Page 13 of Bobby Green
IT TOOKJohn and Digger ten minutes to set up. Vern was half-hard before he was even in front of the camera. John talked to him at first, asked him if he’d ever done this before in front of strangers, asked him if it made him hot.
“Yeah.” Vern half laughed. Getting his knob waxed by Keith Gilmore had apparently been training for this moment—who knew? Taking his shirt off was second nature. It’s what country boys did in the sun, and he smiled up at the sky, eyes closed, as he sat on a chaise lounge and ran his fingers over his chest. He used to jerk off like he was going for a record in high school—he knew what he liked.
“Hard on the nipples,” Digger murmured, and Vern nodded, keeping his eyes closed.
“Yup…,” he hissed and pulled harder, arching his hips. Oh, this was nice. The courtyard was just big enough to catch a little breeze, and he was sitting under a tree—a little bit of shade but not enough to make him chilly. This was a good place, and he wondered how many other guys had jerked off here for the camera.
The thought brought his cock from half-hard to all the way hard, and he slid his hands under his waistband to make himself comfortable.
He heard Digger’s caught breath, the unmistakable sound of anticipation as Digger held a light over a reflecting board aimed at him, and he slid his jeans right down to his ankles, and there he was, in full view of God and everyone.
He didn’t care much about God, but boy, for a guy who thought he’d live and die in a forgotten corner of the mountains, it was a fuckin’chargeto be there in front of everyone.
“Holy wow,” Digger breathed, and John made a little grunt of affirmation.
“That’s some piece of equipment you got there,” John said appreciatively. “You know how to use that thing?”
Vern kept his eyes closed and grabbed himself at the base, squeezing hard and stroking up. And up. And up. “I’ll take pointers,” he purred. Both of them had worked here. Both of them. They’d been with guys. There was no shame here. He spread his legs and planted his feet so he could cup his balls.
“Fingers in your mouth,” Digger said, suddenly sounding authoritative and in charge. “’Cause you know where you want ’em, right?”
Yeah. Oh yeah. Vern knew what he was saying. Keith wouldn’t touch him here, but Vern knew that’s where he wanted to be touched, and out here, in the open, being admired and spurred on?
He sucked on his fingers hard and kept right on stroking his cock.
Fat and long—he’d measured nearly ten inches when he was sixteen and did that sort of thing. But he knew it was big—Jessica seemed to like it. Keith thought it was worth blackmailing for. But here, under the sun and the observation, he could be proud of it. This thing feltgood, and it was beautiful, and oh! Oh! It ached! It hurt so sweet, he’d squeeze it some more, and the whole rest of him wanted touch too.
He rolled to the side, and while his top hand kept stroking, playing with his bell, skating across the head in the precome that drooled from the top, his outside arm reached back until his spit-slickened fingers brushed up against his asscheeks, went searching for….
Ah! Just one brush, that’s all it took, and he started to convulse. He rolled to his back again and shook, putting both hands on his cock and jerking hard… so hard… oh God….
“Ah!”
He let the word rip just as his come fountained up like a geyser, shooting over his head for a minute before splatting back down on his chest. And again. And again. A strip hit him across the face and another one across his chin. He couldn’t seem to stop coming, and when he did, Digger was there, stroking his hair back from his face, grinning.
“Holy fuckin’ wow,” Digger said, awestruck. “That was real fucking impressive. Just think—I might get to ride that pony one day.”
“That’s not a pony,” John said good-naturedly, putting the camera down. “That there’s a stallion.” He walked to Vern with a towel and a fluffy white bathrobe in his hand. “Here, kid. Get dressed. Digger’ll show you where to wash up. I’m going to edit this. Then you and me, we’ll talk business, deal?”
Vern nodded at him dazedly, reluctant to leave his sprawl under the sky.
Only Digger’s hands—rough, short-fingered, nails clipped to the quick—stroking through his hair kept him rooted to the world at large.
Blinded by the Bright
WHEN REGhad first come to work for Johnnies, John still had the auditions and filmed the porn in his house. Reg had sort of liked that. John kept a nice cozy little home; everything was in good repair. He’d felt safe there. He hadn’t had sex with a guy before, but he’d done lots of girls, and he had no problem jerking off for the camera.
That first day—the day of the audition tape—John had asked him if he wanted a porn name.
“I didn’t have a family pet,” he said, because that was how the joke worked, right?
John stared at him, perplexed. “Reg, this isn’t the joke thing. This is having a name to protect your identity.”
“But, you know. I’m Reg, the famous porn star. Why wouldn’t I want people to know?”
John had red hair and green eyes with blond lashes. When his eyes got really big, it looked like they were bugging out of his head.
“Reg, do you want people to know this about you without your permission? What about your parents—?”