But it would reach him within days, I was sure. And the consequences were completely predictable. We'd have only a few weeks at best to make plans and decisions before Marty issued an ultimatum.