At Marc's suggestion we sent our discs back to the U.S. We didn't want to

risk any puritanical border police confiscation.

Marc was a strange duck. I seemed to know less about him as time went on.

He was always cheerful and polite. If a decision had to be made, he would

listen, express his opinion and if I insisted he would always say okay. I

must admit that I engaged in a little extra curricular sex in baths and tea

rooms during our travels. As far as I could see Marc remained a monk.

There was some flirting at times. At least I thought so between a girl

here or there. He could be very charming and seductive in a gentlemanly

way which wowed the ladies. He never, as I could see, follow up. Did he

seek his own self satisfaction? Maybe. Naturally I wasn't with him all

the time. Perhaps he was turned off by all his contemporaries wacking off.

In any event, here we are in Warsaw. It's a fabulously beautiful city. I

thought it would turn out to be grim, a worker's stark utilitarian city.

This is true of the Russian influence period but so much remains of the

imperial past.

The boys here are somewhat different from those in Russia. First off, I

was wrong in my expectations. I thought they would all be stocky,

mustached Lechs. But actually most were blond or light haired, tall, slim,

fair skinned. I also noticed that Poles lose their hair early. Some of

the kids we filmed were only nineteen and already had receding hairlines.

At first I was disappointed but soon I could see that their high, smooth

foreheads were an asset. Another characteristic was their playfulness,

sometimes rough humor. I can tell you about that by describing a couple of


We had no trouble finding kids for our nefarious activities. Marc talked

to the bell captain, gave him a bunch of kopecs or whatever their money was

called. You get mixed up going from country to country. The bell guy was

young and cute and offered himself but Marc and I thought it was a bad idea

and might get us in trouble with the hotel. You must realize that we were

skirting a dangerous area of international imprisonment. The bell guy made

us laugh when he asked if he could sit in on some of the sessions. 'I can

lend a hand,' he said doubling over in uproarious laughter, the kind we

were going to hear a lot of. Marc, sort of became the boss arranger in

Poland by virtue of his bell captain success. He didn't question me but

immediately said sure. The fucking kid rubbed his crotch, he was already

salivating and leaking. Oh to be young again.

Our first subject arrived at six AM, following our bell guy, named Lech,

can you imagine. It must be a popular name now. The kid was introduced as

Josef. He was a doll boy, pure white skin, nice long straight nose, rather

thin lips but his gorgeous teeth made up for it. He may have misunderstood

what he was to do. He took off his shirt and made his small pecs hard,

turned red in the face from the effort. 'Very nice I told him.' I

outlined the payment method. He apparently was recruited by Lech without

knowing the full story. Lech wanted his fee of fifty dollars American and

was afraid to risk it by relating the full story to the kid.

Marc stepped in. 'Josef, are you a male prostitute?'

The kid blushed so cutely. 'Sometimes when I am broke, but I am not a

sissy boy.'

'Of course,' we all echoed.

'Can you get naked, please?' I asked trying to hurry things along. He

looked a little hurt because he was not in control of things but he

sheepishly slipped out of his pants and trainers and stood in front of us

with red bikinis. I had to work not to smile.

'Off with the undies too Josef!' I said firmly.

Nice dangler, I thought. Lech applauded enthusiastically. Marc just went

to his cam corder and got busy. I say dangler because it was at least six

inches of hanging cock. The balls seemed small, but you can't have

everything. He turned slowly and revealed some other goodies. His ass was

suitable for framing and I loved his legs, smooth, white, hairless, in fact

he was almost without body hair. I asked him if he shaved his body. He

didn't even know what I meant. He had the perfect pubic hair shape that

some gay men try to create. It was contained the about an inch on either

side of his cock and the upper line with perfectly straight. His balls as

far as we could see were hairless. Lech, who felt he was assistant

director asked Josef to bend over and spread his cheeks. We all bent down

to look. I was surprised that this hairless guy had a nice blond whirly

ring of hair around his anis. That was very cute and we decided to include

that in the picture.

He reclined on the bed like the Goya Nude, one leg crooked, his cock laying

over one hip and because it was so long it brushed the sheet beyond his

hip. I questioned him for a little bio for the tape. He seemed to enjoy

the questioning and was very verbal and laughed a lot. He was a bright guy,

probably would not continue selling himself for long. He had some good

prospects and I gleaned that some came from johns he had. He had been

fucked a few times but didn't like it. 'I like to be sucked, boy or girl

doing it.' When he mentioned girls I found that he had a pretty nice

sexual life with three girls who offered lots of benefits. 'No I do not

lick girls cunts, that's for dirty guys.' Yet he had sucked a few cocks.

'Only with rubber, you know.'

'Okay,' I said, 'Lets get started. Play with yourself.'

The room was quiet. We were all plugging for him. He got a serious look

on his face, stared at his cock, slipped one long fingered hand to rest on

his balls, the other just holding his dick, not moving. After a moment or

two, Lech, the ass, said, 'Come on boy, get with it. Time is money.'

The boy pulled his hands off and looked like he was going to get up and go.

Lech realized his minute and tried to make up for it. He went over to the

bed and sat on the edge. He leaned down and whispered something in the

kid's ear. Later we found out that he offered part of his fee. I can't

help but think what a turn on money is because the kid became hard while

the proposition was being explained. He grinned at the room. 'Now you

American guys will see how a Pole can shoot heavy cream.'

His Polish Pole rose to at least eight inches plus, but thin with a tiny

head. He began stroking, now the serious looks faded replaced by a grin.

It seemed so inappropriate. At times as he stimulated himself he broke

into a wide smile and giggled a bit. This kind of behavior was repeated by

other Polish kids. I don't know why, was it embarrassment or glee?

In any event he now must have felt that he was ready to deliver the goods.

He became very bossy. 'Hey camera guy, get in for a closeup and watch your

lens, when I shower with cum I really spew. Hey Lech, I would rather you

leave the room now.'

I don't know why he wanted Lech out but maybe he knew him and wanted to

remain private about this one intimacy. I never questioned any of my guys.

I took them as I found them.

Josef became the star of our serious of short subjects and everyone who saw

our work all said Josef was the one.

He had been lying down, he got up on his knees, he threw his head back and

roared. Yes, that's the best way I can describe it. A raw, primitive,

hoarse cry. His body began weaving back and forth, like a cobra, his mouth

was dropping spittle onto his chest. The muscles in his body were locked

into painful rigidity and then the head his cock dribbled a few drops. I

thought this was going to be another poor delivery but then a big stream

went across the room and fell just at Marc's feet. Then two more almost as

powerful, then as he moaned softy some small shots wet the comforter on the

bed. He smiled and began his usual laugh. 'Good eh? That's why my men

pay me more than any other guys.'

We hadn't had breakfast. We were still unshaven and not cleaned up. We

took turns showering. I noticed that Marc had become less shy about

appearing naked. And believe me, he had nothing to be ashamed of. We

ordered breakfast in the room and went over our notes as we finished our

room service breakfast.

Just when we were emptying the last dregs of coffee in the pot a knock at

the door. 'Hey Marc, there's a new penis outside. Would you get it?' I

snickered at my double entendre. Marc threw the door wide and in strode a

cocky kid. Couldn't have been more than sixteen. 'You are the money

guys?' he asked in kind of a confrontational way. We told him we were but

he was too young. 'Whatcha mean dudes, I'm eighteen and I can prove it.'

March and I conferred. We really didn't know how old he was exactly and he

had all kinds of proof of age that were probably fake. But we were both

enchanted with his manner and fake gangster movie English. We got him to

sign a paper that he inked likely in a fake name too. He insisted that he

get paid after each phase. So as he too off his American style cargo

shorts, exposing his briefs with superman on them and his Doors tee shirt

(are they still sold?) we handed him one third of the money. He stripped.

Wow, not a skinny kid at all under those clothes. It was just his face,

the face of a young adolescent. But the body, broad shoulders, nicely

firmed pecs, tight stomach, good manly equipment. Also he was a little

hairy. That was a surprise. His armpits were about as hairy as I have

ever seen. His pubes started right under his navel and spread out from hip

to hip. Now I noticed a beard shadow on his checks and chin. Interesting.

His arms and legs were moderately hairy. His hair style was American

marine, whitewalls and all.

He sat on the bed. I flipped on the mic. 'Are you a male hustler?'

'I sure am, the best. I do everything. Suck, fuck, anal, give and take,

you can even pee on me or I'll soak you.'

He told he got about forty dollars for most of the activities. He claimed

he never got an STD. He began whoring at twelve. When asked if he

considered himself gay, he said that he will do anything with anyone for

money but when I questioned him about girls, he was very reluctant to

answer questions.

'Should I start stroking? I start but give me the money first.'

I gave it to him. He got hard immediately. He didn't look at magazines we

provided or the porno tapes, he stared at the money on the table. He was

pretty elemental in his approach. He spat on his hand and shagged his

prick, breathing hard. His cock was long enough that he could use two

hands but then he did a provocative gesture. He took one hand from his

prick and put it back to his asshole. He lifted his legs slightly to get

at it. I'm sure he actually stuck his finger in side. Soon he was in and

outing at his back door and wanking his cock. 'I almost there.' He

stopped everything and held out his hand. 'Cross my palm with silver and I

will give you the money shot.' I gave him the money. He had lost a little

of his hardness but he rubbed the money against his cock and it stiffed and

became longer than we had seen before. His hips began a fuck motion, his

eyes turned back and showed white only. His mouth hung open and a flush

appeared on his pale chest. 'O-o-o-o-h-h Daddy, here it comes.' He shot

but caught most of it in his cupped hand. When he was finished shooting he

broke into a wide grin and laughed at us. 'You guys can let your breath

out now.' Then he stuck out a long tongue and lapped his palm

clean. 'Delicious. You want some? He laughed like a loon.

We had one other boy before we left Warsaw but we decided not to keep it

and Marc deleted the whole thing. It had no real sexiness. This is the

story. The kid was a waif, hungry street boy, maybe not well. We both

allowed him to do the trick for us mainly because we where sorry for him.

In his own mind he was a pretty sexy boy. It could not been further from

the truth. I don't think he scored much on the street except for someone

who wanted a bargain or someone who might be twisted and be brutal to him.

When he was undressed we saw several scars that were healed. We didn't

question him. He got undressed, out of his sad dirty clothes, displaying

his skinny body. He posed. It was sad. He wanted the whole three hundred

and tried and tried but kept losing his hard on and was far from cumming.

He begged me to give a helping hand. I made a make shift mask out of the

pillow case and wanked him. After my hand was so tired I was getting

cramped it erupted with a nice spurt or two. He was full of

self-congratulations. 'That was good. Best spooge you ever saw, right?

They know me on the street.' After he left, Marc was full of giggles. He

kept asking me, 'Who was that masked man?'

Anyway we closed shop in Warsaw and took a quick flight to Kosovo. This

used to be part of the Czech Republic. The men we met there differed from

the last two places. First off they were older. It seems male hustlers are

late twenties to early thirties and most are bi-sexual. They do not do the

girl part in sex. Now there are a few, but they are outrageously femmes.

The guys are big, like Bulgarian wrestlers, most have bushy moustaches.

The ones we had in our room were powerful barrel chested guys. Not ones to

cross up. They rough too. Often they would laugh and sock you in a

playful way and you would have a bruise. You may have seen pics of Czech

models. These are not here, none of those pink and white skinned blond

types. But, I found these rough necks to be fun and sexy. They kidded

around a lot and loved to talk back and laugh...and drink. You couldn't

get them to do anything until they were half in the bag.

Take George, we met him along the river walk. He was big, maybe six feet

two and wide and strong. He spoke in a big loud voice. His command of

English was poor but he made up for it by shouting and punching you. Marc

kept way back. George had a Stalin moustache. I think he was very proud

of it for he stroked it constantly like the villain in an old melodrama.

Up in the room we found that he was a very reluctant interviewee. He gave

us conflicting answers and then he would deny that he said it. We finally

gave up and gave him one third of the fee. In delayed undressing and kept

throwing back shots of brandy. I whispered to Marc that our boy was

getting glassy eyed and might not be able to perform.

He finally took off his clothes. He kept asking me if it make me sexy to

see him undress. 'You got stiff prick?' I didn't know exactly how to

answer. 'Hey, American guy, show me your penile establishment.' I'm not

sure what that meant.

I encouraged him to finish undressing and lay on the bed. Once naked, he

became silly, covering his stuff with his big hairy hand. He would lift

the hand, peek and laugh. 'Yes, it's still there.'

He was a nice specimen of manhood, black hair swirling on his chest and his

pubic hair almost obscuring his prick. He had a gigantic ball sack, maybe

the biggest I ever saw. He liked to heft it while he jerked off. He

treated it so roughly, I thought that couldn't be good. It made my own

balls ache. His penis was big and thick with a heavy loose foreskin that

made a squishy sound as he wanked. It was annoying that just when he

seemed to be reaching to his cum, he would stop and then joke around with

us. Marc said twice that we should fold up this shot. But then just as I

was about to, he said 'You want to see thick good smell man juice? Watch!'

He wasn't kidding. He shot thick ropes of cum. I thought he'd never stop.

He kept smiling and winking at me as he unloaded on his chest. When he

finished he closed his eyes and I think he fell asleep for a minute or so.

At last he opened his eyes and guffawed loudly. 'You American guys want to

eat it now?'

We thanked him. He took his final payment, punched me a few times, Marc

ran into the bathroom to avoid George's painful gratitude.

We picked up six interviews here and it was time to leave. I went to the

post office to mail the discs home. It was safer that way. I returned to

the little hotel near the river. The rooms had no locks so I just opened

and stepped in. I could here sexual sounds coming from the bathroom. The

door was slightly ajar. There was pretty Marc, nude, kneeling in front of

the toilet bowl. He had draped his balls over the edge. He was rapidly

stroking with one hand while holding a fuck mag in the other. I never did

see if it was straight or gay, we had both in the room. He was really into

his wanking. I wish I could have photographed it. It would have been the

best of the whole trip.

Back in the States we made a fabulous deal with a large distributor of male

porn. We didn't even have to edit, they took care of that and the

distribution. We got a cool million plus royalties based on the sales.

I have only seen Marc once after our trip. I think he is a little ashamed

of our activities but I didn't noticed he didn't refuse the money. He is a

whore too, same as all of us.



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