Quebec City Film Date

The camera also caught, before the three rose from the bench, the wad of money the older man took out of a pocket and handed over to Emil. The cameraman went into motion, moving over to an entrance into the Château Frontenac Hotel, to catch the approach of the three men, Emil in the middle in the light grip of the other two, first toward the entrance of the hotel, and then, once all were inside, toward the bank of elevators in the lobby. They didn't enter the elevators but stood off to the side, Emil looking into a shop showcase and the other two standing on the other side of the elevators, conversing. The cameraman, Chris, went to the elevators and entered one. Only then did the other three move to the elevator doors, all three entering the same one.

On the twelfth floor, the elevator door opened for Chris to get a shot of the three men—Emil being held close between the American, Peter, and the younger, German bodybuilder, Horst, with Peter having an arm around Emil's neck and capturing the young man's lips with his in a kiss. Horst had a hand on Emil's crotch. After getting that shot, Chris scurried to the far end of the corridor to film the three moving to the hotel room door and entering, Peter's hand clearly seen palming Emil's ass. The room obviously had been acquired earlier for this tryst filming.

A fourth cameraman, a towering black French Canadian, Eduard, was standing across the hotel room from the door to the corridor, video camera at the ready and stage lighting positioned around the room, focused on the king-sized bed, to catch the entrance of the three into the room and for Peter to close the door behind them as he and Horst embraced Emil in three-way kisses and fondling.

Emil was sandwiched between the other two. They all remained dressed until this segment of film was blacked out, but Emil's knees were raised onto the hips of the older American, Peter, he was facing, and the crotch of the German, Horst, was pressed into Emil's buttocks from behind and all were rocking together to give the image that Peter and Horst would be fucking Emil in a double penetration if they had been naked.

* * * *

There was a distinctive formula to films produced by the American porn filmmaker Peter Wilson that caught viewers' attention. They all featured him as a top, but, more arousingly, they all started with a bang—producing the most memorable and taxing of the sex scenes right off the top. There was a foreplay period of Peter and Horst working Emil—fondling and kissing him between them and getting him fully undressed—but they kept their own clothes on, with only their shirts unbuttoned and flared to show their muscular torsos and the flies open, with their quite-nice cocks out. So, typically a Peter Wilson movie ran in succession from what would be penetrative sex if all weren't fully clothed, to what was penetrative sex while the bottom was naked and the top was (or tops were) fully clothed other than their shafts being freed, to full, naked sex. Typically, the movie concluded with the power top walking away from an exhausted and fully laid out bottom.

Following the clothed humping scene of the introduction, the cameras came back on catching Emil, naked, kneeling before a clothed, standing Peter and sucking his cock, while Horst sat on the bed, nearby, clothed and stroking his cock. But the film quickly moved into the first, most unusual sex scene, with Peter, still clothed, lying on his back on the bed, and a naked Emil riding his cock in a cowboy, facing Peter's head and palming Peter's muscular pecs inside his flared shirt. Horst, still dressed, was riding Emil's ass in a double penetration fuck from a kneeling position behind the naked Brazilian. His hands were palming Emil's pecs and he, solid and heavily muscular, was doing the thrusting inside Emil.

Emil was taking the two cocks with a great deal of grimacing, moaning, and writhing about. It wasn't an act. He wasn't a professional porn actor. They really were double fucking him with vigor. Part of the arousal for a viewer was that the two tops were so different physically. Emil was only doing this because there was a great deal of money involved. He had advertised for a paid hookup in Quebec City this afternoon on a gay dating site to add to his nest egg, and Peter Wilson, looking for a likely submissive for a movie, had jumped at the chance of doing the androgynously beautiful French-Brazilian and had made Emil an offer the young man couldn't refuse.

As he writhed between the two well-endowed men sharing him on the bed in the Château Frontenac Hotel room, Emil almost regretted having signed on for this. Peter hadn't lied about what the scene entailed. The effort was too great, but the money was just too good—Emil's goal of returning to Rio de Janeiro and upgrading his mother's perfume shop was just too much closer to hand with this movie deal.

After the two had finished him in a "he-naked-they-clothed" double penetration, Emil lay there, panting and moaning on the bed, stretched out and vulnerable, as, first Peter, now naked—tall, wiry, tightly muscular, smooth-bodied, and mature, stripped, grabbed Emil by the ankles and pulled the young man to the foot of the bed, his butt resting on the edge. Peter flared Emil's legs, as Emil, groaning and scrabbling at the bedspread with his outstretched hands, trying to maintain traction, begged for mercy—again, not as an act—and Peter, holding the young man's legs spread and raised, moved between his thighs, thrust inside him, with a long cock, and fucked the hell out of him.

The two cameramen, the tattooed, rangy Chris and the dark, meaty Eduard, danced around the bed, taking in the action at all angles and expertly staying out of each other's way.

The young, bald, bodybuilder German, Horst, stood by the bed, naked, short, solid, slightly bow-legged, and blondly hirsute everywhere on his body except his head, and watched, licking his chops and pulling on his thick cock with the hand of an overlong, simian arm. No sooner had Peter come and stepped away from Emil, then Horst was there, turning a moaning Emil over, onto his knees at the foot of the bed, embracing the young Brazilian with his arms, pressing his face into Emil's throat, and thrusting up inside him. The beefy German rode Emil long and hard, pulling the young man's torso up into his chest. The camera angle was of slightly bowed, short legs and undulating plump buttocks, with the soles of Emil's feet pressed into Horst's thighs and the young man's arms stretched out straight from his hidden body in a sacrificial position. The German's low-hanging, hairy balls slapped against his thighs with his thrusts. The sound being caught left no question that Emil was taking a thick and vigorous cock. Panting and moaning, Emil, exhausted, just lay in the German's embrace and took it—and took it and took it.

He just fell forward, totally spent, when Horst had come and released him. The German stood back from the bed. Peter looked at the two cameramen. Eduard shook his head, but Chris nodded, handed Peter the camera, with Eduard recording him doing so, and shucked off his clothes. Chris climbed up onto the bed, dragging Emil further up onto the mattress with him, put Emil back in a doggie position, and fucked him. Before he was finished, Horst climbed up onto the bed, got Emil between him and Chris, and the film ended with Emil being double fucked one more time, all three of them naked, the contrast between the tattooed rangy guy, the honey-colored, androgynous French Brazilian, and the bodybuilder hirsute German delicious to the eyes of the cameras held by Peter and Eduard. There was no question that Emil was being exhausted and used totally.

More than an hour of film had been taken. There was more than one movie in what they had filmed.

They had paid Emil before they entered the hotel, and Peter added a tip to that, declaring that Emil had been great and giving Emil a business card. "We'd like to do it again with you," he said. "You could be a porn star."

Emil kept the card, but he didn't think he'd be doing this again—not a double penetration gangbang like this. It would age him too quickly, he thought.

"You can keep the room for the night; it's paid for," Peter said, as the movie team returned from the shower, dressed, and packed up their cameras and lighting equipment. Emil, still stretched out on his back on the bed, totally wiped out and moaning lightly, mumbled something. He knew he couldn't keep the room for the night, though. He had to be back on the Triumph II for the dinner service—within the next two and a half hours.

Peter, Horst, and Chris were at the door, carrying the equipment, when Peter called out that they'd be down in the hotel bar when Eduard was done.

When Eduard was done? Emil thought. Before he could have another thought, though, the movie crew was leaving, and Eduard, black, muscular, black bull hung, walked out of the bathroom, climbed up on the bed, gathered Emil up into his arms, put his cock into position, and thrust up inside Emil.

The Brazilian cried out in surprise, moving into ecstasy, as the big-cocked black bull set up the rhythm of the master fuck. A camera was set up to capture the action. Another movie.

* * * *

"As you know, I'm staying on the ship tomorrow in Montreal during the changeover of passengers for the return cruise to Detroit," Amanda VanClief said to Emil when she arrived at dinner that evening to be seated a bit earlier than her girlfriends were. "And as you also know, I'm taking the return cruise. You don't have to serve a lunch that day, do you? You're free, aren't you? I asked about that at the pursers office and they said they would be on half staff because the old passengers will be gone and the new ones not yet on board."

"Yes, I'm sure I can be scheduled off, if you wish me too be," Emil answered. He was looking past the woman to the head waiter, Jacques Odia, who was giving him a mean look. Odia was the one who would have to schedule workers for that lunch. There was only the crew and a few remaining passengers to feed for lunch the next day. He hadn't announced the work schedule yet and hadn't planned on giving Emil the afternoon off. He nearly said something, but then he caught Emil's facial expression and understood something Emil had said to him earlier that day.

This arrangement they had was a double-edged one, Emil had said. Jacques hadn't thought about it at the time, but now he understood. Just as he had control over Emil, knowing what the young Brazilian's game was here, Emil had a certain control over him too. Not only did he want to continue fucking Emil, but Emil could report him for many small crimes on board the cruise ship in addition to his covering Emil, and Jacques would be out of a cushy job.

Jacques gave Emil a terse nod and moved off.

"I'd like you to go into Montreal with me for the afternoon," she said.

"I would be quite happy to," Emil responded.

"You said earlier that the ship's staff wasn't permitted to mingle with the passengers in that way. So, I thought maybe—"

"Technically that would be between cruises," Emil said. And then he saw the opportunity to land her decisively. "Besides, I've become quite taken—quite attracted—to you. I am willing to take the risk and to suffer the consequences for the pleasure of being in your company."

The ploy worked a charm. He almost could see tears in her eyes. She leaned into him and whispered in his ear. "I desire you. You understand what I mean by that? Do you think—?"

"I think there's nothing I would like more than to try to satisfy you . . . sexually."

Trembly, obviously moved, she whispered, "I have a hotel room reserved. If you satisfy me, I have a proposition to make about your immediate future after this last cruise is over for the season."

Emil was determined that Amanda VanClief would be quite satisfied in that hotel room. He was a bit amused that it was in the Château Frontenac Hotel, on the same floor that he had made a movie earlier that afternoon—where he had prostituted himself just as he was about to do again. He wondered if he should tell her that he still had the key to one of those rooms in his possession. He most certainly wouldn't tell her what he'd done in that room.