“I found Scotty a place,” Dylan announced, Wednesday evening at dinner. We were at a posh downtown place where you had to dress up, and Dylan looked so sharp in his suit that I wanted to fuck him in the men’s room, honestly.
“Calm down, bro,” he scolded me, slapping my hand away teasingly, when I suggested it. We had our bikes, since we’d both come straight from school, and we were waiting for horny Scott to meet us. He was outside, already, and I could see him through the restaurant’s front window, smoking a cigarette and staring at our motorcycles. He had one of our spare helmets under his arm. “You call him horny,” he indicated Scott outside. “You’re just as bad, boy.”
“Sorry, hon,” I apologized. “There’s just something about that suit that makes me want to rip it right off you.”
“You look good, too,” he smiled, giving me a little wink but then pushing my hand away, again, when I placed it on the inside of his thigh. “Be cool,” he scolded again, not looking at all serious. “We’re in public.”
“The bathroom’s a lot less public,” I tried, and Dylan laughed, thank God, because even though I kept harping at him about it, I doubted I’d be able to perform somewhere I might get caught and cited for indecency.
“I found you a furnished place,” Dylan announced again, when Scott joined us. “You can move in Monday.”
“What do you mean?” Scott asked, trying to look confused, but even I could tell it was phony; he understood just fine.
“It’s on sixteenth,” Dylan continued, not buying the act either. “We can stop by and look at it on our way home.”
“I was hoping I could hang with you guys,” Scott said, and I swear to you he sounded just like a whiney little kid not getting his way. I couldn’t wait for that guy to get gone.
“We need our space,” Dylan explained, and Scott nodded at him, misunderstanding for real that time.
“You guys need your own rooms,” he said, but Dyl shook his head like he was trying to think of a better way to put it.
“We need our space, Scott,” he finally said, “but not from each other.”
Thursday
On Thursday we took Scott out to an upscale Asian restaurant and he ordered the most expensive items on the menu, which I thought was obnoxious, but Dylan didn't even appear to notice and paid the guy’s bill without even looking at it.
“How about you guys let me film you?” Scott said, when the waitress had left us to our coffee. “Dylan said no, of course,” he said, leaning toward me like we were co-conspirators. “But I thought you might be a little more open-minded.”
“I can’t have shit like that on the Internet,” Dyl protested. “I’m gonna be a lawyer, bro. You think I need crap like that out there for people to blackmail me with?”
“You’re not ashamed of being gay,” Scott tried, shooting me a little wink because he was so sure that would work on Dyl.
“It’s not about that,” Dylan sounded thoroughly irritated. “It’s I don’t want everyone watching me take it up the ass.”
“You take it?” Scott eyed me, looking suspicious. “I’da thought it was the other way around.”
“It’s pretty sexy,” I interjected, taking a sip of my coffee. “I mean, watching you take it up the ass is hot. I’m just saying.”
“Don’t,” Dyl was getting pissed at me, then, obviously, for siding with Scott, so I let it go.
“I won’t post it,” Scott announced. “I won’t ever post it and I’ll distribute only to you guys. How’s that sound?”
Dyl ran his fingers over the top of his head, looking tense, and he shot me a questioning look. I shrugged, because it was all okay with me, either way. I was an education major, and I can’t have porn featuring me on the loose when I’m a middle school teacher, either, but if the guy wasn’t gonna let it go anywhere…
“I’ve always kind of wanted to see us on film,” I admitted, and Dylan shrugged, then, like he was beaten.
“We’ll see,” he muttered, and Scott beamed because he knew Dylan well enough to know that “We’ll see,” inevitably meant yes.
By the time I pulled up to our house I had an uncomfortably solid stiffy. Dylan brought Scott on his bike, and they were way behind me because they’d stopped to check out the apartment Dyl’d found, so I was all alone and feeling completely pre-occupied with my arousal.
I rarely jerk off because what Dylan does to me feels far better than anything I can do to myself. We generally come at least once a day, anyway, but the house was so quiet and I was so hard just from thinking about banging Dylan in front of an audience that I took off my trousers and sat down on the toilet with my erection in my fist, and before I knew it I was beating off enthusiastically and then ejaculating, like, everywhere. I got some on the sleeve of my suit jacket, which I should have removed when I took off my pants, and there were a number of splats on the floor, too. I wiped myself down with some toilet paper and a washcloth and I was mopping the floor with a hand towel when I heard the guys come in.
Quickly, I threw my clothes back on and met them in the living room, where Scott was already fiddling with his video cameras and explaining logistics to Dyl.
“You’ll have to let me get under you guys, sometimes, and you definitely need to announce it if you’re gonna spew, so we can capture the money shot, you know. I could see he was excited; his erection was bulging very obviously beneath his slacks, and I could also see that Dylan was not. He stood with his fists in his pockets, looking stressed.
“It’s gonna be fun,” I promised him, and he looked at me doubtfully, shaking his head.
“We need liquor!” Scott announced, and went into our kitchen to dig out some booze.
“It really will,” I assured Dyl, and he was examining me, carefully.
“Why aren’t you hard like him, then?” he asked, indicating his stupid friend in the kitchen.
“I just jerked,” I admitted. “Sorry, but I find the whole thing pretty exciting.” I paused for a moment, rubbing him gently and feeling him respond to my touch. “Don’t you?”
“I’m not adventurous,” he reminded me, but I’d been with him long enough to know that was total bull.
“You’re with me,” I reminded him. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said, pressing my hand more firmly onto his hardening cock. “I hope it’s everything you’re wanting.”
“Let’s get started, then,” Scotty hooted. He was pretty wasted already, mostly from trying to get us drunk. I drank a shot with him, then he did one with Dyl and another by himself before we repeated the cycle. When I’d had three shots I felt a pleasant buzz and I could tell Dyl did too because his chest flushed red when he was a little lit, but we didn’t need to be wasted to fuck each other and Dyl explained that to Scotty before the guy got too shitfaced to film us.
“It’s just for your inhibitions,” Scotty replied, when Dyl explained we didn’t want any more alcohol. “I already don’t feel inhibited,” Dyl smiled, and I didn’t either, and we went in to gargle so we wouldn’t have nasty whiskey breath. We were fastidious like that, and even though we got sweaty together we always made sure we started out fresh. We weren’t girly about it and we were quick about our cleansing routines, but both of us showered at least twice a day and brushed our teeth a lot, too.
“Can you imagine doing porn with guys who don’t have good oral hygiene?” Dyl remarked. We were both bent over the sink, spitting out mouthwash.
“I know it,” I laughed. “Or how about anal with guys who aren’t clean?”
“I’d make a terrible porn guy,” Dylan admitted. “Rimming dirty ass would make me barf.” It was probably true.
“You make a great boyfriend,” I grinned, kissing him on his minty mouth.
“Ready for our next adventure?” he asked, looking unsure himself, but I was so excited my boner was pressing impatiently at the material of my jeans.
For a straight guy, Scotty sure seemed to know a lot of positions for us to use, and he’d detailed exactly when he wanted us where and how on a fairly detailed storyboard he’d drawn up before we even agreed to participate. He also made a script for every scene, just a few lines he wanted us to say, and he went over his plans for quite a while before we finally got positioned for the first scene.
“He walks in and there you are, whacking off in the chair, and he’s like, ‘Wow that’s big,’ and you’re like ‘Want to suck it?’” Scotty reminded us. “And then he will. Suck it.”
“Okay,” I nodded, because we’d been over it and over it and I just wanted to do it, already.
“He goes, “I gotta shower,” and you say, ‘okay’ and then you guys fuck in there, okay?” Scott pointed to the storyboard, which consisted of stick figures with arrow shaped dicks, positioned in various ways and occasionally, when Scott wanted a cum shot, the arrows had drops flinging from their points.
“Okay,” I nodded.
“Okay,” Dyl nodded, too. Scott made him go outside and then come in to the living room and stop, then he turned to me and said, “Okay, bro. Spank.”
I had an anticipatory erection, but Scott had positioned me exactly and I had to keep leaning forward so all three cameras caught what they were supposed to, and it was weird, seriously, to follow these instructions. Scott was holding a camera but also using his left hand to direct, and I did as he motioned, which was move my hands over my jeans and then take them down and pull out my boner. I managed it, but Scott was beckoning at me kind of furiously because when I sat back down after pulling down my jeans I wasn’t in the right spot. It seemed like a lot of my performance might consist of me looking slightly off to the left for my instructions.
I had my dick out, then, on film, and there was some freedom to that, I think, because it was started. I closed my eyes once I knew Scott had me where he wanted me, and I tried to think sexy thoughts while my hand stroked my cock in a fake way, like I was showing it off more than masturbating. I opened my eyes and Scott was nodding at me and he had one hand down deep in his khakis. Dylan was standing in the room, too, watching me.
“Okay, cut,” Scott would say, then he’d focus in on Dylan and move the camera behind me slightly to the left or to the right. Dylan came in again and I said, “Hey, man,” and he was supposed to say, “Wow, that’s big,” but he said, “Whatcha doin’?” and I just stared at him because I didn’t know what to do. I glanced over at Scott, who was rolling his eyes and mouthing, “Just go with it,” but I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I’m beating off,” I finally answered, and Dylan was kneeling down in front of me then, and Scott was adjusting things. Dyl was focused primarily on my cock, but he looked up at me to converse and said, “Are you?” and there was so much smile in his eyes it made me grin.
“Yeah, I am,” I answered. This piece wasn’t gonna win any screenwriter awards, anyway, so I quit worrying so much about spitting out the lines exactly and just followed Dyl’s lead. “I’m just hanging here out in my living room, masturbating.”
“You have a nice cock,” Dyl reached out and touched it, then, and Scott leaned in ridiculously close to us. Dyl’s touch felt positively electric, like it was the most stimulating thing that had ever happened to me.
‘Thank you,” I said, and then I laughed out loud because this was all so ridiculous. “Want to suck it?” I asked, feeling giddy, and Dylan was grinning, too, caught up in the silliness of this whole adventure.
“I do, but I’m straight,” he shook his head sadly, still moving his magnificent hand on me.
“Just this once,” I said. “I won’t tell your girlfriend.”
“Okay,” Dyl was mocking the script openly with his tone, and we were both giggling almost uncontrollably. Scott was standing in an agitated stance, one leg out and his hip cocked in frustration, but when Dylan leaned forward and took me in his mouth, Scotty gasped, audibly, because it was truly beautiful.
It’s not like I got lost in it or anything, but my dick really didn’t mind the cameras, it turned out, and even though Dylan had to come at me from a weird angle to accommodate the filming, it still felt outstanding.
“You’re good at this for a straight guy,” I said, improvising, and Scott was behind Dylan, encouraging me to moan, so I did but it sounded absurd. “Uhhh,” I said, and Scott slapped his forehead because I was so pitiful.
My moaning got better, though, because Dylan was sucking my cock, and that guy’s gifted, I’m telling you. “I want to fuck,” I eventually remembered to say, and Dylan dutifully replied, “I gotta shower.”
“No, don’t,” I held his face to my dick, not releasing him to leave. Scott gesticulated madly because this was the opposite of what he’d written.
“I’m all sweaty from ‘ballin’,” Dylan was wearing his basketball clothes; that striped bro-tee of his always turned me on because his arms were outstanding. Seriously.
“I’m only letting you shower if I can join you.” I sounded so preposterous it was hard to keep a straight face, especially when Dylan looked up at me all smirky and replied, “I’ve never showered with a dude before.”
“Except at the gym,” I corrected him, leaving the script again.
“Oh,” a teeny laugh spurted from between Dyl’s lips and he had to clamp then together to keep from laughing outright. “Yeah, that,” he finally added, his hand still moving on my cock. “And, you know, like…camp.”
“And basketball,” I added, “with the team.”
“Yeah, and football,” Dylan added. “And after bull-riding. You know, with all the other cowboy studs.”
“I laughed. I couldn’t help it, and it made Dylan laugh, too, and sent Scotty practically into angry conniptions.
“Be serious!” he yelled, and I said, “Yeah, Dyl,” to Dylan and that cracked us up again.
“Start there, I guess,” Scott snapped.
“So you were saying…” I said, but Dyl looked confused and that made us laugh again.
“Again,” Scott looked grim.
“So you’ve always been straight?” I said, and Dylan made his voice really low – even lower than usual.
“Uh-huh,” he grunted. “Straight.”
“Until today,” I cooed, sounding so faggy I saw Dyl’s mouth twitch again. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”
We stumbled through the initial blowjob scene, and, honestly, I was ready to be done with all the movie bullshit right then. Once I was truly aroused, I just wanted to take Dyl into the bedroom and fuck him, and I started to feel impatient when the shower scene went all wrong.