The Porn Shoot Ch. 03

"I'm fucking cumming too!" Kyle yells, his butt spasming around my dick, the little gay guy groaning wildly with my length lodged inside him.

Feeling his hole relax, his moans dissipating, part of me just wants to keep fucking. I want to watch my load spilling out all over my cock as I fuck him again, as I force him to keep making those sounds, Kyle eagerly calling his ass a pussy. But I'm sweaty and breathless and I definitely need a break. I let my still hard dick slip out of his butt, groaning the second I pull away. His smooth pink ring is gaping open, a trickle of my cum instantly leaking out, streaming down Kyle's sack and dripping down on to the sheet.

Fuck. I squeeze myself between his body and the bedroom wall, Kyle still panting as he turns over. I can see a big wet spot on my bed where he'd shot his load as he settles on his back, lying right on top of it and nestling his body beside mine.

"That was so fucking hot," he whispers, grabbing my hand and intertwining our fingers. "Your dick is...that was amazing."

I'm still struggling to catch my breath, sweat dripping down my body. "Yeah," I pant. He's a fucking professional and I just rocked his world. Is this what anal is always like? I'm going to start trying to fuck girls up the ass all the time. God his ass was so fucking good. We're lying next to each other and I still don't feel freaked out. Even after an hour of intense cardio I'm tempted to climb between Kyle's legs right now to thrust my dick back into him, and I'm definitely boned up enough to do it. "How long is the fucking Viagra supposed to last, man?" I ask, frustrated that I already want to plow his ass again. "I'm still so fucking horny."

Kyle laughs, gripping my hand tightly. "You know it doesn't actually make you horny, right?" he says like the information means nothing. "You still have to be turned on to get hard. The pill just makes it easier."

Now I finally feel a little horrified. "There's no way," I mumble, not believing him at all. There's no way he's capable of turning me on this much. He's a fucking dude. Why am I still holding this fucking gay guy's hand?

"I'm serious, you still have to be turned on to get hard," he insists, pausing for a few seconds. "I'm, um...a little nervous to tell you this, but a lot of the straight guys have to look at porn on their phones between angles and positions to keep their erections up."

Oh my god. I hadn't even considered looking at porn during the shoot, my eager dick raring to have Kyle all over it the whole time. When Todd asked if I needed a moment to firm up, I was perfectly fine to keep going. The little gay guy has to be fucking me with me. "There's no way that's true," I mutter, almost glaring at him as I free myself from his hand. Why was I still fucking touching him?

Kyle turns on to his side, digging an elbow into my bed and propping his head up with his hand, looking at me seriously. "Hey, I'm not trying to scare you," he whispers. "I'm just being honest."

I don't say anything. I want to force him out of this fucking bed. What the fuck did I just do?

"There's nothing wrong with being bi," Kyle continues, his voice soft and sympathetic. "I really meant it when I told you I've met a few guys who never even considered it until they started filming."

Fuck, he's serious. Fuck! "No, I'm not bi," I say resolutely, turning my head away. What the fuck is wrong with me? Kyle tries to touch his hand to my chest and I rip it away. "I like girls, man. I don't know what the fuck this was."

He's quiet beside me for a few seconds. "I'm not saying you don't like girls. Do you want to talk about it?"

I don't answer. What the fuck did I just do? No wonder we're not supposed to be hanging out together off set. This is a fucking nightmare. I should have just let him drive away. I should have buried all this shit deep and fucking ignored it.

"You, um...you want me to leave?" Kyle asks, sounding hurt.

That's the easiest fucking question of the day. "Yeah, man, maybe you should go," I mumble, still looking at the bedroom wall.

"Ok," Kyle whispers. "Can I, um, text you later maybe? Just in case you want to talk?"

Why the fuck does the little gay guy want to text me? We're done. He doesn't try to touch me again. "I don't think so, dude," I say to the wall. I feel him shifting in the bed, his feet hitting the floor.

"Ok."

That's all he says. I hear him walk down the hallway to the living room, a minute of silence passing before his clothes start rustling as he's pulling them back on. The door opens and swings shut.

Now the shame and regret is a fucking deluge. I still don't believe Kyle about the Viagra, but even if what he said is true, I hadn't busted in a whole week when we shot the scene together. I would have been excited to have anyone touching me. And right now, I'm still insanely fucking horny and a little drunk. People make bad decisions all the time when they're drunk, and I could be on a fucking billboard as an example. I do the dumbest shit when I'm drunk, like spending all of my money and forcing myself into Bob Howard's hands, like asking Kyle to come home with me right now. I climb out of my bed to get some water, but I instantly observe wet spots all over my sheets: cum, sweat, probably fucking drool as much as his gay ass loved getting reamed. I rip them off the mattress, balling them up and throwing into the washer before I grab a glass in the kitchen. I notice the little notepad on my kitchen countertop has been disturbed when I turn around, a page torn off and stuck next to it. Kyle had written his name and his phone number down on the fresh sheet, the pen laid across it. He's fucking desperate to see me again, of course, but I can't fault him for that. He just got so fucking lucky. I tear the page off and crumple it up, tossing it into the trash.

Getting wasted is the last thing I should do right now, since I'm supposed to work a shift tonight and I'm still a couple hundred bucks short on the rent, but it's all I can think about. Fuck it, I'll let the property manager charge me $50 for paying a few days late. I need to get totally fucking sloshed.

I find a coworker eager to cover for me when I offer the Saturday night up, taking a long shower to cleanse myself of every remnant of Kyle, and then I don an outfit that shows off my ass and arms. I head out the door, vaulting a block away to my favorite bar. I'll fucking prove to Kyle what I really like, who I really am. His phone number is buried in the fucking garbage, exactly where it belongs. This is the last time I'm putting myself in this hopeless position, if I really can't depend on my parents to help me out. I've finally hit rock bottom. I just fucked a dude for free. What the fuck is wrong with me?