I arrive at the motel room at the appointed time. As soon as the door shuts behind me, there’s a guy with a camera in my face.

“Did you do everything on the list we sent you?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, instinctively rearing back from the closeness of the camera.

It’s a suite, or what passes for one. We’re in a small living room/dining area, a chipped painting of a vaquero on the wall. An ancient CRT TV sits on a decaying end table.

Somehow, there’s a piss smell.

There’s an old sofa and a reading chair. Three men, all taller and bigger and broader than me, sit on the furniture in terrycloth bathrobes, each of them apparently naked underneath.

They’re all attractive. I’d do them for free, if I weren’t getting paid for it.

There’s a kitchenette, and behind that, a flimsy corrugated door mounted on a sliding track. It’s partway open; there’s a room with a bed visible behind it that actually looks pretty spacious.

The list of things they sent me to do to prepare was simple enough.

1. Get tested. Send us your results before you even think about showing up. All our guys get tested.

2. Shower. Make sure your dick, balls, and asshole are especially clean.

3. Shave. Your dick, balls, and asshole should be as smooth as the day you were born.

4. Douche, enema, whatever you need to do to clean the shit out of your ass.

5. Lube up ahead of time. If you’re worried about messing up your underpants, wear a pad.

6. Butt plugs-again, ahead of time. Work your way up to the biggest you can take. Have it in for at least an hour before you arrive.

7. Brush your teeth and gargle mouthwash. Twice.

The butt plug, six by two, is in my ass now. My cheeks, slicked with lube, slide against each other with a weird frictionlessness with every step I take.

I have never been more hyper-aware of my own body.

The camera guy tells me to head into the bedroom. I take off my shoes and socks and head where I’m told. He and the three men follow me in there.

I take my seat on the bed, facing them-very gingerly, trying to look casual, despite the pressure that my weight is adding to the butt plug.

The men stand between me and the door.

I’m already hard-I’ve been hard since I got in the rideshare to come here-but the way the camera guy is giving orders is especially turning me on.

“State your real name for the camera,” the camera guy says. “We’ll beep it, but we need it on record.”

I say my real name.

“Okay,” the camera guy says, then rattles off a bunch of memorized legalese that I have to say yes to. Then we move on.

“Now, give us your name,” the camera guy says, referring to the fake name we agreed on ahead of time.

“Christopher Blue,” I state, putting on my cheery face.

“How do you do, Christopher Blue?” the camera guy asks.

“Pretty good,” I say.

“We’re about to get started. Are you excited?”

“Oh yes.”

“Okay,” he says.

He pans across the three men in their robes and tells each of them to introduce themselves. They give their agreed-upon names.

“William,” says the first man, compact and lean.

“Leonard,” says the second, the tallest and most muscular.

“Dee,” says the third, chubbier and hairier than the others.

They’ve been doing this for a while. Their real names will be on record already.

Their robes do a poor job of hiding their penises, which, even partially erect, look intimidating.

Then the camera is back to me, the newcomer.

“Stand up,” the camera guy says.

I stand up.

“Take your shirt off.”

I start to pull my shirt off.

“Remember, slow and sexy.”

I pause, then cross my arms and pull my shirt up slowly, revealing my hard, smooth abs, my taut pecs.

Unlike a lot of guys I meet, I don’t really go to the gym. But I have good genetics and a physical day job on my side.

Once I’ve done that, the camera guy says, “Turn around. Pull down your pants and your underwear.”

I turn around. I unbutton, unzip, and slowly bend at the waist as I slide the waistband down. I reveal my asscrack, then my hard, square buttcheeks, then the flared base of the butt plug between them.

I bend all the way over and bring my pants and underwear down to my ankles. I start to stand up again, but the camera guy tells me to stay how I am.

“Let me help you with that,” I hear him say.

I feel him and his camera very close to me. I steady myself with my hands on the edge of the bed.

I feel him tugging on the butt plug. It’s pooching my asshole out, working my sphincters, inflaming the nerves there.

Not nearly hard enough to pull it out, and I think he knows it.

He’s teasing me. And he’s getting it on camera in close-up.

I take a deep breath, prepared to blow it out slowly, expecting him at any moment to take out the plug out for real.

After spending a few moments warping my asshole this way and that, he finally pulls hard enough for it to start sliding out. I exhale slowly; it’s intense, almost too much.

It’s a relief when the teardrop tip of the plug passes through and I feel my asshole close up.

He backs away and does something with the butt plug, but I don’t know what.

My ass is still thrumming with agitation when I hear him say, “Okay, stand up and kick those off.”

I step out of my pants and underpants.

“Turn around.”

I turn around.

I’m fully erect. Not huge, but nothing to sneeze at.

He comes in with the camera, first getting up in my face, then tracking down over my chest and my belly, then he crouching down for a closeup of my dick and balls.

“Uncut?” he says.

“Yeah,” I say.

“Do you find that most guys like that?”

“I think so.”

Staying crouched, he says, “Turn around.”

I turn my back to them.

“Give us a little dance.”

I plant my feet apart and do a little swaying, gyrating my ass for the camera.

I feel a fingertip touch my scrotum and trace a line down the back of it, between my testicles.

“Mm,” he says. “Nice balls.”


“Nice ass, too. Give us a look inside.”

I grip my buttocks with each hand and spread them apart, acutely aware of the closeness of the camera behind me. I think I can feel his breath on my skin.

“Really spread them apart,” he says. “Give us a gaping asshole.”

I peel myself apart as much as I can comfortably do, and I try to relax enough to show the inside of my rectum for this man’s satisfaction.

I think I’m there-I can feel the warm, stale air of the room inside me.

Then I feel his hand grip me roughly. An impatient thumb grabs me and hooks my anus to one side, pulling me further open.

“Very good,” he says. “Very nice.”

He examines me for a moment, then releases me. I feel him back away and rise to his feet.

“Stand up,” he says.

I stand up.

“Turn around,” he says.

I turn around, facing them again.

He says, “Are you ready to fuck?”

I nod.

He gets in close on my face.

“Say it, for the camera.”

I look into the camera, doing my best to be sexy.

“I’m ready to fuck,” I say.

“Okay,” he says. “Stay here in front of the camera, but watch them. I want to see the look on your face.”

As I watch as the three men doff their robes, revealing big bodies and slouching half-erections, I’m on the cusp of fulfilling a dream.

I’m not sure what to expect, but I can’t remember ever being more excited.

Dee comes over and stands behind me, between me and the bed. He’s close enough that I can feel his body heat.

William and Leonard materialize to either side of me.

All of them, including the camera guy, are about a head taller than me. Big enough to overpower me, to make me do anything they want.

Dee reaches around from behind. He puts his hands on my chest and belly and pulls me back against his body.

The back of my head rests on his chest. I feel his penis, growing hard and warm and upright, against the small of my back. His hot mouth clamps wetly onto the crook of my neck.

Leonard touches my ridged belly with his big hand. He travels down to my erection and circles the base of it with his thumb and forefinger. The camera guy follows him.

Leonard’s remaining fingers clasp my balls and squeeze them, almost too hard, an eroticized melding of discomfort and pleasure. I spread my feet a little farther apart to give him better access.

From the other side, William tips my face towards him with a knuckle under my chin. The camera whips up and gets in close to our faces as he kisses me. His hand glides down to my nipple, pinching and rolling.

It’s a possessive, unromantic kiss. The camera guy captures the whole thing as William fills my open mouth with his tongue and his abundant spit.

I don’t exactly reciprocate.

I accept it, passively.

Someone’s hand is on my ass. Their finger is touching my asshole. I’m not sure whose. With my ass as lubricated and loose as it is, it opens easily as the fingertip pushes its way inside me.

Clamped between three large bodies and my legs spread apart, I don’t think I could have resisted if I wanted to.

More pressure in my ass. Another fingertip. Not as easily as the last one, but I stretch to accommodate it.

He doesn’t go deep. He’s not finger-fucking.

He’s playing with me, amusing himself.

Being anally probed, my balls being squeezed and massaged like dough, being mouthfucked and slobbered on. I’m a limp smorgasbord for the camera’s amusement.

Then the camera guy changes it up.

“Alright, boys,” he announces cheerily, standing back to capture the full tableaux. “We all know what we’re here for. Let’s get to it.”

They all release me at once and we rearrange ourselves. I get on the bed, on my hands and knees, my backside pointed at them.

The camera is in tight. The frame must be full of my gaping asshole, my dangling genitals.

Someone looms over me from behind. I feel the pressing of the first dickhead, hard and spongey against my anus. Even as loose and slick and horny as I am, none of this is going to be easy.

The dickhead taps me a few times, then presses against me and tips itself in.

I exhale slowly and relax myself to allow its passage.

It’s a tense, uncomfortable, and unremittingly intense feeling as the dick slowly pushes inside me, filling my rectum to the point where I feel like I can’t take it anymore.

Big hands roughly grip my waist, and whoever owns the dick that’s intruded into the inside of my body starts fucking.

It’s a lot.

It doesn’t hurt, exactly. But it’s a lot.

All at once, I feel squeezed out of breath. I feel like I need to use the bathroom. I feel stretched almost to the breaking point.

Most of all, though, as these hands grip me and this dick slides in and out of me, I feel unbelievably turned on. If my dick gets any harder, it’ll burst.

I don’t know if I’d call it pleasure. I’ve had pleasurable anal sex more times than I could count. This mass of sensations is too big for that. This is somewhere outside of pleasure.

I’m definitely enjoying it.

When the dick withdraws, I have no idea how much time has passed.

As it pulls out, I feel like I’m shitting myself. The hands release me. I already feel my sides beginning to bruise up. My ass feels weirdly hollow.

Then another dickhead presses against me, and another pair of hands grips me, and I’ve scarcely had the time to feel the lingering sensations subside before they return, more intense than ever.

My face is mashed into the mattress. From the edge of my watery vision, I see the camera guy crouching close up behind us, shooting upward. A big leg is propped up on the bed next to me.

As I’m being fucked, as my body rocks, my face and chest rub against the coarse, discolored sheets. They smell overpoweringly of fabric softener, creating a sickly mix with the strong smell of anal sex.

I barely register it. My consciousness is seated almost entirely in my rectum, which feels all at once screaming with an overload of sensation and strangely distant and detached from the rest of me.

Then this dick, too, leaves me. The hands release me. I feel strangely abandoned and bereft, until a final pair of hands grips me. It’s painful; the fingers are gripping fresh bruises.

The dick that enters me doesn’t take it slow and it doesn’t tip itself in.

It plunges in, like a knife into a cake.

I admit him easily. Or, if it’s difficult, I’m only dimly aware of it. It’s hard to tell; I feel like I’m standing under a waterfall, being pummeled with sensation until I can barely register anything.

He squeezes me and fucks me and scrapes me on these sandpaper sheets for a minute or an hour.

By the time he releases me, I feel used up, worn out, warm, comforted all over, desperate for their affection and their approval. The room spins.

I collapse into a jumble of limbs.

Rough hands grip me all over and roll me onto my back like a loose bag of parts. They spread my legs, prop my knees up, shove a bunch of pillows under me to elevate my greasy-feeling ass into the air.

The camera guy has come around to the other side of the bed, the end my head is at. I tilt my head up to look at him, seeing him upside down.

Dee is with him. His dick is like a massive steel crane over my head, humongous and beautiful and ringed with frothy lube at the hilt.

I feel the mattress move and I see him in my inverted vision, kneeling on the bed next to my head. He leans over, steadying himself with a hand on the mattress as he points his dick at my face.

My head ringing, a little out of my body, I see my hand reach up and grip him by the shaft, guiding him into my mouth. I suckle him, cleaning him, swallowing the waxy residue of intercourse.

Then he starts fucking. It’s all I can do to not gag as he repeatedly probes near the rearmost reaches of my mouth. I do my best to cradle him with my lips and my tongue, protecting him from my teeth.

I hear the vague sound of voices coming from near my feet. I can’t make out more than a few snatches over the sounds of Dee’s dick sloshing in my wet mouth.

Something like, “Look at that ass. It’s shining.”

“Yeah, this is a nice ass.”

I feel fingers prodding me, stretching me, penetrating me. They lift my balls, push my thighs farther apart, stroke me, circle me.

“There you go.”

“Yeah, go in just like that.”

A number of fingers are inside me.

“I see what you’re thinking.”

I can only pay so much attention. They’re all the way to the other end of my body, objectifying various parts of me, while Dee uses my face as a fuckhole.

The camera guy is sighting down the landscape of my body. He centers Dee and my mouth in the foreground of the composition, capturing Leonard and William doing whatever they’re doing off in the distance.

I hear someone spit. Moments after, again, I feel the fullness of someone fucking my ass. Big, strong hands grip my upraised thighs.

It must be William. Leonard has come around to join Dee and the camera guy.

Dee graciously withdraws his penis from the back of my mouth, remaining briefly connected to me by strands of snot that fall on my face and in my hair.

Then it’s Leonard’s turn.

Helpfully, I jerk Dee’s slimy, sloppy dick while Leonard fucks my mouth. He isn’t as rough as Dee. I’m grateful; I feel a little nauseated when his dickhead tickles my uvula.

Once Leonard is good and clean and thoroughly coated with my thick saliva, he withdraws. Then it’s Dee’s turn again.

Though my jaw is getting sore, I humbly suck Dee’s fine specimen of a penis while I keep Leonard busy with a free hand.

All feats of strength are possible if you’re horny.

Whoever’s in my ass-William-is doing a commendable job. From this angle, his dickhead is nudging my prostate, flooding my brain with nice sex chemicals and making my balls feel like they need to explode.

It raises a warm, electrical feeling, seated deep within my body. I feel like something’s dribbling on my belly, and I realize the end of my dick is weeping precum.

It’s frustrating, though. I’m not fond of these contrived group situations where everybody does everybody at once.

It’s hard to take pleasure, when you’re so focused on providing it to someone else.

One last time, the camera guy takes control.

“Alright, boys,” he says, “let’s get him on the floor. I want to see some cum.”

They all withdraw from me, and there’s more rearrangement of bodies into a new tableaux for the camera.

Before I know it, I’m kneeling on the floor and they’re surrounding me, and the camera guy follows the action while a firing squad of big, hard men masturbate, their hard-ons level with my head.

One by one, they ejaculate on me.

Cum hits my hair, my face, my collarbones, my chest. Hot, thick ropes of it, hitting me with gentle force, then cooling and drying almost immediately. It runs slowly down my skin in a viscous mess.

Some of it finds its way into my open mouth. I swallow eagerly. It’s thick and rich, salty and a little bit sour.

One of them wipes the final dregs of his dribbling dickhead on my chin.

I have no idea what my face and body are doing. But, minutes later, we do the after-interview, and the camera guy says something about me having a nice, big smile during the cumshot.

He sounds appreciative. It makes me feel good.

The next day, the check clears.

I get an email that simply says:

“Good debut, Christopher Blue. We look forward to working with you again.”


Leave a Comment