
 
PORN  STARS

By Pete Brown     petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  8

Alex totally froze me out all week.  I really couldn't understand why he was so upset - after all, it was his idea to go and try to become porn stars in the first place.  And it's not as if fucking a guy has any lasting effect - there's not going to be some screaming baby in nine months time if you get it wrong, is there?  But he just wouldn't speak to me, or even answer me if I tried to talk to him - he seemed to be completely pissed off - and I had done everything I could to make it fun for him, after all:  I'd spent all that time massaging him and lubing him before I'd started fucking him.  I suppose he didn't like the way I was a bit forceful - but then, when a young guy really gets into his stride, what do you expect?  You're at your sexually most vigorous when you're 16, after all.  And, I wanted to remind him, if he hadn't been so quick to cum when Steve and Joe wanked us, he could have been the one doing the fucking - it's really all his own fault.

By the next Saturday I was pretty lonely - I was used to spending most of my free time with Alex, and now I had no one to tell jokes to, no one to swap stories with about who was shagging who, no one to go to the pub with and try to get a drink - all in all, it was pretty miserable.  Even mom and dad noticed, and asked me where Alex was.

With the prospect of an empty Saturday - even our football had been called off because the pitch was in too bad a condition - I found myself going to the East End, and wandering down the street with Steve and Joe's flat in it.  I rang the bell, and Joe answered and buzzed me in.  He opened the flat door, as usual wearing only his white singlet.

"So, what brings you here?  Got that Alex with you, too?"

"Nothing much - I was bored, and kind of over this way, and thought I'd just drop in on you and Steve - we're mates now, aren't we?  And no, Alex isn't here - there's been a bit of a falling out!"

"I don't know if we are mates, Ray.  Just because guys fuck each other it doesn't mean they have to like each other, or hang around with each other.  Fucking's just something you do with another guy if you want to - just like having a drink with a stranger in a pub:  you do it, then don't necessarily ever see the guy, or even want to see him, again.  And for me and Steve it's really just a business - we go along every now and then to the studios and we take part in whatever they've got laid on.  It was a bit different to find you and Alex, I'll admit - usually it's six or seven other blokes like us, and we just party all day whilst they film us."

"Anyway", he went on, "Now you're here, you may as well come in."

We went through into the huge, bright living room, and Joe continued "Steve's out with a client - it's getting to be a bit of a bore!  I only work Mondays to Fridays on my site, as we're not allowed to work at the weekend because of the noise and disruption to residents nearby.  But more and more of Steve's clients want to work with him at the weekends- they say they're too busy to take the time during the week."

"What exactly do you and Steve do, Joe?"

"Well, I'm a labourer and I work just north of here, on one of the big construction sites in the office complex at Canary Wharf.  It's great, as I can just walk to and from work.  Mind you, I'm pretty shagged out most days - although a lot of the stuff is done by machine on these big sites, there's still a minimum that's left over for manual labourers, and every site has to have three or four blokes like me who just do the grunt work.  It suits me, though - it keeps me VERY fit, as you'll see, the hours are regular, the pay is very good, as most blokes don't want to work physically hard, and there's absolutely no worry:  once I leave in the evening, that's it until the next day.  Beats working in an office, which is what I did years ago."

"Steve's a personal trainer", he went on. "He spends all his day working out with men and women who can't be bothered to go to a proper gym.  I think most of them just like looking at his body - you see how he goes to work, in those tiny shorts and that satin vest!  Half his women clients are always making little suggestions to him about going away for weekends, or just staying on for a little relaxation:   you'd have thought they'd have realised that a guy with a body like Steve's would only be interested in using it properly, with another man."

"So does he sometimes do a little 'extra work out' with any of the men?", I asked.

A flicker of concern crossed Joe's face for a moment, but he replied. "No way.  He doesn't want to fool around with those flabby guys when I'm here at home waiting for him!  He only takes on the clients so that they can pay him whilst he's working out - he thinks I'm funny, working as a labourer to keep in shape, but I think he's the odd one, doing all that pointless exercise all the time.  Still, he is well paid."

"What about the porno films?"

"Oh, that's just an extra.  Our wages pay for this place, but the money we get for doing the occasional porno film, and the royalties, pay for all the extras - the holidays, saving for our retirement home... All that kind of crap.  And, of course, it's fun!  It's difficult to meet new guys with bodies as good as ours, and  we have managed to build up quite a circle of good mates who we've met making the films."

As we were talking, Joe had walked into the kitchen and I'd followed.

"As you're here, have a beer." 

I didn't get the chance to say no, as he'd flipped open the can for me, together with one for himself, and wandered back into the living room.  He sat back on one of the sofas, spreading his legs in easy relaxation, and almost absent mindedly playing with his cock.

"Can I ask you a question, Joe?"

"Guys who say that usually mean 'can I ask you a rude, prying, question, and will you get angry'?"

"No... Well... It's just I wondered why you had all those tattoos all over your shoulders and arms."

"Because I like them.  I've spent a lot of time working on my body to get it physically into the shape it is, and now the only other changes I can make are to decorate it.  I'd have a lot more, but Steve won't let me.  I want his name and mine tattooed on my neck, and my forearms - but he says it's OK to have tattoos where they are, as if we have to go anywhere special even a short-sleeved shirt hides them.  But any more would show - he's a bit conventional, is Steve, and when we're on holiday he likes to play the conventional middle-class couple!  He even wants me to take out my nose ring."

"Yes... Well, why do you have that?  Doesn't everyone stare?"

"Well most guys stare at me most of the time anyway - they look at what's packed into my jeans, they look at my tattoos - I only wear a jacket if it's really cold.  So I'm used to being looked at.  After all, I've got nothing to be ashamed of - I'm proud of my body, and I know a lot of men devoutly wish they were in half such good shape as me."

"But actually", he went on, "the ring is to give guys confidence."

"Uh?"

"Look, if Steve's busy all night and I want to play, I go to one of the gay bars and pick up a bloke. Most of them, even the top guys who I want to master me, are simply scared when they see the size of my body, and my tattoos.  There were too few guys who are prepared to take me on and make me do what they want."

"With the ring they know they can control me - it says to them that I expect to be controlled. They know that if they grab me by the ring and twist, it's going to hurt, and even of I hit out at them (which I wouldn't), they can hurt me more than I could hurt them.  So it makes it easier for them to decide to have a go, and master me."

I don't know whether it was the beer, or what, but as Joe talked about men mastering him, and grabbing his nose ring, I'd started to have the most enormous erection.  I felt almost light headed, and with only one beer!  

Something inside me decided to have a go... I reached up and very tentatively touched Joe's nose ring.  He didn't move.  He didn't say anything.  Time seemed to stand still.

I hooked a finger through the ring, and pulled down - Joe's head obediently followed.  I moved my hand down to my lap, and I had Joe's face in my crotch.  He moaned, softly.

He must have been able to feel my erection under my jeans, and now I was bursting to fuck.  The thought of fucking Joe, making him bend to my will, was so powerful, so erotic, that I had to go on.

I started twisting the ring, and moving my hand down. Joe could no longer bend over from where he was sitting, and had to get down on to the floor.  He crouched there, at my feet, looking up at me.  Having this huge muscular mature man in my power like this was incredible - I could feel the pre-cum leaking out of me.

I got up, and almost dragged Joe across the room by the nose ring - I was careful to keep my hand low, so that he couldn't stand and had to half scoot, half scuttle across the wooden floor.  I pulled him into the bedroom and "led" him up onto the bed.

"Does Steve do this to you, Joe?"

"Sometimes.  If we're playing."

"What else does he do?"

"He locks me to the bed."

"What?"

"... There's a padlock in that bedside table.  He locks my nose ring to the bed head.  I'm completely helpless then."

With mounting excitement I leaned over and opened the bedside cabinet.  There was a small padlock, a key, and a short length of chain.  Now almost shaking with anticipation,  I took them, slipped the chain through Joe's nose ring, wrapped it around one of the steel bars of the headboard, then snapped the padlock through a couple of links to hold it there.

Joe was lying face down on the bed, naked except for his singlet, and with his arms at his side.  He couldn't move much, as there was almost no play in the chain holding him securely to the headboard.

I stood by the side of the bed, near the top, so he could see me, and stripped my T-shirt, jeans and boxers off - my cock was almost vertical, it was  so hard.  There was a damp patch, I noticed, all down the front of my boxers as I'd leaked so much pre-cum.

I leapt up onto the bed, and straddled Joe's body, feeling the warmth of the base of his spine push against my arse hole - he had one of those little tufts of wiry hair growing there, just at the top of his crack, and it scratched delightfully as I moved myself to get comfortable.  I pushed his singlet up towards his shoulders, feeling the muscles of his back under my hands.

Joe was moaning gently, and I thought he was perhaps enjoying it too much!

I leaned forward and hissed into his ear "I don't like you wearing that singlet when I'm naked. It prevents me from seeing the full splendour of that tattoo of yours.  So I'm going to strip you."

I made a bit of a fool of myself at his point - we've all read stories where the guy tears the clothes off a girl he's going to shag, and I thought it would be easy.  I reached for the hem of Joe's singlet and pulled with all my strength, but it just wouldn't tear - it was woven in some sort of really strong, synthetic material.  

Joe started to laugh quietly!  I was furious, leapt off him, went into the bathroom, found some scissors in the bathroom cabinet and came back and ripped them up the length of the singlet, and across the tops of the arms.  I then snatched it away, and saw his whole huge body lying there in all its splendour in front of me.

"So, you think it's funny, do you?"  I snapped at Joe.  "Men who make fun of their masters get punished, you know!"

I slapped his muscular arse four times, as hard as I could, with my open hand, each time pulling right back and not sparing the blow.  Joe jerked slightly as each blow struck him, but I realised it was hurting my hand more than it was hurting his arse!

"Does Steve punish you like that?"

"Yes.", Joe whispered. "If he's displeased with me.  But it's OK - it doesn't really hurt.  Only when he uses the belt."

"The belt?"

"At the back of the drawer.  He says it hurts his hand to slap me too much."

I looked in the drawer again and there was a long black leather belt lying there curled up.  I guessed it must be used in their games, as I'd never seen either of them with a belt in their tight pale blue jeans.

I wrapped the buckle end around my hand once, raised my arm, and let fly at Joe's arse with the other end.  The leather swished through the air, and when it landed Joe didn't just flinch - his whole body jerked, and he let out a little cry.

"Ah, so this is a bit more serious...."

I gave him four more strokes on his arse, and saw his body move each time.  His cries seemed to be getting louder.  

I didn't want to stop.  There was something special about seeing this big, helpless naked body writhing under the force of my blows.  But I was concerned that Joe's cries - which were now almost shouts - might alarm the neighbours.  I picked up my boxers, leapt onto Joe, and tried to stuff them in his mouth.  

He was, of course, much too strong, and just held his mouth shut.  His cries of pain were once again almost now turning into amusement.  I was cross that he was defying me, and reached between his legs and got hold of his balls.  Pulling them backwards so that they were exposed between his meaty thighs, I just struck them lightly - very lightly - with the end of the belt.

Joe clearly hated this - he did let out a real yelp of  anger, but before he could say anything I snapped "Get your fucking mouth open - I'm going to stop your crying and whining whilst you learn how a real man dishes out punishment.  Now - get it open:  I don't want to have to hit those balls of yours, but, if you make me...."

I reached forward, and Joe obediently opened his mouth, and I balled up some of the material of my boxers and stuffed it in.

It must have been twenty strokes I gave him wit the belt - each one harder that the last, as I found myself building up to a frenzy of punishment.  Not just on the arse, either- I could see long red welts on his back, and across his thighs.  I could have gone on for longer, but it was actually making my arm tire, the blows were so strong, so I stopped and stood there, breathing heavily, looking at the redness appearing all over him. And, in any case, my cock was almost bursting with the desire to fuck.

"On your knees!", I commanded, and, when Joe hesitated, I again reached in, grabbed his balls, and "encouraged" him to raise his arse high in the air.

I knelt between his legs, and roughly pushed them further apart, so I could see more of his hole, then used my hands on his bum and my thumbs to force his cheeks apart as far as they would go - his flesh now felt really hot under my hands, where the belt had struck him.  

I only gave him one huge gob of spit that I spat directly at him, then, in a frenzy, started to fuck him.  I almost didn't know what I was doing... I wasn't gentle, all I wanted to do was to have my cock up his arse, and to fuck and fuck until my pleasure was satiated.  It didn't matter about Joe - he was just there to be used, his arse was meant to take my cock and pleasure it.

There's a real excitement, we all know, of fucking when you're already raised to a sexual frenzy - nowadays I have to use poppers to get only half as far as I was that first time I forcibly fucked a man.  I can still remember the feeling of power a I smashed myself repeatedly into Joe's arse;  I remember how his body bucked with each of my strokes;  I remember the muffled cries he was making as I thrust home, as deep as I could.  And I remember cumming - shooting a load of cum the like of which I'd never known before.  It was as if my body had been saving itself for this moment.  It was as if this was the first time I had had sex.

You can't sustain fucking like that, of course, as you are just carried away and cum.  There's no prolonging the intense pleasure - it just sweeps over you, and you can't control it.

I let Joe lie back flat on the bed as soon as I'd cum, and lay my own body along his so that I could savour the heat rising from it, and feel his sweat mingling with my own. I just wanted to pull him to me, to make his body and mine as if they were one.  

My heavy breathing subsided after a couple of minutes, and I went and knelt by Joe's head.  Gently I pulled my boxers out of his mouth.  He lay there, looking at me, and I began to realise that I could be in trouble:  sooner or later, I'd have to release Joe, and then what?  

But you may as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, as they say, so I decided to carry on.

"Mouth open, Joe.... My cock needs cleaning up after that.  I hope you remembered to take an enema this morning."

I shuffled forward so that my cock was hanging near his mouth - he had turned his head to the side as far as he could.

"Get your mouth open!  And mind your teeth!  Clean my cock, and do it well - I don't want to have to give those balls of yours a separate spanking!"

Joe's tongue came out, and as I moved around on my knees, he did his best to lick all over my cock and balls, limited, of course, by his inability to move much as a result of the padlock and chain.

Just as I was satisfied with his licking and was wondering what to do next, I heard the flat door open and Steve came into the room - in the tiny shorts and sweat-soaked singlet that indicated he had run home again from his client.

"What the fuck.....?"

I saw him glancing at the belt, then he roughly pushed me aside, and bent down to feel Joe's body.  Kneeling next to him, he reached into the drawer for the key and started to open the padlock.

"Are you OK, mate... It looks as if someone has given you a right seeing to.... Who was it?  I've told you not to pick those men up from the pub...." 

Joe sat up on the bed, and looked at me, and at Steve.  

"Joe, mate, are you OK?  Shall I go after the bastard?"

"No, Steve.  It's... Well, Ray here just got a bit carried away...."

"Ray?  You let this little fucker tie you down and strap you?"

"Well that's not quite how it happened... One thing led to another... And he's young.. It's his first time.... Anyway, I'm not hurt.  And it was a pretty fantastic fuck!"

Steve still looked really angry, and I thought he was going to hit me.  But Joe reached out and wrapped one of his big arms around me and gave me a half hug, half squeeze.

"Cool it, Steve.  No harm done.  Young Ray here is a lot like you - he's an aggressive top, and he just needs to learn how to control it a bit better. But I suspect he's just working off all the frustration of being fucked... You know how you are, if ever anyone has ever got it up you...."

Steve was still looking angry at me, but when Joe finished speaking he gave a little shrug and turned towards the bathroom, shedding his clothes as he did so.  

Joe and I heard the shower start, and Joe, still with his arm around me, walked me over towards the bathroom door.  We joined Steve in the shower, and were soon all laughing and joking as we soaped each other, explored each others bodies, and generally enjoyed ourselves as  three strong men will when they're showering together.

After we'd dried each other,  Steve suggested we went out to have a pizza for lunch.  Joe was grinning, as he looked at his shredded singlet  "That's a few quid you owe me from your next earnings, Ray", he joked.  

The men each pulled on one of their pairs of tight jeans, and I started to pull on my boxers.

"I told you that men don't wear underwear under jeans", Steve said as he watched me.  "Drop them, and just pull your jeans on."

"I can't, as...."

"Hey, boy - I've sort of forgiven you for raping my mate, as he enjoyed it.  But don't push your luck.  That arse of yours could still get a good spanking from me!  Drop those boxers, get your jeans on, and let's get out - Joe's always hungry, and I'm starving after a morning's work."     

I decided to shut up and do as he said, but there's a big problem - like most of my mates, I wore loose, baggy jeans that just hung around my hips.  They were designed to hang low, so that the tops of my boxers showed up.  I went to cinch my belt tighter to make them ride higher, but Steve came over and undid the buckle, and pulled the belt out of the loops.

"No.  Men don't wear belts, either.  And I don't think you can be trusted with a belt, after what we've seen this morning..."

I only had a cropped T-shirt, as I liked to expose the tops of my boxers.  As we walked down the street my jeans slipped lower and lower, and without the boxers, what was exposed was my belly, and the top of my arse crack!  Steve and Joe laughed all the way to the pizza parlour as they saw me being exposed like this, and made little gestures to point out the top of my bum to any young women they saw!  By the time I arrived I was red with embarrassment.

They had another humiliation in store for me, too.  We sat at the table, with me in-between them, and the waitress came over with three menus.  Steve at once said "Three beers, while we wait."

"Actually, Steve, I'd prefer a coke..."

"Who fucking cares what you'd prefer, Ray?  Joe and I are in charge around here, and when you're with us, you'll drink what we drink."

The waitress came back, and  Steve rapped out orders for a couple of pizzas.  I noticed that Joe didn't say anything, so guessed that Steve must have ordered for him.  

"And I'll have the double pepperoni...", I started to say to the waitress.

Steve cut right across me.

"Ignore him.  He doesn't have a say!"

He winked at the waitress, who was in her early twenties, and gave her a dazzling smile.  She smiled back.  

"He'll eat some of ours", Steve continued.  "Thanks... And keep the beers coming."

When the meal arrived I was subject to the utter humiliation of not being able to eat as I chose.  Steve and Joe would cut bits of their pizzas, and push the fork with it on at me - I had to eat what they gave me, from their forks.  To my horror I saw a party of girls from my school on the other side of the restaurant, and they soon saw what was going on:  they bean to giggle and snigger every time Steve or Joe cut a piece of pizza and fed it to me.

They gave me two beers during the meal, and the inevitable soon happened - I needed to piss.  So I asked Joe and Steve, politely, if they'd mind moving so I could get out and go to the lavatory.  

"Sit here until we're finished!", Joe told me - and that was the end of that: there was no way I could push past them.

After a few more minutes, it was really getting urgent.

"Please, Steve.. I really do need to go."

"Shut the fuck up with your complaining", Steve said.  "Joe and I want to sit here quietly and finish our meal.  Either hold it in, or..... "  He picked up my empty beer glass and handed it to me. "....piss into this under the table if you're that desperate." 

I couldn't do that, could I, in the middle of a crowded restaurant, so I just had to sit there in agony until they'd finished, and Steve had called for the bill and paid.  Then, and only then, was I allowed out and I had to make a dash for the lavatories.

I was so glad when that dreadful meal was over, and didn't even mind too much as the diners all saw my arse crack as we left, with my jeans still at a very low level on my hips and nothing underneath.   

"Before we go back", Steve told me, "There's one more thing we need to do.... Those dreadful jeans of yours have to go.  If you're going to be a real stud, you need proper men's jeans, like mine and Joe's.  Other than that arse crack of yours, men can't see what you've got inside those baggy things - we need to get you some proper, tight ones."

I cheered up a bit, as I wanted to be like Steve and Joe, and we went into one of the big multiples.  

Steve immediately grabbed one of the salesmen and told him he wanted me fitted with really tight jeans, and the salesman asked my size.  I went to tell him, but Steve again shut me up by saying "We don't know - why don't you measure him?"

The salesman was a bloke in his mid twenties, and came back with a measuring tape, and ran it around my waist.  

"Do the inside leg, too", Steve told him, and the salesman knelt down to take this most intimate measurement.  

"You'll never do it with all that loose material lying around.", Steve told him, and then, before I could stop him, he simply undid the button holding my jeans up and pushed them to the floor.

"There - now you can get an accurate measurement."

I don't know whether the salesman or me was blushing the most - I suspect the guy was gay, as he didn't really hesitate to push the measuring tape high into my crotch: I felt his cold fingers brushing against my cock and balls.  And he knelt there, with my tackle at his eye level, for longer than he really needed to!

They allowed me to pull my jeans up to hide myself from the other customers whilst the salesman went off and found the size, but when I went into a changing cubicle to try them on, Steve insisted that the door was left open so that he and Joe could supervise the fitting - I just knew everyone was staring at me as I got out of my old ones and tried to wriggle into the new ones, that were very tight.

"Good, but not tight enough", Steve observed.  The salesman watched as he ran his hands over my bum, and felt my crotch.  "Bring a size smaller."

Watched by all three men, and a fair number of customers, I had to really struggle and wriggle to get into the even tighter and smaller pair that were produced next.  I had to cup my cock and balls with my hand to be able to even fasten the fly, and I just knew that I was so well outlined in the thin material that everyone could see I was uncut!

"We'll take them!", Steve told the salesman. He paid, and we just walked out, leaving my old ones behind in a heap on the floor.

"Want to come back with us?", Joe asked.

I didn't know what to say.  What did he mean?

"Back - to your place?"

"Sure - after a pizza and a couple of beers on a Saturday, Steve and I like to relax in bed.  Whilst you were in the lavatory we thought it would be fun for all of us if you came back and joined in.  Now you're dressed properly, and not exposing your arse to the world, we don't' mind if you come back to our place...."

"I may not be exposing my arse, but I think everyone can see my cock..."

"Well, you've nothing to be ashamed of.  And Steve and I are on display just as prominently!". Joe laughed, and put his arm around my shoulders protectively as he said this.  I didn't even mind that several of the girls from my school saw me walking off, with a man's arm around me.

End Of Part 8.  
  


    

 

