Star Strike

This being my first time, he barebacked me and I didn't know enough about any of it to ask for anything different.

We kissed and fondled and frotted each other's cocks. He showed me out to sixty-nine, and he introduced me to a dildo and fingered me to work me open for my first anal.

"Here, sniff this," he said, waving a small bottle under my nose.

"What's this?" I asked.

"A popper," he answered. "Harmless, but it will loosen you up, heighten your arousal."

It did, and I took a whiff of it myself several times while he was working my body.

"Know what will help even more?" he asked.

"No, what?"

"A bit of bondage. Just your arms. You won't feel any responsibility for what is happening. It'll help the first time. OK?"

"Why not?" I responded, mellow from the effect of the popper.

"It'll be good. You'll take it better the first time, be less tense from having less guilt of crossing over."

He used restraints at the corners of the backs of the front seats to bind my wrists over my head. Then he put a bolster under the small of my back, spread, bent, and raised my legs, and pushed his knees under my buttocks.

I got mouthy as he worked his cock inside me, and he told me to go ahead and let it out. He'd made the van virtually soundproof--that carpeting going up the walls and across the van ceiling--and we were in an isolated place anyway. Helpless, open, and vulnerable to him, I writhed under him, panting and groaning and crying out. It was rough going at first taking him inside me--but not as bad as I thought it would be. I had used a dildo for some months before, knowing I was moving toward this life, and Sexton had used a lubed dildo here in the van already. I'd taken a couple of hits from the poppers. I'd prepared myself for excruciating pain the first time.

Although the feel was different and none of it was pleasant at first, he went in fairly easily and then he held as I adjusted to him. When he started to pump, it was slow and shallow before the rhythm and depth increased, but we eventually reached the beat of the music in the background, he released my wrists, and I clutched his buttocks, moaned my surrender, and fell into the natural rhythm of the coupling. It wasn't all that painful. The emotion of having a man inside me was pulling the feeling of pleasure in front of the pain and discomfort. It was a surprise that relaxed me and helped me take it.

And I was being fucked by a handsome TV and movie star. When it came to the crucial point of the deed being done, I gave over naturally and responded fully to the fuck, lying there, stretched out and completely open to him as he took everything he wanted. Any point of regret or reluctance had been an emotional, not a physical, barrier and a thin one. At the point of his climax, he took me with him, although I'd come before that. We both twitched and jerked and let our held breath out, slamming our pelvises against each other in brutal ecstasy, as he released--again and again.

Once wasn't enough--not for either one of us. He fucked me and he fucked me and he fucked me--face on, from behind on all fours, from the side, him on his back and me above him, looking at the ceiling of the van. Every position he wanted me in or service wanted me to do for him--if I didn't intuitively know how to perform it, all it took was a gentle manipulation of my body and I gave it to him. When he was done, I was totally used up; I had given him everything he wanted.

I was no longer a virgin--to much of anything one man can do to another--when, two hours later, he dropped me off at the apartment in Anaheim that I shared with three other guys and bowlegged and sore in ways I'd never been sore before, I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor.

That was over. That was done now.

* * * *

"I called you in here to let you know that $500 has been received toward your tuition bill."

"Received to my tuition bill?" I asked, rather nonsensically. Five hundred dollars at that point was a lot of money for me. I'd come in Monday morning with a hundred dollars to deposit from what had been slipped into my waistband at the Adonis Lounge that Saturday night, and I'd been feeling like that was a real victory. Before I could get to the college financial office to turn that over, I'd been called in to be told about this even larger deposit.

"It's for a scene you did with the TV star Grant Sexton," the financial officer was saying, giving me a knowing smile. "Mr. Winslow has an arrangement set up for that."

"Sexton? Scene? Mr. Winslow?" I said, still not catching up with it.

The financial officer was enjoying this and was giving me an assessing look that showed interest on his own part. "Oh, didn't you know? This is a regular arrangement. Our Mr. Winslow procures young men for Grant Sexton, for a fee, to the young man, to Mr. Winslow, and to the school. If you got $500 out of this, you must of have sold to him as a virgin. Is that right, David? Were you a virgin to men before Saturday night? A really cute trick like you? Did you enjoy Sexton? Ready for something bigger now? Perhaps for $300, you might--"

"Uh, thanks for telling me," I said, tucking my own $100 back in my jeans pocket. Putting that toward tuition wasn't a pressing need now. Considering how I'd gotten it, maybe a more frivolous purchase was in order. I stood up from the chair and backed to the door. "I think I'm late for a class now. Sorry. And thanks."

I was out of there in a flash, but I ran into Joe Winslow in the hall on my way to music class.

"There you are. Everything go OK Saturday night?" Winslow asked.

"Fine," I said, eyes downcast.

"Really fine?" he asked, taking my chin between two fingers and raising my face so that we were looking into each other's eyes. "You were ready for this, David. You wanted this. You were expecting me to fuck you Saturday night, weren't you?"

"Yes," I said.

"And you would have gone with me willingly?"

"Yes."

"You had something sellable Saturday night, David. You're in Hollywood now, where everything you can do to get into the industry and ahead is free game. You made money off the first time. It's a renewable resource. It's worked out well for you."

"Yes, I suppose," I reluctantly admitted. "But I was told it was recorded."

"He fucked you in his van, didn't he?"

"Yes, but--"

"You didn't see the cameras in the top corners?"

"No."

"A TV and movie star. And now recorded--from several angles. When edited it will surely make a best-selling video. He's famous and you've got a great face and body. You're on film being fucked by Gran Sexton. Hadn't you dreamed of fucking with TV and movie stars like Grant Sexton when you came to Hollywood?"

"Yes, I guess so."

"Did he fuck you well? Do you think you took it well and looked good on camera taking it?"

"Yes."

"So, everything's OK? You're good with building on this, on working on your career--with me, to the extent I can help you?"

"Yes, I guess?"

"You just guess?"

"No. It's fine."

"So, you will still go with me--will take what you were willing to take when you went out with me on Saturday night? You'll take my cock in exchange for me helping you get ahead in the business?"

"Yes."

"Go to lunch with me today. I'll clear your afternoon classes."

"Yes."

He fucked me on a motel room bed. He was already starting to give me private lessons on top of what I got in the school classroom--more practical instruction on how to get ahead--and, in this case, how to give great head.

I'd already gotten a revelation when Winslow had undressed. "Shit, you're big. Long." I said.

He laughed. "A little above size, yes, and a lot longer in comparison with Grant Sexton. You didn't realize he's built small?"

"No, I don't have that much experience with men in erection."

"That's a little gift I give to guys I acquire for him who aren't experienced--like you. He likes to pop male cherries, but he isn't that taxing in doing so. You lost it to him for the first time, but he didn't tear you apart. Say thanks, Joe."

"Thanks, Joe," I said.

"I think that's why Sexton likes to do virgins--or one reason he does. He's the first, so there's no comparison for his sex partner to make. To them every first cock is enormous. The question of whether you thought he fucked you good. Did he lay you out and fill you? Did you feel him moving inside you?"

"Yes, he fucked me really good. But you say I have more--longer and thicker--to look forward to?"

"Yes, I'm a lot longer. I'm going to make you yodel." And then he laughed and when I didn't respond, he said, "Say thanks, Joe, to me, David. We're going to get you to where you can more than pay your way with your body. Today, I'm going to make you yodel. Tomorrow you'll be prepared for a guy who is both long and thick."

And he did. By the end of the afternoon, I was yodeling.

For starters, though, he sat on the foot of the bed, knees spread, and I knelt between his thighs.

"Yes, suck on the head. More gently than that. Let your tongue glide down the underside. Now back up. Flick the urethra--the piss slit--with the tip your tongue, like you're going to get your tongue in there and fuck the slit. Ah, yes, like that. Very nice. You're doing very well, David."

After pulling me up and turning me onto my back on the bed, he positioned himself, and, as I arched my back, focusing wildly on the ceiling tiles, and panted, groaned, and moaned, he entered, entered, entered me and fucked the shit out of me. I yodeled. Sexton's fucking was nothing like Winslow's fucking. I was used.

Afterward, as we lay in a stretched embrace on the bed, he whispered, "There's money to be made in films. Porn films. I know a director. It wouldn't take much to prepare you. The films would love you. You've got a great little body. You can play younger and vulnerable. Innocent. A virgin over and over again."

"Movies? Porn movies?"

"$700 or $800 a scene. You wouldn't have to worry about tuition money. You could move into your own apartment."

"But my reputation. I wouldn't--?"

"You're already on film in a Grant Sexton scene--it's already out there or soon to be. It's a close-kept secret in Hollywood," Winslow said. "Lots of stars have started that way." Then he reeled off a lot of names, going back to the beginning of film. Grant Sexton was one of them. "Of course, you'd have to let the director fuck you, so he'll be assured you can and will do it well on film."

"I understand," I said.

And so, within the space of two weeks, I had experienced my initial three times under a man with his cock inside me. Grant Sexton was first. Joe Winslow was second. And the director of the gay male porn film, The Pool Boy's First Time, was third.

* * * *

And, number four, in the filming of The Pool Boy's First Time, was the nine-and-a-half, thick inches Brazilian porn star, Ricardo Alcanzar. I'd managed to go up significantly in measurements in just four goes at it.

"Cut!" the director called out. "Very nice, guys. Very nice, indeed. The ravishment of the innocent. You're a master, Rick. And you did a great job, David. The buyers will love you. Just do that over and over again and you'll be a star."

Alcanzar pulled out of me and rose off of my shuddering body on the pool bed. He smoothed the cum he'd already shot on my belly, which was mixed with the cum I'd unloaded as well, and leaned down and kissed me on the mouth. That meant something. That wasn't for the cameras.

"Great lay, kid," he whispered. "You're really, really nice. Maybe go out for a drink together after this is wrapped up and we'd gotten showered?"

"Uh, yes, I guess so." Me out on a date with a mega porn star? Just two weeks after being out with Grant Sexton? Sweet.

"Then maybe back to my place? I'll do you right. We won't be on camera--won't have to worry about camera angles. I can hold positions longer; make you squeal real good."

"OK, sure." No cameras. Just the hunky Brazilian with his nine-and-a-half-inch cock.

He left me then, immobilized on my back on the pool bed, one leg bent, my foot flat on the surface of the pool bed. The arm on that side thrown across my forehead, my head arched over the top of the bed. My other arm and leg dangling off the side of the bed. My pelvis elevated on a pillow, my gaping hole showing, cum dribbling out of it. The cameras had lingered for half a minute after Alcanzar had withdrawn, making love to my body. The lingering shot would be retained in the final cut of the film.

The director walked over to the pool bed and looked down at me. He already was bare-chested. I watched him as he stripped off his jeans and briefs and straddled my pelvis on the pool bed. I jerked and gave a little cry as his thrust inside me, not unusually long but beer can cock thick. His mouth went to my nipples, and I moved my hands to his shoulder blades, digging in, moaning, as he began to pump me. Knowing better now, I began to move with him soon, getting into the mutual rhythm of fuck more quickly, getting more and more pleasure out of the act.

Number five.

He hadn't even asked. He'd just assumed he had privileges. I was learning that that went with the new territory I was entering. Oh, well.