Introduction:

If you are writing online, you should be careful. You never know who reads your stories. Or what those stories tell about you. A famous pornstar was looking for some online inspiration. He found the guy who wrote them. Using it against him. But the guy was nothing like the heavy-action smut he wrote online.

---

Disclaimer:

This story is strictly fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content; both implied and explicit. 

• If this offends you, please do not continue. 
• If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now. 

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.

Copyright:

Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication, use, or reproduction of this story or parts of this story is allowed without the author's written consent. 

Thanks for reading:

Leave a comment or a question after you've read this story. Or rate it. This helps significantly with the visibility of this story. It shows the author what type of story you like to read. Thank you very much.

---

Be Careful.

Getting picked up by an actual Professional Pornstar.

I enjoyed the warm late summer weather and rode my rented motorcycle around the area. Channeling my inner sadistic Master for the next porn shoot. I had already set up the movie sets in the log cabin we were staying in. The producers had come up with a script where a group of horny bikers had overheard some women talking about the rowdy lumberjacks that worked nearby. Warning each other not to go near them. The 6 of us decided we would raid that logging camp. Showing those rapists what else they could do with leather-clad, industrial-sized, gay biker woodies. Teaching them a lesson they would not forget so easily. So to say, leaving their asses full of splinters after we were done with teaching them a lesson.

I wasn't really looking forward to the porn shoot anymore, though. The script my husband Rick Payne and I were co-producing was stripped of all dialogue. The executive producers did not want to spring for experienced adult actors who could deliver their lines naturally. So we were left with a script full of groaning and moaning, kicking and screaming, whipping and choking. Fighting with three 'straight' loggers in the woods, before painfully gangbanging the shit out of them. We would also teach their boss not to mess with the women in town. He had used and abused some in the logging HQ while his men were out playing with their wood.
Typically, scripts like these were just my thing, but the talent I had to work with were the predictable middle-aged fuckers. Even though I had explicitly asked for brawny younger men. The casting agency had let me down again.

My name is Darek Steel. I have been a gay pornstar since the day I turned 18. And I am pretty popular as well. Even if I do say so myself. I am 37 now, married to Rick Payne. For work, I only top. But with the right guy, I could just as readily bottom. However, the producers never liked that idea. You should have seen the look on my family's faces when I told them I was gay. My older brother had found my first porn movie and let it slip to the rest. Forcing my coming out at 19. It was as if World War III had started early. But I had known from a very young age what direction I was heading. And shit, man, I love it. I never looked back. Making one popular porn flick after another. Using the income to put myself through college. Working on my look each and every fucking day. Building my body to perfection.

When I started shooting adult movies, the producers told me that despite my young age, I had a natural dominance on camera. So that's why they always teamed me up with weaker, submissive men. Or with power-fuckers who had to learn to sing a little lower. I screwed them raw until they begged for forgiveness. The producers did not listen to my suggestions, though. 
"Don't argue, Steel... Just dress up kinky and show the camera how you gape those daddies open..." was the predictable reply. I had enough of it. 

Privately, I prefer to take a twink or two at a time. The younger, the better. I try to check their age, but that doesn't always go to plan. Hooking up with fans is always fun, though. There isn't anything nicer than a tight hole to open up with a little verbal dominant force. Depending on their skill level, I can play as rough or sweet as those boys like. I'd show them how to properly service me and still have a good time. 

And if the click was real - not just a quickie one-time fuck - then I would certainly return the favor. I have made plenty of dominating sex movies for my fans to know what I like. Letting the boy seed my ass or throat. Shit, most of those fans hooked up with me just to gain some rowdy experience. They dressed kinky and had their asses pre-lubed.

Fuck, even taking those young bastards anywhere, any time, and for any price. My dick is half-hard all the time, anyway. I also love unplanned sex in public spaces. The more people who saw us having sex, and the worse it embarrassed the guy that I was penetrating, the better I freaking loved it. Brutally rough public sex came sort of naturally to me. 

But lately, I have gotten into a rut at work. The porn scripts and locations felt like more of the same to me. So, my husband finally offered to co-produce one of my movies. Rick Payne used to be a famous pornstar in his own right. But recently he has started his own production company. Black Horse 10. He enjoys the behind-the-camera action more than exposing himself. Focussing on anything erotic and high-end pornographic. Rick told me that getting the right script ideas was the most challenging part. Locations were much easier to find or dress up, he told me. 

This was true. We rented a lovely remote log cabin and 4 motorcycles for our next porn shoot. And I had been given a budget to dress up the movie set. I also found Rick a bit of script inspiration online. It's incredible what the amateur writers on sites like GayDemon come up with. The situations, the locations, the thrifty actions. Man, the filth dripped off the screen. Or was that my cum? 
Sure, not every story was as well structured as the next. But usually - if you were looking for adult script ideas - those guys and girls knew what they were writing about. 

The early versions of the script Rick had been working on came from several of those stories. At first, he could not make it work. That was until I showed him the stories of one particular guy. It was as if this dude had been reading my mind. His brain was just as filthy as Rick's and mine. And from his profile picture, I deduced he was just the type of younger guy Rick and I were into. 

John Stryker appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Well fit and sporty. A good-looking blond bastard with nice plump lips and a smooth, boyish oval face. Well-defined pecs and strong arms. But reading his stories gave Rick and me the impression there was more to this man. Stryker wrote about brutal bondage, men in leather, gang sex, verbal domination, and forced sex. This was right up my alley. However, the profile pictures I found of him online did not match the stories he wrote. 

That confused and intrigued my 6 year younger hubby and me. We would have loved to get in contact with Stryker J, or that was what he called himself online. Though try as I might, we could not get in contact with him. Even the messages I left him under my own name went unanswered. Leaving me to wonder if he even knew who I was. Rick warned me not to assume that he actually watched my work. 

Over the last few days, I dressed the movie set as a 'logging HQ office bunkhouse' in the 4-star holiday camp cabin near Middleberg, USA. Moving the high-end furniture out and replacing them with bunk beds and lockers. Adding a leather sex sling and other bondage paraphernalia to the bedrooms. Making it look like the logging boss regularly screwed around with unwilling sluts up here. I also dirtied up the place by hanging up pornographic images in the bunkrooms. Leaving filthy clothes, porn magazines, sex toys, and used condoms all over the place. The movie magic would do the rest. An added benefit was the abandoned logging sight nearby. We would use that for one of the outdoor scenes. The camera and sound crew had already dropped off their equipment. Leaving me time to probe the sleepy town and its surroundings.

Middleberg, a sprawling, wooded area, is popular with tourists. The shoot wasn't until tomorrow. Giving me plenty of time to work out and explore the area. The sizeable, lavish log cabin we had rented overlooks a lake on the opposite side of a gated holiday camp. It is currently filled with groups of older oversexed Boy Scouts and younger horny Scout leaders. Aged between 16 and 25-something. The last couple of nights, I heard many an orgasmic scream echo over the lake. Seeing as no women were at the camp, I had a good inkling of what was happening there. Not that I minded it. Those boys needed to learn to handle themselves, anyway.

Regardless, there I was, around midday, cruising down the main drag of Middleberg. Letting the warm summer wind blow through my hair. My biker chaps felt extra tight over my light blue jeans. I had not bothered to put on my biker jacket. It was warm enough for my ribbed tank top. Letting the sun caress my pumped arms. I had found a gym in town and just finished my daily workout routine. Watched by the locals. Enjoying the sights of the area. I loved it. Sure, it's no New York, where Rick and I lived and loved, but I could get used to this town. Life was much slower here, even on a fast motorcycle.

However, just outside of the Middleberg's city center, I got the shock of my life. There he was! Stryker J walked on the opposite side of Main Street. This was the last place on earth I had expected to find him. I recognized the cute blond dude from a distance by the clothes he wore. I had seen the dark pink Nike shirt and black cargo pants in one of his profile pictures. I guessed he was walking home from work. His work boots and thermos bottle were dangling from his backpack. 

As I slowed down, I sat up a little straighter. Letting one hand seductively stroke my chaps. My upper body twisted toward the guy as I drove nearer. Apparently, the recognition did not come from one side. Stryker's eyes lit up as he realized a famous adult actor was cruising through his town. I raised my hand to wave at him from a distance. The guy grinned affectionately back at me. I could not resist it. I openly stroked my 9-inch stiffening fat shaft as I came closer. 

Stryker got a naughty twinkle in his eye and gestured with his fist near his mouth as if he was sucking me off. Bulging his cheek with his tongue as if my cock was plowing his throat. Fuck, that turned me on. He was definitely gay! I knew it. Yet he quickly stopped and looked skittishly around.
"Isn't he out?..." I wondered.
The guy indeed blushed red. As I drove past, I called hornily to him, "Hey there, good-looking!... Want a ride on this?..." I smirked as I grabbed my boy toy on either side of the denim-captured shaft.
Stryker answered, a little half-heartedly but with a longing sigh, "Sure..."

Right at that time, an eighteen-wheeler overtook me on the left. Blocking my view of the one guy that I had desperately wanted to talk to. But as soon as the truck had cleared, I realized that John Stryker was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, I decided to head back to the cabin. Fearing I would never find him again. 

My stomach rumbled as I made a U-turn on Main Street, trying to catch back up with him. It was just past midday, after all. And I had yet to have a proper breakfast. So I pulled into the parking lot of one of those classic small-town diners. The vintage Pullman railroad carriage had been converted to a restaurant, and the smell of fresh coffee, fries, and burgers filled the air. The fragrance enticed me to come inside. So I did. I parked around the side, near the external kitchen. Walking toward the entrance. It was relatively quiet inside.

Sounds of discord emanated from the booths at the far end of the diner. Someone was being bullied by 5 uncouth youths over there. What those homophobic assholes screamed and shouted made no sense. The oldest of the 5 sounded like he was well-educated. Posh even. At least he made the most sense. The rest were merely looking for a fight.

"Ah... Look, boys... The freakshow is in town!.." said the bully. "Still fucking ass?..." he inquired. "You filthy faggot, Jenkins!..."
"Ha... You are one to talk, Mason... Dirty rapist!... You are the one who is fucking little boys behind the dancing and robbing them blind... I should write a story about that..."
Somehow, that last remark piqued my interest. It certainly struck a nerve with the older bully and his cronies.

"I know since your father cut you off, you have taken to shaking down businesses in town as well... Pathetic, really..." said the man. "George Edward Barnabald Mason the TURD, get a job, PEDOPHILE!..." he called to the oldest of the group.
I let out a derisive snort, hearing him call this guy Mason the TURD. I knew he meant to say Mason the third. By the sound of it, the entitled prick must have had some daddy issues.

"Order's up!..." Called the short-order cook from the kitchen. Ringing the bell. Placing a plate of Sloppy Joe's, a fruit salad, fries, and a Coke on a serving tray. The waitress grabbed the tray and walked briskly to the men. Watching the 5 twink bullies apprehensively. Giving the cook a warning look. The cook glanced worriedly at what was happening in the restaurant and ducked swiftly back into the kitchen. I could hear him talk on the phone. However, I could not make out who he was talking to.
A young punk - he could not have been more than 14 or 15 - had a ridiculous punk mohawk. He stretched out his leg and made the waitress trip up. This was to the delight of the other older bullies. The tray the waitress carried went flying. Spreading the contents over the booths and floor. She glared at the men and ducked into the back with the cook. All this time, the 5 guys had not noticed me come in. 

"Dinner is served, faggot!..." shouted their leader, Garry, to his victim. "Get on all fours and start eating the shit off the floor, Pig!..." he called tauntingly.
At this point, the guy called back to the waitress, "Betty, call the cops!... This pedophile is going to pay for the damages..."
"What did you just call me, ASSHOLE?..." shouted Mason in a blind rage. This taunt must have struck a nerve. He grabbed the guy in a sleeper hold from behind, trying to choke his victim. Ripping his Nike shirt. Wait, what? This was Stryker J they were attacking. I could not let that happen.

Well, I stepped in. I knocked the wind out of a guy wearing brass knuckles. Twisting his hand back until I heard a loud crunching snap. I kicked one in the balls while I gave another a clothesline chop. Knocking the wind out of him. I grabbed the little punk by his greasy mohawk and dragged him - kicking and screaming - along behind me. 
That Garry Mason fucker was still sitting on his knees in the booth behind Stryker. Trying to choke John. That did not last long, though. I slammed my free fist between the asshole's legs from behind. Grabbing both nuts and squeezing as hard as I could. Mason's screams were louder than the police sirens whaling outside. He was cross-eyed and about to pass out when he let go of Stryker J. 

The 3 others predictably had fled the scene, hearing the police screech to a halt outside. The little mohawked punk helped a crying, limping Mason to the door.
I asked a winded Stryker J, "Hi, are you okay?... Can I sit here?..."
"Sure, it's a free country..." gasped Stryker, rubbing his neck. Not looking up at me.
I gently slid into the booth next to Stryker J. 

Apart from a sore neck, he seemed all right. Even though the struggle had left the front of his dark pink Nike shirt torn in two. But other than that, he looked okay. In fact, he looked fine. Damned fine. The hairless, smooth man worked out. John had well-defined pecs and a six-pack to die for. Even his arms and neck were much larger than the average guy. The dude wasn't a bodybuilder, though. However, he obviously understood how to take care of himself. Up close and in person, I could see Stryker J was precisely the type of guy that I would love to work with. But, at this point, I did not even know for sure if he was gay. Or if he knew who I was. Or what kind of work I did, for that matter. Shit, I was into him. No one other than Rick Payne ever dared to dominate me. But I'd certainly let Stryker top my ass and abuse all my holes.

Something of those desires must have shown on my face. Stryker's mouth sort of fell open as our eyes met.
"What?... Huh?... What are you doing here?..." he asked skittishly. "I mean... It's nice to meet you, Master Steel... But I did not expect to - ..." Stryker sighed and stopped talking mid-sentence.
"Shush... Like you said... It's a free country... Glad to hear you know me, though..." I answered warmly. Placing my gloved hand over his on the booth's table. The boy did not pull back, so I started to caress his lower arm. We sat there for the longest time. Not speaking, just looking, touching, and breathing a little heavier than we commonly would have done.

The waitress's voice snapped the two of us back to reality. 
"Sorry about that, John... The police are dealing with them now... Thanks for the help, though, guys... Keeping them talking gave the police enough time to get here... Do you boys want anything?..." She said, holding a fresh pot of coffee.
"I am the one who should apologize, Betty..." said John Stryker. Not meeting Betty's eyes.
"Nonsense, John... You're always welcome here... At least now you have something to write about..." the waitress said motherly. Betty certainly could be his mom. She was about 50 or 60. I always have a little trouble reading the age of women.

"So what will it be?..." she asked without seeming pushy.
"Here... You take this for the damages..." I said as I pushed a hundred-dollar bill into Betty's free hand. She tried to push it back, but I added, "No, I insist!... I'd like a black coffee, please, Miss... And I think he'll take a large Coke for the shock..." John seemed too dazed to respond.
"Do you want anything to eat, John?..." she asked warmly.
But I answered for him, "Not right now, dear... I need to talk with him first... Maybe later..."
Stryker looked up at me and shook his head at Betty. The waitress left after she poured me a steaming mug of freshly ground coffee. Bringing the boy a gigantic Coke with ice and a large plate of homemade glazed donuts on the house. Quickly cleaning up the worst of the mess.

"I still don't understand, Sir... If you don't mind me asking... What are you doing here?... Middleberg, of all places..." asked John stumped as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.
"Ah... Well, I am here for work... You do know what kind of work I do... Don't you?..." I asked.
"I sure do!..." gasped John hotly. "I fucking love your work, Master Steel... I even watched you yesterday before my morning shift at the meatpacking plant... I like the brutality and vocal way you do your job... I have always loved guys dressed like you... I'm not sure I could handle it, though... You're so forceful and aggressive... I mean... I can handle myself with any guy... But wow... You're so... So... Uhmm... Harsh... That's gotta hurt..."

"Okay... Two things, kid... Don't judge me by my videos... Privately, I can play nice too... But that doesn't sell... And I don't run around in leather all day, every day, either..." I sighed.
"And if you are looking for pain... Then you should try my husband... Rick ' Master Pain ' Payne can make any guy cry just by walking into a room..." I smirked threateningly at John. "I wanted to talk to you, Stryker..."
John's mouth fell open as soon as he heard me speak that name. He looked at me with wide, incredulous eyes. It was clear he had not expected me - or anyone he knew - to know his online gay persona.
"How you know?... You know my na?... Huh?... How do you know that name?... No one else around here knows I write on... Uhmm... 'that site'... And I Like To Keep It That Way!... Steel!..." urgently stuttered a bewildered Stryker J in a nervous voice. 

"Ah... I was looking for a bit of online inspiration... And I found you on GayDemon... Rick and I loved your stories... So we dug a little deeper... Man, you are just as brutal a lover as Rick and I... Fuck, sounds like we enjoyed your work as much as you did ours... And even better, you know your stuff when it comes to bondage and domination... Damn, your sex life must be crazy... I love it..." I said hotly but saw Stryker's face fall as his ears turned red. "What's wrong?... Aren't you... Uhmm... Aren't you out?..." I whispered softly.

Stryker J did not say anything for the longest time. He just stared at the plate of donuts. Sipping his cold Coke. I pushed my gloved hand behind his back. Slowly rubbing the boy. Asking after a long while, "If you want me to leave, Stryker, I will... But I would much rather get to know you... So what do you say?... Want a ride on this?..." I said as I grabbed John's left arm and seductively pushed the hand over my engorged meet. I had half expected John to pull his hand back in a hurry. But he did not. No, he certainly did not. The fingers closed tightly around the bulge in my pants. The boy even started to gently stroke the 9-inches of thick man meat. Man, this guy turned me on.

"Look... I'd love to give it a try... But you seem to have misunderstood my stories for the real thing..." sighed Stryker worriedly. "Those stories are just made up... It's my fantasy... I have no experiences like that at all!..." called John Stryker embarrassedly.
"Ah... That explains it, Son... It would help to be careful about what you write online, Stryker... But it's okay..." I said, letting go of John's hand. But the man just kept on stroking my stiffening cock softly. From the head to the balls and back. Pressing down in all the right places. Getting me hard like only my man could.

"Look, Sir... As far as being out... Yes, I am out. I am gay... But I am not one to shout about it... Besides, I don't think the newspaper I freelance for, nor the meatpacking plant where I work as a shift cleaner, would like that... Yet, what I do behind closed doors... Or even the fantasies I secretly have about the rougher stuff... You know... Don't concern anyone... Well, and as for sex... I can't... Not here anyway... Master Steel, do you understand?..." whispered Stryker as he finally let go of my leaky prick.

"I sure do... But call me Darek, John... No one calls me Master and gets away with it unscathed..." I smirked nastily and a little threateningly. Flexing my eyebrows while I said it. And John grinned for the first time.
"Okay... I am John ' Stryker ' Jenkins... But you can call me Stryker, Sir..." John said with a shiver. "Nice to finally meet you live and in person, Darek... That thing definitely must be made of steel, though... That, or you badly want to tear me a new one..." whispered John hornily. Looking round to see that no one overheard him.
"Ha... You filthy boy!... But sure... That's true... I would love to force you to clean up the mess you made down there... And seed your holes one by one... Giving you a little more real-life experience..." I said softly as I naughtily pointed out the wet spot in my jeans.

"Would you?... But what would your husband say?..." asked Stryker as he hotly stroked my leather chaps. Looking with puppy-dog eyes at me that only a true fan would dare show me. This dude was as infatuated with me as I was with him.
"Damn right, I would... But don't worry... Not here, not now... I could take you to the cabin we rented for a porn shoot for a beer, though... You can try grinding a little Steel... Fuck, I'd love to dress up for you and give you a preview... And don't worry about Rick... He'd be happy to join us... That might hurt a little, though... Rick is rather big..." I grinned.

John Stryker took a profound breath. Apparently, he was making up his mind on the spot. 
"Well, Sorry, Steel... I am not dressed for the occasion... I need to get something to eat... And I am tired after my morning shift... Garry ripped my shirt, and I don't have a jacket to put on..." sighed John. He sounded resigned to the fact that he would be missing out on an experience of a lifetime.
"Come on... I can fix that... You're not getting rid of me that easy, boy!..." I told John. I handed him my business card with my private details. He looked a little stunned between the card and me.
"We have been trying to get in contact with you, Stryker... Rick and I love your stories... We wanted to talk to you for a while now..."
I pulled him out of the booth. I forcefully pushed him out of the diner toward my bike with a hand on his naked back.

"But... But..." John protested.
"Sure... I'll take your butt... your mind... your soul... I'll make you my bitch... And nail you to the wall... If you promise you'll tear me a new one, too..." I joked as I grabbed the boy's hung nuts in the cargo shorts. Swerling them tenderly in my gloved hand.
Handing John my leather jacket and starting the Harley. It was a moment before Stryker fully understood what was happening. He dropped his backpack to the floor and swung the jacket over his naked shoulders. As with so many guys before him, the weight, the smell, and the texture of the leather did something to him.
"Looking cool, sweet thing... Ready for a hot ride?..." I said as I handed him my skid lid.

The man still seemed to be second-guessing his decision.
"Son,... What are we standing around for?... Hop on... Want to go for a beer?..." I stopped talking briefly, swung my leg over the bike, and looked over my shoulder at Stryker. I could tell that the man wasn't one hundred percent sure. But he was eager enough to find out. That much was clear. So I added enticingly, "Come on, Stryker... We can talk... What happens afterward is up to you..."

"I am not sure what you expect of me, Steel?... I was on my way home for lunch..." Stryker muttered shyly. Yet he climbed on the back. Saying, "You see, it's been a while since my last time... I sure could use some inspiration for my stories... But could we grab a bite to eat and something to drink on the way, Darek?..." the twink tentatively asked.
I instructed warmly, "Sure, I've got all the food, drink, and cock you can want up there... Hold on tight, Stryker... Tighter than that!... Don't be shy, dude... Let me feel that cock of yours press against my ass, boy!..."

I revved the engine, and we drove away. Stryker's right hand hooked tightly around my waist. Stroking my muscular chest. Playing with a nipple. The twink scooted forward, grinding my ass. His left hand rested on the inside of my leather-clad thigh. Apparently, he liked the feel. So much so that his hand absentmindedly wandered over the chaps a bit. I enclosed my hand over his. Guiding it slowly but deliberately toward my manhood. Asking him husky, "Do you like my chaps?... Do you have leather clothing yourself, Stryker?..."

The older twink leaned forward and said tentatively, "Not really... I still am not sure about this, Darek... I've never been with a stern guy like you... I am certainly not as experienced as you may think from my stories..." the kid said worriedly.
I did not answer. But I was thinking hard. How would I get him in the sack? I wanted his ass badly. Fuck, I wanted his cock too. Was he really regretting his decision?
I decided to tell him, "Don't overthink things, Stryker... Just go with the flow... We can talk... We don't have to fuck if you don't want to..."
"Awe... It's not that... I'd love to get nailed by my favorite pornstar... Just don't hurt me... You can talk as nasty as you like, though... I've always been turned on by that..."
I stroked Stryker J's upper leg as we raced to the cabin.

The ride into the hills to the holiday camp was exhilarating. Although, for my taste, it was over much too quickly. Loving the feel of Stryker grinding his leather-clad naked chest to my back. Moaning audibly in my ear. Making filthy suggestions. I weaved and bobbed the heavy motorbike through the hairpin curves like a pro. Stopping in front of the large log cabin overlooking the lake on the far side of the holiday camp. A couple of Scouts were boating on the lake. Well, more like fucking around. As we drove past, I could see that one of the older Scouts had two others pressed to his crotch.

I let Stryker extricate himself from the back of the bike. He clumsily undid the clasp of the skid lid. By the time it had gone, I had planted my boots on either side of the boy's sneakers. Unbeknownst to the dude, I had freed Willy from the pale blue jeans. My hairless nuts and 9-incher pointed to the floor, rudely dangling from the leather-chapped denim pants. It captured John's gaze. His eyes bulged, and his mouth fell open. He had clearly not expected this. I clapped a gruff hand on Stryker's shoulder. Putting my other under John's chin to lift it up. Taking his shocked gaze away from the impressive sight between my legs. Even limp, my extra wide, cut pornstar cock was mesmerizing and a little terrifying. Or so people told me over and over again.

"Why don't you remove your backpack and drop to your knees, boy?..." I savagely suggested to John. There was definitely a more menacing and demanding tone in my voice. "I read you're quite the cock-sucker... Now... Get to your knees and make me hard so I can fuck you silly!..." I commanded harshly. I desperately wanted to see if this dude was up for a bit of public profanity. That, and I wanted to get my rocks off, preferably deep down his throat.

Stryker glanced nervously around. We stood in front of the cabin where people on the lake could easily spot us. I find that sort of stuff exhilarating. Even a few joggers strolled along the road that surrounded the lake. When the den of older Cub Scouts spotted me with my cock out, they franticly rowed their boats in our direction. Eagerly wanting to get a closer look at the horny biker and his younger bitch boy. Even though Stryker was at least 6 or 7 years older than those guys.

Stryker blushed and asked stupidly, "NO!... What?... Here?... Now?... Everyone can see us!..."
"So what?... Let them watch!... Maybe they'll pick up a thing or two... Now... Shut up and suck me... You worry too much, John!... Show those fucking Scouts what it takes to get a deepthroating patch, Stryker... They got to learn somewhere... May as well be here..." I grunted obscenely. Twisting my hips to the lake. Showing the horny teens all I had to offer.

Surprisingly, Stryker J actually dropped to his knees. He put his backpack under them, looked warningly up at me, and hissed in a directorial instruction, "Now then... Here is what I need you to do... You clap a hand on my head... Face fuck me for a while... Then fake force a deepthroat verbal orgasm... Then carry me kicking and screamingly inside... Let's make it convincing, though... It should scare the pants off those fuckers... Understood, Steel?... Put your back into it!..."
"Sir, yes, Sir..." I hissed back, surprised. I didn't know where Stryker suddenly got the nerve from to do something like this. Yet, I took my instructions like the true porn actor I am.

Smirkingly, Stryker J cupped the low-hanging fruit. Weighing my hairless plumbs in his palm. Wiggling the fat dick so the older Cub Scouts could get an even better look. He faked a scream of fear. Looking terrified between my swelling cock and my eyes. Yet, he eagerly bent forward after I placed my gloved hand on his head. The dude teasingly stroked my cockhead with his tongue. Tasting my musk and precum. He was in complete control.
Looking to the side, I saw how the Scouts nearly toppled over each other. Wanting a better look at how the twink swallowed down my biker cock. Acting as if he was my victim. As I started to ride Stryker's unwilling, sputtering throat, I saw some teens starting to video the scene on shore. If I didn't know better, I would say Stryker was a budding actor himself.

I grunted excessively loud, forcing John's head gruffly up and down over my shaft. Plowing his tight throat like a madman. Giving the boy nasty verbal instructions. All for the benefit of the filming Scouts.
John even faked the chokes and gurgles. He took all the swelling nine inches in his mouth like a pro. I forced Stryker J to look up as I pounded his face. Calling him names, threatening the boy verbally, and giving him little or no praise for the great work he was doing. 

But by the hardness of my stiffening pornstar rod and the eagerness of John's blowjob, he could tell I was into this sort of thing too. Yet, I nearly lost control. The boy really knew how to suck cock! It wasn't his first rodeo. That much was clear. I could feel my nuts twitch, and my legs shake. Stryker had to slap a hand on my chest and click his fingers at me. Snapping me out of it. Good thing he did, or I would have spilled my beans right then and there.

Apparently, Stryker wasn't ready for a public display of profanity like that. I yanked my slime-covered, pre-cum drooling cock out of the boy's mouth. Lifting him in a fireman's lift over my shoulder, as instructed. We did an about-face. 
Out of the corner of my eye, we saw that most of the older Scouts had also lewdly clapped a hand to themselves. Wanking their sizable teen dicks hard and fast. Or getting sucked by the younger guys. One of the guys even bounced on the dick of his mate. Making their rowboat bubb precariously on the water. The Scouts eagerly watched how the biker carried his latest victim - kicking and screaming in fake fear - back inside. Wolf-whistling at us.

I, therefore, roared to the overexcited Scouts to practice cock-sucking rather than rowing. It would be a much better skill to learn. Ordering them to delete the videos and pictures they took of us. Threatening the Scouts, I would rape their teen asses one by one in the coming night if they didn't. Stryker sneered at the offensive comments. Not believing I was capable of such acts. When I looked back at the Scouts, I saw that my words had definitely impacted them profoundly. They knew I would take all of them down in a heartbeat. The Scouts had stopped filming and rapidly rowed their half-naked asses back to safety. Stryker called out angrily, "You wouldn't... Would you, Steel?... They are underaged!..."

"What?..." I asked irritatedly, "I mean it!... I'll do them and their Scout leaders as well... I know where they are staying... The horny fucks!..."
Then I laughed, "But your ass is first... Johnny Stryker... I am going to rip your bitch cunt open like that story you wrote about the biker gang and the four high school boys..." I said with a nasty wink.
Slamming Stryker down on the leather couch in the living. It left Stryker to think that I would assault those teenage pubescent fuckers for real.

"Uhmm... Darek Steel!... Tone it down a bit!..." the man snapped at me, "I don't know what you have read... But most of that stuff on GayDemon is just my imagination... Most of my stories didn't actually happen to me... Well, some did... But two-thirds are just my dirty mind..."
John added imploringly, "I don't even think your huge pornstar cock would fit in my tight ass anyway... I don't have that much experience to begin with... And... Well,... Yours is the fattest cock I have handled in 15 years of being gay..." added Stryker J impressively. Looking at my still-twitching exposed rod.

"Really?..." I asked, baffled, "The story about you dressing up in leather and taking your older stepbrothers on the kitchen counter while your stepdads watch you?..." I asked, half stunned.
"I don't have brothers... Let alone gay stepdads..." Stryker answered sheepishly.

"What about the story about you hooking up with a black leather bondage master on your 18th birthday?... Half getting choked to death after touching his leather jacket..."
"All fake... Sorry..." John said with a blush on his face.

"And how about the story of you finding your cousin's leather gear and getting fucked by your uncle and his friends as punishment for trying them on... Was that fake also?... It didn't sound like it... Too many details I could relate to..." I called, half stunned, half angrily.
"Well... Uhmm... I did find my uncle's vintage leather biker jacket... And he did sort of watch me jacking off in it... But the rest... The actual verbal sex was all made up for the story... Sorry..."

As Stryker confessed, my face must have visibly fallen. So the dude quickly added, "I do have a thing for dirty-talking tough guys in leather... Like you, Sir... But those are few and far between in this sleepy town... Fuck!... I think I am more in love with the look than the actual bondage or domination sex... I loved you in that movie 'Bound in Leather', though... The more leather, the better, in my opinion... But I don't have any myself... You were so forceful and verbal in that flick..." Stryker said with a longing sigh.
"Ha... yeah... I can see now why you liked it..." I smirked back at the horndog.

As Stryker hornily stroked my leather jacket that he still wore, I said, "Dude!... You are going to love my next movie... The script calls for a full leather biker gang... Taking a bunch of straight lumberjacks in the woods... Afterward, using some others in this cabin by force... We'll rough them up... We'll fuck them raw one by one... Fisting one... Pissing on another... Then we gangbanged the straightness out of the rest... Tying their boss up as we leave him to rot... Freeing the town women from their antics... It is quite a nasty script... You could have written it, Stryker J..."
"Yup... that sounds like something I would watch... Never experienced something like that, though... And I am not at all sure I would enjoy that myself... I'd love to try some kinky sex in leather someday, though..." John said, looking longingly at me. 

I think he saw my face light up with a malicious grin. My brain suddenly had a comprehensive plan for the two of us. I am going to dress him up in full leather and nail the shit out of him. Pushing his boundaries. Letting him experience what leather sex could be all about.
"Okay, son... Grab yourself something to eat from the fridge... There are beers in there, too... Make yourself at home... I am going to freshen up and change, John... Could you make me a turkey sandwich and brew me a coffee, please..."
As I looked at Stryker J, he smiled back, "Sure thing, Daddy..."
"Oh No, YOU DIDN'T!... I am not your Daddy!... Call me Sir or Master... Got that, Bitch?..." I bellowed harshly, as I grabbed the fucker by the throat.

"Geeze... Sorry, man..." said Stryker in shock.
"Look... Once I've changed, you better have that food ready... I will show you what it is like to be dominated, John... Don't overthink it... Listen and respond accordingly... And please, don't lie to me... If you don't like it, say so, Stryker... If you do, say, 'Thank you, Sir.'... I WILL HURT YOU... But I will make sure you feel equal amounts of pain and pleasure... And afterward, we can switch roles... I still want you to fuck my brains out too... Are you okay with that?..." I instructed a bewildered John.

"You will hurt me?... Why?... Is that really necessary?..." John asked demurely.
"Shit, dude... Give that dirty brain of yours a holiday... You're overthinking this..." I blurted out. Throwing my hands in the air.
"Sorry Sir... I will, Sir..." the boy stammered.
"Good boy!... Now then... Grab a bite to eat and wait here for me... And Johnny... For Fuck Sake!... Do as your told!..." I ordered him in a much more profound and demanding tone of voice.

As I walked to the master bedroom, John asked me how I liked my coffee. There was still a trace of shock in his voice. But I think he understood where I was going with this.
"Black, 2 sugars... I like it sweet... Like you!... God, you look good enough to eat raw... You know that, Stryker?... Fuck, we are going to have such fun!... Rough, nasty, hard... But fucking fun..." I called back as I stripped and jumped in the shower. I deliberately left the doors open. Wondering if he would be brave enough to sneak a peek.

< Continued in part 2 of 3 >

---

Thank you for reading this story. 
Please, give it a Like or a Comment if you are so inclined. 
And if your hands are not too dirty from all the spunk! ;-)

( C ) StrykerJ - 01-2024