Gay-for-Pay Pt. 01

"Hey, what about me?" Ricky whimpers, again pulling at Marco.

And just as Marco refocuses on the boy and starts giving him more of the heavy physical punishment he craves, he can see out of the corner of his eye that Enzo has also started fucking Abel, with long slow deliberate strokes at first, but soon with increasing ferocity. Like some kind of sex Zen master, Enzo seems to almost intuit just how much fuck power he can wield on Abel's inexperienced body.

And in some crazy, kind of mixed-up way, Marco comes to realize that his own hot desire is being fueled just as much by the coupling next door as by his own fucking. It is Abel's grunts and groans echoing in his ear, even more than Ricky's, that is driving him, heating him up, burning like a forge in tip of his own fiery cock. Pretty soon, he and Enzo are fucking in unison, moving in a kind of shared rhythm, and each time he slams Ricky, it is not the boy's simple, giggly cries he hears. Rather, it is Abel's deeper, more strangled cries, rising out of the depths of some long denied but much needed release.

The fact is that Marco slowing down to match his fuck strokes more evenly with Enzo's is not really with Ricky wants. He would much rather have a night of slash and burn from the long-limbed and hotly muscled young Latino stud now plowing him. But being the clever and resourceful little fuck toy that he is, Ricky knows just how to get exactly what he wants, even when it is not given. And so even as Marco stuffs him with measured fuck strokes much like Enzo's, Ricky tosses his spritely young butt up, hard against Marco's tool, and thereby drawing from the young man fuck strokes much harder than Marco intends.

"You like it, baby? You like your daddy's cock in you?" Enzo mumbles, leaning forward across Abel's back, whispering into his ear. He breath is hot on the nape of Abel's neck.

"Yah . . ." Abel nods, groaning, twisting in the steely grasp of his new master, waves of heavenly heat enveloping him as the man blankets him with his body.

Enzo takes a breath and pushes himself up from Abel's sweaty body. When he stops fucking, Marco instinctively stops too, following Enzo's every move. Enzo flashes Marco a sly, knowing smile, signaling that he is fully aware the young man is shadowing him. Enzo pulls Abel up from the bed, turns him around and pushes him back down onto his back. Abel lands with a groan. Enzo abruptly digs a couple of fingers into Abel's gaping hole, and then quickly drives back in. Abel squirms and groans loudly.

"Hey, asshole, easy," Marco warns.

Enzo flashes a wicked grin. "He's all right—better than all right, aren't ya, Red? Shit, this fuckin' hole is like sweet honey on my dick—baby sweet. Bet you wouldn't mind giving this piece a turn sometime too, wouldn't ya, hombre?"

"You heard me, cabron."

Abel gasps as Enzo resumes fucking him, this time harder and more deeply than before. Even as he does, he continues to throw knowing glances Marco's way. And Marco goes back to plowing Ricky, keeping pace with Enzo, and thereby fucking the boy harder as well who beams his approval.

Even as he twists and turns in Enzo's expert hands, the pleasure exploding in him like fireworks, Abel glances over at Marco, realizing for the first time just how much Marco is watching him, and just how closely Marco is timing his fucking to Enzo's.

"Hey, Red," Enzo goads, using his hands to turn Abel's attention back to him, "eyes forward, baby. That's it. . . . Can you feel it? Can you feel how much I'm wantin' you? . . . Gonna take care of you, boy. Gonna take care of you so good. . . . Daddy knows what you need."

The giant bed has begun to rock and creak like an old ship being tossed about in a mighty storm. From either end of the bed, the two young men pound their partners with renewed vigor, and the room echoes with the distinctive sounds of squeaking coils and crunching bodies, and the hot clamor of loud sex.

As the fuck storm has grown more physical, more explosive, even Marco has given up trying to match Enzo and is now focused almost entirely on driving his cock as far as far as it will go into squirmy little Ricky. And Ricky, bubbly as ever, just absorbs it all, yelping, yawping, laughing, cawing, and making whatever squeaky noise will come out of his slender body as Marco bounces on top of him.

Meanwhile, Abel, shaking, bucking, arching and gasping, is just as absorbed by his partner. He is being tossed this way and that by Enzo's powerful movements, and now feels as if he has been sucked into a fever dream, one that is spinning him round and round in a vortex. And through it all he can feel Enzo, and that fiery, fearsome cock, burrowing so deep inside him, exciting feelings he didn't even know were there.

Only vaguely is he aware that Enzo has continued to mutter things, a hot, disssociated stream of mesmerizing words only half heard and not at all understood, words caught up in the stormy clatter of the room, and the heated furnace of sex.

Abel is twisting from side to side, thrashing about and sweating profusely, reaching out and attempting to hold onto Enzo but unable to get a grip in the heated motions of fucking. And then he cries out with the sudden realization that he is coming as hot milky jets of cum have started boiling out of his cock. And though he has been caught totally off guard by the abrupt arrival of his orgasm, he comes with unusual force. The cum is so hot and concentrated that it stings as it blows out of him, causing him to cry out and groan at once.

Minutes later, Marco and Enzo seem to come at the same time, both grunting and growling like overheated braying bulls. While Enzo freezes, his body coiling up and clenching, turning a bright crimson red as he unspools his load into Abel, Marco gets even more animated, cursing and shuddering and ramming his prodigious spouting dick into the clueless Ricky.

Finally getting the pounding he has so wantonly desired, Ricky happily releases his own boy load, squeaking and squealing like a jaunty little piglet.

Finally, mercifully, the room goes silent as all the young men collapse into the soggy wrinkled sheets with one last collective groan. And as the quartet lie there immobile, content and thoroughly wrung out, a great stillness closes around them like a cache of unspoken secrets that has just spilt open.

************

Nine o'clock Monday morning finds Jo in her office at the Westside gallery where she works. She is staring at a line of colorful prints arranged like a deck of tarot cards across the top of her wide glass-topped desk. Every so often she moves the prints around, pulls one out and casts it aside, and then rearranges the deck as if she were the dealer in a high-stakes poker game. Just as she about to try a new order, a familiar figure pokes his head in the door.

"Hola, beautiful."

"Marco!"

He comes around bearing a big cup of Starbucks coffee. He sets it on front of her and then gives her a friendly hug and kiss. "How is my favorite art dealer in LA?"

"Absolutely perfect. How is my favorite pill pusher in LA?"

He makes a face. "Dammit, Jo, I wish you wouldn't call me that. I'm a pharmaceutical rep—not a pill pusher, as you well know."

She smiles, rolls her eyes, and gives him a sweet smile. "Po-ta-to, Pa-ta-ta, what's the difference? Oh, lighten up, Marcolito. It's a joke. Seriously, though, what are you doing in these parts on a Monday morning?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop by. And I know how much you like a nice big cup of coffee."

"Oh, I do," she says prying the cap off and taking a nice big sip. "Yum. This is really good."

She looks at him as he parks himself in a chair in front of her desk. "None for you?"

"Oh, I've already had mine. Two, in fact. I'm all coffeed out."

She settles back in her chair and gives him a knowing look. "I repeat: What brings your pretty face around here at nine o'clock on a workday? And don't say nothing. Who knows you better than me?"

He slumps a little on the chair. "Oh, I don't know. Stuff. Nothing important. Hey, what's with all the prints? Big job?"

She sighs. "Oh, the biggest. We got a great contract with a prominent law firm downtown. We are going to do a major installation in their offices. The initial order was for ten pieces, just in their foyer, but if they like what we send them, this could lead to us putting pieces in offices all over their building."

"Wow, that is great," he says with something less than convincing enthusiasm.

"Hm. Oh, come on, Marcolito. What's with the long face? Is it that girl you were seeing—Marie?"

He smiles, shakes his head. "Oh, that wasn't serious."

"Seems like you haven't been serious with anybody in a long time, Marco."

"Thank you for reminding me, Mama Bear. Speaking of serious, when was the last time you saw Abel?"

"Not in a week or so. He's been busy. I've been busy. This project has been taking most of my time. Why do you ask?"

He settles back in the chair. "It's nothing."

She sighs and takes another sip of her coffee. "You make an excuse to come all the way down here on a Monday morning, just to bring me a cup of coffee. Well, that's definitely not nothing. So I'm gonna ask again. What's on your mind, Marco? Does it have something to do with Abel?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Lately, I don't think I know much."

"If it has something to do with Abel, you should tell me."

"That's just it. I don't know if there's something with Abel. OK, I'd better explain. Do you recall that little swap party we had a couple of weeks ago? The one with you, me, Abel and Marie?"

"How could I forget? It was an unmitigated disaster."

"Exactamente. Look, Jo, it really upset him that he couldn't perform that night. I mean, really upset him. He called me a couple of days later. Asked to meet up. So we did. We got together at this little Italian place I know. I thought it was just to talk. You know, just to hash things out like guys sometimes do . . ."

"But-?" she says, bearing down on him, sensing that there is more.

"Look, he has this hang-up about gay guys. It's a little hard to explain, but for some reason, he just freezes up around them. And that's a problem because, well, he's really attracted to them."

"Tell me something I don't already know," she says with a deep sigh. "Look, Marco, I liked Abel from the first minute I saw him. And one of the things I liked best was that he's bi—like me. Or, at least, so I thought. He said he was, and I took his word for it. And that's why I set us up for that party. The idea was that while I was busy charming Marie, you could get busy charming my wonderful, beautiful, free-spirited boyfriend who likes guys just fine . . . apparently, until he gets near one. It's an unholy mess."

"Si, a mess, and that's why he asked me to help him. "

"Help him how?"

"Well, for the last couple of weeks, I've taking him around to gay bars, surrounding him with lots and lots of gay guys. You know, sorta like throwing someone into the deep end of the pool."

She laughs. "I'd love to have seen that. Like a fish out of water. So how'd it go?"

He shrugs and takes a deep breath. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure. In some ways, pretty good. But in others way, maybe not so good. I set him up with a couple of guys—hardcore gay guys, the type to give him some real experiences—you know? I was hoping to draw him out, relax him, and actually getting him laid by a guy."

He gives her a wary look. "I hope you don't mind."

"That you set up my boyfriend for some hot sex with guys? Really, Marco, you know better than that. I was never the exclusive type. And besides, I want what's best for Abel. I hope what you're doing is working—is it?"

"Maybe. Who knows? I hope so too. Look, he's a tough nut to crack. Just when I think he's breaking out of that shell of his, he retreats back in."

"Well, for God's sake, don't give up on him. I know what you're up against. I saw that panicked look in his eyes when you touched him that night. It's going to take more than a few dates on a Saturday night to break that down. I do have a suggestion, if you're willing to take it."

"Sure. Shoot."

"Well, um, speaking of shoots, why don't you take him with you on one of your porn jobs."

He stares at her incredulously. "And why the fuck would I do that?"

"Listen, Marco, you probably don't want to hear this. But when I first met you in college, you were a lot like Abel. Closed off. Painfully shy. I mean, sure, a really gorgeous, beautiful, sexy guy. But you had no sense of it. Just like Abel."

"Well, flattering as that is, I hope you're not going where I think you're going."

"Think back, Marco. When we first met, you were bi, but had had practically no gay experiences at all—just like Abel-which is why I called this film producer guy I knew and set you up for a screen test, or whatever they call those things in porn. And let's face it, the rest is history. You are now one of the top 'Gay-for-Pay' porn stars in all of LA, and your days as a shy little bi guy are long behind you."

He glares at her. "Dios mio, Jo, that is just pure bullshit. First, I was never as shy or as unsure of myself as Abel. I had already done some shoots for commercials which is why I was a natural for doing porn. And just so you know, no way am I one of the 'top porn stars in LA'—though I admit the Gay-for-Pay part is right. I only do it part-time, when the spirit moves me-not like those camera hogs who churn out fuck films by the bucket-load."

"Whatever, Marco," she says sweetly, not buying a thing he is saying. "The point being, it worked for you and it might just work for Abel. I mean, you have to admit, he has the looks for it."

"It takes more than looks, Jo. And I don't why we've even having this discussion. Abel is all wrong for porn. He's not camera ready."

"I don't know what that means. But look, Marco, even if he doesn't pan out as a star, the experience of being around guys like that—like you—could only be good for him. Build his confidence. Stroke his ego. Promise me you'll talk to him about it."

"I don't know, Jo. First, I'd have to approach my producer—get his OK."

She flashes a big smile. "Oh, I knew you'd come around. And I'm sure you can talk your producer guy into giving Abel a shot. You're very persuasive when you want to be."

He sighs and shoots her another look. "Oh, I think I'm looking at the real persuasive one here. I feel sorry for those lawyers when they come up against you, Jo. You'll knock 'em all flat."

"Darn tootin' I will," she says with confidence.

"Look, I think I'll probably be able to get him onto the set—no problem. But as for getting him a test shot—well, no promises on that. That's not up to me."

"All I ask is that you try, Marcolito. You always come through for me. And I know you'll come through for Abel too. In case you can't tell, this guy really means a lot to me. I've started to think things just might work out this time. And as for getting him a test shot as you call it, what harm can it do?"