After the Date

“Some of these vids are really good. You say all the guys are amateurs and they all signed wavers.”

“Yes, all signed. Everything legal. IDs checked and rechecked,” Ermano Nunez said. The two men—the Cuban-American Nunez and the rep from the major gay male porn site—were sitting in the living room of the downscale Country Inn and Suites one-bedroom unit near Turner Field in Atlanta. “We can probably supply four films a month.”

They weren’t alone. A couple of other guys in jeans and tight T-shirts were moving standing lights and video cameras into the bedroom beyond the living room. But that didn’t take long and Nunez told them to go grab a beer for an hour.

“All of these from Atlanta?” the porn site guy asked.

“No. This is where we’re set up now, but we only stay in a city for a month or so before moving on. We were in Miami a couple of weeks ago. Can’t say where we go next.”

“Can’t say or won’t say?”

“Won’t say. We don’t want word to get out too soon that we’re setting up hookups. We knew your head operation was here in Atlanta, so I was told to pitch you here. So, you interested in setting up a stream of amateur gay male fuck scenes?”

“With the quality I see here, yes, probably. But I don’t understand how this operates. You said this was an extended dating service.”

“Right. We advertised here in Atlanta a gay men’s dating service. We call the service ManDate with the specific city title in front of it. We use different names in different town, but it’s essentially an Internet gay male sex dating service.”

“And you hook guys up face-to-face in this service?”

“Yep,” Nunez answered. “And cock to channel.” They both laughed.

Nunez continued. “They have to be from the area we’re filming in. It’s a two-level operation. It’s built on what a lot of newspapers do. We just take that ultimate step, when possible. Everyone knows the goal of this kind of service is a casual roll in the hay. Guys fill out forms to meet another guy on a date. We match them up and send them to a nice restaurant and maybe a bar afterward and we have them describe the date for our own Web site and rate each other. Then if there’s a follow-up date—or not—we note that too. That part’s like you’d find in weekly entertainment inserts in major papers.”

“But there’s another part?”

“Yeah. Most of these guys are looking for someone to hook up with in bed, and we just add another element to that. If they hit it off and are willing to be filmed fucking and will sign waivers, we set them up somewhere—here, in that bedroom over there, while we’re in Atlanta—pay ’em, and film the fuck scene. We can do maybe three a week and at least one of those is good enough to sell to a porn site like yours. Even some of the fumbling fucking has an audience out there. We make sure the guys have great bodies off the top.”

“They both know the vid is going on our pay site?” the porn site guy asked.

“When they’ve signed the waver they do, yes. You’d be surprised how many of them are chomping at the bit to perform in the buff. They all seem to think it will be the start of a career for them. And the longer we operate in a town, the more the word gets out about the added dimension.”

“And they know about the add-on possibility before they go on the date?”

“Only one of them is informed by us. Our interview form is set up so they know that the date could end in humping and even in filming, but only one of them is told there may be an add-on offer if they hit it off during the date. That ensures that even the one who isn’t told up front gets pitched for it if the date reveals he wants the other guy in sex.”

“So, the form they fill out says, ‘Do you want to hump or be humped on this date?’”

“Not exactly. Let me show you an example—the date we have set up for tonight. There are two parts of the questionnaire. The first part is what would be shown to the public and each other. Here. Look at this.”

* * * *

ManDate Form

Guys Night on the Town: Dinner at the Bullpen Rib House near Turner Field; drinks at Mixx Atlanta and Bulldog’s.

GUYS:

Philip (Phil) DuPont

Barista, Buckhead, 22

James (Jimbo) Jackson

TV Sportscaster, Atlanta, 26

HOMETOWNS:

Phil: Wilmington, Delaware

Jimbo: Macon, Georgia

COLLEGE:

Phil: Dartmouth, physical education, B.A.

Jimbo: Two years at University of Georgia, no major.

MILITARY SERVICE:

Phil: None.

Jimbo: Green Berets, two years.

SPORTS:

Phil: Swimming, gymnastics, tennis.

Jimbo: Football, bodybuilding, ice hockey, basketball, baseball, wrestling.

LOOKING FOR:

Phil: Tall, good-looking, fit, sportsman, good sense of humor.

Jimbo: Fun to be with, fit little guy, sportsman definitely, likes to party, and is good for the ride.

DRINK:

Phil: Wine or beer mostly.

Jimbo: I can hold my liquor.

SMOKE/DRUGS:

Phil: Pot occasionally, in college.

Jimbo: No.

DATE A SMOKER?:

Phil: No.

Jimbo: No.

PIERCINGS/TATOOS? HAVE/ACCEPT?:

Phil: Have nipple bars, one small tattoo; find them sexy on my partner.

Jimbo: Yes, including a PA.

FAVORITE MUSIC:

Phil: Hard rock.

Jimbo: Heavy metal.

LAST MOVIE SEEN:

Phil: Those People.

Jimbo: Thor: Ranarok and Wheelman double feature.

FAVORITE AUTHOR:

Phil: Gore Vidal.

Jimbo: Clive Cussler.

BEST PLACE TO MEET GUYS:

Phil: Clubs.

Jimbo: Gyms, but I hope on ManDate.

FIRST DATE CAN END IN BED?:

Phil: Yes, if we click.

Jimbo: And on floor and backseat of the car. Just hook me up and watch me go.

* * * *

“So, that’s what the guys see of each other and what we put on the Web site as a matchup. You can tell why we matched these two.”

“Yeah, I can see that this Jimbo is an aggressive top and Phil is a seeking bottom. And that Jimbo has the sense of humor that Phil notes wanting.”

“The sexual compatibility, yes, and that’s necessary to make clear. But we can see that they’re both into physical fitness and sports as well. But you can see more of what they want from the page two that they fill out and we see in making matchups and that we see whether we might get a good fuck film out of them. We get photos too and we don’t throw any guy into the mix who isn’t a knockout in the photo and, although we’ll include a losing combination for fun from time to time, we go after ones who want the date to end in bed. So, look at the page two questionnaire for the couple we’ve matched for tonight. Note that they were urged to be open and honest and James Jackson was told what would be offered if they were interested in fucking. That’s why his responses are cruder. And after they’ve been paired, we let the top see the bottom’s page two questionnaire answers so that he can fulfill fantasies if he wants. It’s pretty much up to him to convince the other guy.”

There was a good profit to be made with the “after the public date” films. Each of the performers earned $1,000 and there was another $1,000 in production costs. But there were three Web sites already paying $5,000 per film. If Nunez sold the ongoing service to this Atlanta-based porn site, that would be $5,000 per film in clear profit.

* * * *

Page 2, More Intimate Details (Be Honest and Open to Be Best Matched)

HEIGHT AND WEIGHT:

Phil: 5 foot 9 inches, 157 pounds.

Jimbo: 6 foot 3, 225.

BODY TYPE:

Phil: Trim/fit/average.

Jimbo: Muscular bodybuilder.

PREFERRED DATE BODY TYPE:

Phil: Muscular/Bodybuilder who is developed, but not overdeveloped.

Jimbo: A fit little guy who can and will take a big cock.

HOURS/WEEK IN THE GYM:

Phil: 7 or 8.

Jimbo: 15 to 20.

SEXUAL ORIENTATION:

Phil: Gay submissive bottom.

Jimbo: Gay power top.

CASUAL SEX?:

Phil: If the vibes are good; on occasion.

Jimbo: Any honey who will put out and who can and will take a big cock.

SIZE:

Phil: Average.

Jimbo: 8+ hung inches hard. 9 inches if he gets me hard enough. Fast reloader.

FAVORITE POSITION:

Phil: Missionary.

Jimbo: Doggie the first time, jackhammer the second, ending in a cowboy, if he isn’t too tired to ride by then. I like to manhandle.

ROMANTIC OR ROUGH?:

Phil: Something in between.

Jimbo: Take no prisoners.

GIVE BLOW JOB?:

Phil: Yes.

Jimbo: GET blow job, but I’ll suck him if I have to get my dick in him.

LIMITS?:

Phil: I’m expanding them—slowly.

Jimbo: Anything I can get, anyway I can get it.

BEING BOUND:

Phil: Maybe.

Jimbo: No, not me. And not him. I want him to try to fight me off.

SAFE SEX?

Phil: A long-term commitment goal would be to bareback.

Jimbo: Rubbers.

FANTASY FETISH:

Phil: Make love in the ocean.

Jimbo: Get it every hour, all night long, making the guy squeal.

NASTY FANTASY:

Phil: Vulnerable and barebacked bound—by more than one horse-hung guy. Maybe six.

Jimbo: Get one of those flexible Olympic gymnasts and go Conan the Barbarian on him while making him a human pretzel.

WHAT ARE YOUR TRUE GOALS FOR THIS DATE?:

Phil: To find someone I would want to end the date in bed with. Sexual satisfaction. Someone I would go on a second and third sex date with. I admit that it’s the idea that this could end in sex that attracts me.

Jimbo: To pound a tight tail until he whimpers and begs for mercy. And then do it again.

IF THIS DATE DOESN’T WORK OUT, DO YOU WANT TO REMAIN ON FILE FOR ANOTHER ONE?:

Phil: Maybe. We’ll see how this experience goes.

Jimbo: Even after I’ve scored on this date if I want to, sign me up for more. Keep ’em coming (and I’ll keep ’em coming for your sex films).

IF THIS DATE LEADS TO SEX WOULD YOU ALLOW FILMING AND DISTRIBUTION FOR A FEE?

Phil: We can discuss it.

Jimbo: Yes. If you want me to do more porn, yes to that too.

* * * *

“Wow, OK, so I see why you paired these two. If they hit it off on the date, this is going to be one wild ride for a sex scene. They both look great in their photos. The little guy won’t know what he’s in for until it’s too late, but it looks like he’s seeking some danger and willing to push his limits. My guess is that a film scene would show him giving in to rough sex and being satisfied. If these two live up to their descriptions, seeing this Jimbo animal tearing up the younger guy would be a best-seller.”

“We think so. That’s why we paired them.”

“So, I might get a vid out of this pair.”

“No, I don’t think so. Not these two.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“Sometimes I set a date up because I’m horny for someone myself. This is the photo of Phil. I want him myself, so I’ve loaded this date up for it to explode. There’s a surprise here, not covered in the questionnaire that could throw a guy like Phil. Notice the name? A DuPont from Delaware. We checked. Old money. Staid society status. Conservatives. He’s in high-brow Buckhead now.”

“So?”

“Look at this photo of Jimbo. And these descriptions of the last bar we’re sending them to.”

“Oh, I see. So, this Phil looks like and sounds like a submissive honey. Maybe I could—”

“If I can land him, he’s all mine,” Nunez answered. “Took time and effort to set this up. I even got a doctor’s certificate in case I can con him into letting me bareback him. He’s admitted he wants that.”

“If you don’t get a film off this date, will you give me a contact number for this Jimbo? I think we’d have room for him in our stable. Nearly nine inches? Really?”

“We verified, yes. I could turn him over to you for a price,” Nunez said, with a smile. “They have to send us hard cock shots too. He’s hung. He’s a stud bull. And he’s not shitting about having a thick cock ring. We’ll pair him up again if you can’t afford him. Truth be known we used him last week on a date and an after-date film already. He delivers. His date was totally laid out, hole gaping, blowing bubbles, showing a sloppy grin, and panting and whimpering when Jimbo was done. The bottom was done then too.”

“I want to see that vid,” said the porn site guy.

“Sure, but I need to tell you that it’s in our premium price collection.”

* * * *

The two were standing outside the entrance to the Bulldog’s Bar in awkward stances. The big black guy had a hand on the white guy’s arm but there was some distance between them.

“Thanks. I had a good time. Maybe—” Phil DuPont said, giving the black guy a hopeful look.

“Yeah, me too. A good way to spend an evening on someone else’s dime. And watchin’ the Falcons start their season with a win was fine,” Jimbo Jackson answered. They were speaking loud enough for the dating service producer, Ermano Nunez, to hear them from a short way down the street. This was designed, as Nunez had to write a wrap-up on the date. He’d interview Phil after the date and one of his cameramen assistants would talk to Jimbo.

“You say you could have been at the game, helping in the broadcast booth, though, if you hadn’t come on this date. I feel like I kept you from—”

“Hey, there are other games and I wanted to come on this date.” Jimbo said. “I wanted to, well . . . I’m sorry they screwed up and didn’t send you my photo . . . that you didn’t know I was black. And I’m sorry that the guys back there in Bulldog’s gave you a rough time. I didn’t chose a rough black guy’s bar to close out the evening.”

“That was all fine. It’s fine that you’re black, and big, and so . . . overwhelming. And I was flattered by the pawing I got back there. It just came as a surprise and I wasn’t dressed for it. I felt preppy and out of place. But as far as you . . . well, you probably didn’t expect a white preppy guy a lot smaller than you either.”

“I saw your photo. I knew what you’d be. And I chose this over being live at a Falcons game,” Jimbo said.

There for a second, it looked like Jimbo might gather Phil into his arms and kiss him—and Nunez held his breath through that second—but it didn’t happen. Jimbo did lean over and whisper something into Phil’s ear, but then, though he gave Phil a little hug, he pulled away and shook Phil’s hand. “Well, like I said, it was great. I need to be up early tomorrow, though, if I’m going to follow the Braves down to Miami for their baseball game.” Then he turned and strode off, Nunez’s assistant following along behind him to interview him on his perspective of the date.

Nunez came up to Phil, who was standing there, looking pensive, and touched his arm to get his attention. Phil looked up at him and said, “Well, that could have gone better, couldn’t it?”

“Let’s go back behind the building to my van and you can tell me about the date,” Nunez said, putting his arm around Phil’s shoulder. Both of the men could feel that there was an attraction between them. Nunez was a hands-on sort of guy, and Phil had responded to that in their initial interview. Phil found Nunez an easy man to open up to, as well as being easy on the eyes. He was in his thirties, well-muscled, and a bit dusky skinned, as some Cubans are. His features were chiseled, and his hair was long, pinned back in a ponytail. Phil had fantasized on how the man would look with his hair hanging down to his shoulders. Truth be told, Phil had fantasized a bit on how Nunez looked naked. But then Phil did that about a lot of guys and took it no further.

And Phil was in a bit of a state. He hadn’t wanted the date to end there. Jimbo being black really hadn’t phased him a bit. The pawing by the other black guys at Bulldog’s and the repeated suggestion that he go to a back room with some of them had disturbed him, yes, but it had excited him too. And he’d been envisioning the big, black bull Jimbo Jackson being one of the guys he went into the back room with. Phil was in heat. Phil hadn’t missed the big bulge at Jimbo’s crotch, or even the curve of a cock ring.

In the van, Nunez in the driver’s seat and Phil in the passenger seat, Nunez’s hand on Phil’s knee, a signal of reassurance, the program producer said, “Tell me about the date, Phil.”

Phil did. He talked about how, despite so many differences, the two had managed a comfortable conversation at the restaurant. Each had been interested in the other. Each had been impressed by the looks of the other, although Phil had initially—just in the first few seconds—been taken aback that Jimbo was black. And not just black, but intimidating in size. That said, Phil’s thoughts had gone immediately to wondering about how Jimbo was equipped, considering the legends about black men and dick size. He couldn’t help wondering about taking seven or eight inches. At that point he blushed, realizing where his telling about the date had gone.

“That’s OK. Tell me everything,” Nunez said, “I’ll tailor what I write about, but we don’t keep a secret that the desired goal of these dates is to end up with the couple in bed and humping like rabbits. In fact, I have something to discuss with you about that after we’ve done this debriefing. Go on and tell me about the date.” Nunez had put an arm around Phil’s shoulder and Phil had settled comfortably within his loose embrace.

“We agreed on life centering on the gym and working out and keeping our bodies toned,” Phil continued, “but he’s into bodybuilding way more than I am. And you can tell. Did you get a load of that body of his?”

“I’ve seen the photos. The man’s a muscle god. And over eight inches soft.”

Phil sucked in air.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forget that there was a SNAFU and we neglected to send you the photos of him. They would have included cock shots. Talk about hung, though. I’m seven inches soft and I don’t come anywhere close to him.”

Phil sucked in air again, but he didn’t speak.

Since you didn’t receive a photo, was there something in your date’s datasheet that attracted you to him?

“Honestly?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, a couple of things. I was really hoping this would end in bed, to be completely honest. I think I wasn’t misreading between the lines of the dating service advertising right on that—that this is a hookup operation.”

“Yes,” Nunez interjected. “If you two had jumped into bed and humped after this public part of the date, we would have covered that in the interview afterward as well, there would be generous compensation for you both, and that part, with your permission and for pay, would have run on the subscription-only area of our Web site. But go on, please. What attracted you to him from his first-page questionnaire responses?”

Phil continued. “I haven’t had any in a while and I was looking forward to a new experience. Honestly, it was in a couple of answers he gave—the ‘good for the ride’ conjured up him bottom-lining on the same thing I wanted—active sex. And I know you wouldn’t have included anyone in this who wasn’t a hunk and that you wouldn’t match two bottoms or two tops. And then when he said he had a penis ring piercing—I’ve never felt what one of those could do. And it means he’s uninhibited. And there at the end, when he lost it and admitted that he was in it for the sex and that he gave lots of sex. Well, it sounded like it would be a wild experience and if I was going to do this, it might as well be something unusual.” He said this haltingly, almost apologetically.

“Anything else? Anything at all?”

Phil hesitated, but then he admitted it. “It wasn’t in anything he wrote, but his answers sounded so cocky that they gave me the impression that he was horse hung. I didn’t think he could show that bravado, knowing where the date might go, and not be able to back it up.”

“So, in short, you wanted to end the evening being done by a big cock?”

“Yes,” Phil admitted. And he wasn’t unaware of the claim Nunez had dropped that he had seven inches.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that goal. It’s honest. You’ve taken a big cock before?”

“I prefer it, yes. I like to be fully stretched and possessed.” Phil was too embarrassed to look at Nunez with that admission. He looked away.

“If that’s what you want from the date, you still could get it,” Nunez said in a low, hoarse voice. It was clear that Phil’s admission had aroused both men—and toward each other. Nunez was lightly massaging Phil’s neck and shoulder with the hand of the arm around Phil’s back. The hand he had on Phil’s thigh was lightly massage that too. Phil was hard and they both knew he was. He slouched lower into the passenger seat and opened his thighs more. If Nunez wanted to fuck him, Phil would let him. If Nunez indeed had seven inches, Phil would want to be fucked by him. Tonight. “Go on, though. Other interests the two of you could talk about?”

“Sports, of course. I was intrigued that he was a local sportscaster. He’d been a star on the Georgia Bulldog’s football squad until he’d shattered his knee. The replacement was good enough to let him be a Green Beret, but his football was over. He went into team scouting and sportscasting. He told me all about working with the Falcons football and Braves baseball. And the basketball and helping to start up an ice hockey team again. All I had to talk about was swimming and tennis and the gymnastics I did at Dartmouth, but he’s a good listener. He kept saying that sports were sports and he liked them all. He made me laugh when he said that sex was a sport too. He asked me a lot about the gymnastics. He wondered if I was still flexible enough to put myself in all those contortions.”

“Are you?”

“Not at the top of the game, no. But that’s what I do a lot in the gym—work to keep limber. I guess you could say I’m still more flexible than guys who didn’t train as gymnasts.”

“Did he touch you—like I’m doing? And did you two talk about what you could be doing later, after the date?” Nunez was running the fingers of his hand lightly over Phil’s basket, and Phil was shuddering at the touch. They both knew that Nunez was going to fuck him.

“A bit. I think we were getting into that. We went to Mixx Atlanta—you sent us there—after dinner at the Bullpen Rib house, near Turner Field, where Jimbo told me a lot about the field and the locker room and the guys interacting. He wasn’t shy about talking about fucking other guys and hooking up at the gym. Some of the things he said made me hot and I thought he’d get into talking about us and doing it, and he did a bit.”

“He talked about fucking you—after this date?”

“Yes. He did more at Mixx Atlanta as we were on the dance floor. But then, at Bulldog’s, where I was the only white guy in the room and a preppy one, at that, stuff sort of boiled over and he backed off, more concerned, I think, in protecting me than making me.”

“And you would have liked for him to be making you.” Nunez said it as a statement rather than a question.

“Yes. I wanted the date to end in bed. That he was a big, black bull aroused me. I wanted to take the risk, to try him. I prefer big cocks. I wanted to feel that PA ring. He let me feel it, though his jeans, when we were at Mixx Atlanta.”

“On a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate the date, Phil?”

“Uh, I guess a 4.5. He was a god.”

“What would have made it a 5?”

Phil hesitated but then, with a sigh, said, “It would have been a 5 if we were somewhere together now and he was fucking me, letting me feel that PA ring inside me.”

“You really wanted it didn’t you?” Nunez asked. He turned Phil’s face to his and took his mouth in, first, a tentative kiss, and then, when Phil responded to him, a deeper one. “You want it now, don’t you?” he whispered when they came out of the kiss.

“Yes,” Phil murmured.

“From me. It doesn’t have to be Jackson. You’d be happy taking seven inches of me now, wouldn’t you?”

Phil didn’t disagree.

“Feel me,” Nunez continued. “I’m ready for you.” Phil put a hand on Nunez’s crotch and gave a little shudder. He was ready.

“Yes,” Phil whispered. They went back into a possessive kiss, and Phil listened to the sound of, first, his zipper, and then Nunez’s being pulled down. They extracted and stroked each other’s freed cocks and kissed.

“There, on the dashboard, that folded piece of paper,” Nunez said. “Open it and read it. It’s something you said in your questionnaire that you wanted.”

It was Nunez’s blood test certificate, verifying that he was clean. Nunez was unbuckling Phil’s belt, and pushing his trousers and briefs down and off his legs. Phil was breathing heavily.

“It’s OK, baby,” Nunez said. “I’m clean. You want it this way. You’ll remember this date.”

Nunez got a hand between Phil’s now-bare buttocks and the seat back and nudged Phil’s butt forward in the seat. Phil complied and widened his stance. He let out a groan and an “Oh shit, oh fuck,” as Nunez placed the heel of his hand under Phil’s balls and snaked his middle finger down Phil’s perineum and penetrated Phil’s ass with it. Phil immediately, almost subconsciously, began to rock his hips on the buried finger.

“Open up for me, baby,” Nunez murmured. They both felt Phil’s passage opening to the attention.

“You’re going to let me fuck you, aren’t you?” Nunez murmured.

“Yes,” Phil responded.

“Remember the extensive questionnaire you filled out, Phil,” Nunez whispered. “We collected your fantasies. I’m sorry that you haven’t gotten all you wanted from Jackson. But I can still make this a memorable date for you. You dream of being barebacked, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Phil said.

“It’s OK, then. You’ve seen my certificate.”

“Yes.”

“I’m hard for you. I have seven raw inches for you, Phil. Come over into my lap. Straddle me. Fuck yourself on me. Raw. We’re going to bareback.”

Straddling Nunez’s lap, his knees buried where the seat met the back of the driver’s seat on either side of Nunez’s hips, Phil rose and fell on the Cuban-American’s hard, unsheathed shaft as Nunez embraced his torso and they kissed. Phil was no novice or shrinking violet. He knew how to move his passage on the cock to full mutual pleasure.

Leaning back into the steering wheel, still sheathing Nunez’s cock, Nunez’s cum slathering his insides, Phil sighed and brought his breathing under control. Nunez had unbuttoned Phil’s sport shirt and was playing with the young man’s nipples, pulling at the silver bars both nipples were pierced with.

“You wanted that,” Nunez said.

“Yes.”

“You needed that.”

“Yes.”

“That was good for you, the barebacking, fulfilling that fantasy.”

“Yes.”

“You want it again.”

“Yes.”

“I have a proposal for you. There’s a part two about this dating operation I haven’t told you about yet. You can live some more of your fantasies and be paid for it as well.”

“Tell me,” Phil said, and Nunez did, telling Phil about the sex movies.

“Are you interested?” Nunez asked.

“Filming with you?”

“Yes. I’ll be topping you.”

“I’m interested.”

“Look in the back of the van, Phil. What do you see?” He moved a hand to the dashboard and turned the lights on in the back of the van.

Phil sucked in air. “It’s a sex van. Padded floor, restraints hanging from the ceilings and extending from the walls. Lights. Video cameras mounted on the walls.”

“Yes, it is. It’s set up for high-quality filming. Flick of a button and it will operate itself, leaving me hands free for you. I’ve already fucked you once. The only difference is that this would be on camera, to be shared, for money. Good money. And your fantasies. The bareback, but not just that. Vulnerable, bound and barebacked. Missionary style. You said in your interview that being bound was a fantasy of yours.”

Phil sucked in air again.

He was spread-eagled, on his back, his pelvis elevated on a padded wedge. His arms spread and bound to the corners of the van interior at the back doors. His legs spread and raised, restrained at the ankles by restraints extending from the ceiling at either side of the van interior behind the passenger seats. A ball gag in his mouth. A naked Nunez kneeling between his thighs. Seven inches of raw cock inside him, Nunez fucking and fucking and fucking him as the lights blazed and the cameras whirred.

Afterward, Nunez drove Phil to the Country Inn and Suites near Turner Field and guided him up to the one-bedroom suite, where, in the living room, they signed the contract on the film and Phil signed the release.

“Everything fine, Phil?” Nunez asked, adding, “You were great. A great lay. You’re a star.”

“Everything fine,” Phil said. “But this release. It’s for two films.”

“I thought, as long as you’re here . . . that was an exotic vid. There will be men who eat it up. We have more conventional clients, though. There’s a bedroom here. I thought, as long as we’re here . . .”

When they went into the bedroom, Phil found that it was lit up like a Christmas tree, and there were two guys in there, with video cameras on their shoulders.

Nunez fucked Phil in a conventional missionary position on the bed, Phil on his back, his arms flung out in a sacrificial position and Nunez between his spread and bent legs, the Cuban-American’s knees pushed under Phil’s buttocks, raising Phil’s pelvis to a good angle—both for depth and for the camera angle—for Nunez, leaning back, with fists buried in the mattress behind him and out of the way of camera money shots, and his long, silky black hair hanging free behind him, to fuck Phil in long, seven-inch slides.

The moans and groans emanating from Phil’s smaller, beautiful, naked body were caught loud and clear as the cameras whirred. The two men on the bed tensed and Phil cried out, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna come,” and they both did. Nunez pulled his bulb out to the surface to shoot his load there, to prove that he was barebacking to the end, and then pushed the dick back in, deep, for several more strokes, while Phil, stroking himself hard, sent an arc of cum high into the air. On film, both money shots would be repeated twice each to conclude the movie.

Nunez was both surprised and pleased. Phil hadn’t been nearly as shy or difficult to buy as Nunez had thought he’d be—and he was hot in the sack.

Nunez asked Phil if they could contact him for future work, and Phil readily agreed.

When he’d left, one of the cameramen approached Nunez and said, “That’s a live one, I think.”

“Yes,” Nunez answered. “He looks so innocent and all-American, but he takes it like a trooper.”

* * * *

“I wasn’t sure you’d come. Are you sure you want to do this? You’re a pretty little guy—don’t take me wrong. You’re a luscious little guy. You sure you can take this? You can take it big?”

“Yes,” Phil DuPont said to Jimbo Jackson as they sat by each other in the booth at Bulldog’s. “I wanted to do this last night.” Jimbo was fondling Phil’s package under the surface of the table, and Phil was letting him. Other black guys were drifting by the table and giving Phil looks. Phil was giving them hungry looks back. He widened his stance, lying back in the seat, giving the big black full access to him. He reached, tentatively, out with his own hand and traced the line of Jimbo’s cock inside his tight jeans. Phil sucked in air. Jimbo was every bit as long and thick as he claimed. And he was hard. And he had that thick cock ring.

“Fuck me. Lay me out on the table and fuck me right here,” Phil whispered.

Jimbo laughed. “We don’t have the cameras here. I think you can only take it the once today, so we need to save it for the cameras. Besides, I’ll bet you got it good from Ermano Nunez last night after I left. He had the hots for you, and he’s hung like a bull. He told me he had the hots for you. I thought he’d do something to queer the date. He didn’t tell you I was black, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“I didn’t think so when he had the night end here at Bulldog’s. You were guaranteed to get the black rush here. You didn’t care, though, did you?”

“No. It turned me on.”

“Nine inches of me and seven of Javon over there and eight of De’Andre?”

“All of it, yes,” Phil answered. He was trembling. His zipper had been lowered and Jimbo’s big mitt was inside, fondling him. He unzipped Jimbo and fished the monster out. Jimbo groaned for him. “Let me ride it right here,” Phil whispered. “Let me sit on it and ride it.”

“In front of these guys leering at you, circling the table? You didn’t seem like a wild guy from your questionnaire and the date.”

“Them after you,” Phil answered. “I can surprise you.”

“God, you’re a little slut, ain’t you? How many times did Nunez do you last night? You were filmed? How much did he pay you?”

“Twice. Bareback. Bound once. He paid me $2,000.”

“I’m paying you more than that for one film. No barebacking, though. I’m not going there. The other guys can if they want and you’re willing.”

“You said there would be up to five guys in your film,” Phil said, “besides you. I don’t care, though. As long as you fuck me. I wanted it so bad last night.”

“It’ll be nasty. You still want it?”

“Now, right now.”

“I want you to be very sure,” said Jimbo. “As you know there is a second page to the questionnaire ManDate had us fill out. What you don’t know is that I got to read your second page. I got to see what your fantasies are.”

Phil started to say something, looking a bit disgruntled, but Jimbo raised a hand as if to stop whatever Phil might have said. “Let me finish. If you go with me, you’ll be getting some of the fantasies you said you have. But I gave wants and fantasies, and they say I’d take you rough and totally. So, here, I have a copy of my second page. I want you to read it before committing.”

He handed it to Phil, who looked it over and then looked up. “I’ve been thinking about you since yesterday. None of this surprises me. I’ll always think about what I might have missed if I don’t do this.”

“So be it,” Jimbo said. “I have a release form here. I copied it from one Nunez had me sign. You need to sign this.” Phil did.

The two had hit off better on the date the previous night than they’d let on. But Jimbo was enterprising. He’d figured out the film scheme and the marketing when he’d gone on a date with ManDate the previous week and carried the date through to the after-date fuck filming. Practically killed the date they had him set up with, he did, he thought proudly, although he left the dude drooling and grinning. He figured he could cut out the dating service middle man and make more by setting up his own arrangements with porn sites. He’d slipped notes to Phil during the date, noting what was what, and how Phil could make more money with him than with Nunez, as long as he was willing to be filmed being fucked. Phil had said he was willing, and they arranged for both of them to walk away from the date and for Phil to call him after it was over.

Phil also figured that he could do both. He knew Nunez was hot for him, and Nunez was just fine with Phil as a partner. The only problem that Phil had to overcome was being filmed in scenes shared across the Internet. But that was a little kicky too. He’d almost put that down as his fantasy fetish—sharing being fucked hard with the world.

The filming wasn’t here at Bulldog’s. They went to a seedier club deeper in the black neighborhood around Turner Field, Black Jude’s, where the clientele was blacker and nastier, and a back room was set up with a bed, surround lighting, and guys with video cameras. Enterpriser that Jimbo was, he wasn’t paying the other tops to film; they paid him to be able to play. They all traipsed together over to Black Jude’s.

The way Jimbo approached making a porn film was entirely different from what Ermano Nunez’s had been. He used shock and surprise. He also didn’t get into the film without preparation. He took a good shower and an enema, cleaning himself out. A masseur worked Phil’s body in another room before he was sent in to where they were filming the scene. He was massaged and oiled, and then he was turned on his back, made to open and bend his legs. His pelvis was raised on a bolster and the masseur worked his channel with a lube-slathered thick, ten-inch dildo, with the comment, “You’ll be glad we did this.” Then he was told to put his clothes back on and, on signal, enter the room of the scene.

Jimbo, naked, his ebony body magnificent, was sitting at the foot of the bed, elbows on spread knees, hands cupping his chin, his cock in angry erection jutting out of his jet-black pubic bush, his balls hanging low in a long sac. His left arm and pectoral were covered with a colorful and swirling tattoo. His nipples had thick rings in them as did the bulb of his cock. The five other black men, all fit bulls, three of them covered in tattoos, were standing around the sides of the room, naked, some with erections in their hands, others swinging low. All of them hung. The ceiling was two stories up and there was a mesh steel-floored walkway all around the sides, where the cameramen moved, out of visual range of the action. There were cameras mounted to the walls at lower levels, though, and a technician on the catwalk controlled these to get the close-up shots.

Movies had been shot here before. Jimbo had every intention of making more movies here in the future.

“Stop there, baby,” Jimbo said in a low, rich baritone voice when Phil had entered and reached about ten-feet short of the bed. “Strip for me, baby. Do it slow, make me want you.”

Phil did as he was told, slowly pulling off his T-shirt and then his shoes and his jeans and his thong briefs.

“Leave the socks on,” Jimbo directed. They were bright red footsies. Phil complied. Later, they would become a focal point in the viewing as they waved around and were used for leverage in the dance of the fuck.

An understanding of who was master and who was slave was being established. Tension was being built as well by the slow, deliberate action under Jimbo’s control. When Phil was stripped, Jimbo picked up a jumbo condom packet from the bed beside him, split the packet with his teeth, extracted the disk, and ever so slowly rolled the condom on his cock and smoothed it out. Next came a bottle of lube and he lubed his cock up laboriously and copiously. Phil’s channel had already been emptied out and lubed up. No reason to waste footage on preparations like that.

“Come here, baby,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t do this for everyone,” he said. “This will make it special.”

Phil went to him and, still sitting, he pulled the young man into him, laying his cheek on Phil’s belly and grasping Phil’s butt cheeks in his hands. He kissed Phil’s belly and then moved his face down, taking Phil’s cock in his mouth. Phil’s moan marked the lips pushing down the sides of the cock. Jimbo may not give blow jobs often, but he certainly knew how to give them.

As he relentlessly sucked Phil off and Phil writhed a bit in his grasp and audibly moaned and groaned, the black bull’s grasp on Phil’s butt cheeks tightened. He rolled the cheeks and squeezed them and pulled them apart, revealing that Phil’s hole was gaping open. Jimbo’s fingers worked their way over the hole and then into the darkness there, as Phil gasped, and pushed and pulled to Jimbo’s upper body as if to pull himself away from the assault on his cock and ass but without effect. With a jerk, Phil visibly came.

In a flash that both surprised and shocked, Jimbo rose from the bed, twisted Phil around, grabbing the young man’s hair at the back of his head with one hand, and palmed Phil’s belly with the other, bending Phil over the bed. He pulled Phil’s head into the hollow of his shoulder, arching his back cruelly as he used the hand palming Phil’s belly to lift and jut the young man’s buttocks back. The viewers quite clearly were being signaled that Phil was going to be brutally penetrated and fucked by a black bull’s cock.

Jimbo positioned his cock at Phil’s hole and thrust inside him, jerking back on Phil’s belly to pull the young man’s ass into his crotch. He pulled back and thrust forward again and then again. Phil jerked, gasped, and cried out with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, yes!” he cried out, the only evidence that he wasn’t been torn apart.

It took several seconds for Jimbo to stuff his full nine inches inside a thankfully prepared Phil while, as the thrust continued and became more brutal, Phil cried for mercy that didn’t come and writhed under Jimbo’s control. But then when Jimbo was all in and had established a steady rhythm of the fuck, Phil just collapsed in his embrace and Jimbo finished him quickly and cruelly, establishing what kind of movie this was going to be—a total, brutal taking, which, nonetheless was going to completely satiate the submissive bottom.

Jimbo dropped Phil’s body, belly down, on the bed, pulled out of him, ripped the condom off, and shot his load on Phil’s back. Then he lifted Phil’s body off the bed, turned him, took two steps and dropped him in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. Phil was puddled there, on the floor, whimpering and panting hard. Jimbo went back to the bed, sat down on the foot again, spread his legs, took his cock in his hand, and pumped himself back to hard.

“Is that what you wanted?” he asked Phil in a calm voice.

“Yes,” Phil whimpered. “Oh, shit, yes.”

When he was hard and the camera had panned from him to Phil to the other black men milling around in the background, Jimbo spoke again, in that calm, rich baritone of his. “Come here, baby. Come here and sit on it. If you want it again, come get it.”

Phil whimpered something intelligible from the floor.

“You want it again. You want me to put it in you. You can’t get enough of it. Get up, baby, and come to me. The good times have just started to roll.”

With a groan, Phil pulled himself up from the floor; struggled back over to Jimbo; climbed up in his lap, facing away from him; and slowly descended on Jimbo’s renewed and resheathed erection. It was time to move on to Jimbo putting Phil through his gymnastic paces on the cock in a more deliberate fashion. Who was master and who was slave and what the power of the master could be if he chose to exercise it had been clearly established.

Throughout this preliminary scene, the cameras had been, whirr, whirr, whirr, capturing it all. Every frame of this movie was going to be worth gold.

The other black bulls stood around, watching, and pulling on their meat, while Jimbo indulged his fantasy of pulling the gymnast out of Phil and making a pretzel fuck toy out of him. Totally under Jimbo’s control, Phil loved the attention and came again and again and again for the cameras as Jimbo worked his body. Jimbo’s doggie position was a refinement he called the Flying Dutchman. He sat on the side of the bed, Phil’s body cantilevered out from his body, Phil’s leg’s streaming back around Jimbo’s hips, the young man’s toes dug into the mattress, and his torso straining out over the carpet, Jimbo grasping his wrists and pulling Phil back and forward on the nine inches. The cameras loved the shot.

“Oh, crap. Oh, shit. The cock ring!” Phil called out. “You’re hitting me everywhere with it!”

Jimbo just laughed.

The jackhammer had Phil on his shoulders, his chest pointed away from the bed, his arms bent, with his knuckles pressed into the carpet, his legs streaming around Jimbo’s hips, his heels dug into the surface of the bed, while Jimbo crouched between him and the bed, grasping Phil’s hips, and jackhammering his cock down into Phil’s channel. The camera’s loved this shot too. This was followed by Jimbo strutting around the room with Phil draped on his front, Phil’s knees on Jimbo’s hips and his fists locked behind Jimbo’s neck, and Jimbo, grasping and spreading Phil’s butt cheeks with his hand, bouncing the younger white man up and down on his buried cock.

Phil was obviously too exhausted for the cowboy ride to control it himself, but the cameras appreciated the strength with which Jimbo, lying on his back on the bed and grasping Phil’s waist, lifted and slammed the young man’s channel on his deeply buried cock, while Phil flopped around like a rag doll, the expression on his face telling everything about how good he was being fucked, and moaned and groaned.

Jimbo insisted on using a condom. Most of his gathered friends didn’t, though.

After that, after the date, after Ermano Nunez, after Jimbo Jackson, Phil lay on the bed on his back, spread-eagled; his wrists tied to the headboard overhead; a ball gag in his mouth muffling his screams of pain-passion; completely open, vulnerable, his hips elevated on a bolster, his legs spread and bent, his thighs turned outward to open access to him completely; panting lightly, whimpering, a slight smile of satisfaction on his face, as, one after the other, Jimbo’s five hung, black bull friends climbed aboard and, most of them barebacking him, pounded his channel to juicy ejaculations. Phil’s fantasies were served big time.

The transition from one man to the other was done in a money shot.

When Jimbo at last rolled Phil over from the cowboy position and took his last pumps between Phil’s legs in the missionary position, the cameras panned in to that last long slide out of Phil’s hole.

“Spread ’em and push your butt up. Let the audience see how bad you been reamed,” Jimbo growled, and with a groan Phil put his feet on the surface to the bed, his legs spread wide, and pushed up. The cameras focused in on Jimbo taking his last slide out and dwelled on the gaping hole he had opened up as the next man stepped between Phil’s thighs. The camera shot his long slide to the hilt and his subsequent pounding, and when he was done, there again was a close-up of his exit and the gaping hole the men were mining. If he was one the barebackers, he brought his bulb to just inside the entrance, and the camera caught the creaming and the post-ejaculation slides before the next man stepped up for his turn.

As the last man pulled out and Phil wearily raised his hips to show his gaping hole with cum dribbling down his thighs, the camera panned from there, up his torso to catch his still-panting, nasty fantasy-fulfilled facial expression of having taken six hung black bulls, up to the headboard to remind the viewers that a regular-sized white guy had been bound and taken by six black bulls, and then back to the hole they had reamed for him—the hole that the men watching the video will now have felt they had helped ream as they had jacked off to being a voyeur in what became a nearly hour-long movie.

The cameras, whirring and whirring, loved it all . . . everything that had come after the date.