Shopping for underwear was not nearly the adventure as I had shopping for a cock ring. The clerk was about my age, cute and a total twin. He was fun to work with and had no shame about his lifestyle. Basically he told me a whole lot more than I needed to know about which pair of underwear received what type of reaction. He obviously was old enough to get into the bars and had won a contest of two that involved getting down to his briefs. Three hundred bucks later I walked out with plenty to wear. Now to show them off.
Dropping off my purchases, taking a shower and putting on my new ring and briefs I left for Terry's. He looked amazing but not thrilled to see me. He did give me a hug, when I took him into my arms, and held tight.
"Terry? Is something wrong?"
"No, not really." He paused. "Well, not wrong but we need to talk."
My heart hit the floor. "Are we over?" I was ready to break down.
"What? God no! Are we? I mean are you, do you?" His face was almost white.
"God no. But you said we had to talk, those are break up words."
"Oh Sam. That was not a good way to say it. Sorry. Forgive me?" He came in and offered a kiss.
"How can I not? Thank god you don't want to break up with me."
"Let's order in. Chinese?"
"Sure." I laughed; it felt like we were in a scene in some rather lame gay romcom.
He ordered from his favorite place picking his favorites. While we waited he asked what I had been up to. I was hesitant to tell the entire story, partly because I was sure that before I was done we would be naked and fucking and that would be an interesting way to greet the delivery guy. In the movies the delivery guy is usually a goofball and in porn he is always a hottie who joins in.
Thus I skipped the part about filming a porno and kept the story of underwear shopping in the forefront. Terry was happy to hear it and curious what I was wearing under my pants.
We ate and talked about random things. It didn't feel like we were avoiding anything, but we both knew the real conversation was still to occur.
Once we were finished Terry poured us each a drink. This made me nervous. We hadn't had a drink together more than once, maybe twice. Liquor wasn't needed for us to get along or get it on.
We sat in his small living room across from each other. He looked down. "Terry, this is driving me nuts. Really. Whatever it is that is weighing on you, just let it out. It can't be so terrible. Really. Just tell me."
"Sam. I really like you. I mean I really like you. We both know we have, well I guess I don't know how to say it. After thinking about it for days I thought I was ready."
"Just talk Terry, don't worry about how it sounds. And I really really like you too." He was killing me being in such agony over whatever his secret or news was.
"Neither of us are virgins. We both have had plenty of guys. Innocent is not, we are not innocent. But..." he paused, it was torture to wait through, "I am a lot less innocent than you think."
"What? Are you..." I stopped myself from saying kidding. "Terry, both of us have done some whoring, do big deal. We never lied about it."
"Well. That isn't exactly the truth. I have been doing a lot more of it than you know."
He took a long sip from his drink.
"Terry. Don't let the number of times get to you. It doesn't bother me. I don't care if ten guys have fucked me or one hundred. I don't care if you have been with two hundred. I still care about you."
"It's a lot more than two hundred Sam." The shame in his voice was so heavy I swear he was about to cry.
"Terry, I have had more than two hundred. Shit, just the guys Michael had me..."
"Sam, it's over two thousand." He looked up at me, tears about to fall.
I stood up and walked over to him, I wanted to hug him, hold him, to let him know I didn't care. He pulled away, stood up and walked to the other side of the room.
"Sam. I have been whore for Michael for over four years. I get fucked at least twice a day by some guy who pays for it. Some days it is even more than twice. I am nothing but a prostitute. And I didn't care. All those men, the shit they say and the shit they do to me or make me do, I didn't care. That weekend you had with Ed happens all the time, weekly to me. It never bothered me. I knew I was nothing but a piece of ass. It didn't matter, I was making good money and no one bothered me. I got up every morning, spent the day arranging for guys to fuck and getting fucked, went home at night and went to bed. It didn't matter.
"Then you. You come along. Shit. When I first saw you I was, fuck, my heart went crazy. I knew that I was going to be fucking you in no time, shit Michael has his system. And I wanted to fuck you but at the same time I didn't. I didn't want you to end up a whore like I was. But I couldn't saw anything. Then. Then. Then," He was nearly hyperventilating, "I have to listen to you speak and your voice was like music and you were so fucking nice. It killed me to think I was going to do what I had to do. But I did it anyway. And of course you fall into the trap, how can you not? Michael is so good at what he does. Any guy who lasts thru that first part where he makes you talk about my body, any guy who doesn't leave right at that moment, ends up working for him. And I helped. Sam. I am so disgusted and ashamed. And then you capture my heart and I fall in love with you and the whole time I am deceiving you."
Terry drops to the floor, sobbing. His glass fell, thankfully not breaking. In seconds I race over to him, sit down next to him and hold him as he weeps. I feel like shit.
"Terry. You didn't make me do anything I wasn't willing to do."
"Yes I did. I am so good at it you don't even know it." It was difficult fro him to get the words out and difficult for me to understand him. "I am such a shit. You don't know how many lives I've ruined."
"Terry. Breath. Deep breathes. You didn't ruin my life. You have made my life better."
"Fuck you Sam. You are clueless." He was yelling now. "You are so fucking naïve. Just get out. I don't want to see you. I don't want you to call or come over. Go. Now!"
I stand up. My anger rising unlike it has ever done in the past. I lean over and grab Terry's arms and yank him up. Holding him like a rag doll, how I had the strength considering he outweighs me I don't know, but I shake him. "No Terry. Fuck you. I am not leaving. I am not walking out that door until this is done and it isn't close to being done. I am so pissed off right now I am scaring myself but if you don't stop this shit and just get to the point I swear..." I stopped. I stopped talking. I let go of Terry and I was terrified at my behavior.
"Oh god. Terry. I am so so sorry. Please forgive me." What the fuck had I just done?
Terry walked to the chair and sat down. I grabbed a towel and wiped up the spilt drink. Not thinking I poured a new one and handed it to him.
"Thank you. Get one for yourself, you are going to need it." He whispered.
Sitting down, fresh drink in my hand I took a deep breath, one of many I would be taking that evening.
"Sam. Sorry. I lost it. But you really need to hear me out."
"I lost it Terry and am so sorry. You talk and I will listen." I still felt like shit. "But before you do, I want to tell you that no matter how terrible it is whatever it is, you are the most important person in my life and I love you."
He looked up at me, smiled and tears ran again.
"Ok. So, four years ago I met Michael, you knew that. Well his operation is nothing but a cover for prostitution. He using the word escort, it's the same thing just served up in a prettier package. From the beginning I was an easy target. I was gay. Grew up ignored and kicked out when my father found out. He met me two days later and fucked me that night, my first time. Two days later I had my first two assignments. They weren't thrilled so Michael decided I needed to learn a thing or two and for the next several days he had one guy after another fuck me so I could learn what to do. It was a freak show. I spent most of the time in a hotel room while some other guy was in the other room setting up the next guy.
"They were all friends or clients of Michael's. They were all pretty nice as far as that goes but in was not fun. In the four days I was there almost one hundred guys dumped their cum in me. I felt like shit and at first I really hated it. But once we left the hotel it changed. Michael got me a haircut, some nice clothes, showered me with positive attention and spent days boosting my self esteem. He also had me taking clients. These guys were hand picked by him. Within no time I was feeling like I was important and wanted. Shit he worked me like magic. He had me start working out. My body responded well to exercise and within a couple months I was looking really good. For the first time in my life I actually liked my looks.
"After that things fell into place. I would take clients a couple times a day, sometimes up to five or six. The money was good. I was treated nicely. Michael began to groom me for bigger things. He told me how things worked, taught me how to take care of appointments and office type work. He had me befriend the new guy after I had been there six months. From there it grew into more. I knew I was training these guys, most of them your age, to be prostitutes but I had a feeling of power. Every month or so, once a boy was doing what he needed to do, Michael would find a new one." Terry stopped talking and downed his drink. Holding out his glass I got up and went to mix a new one for him. I finished off mine as well.
"Then he added to my duties. Sam, this is where it gets hard. Do you hate me?"
"No Terry. I don't hate you. Go on." And I didn't. I felt terrible for him. I wanted to make it better.
"He has this little on line business. Basically a porn site. He had me do a scene where I got naked and jerked off. No big deal really. Then it ended up being a weekly deal. Once a week I would go into the studio and we would film me stripping, dancing, jerking off. After a couple months it was me and another guy doing the jerking off. Soon I was having sex weekly with one of the other boys. It was all a cover for his rent boy operation. Guys would subscribe to the site, using zip codes he would tailor specials for them. We would film live scenes to please the guys and eventually the guys would get to meet up and fuck us.
"About a year into it things went up a notch. I would still be fucking other boys but now men were filling in. He kept pushing the envelope so to speak. At first they were in their twenties. Then thirties. Soon it was guys up to the seventies. And the type of guys changed too. The hot-bodied studs became fat men, gross men, heavily tattooed, super hairy, black, Asian one different type of man after another. Twice a week we filmed. Once it would be me and another rent boy. The second was some other man.
"It got worse as time went on. Sam. Please don't hate me. Two weeks ago he had me do a scene where I had four black guys fuck me, one after the other. The shit they said while doing it was horrible. You had just quit and told me about your visit and everything was great and I was getting gang fucked on film. So I decided I didn't want to do it anymore. I wanted out. You got out so I could too. I told Michael. He was very cool about it, no big deal. Appreciated all my work and blah blah blah. Then he managed to talk me into one last scene with the newest boy. How bad can it be? He was young, green and it would be simple.
"The next day I show up. It wasn't with the new boy. He had this group of men, where he got them I don't know. They were all older, at least forty, some white some black, not one was hot. He filmed an orgy, that's what he called it. But it wasn't an orgy. I was the only one who took any dick. I tried to count how many guys there were waiting to fuck me and lost track at sixteen. Thankfully he wouldn't let them cum in me, he wanted the money shots so they came on my face, ass chest. It was so gross Sam. I felt like shit. After it was over Michael tossed my clothes to me and told me to get out. I asked for a towel so I could clean up and he laughed. "A whore like you doesn't need to clean up, it's written all over your face and body you are nothing but a whore, the cum is only decoration." He stood there as I started to get dressed. I tried to wipe the cum off my face and he yelled at me. He made me get dressed with all that cum still on me. Then he followed me out and closed the door behind me. I was standing on the street, daylight, with cum all over my face and hair, my clothes sticking to me.
"I walked a few feet away, thankfully it was quiet and pulled my shirt off so I could wipe my face clean. Then I came home. I couldn't call you. Sam. I am such shit. I am nothing but a cum dump. Worthless."
My efforts not to cry failed. He was in such bad shape, which was one thing. But to feel such despair and worthlessness, it was too much.
"Terry. You are not worthless. You are not a cum dump. You are not terrible. Michael is a worthless shit who preys on young boy. He is nothing but a pimp. And he is out of your life." How do you give support and say something inspiring after such a confession?
"Is he really Sam?"
"Yes. You don't need to go back Terry. I am here for you. You have a lot a head of you. Life isn't over, shit we are young. You are young. Twenty two is young."
"Sam. I turn twenty next week."
I was ready to kill Michael. He had done this to Terry when he was sixteen? Fucking asshole. Fucking with adults is shitty but turning a helpless lost sixteen year old into a prostitute is below shitty.
"Terry my knees are killing me." I stood up after kneeling at his chair since I poured the last round. From the kitchen I brought a warm damp towel over to Terry and washed his face. Mixing a new drink I asked him to come to the sofa and we sat there, my arm around his shoulders, for some time.
"Sam. Are you really staying with me?"
He sat up and walked into his bedroom. He had his laptop with him and opened it up to a site. There was his face. And his body. And dozens of options to view of Terry being used.
"Terry. You don't need to do this." I wasn't sure I wanted to see. Just knowing about it was enough.
"Sam. I don't want to hide anything." He selected a scene. A very young Terry is sitting in front of a camera and smiling. "This is the first one." We watch as the video plays. Terry, young, thin, not at all like the hunky stud is now is, jerked off for the camera. He selects a few other videos, nothing too extreme.
"Terry. Please. Do you want to see this? I trust you, everything you said. You don't need to prove anything to me. If it helps you, yes we can watch but I don't see any reason to continue." I kissed his forehead.