“Sure, yeah,” I say, and close the door.

  Minutes later, Kurt joins me. “I got here just in time,” he says, stepping into my bedroom. I’m already naked, lying on the bed. I’ve got a porno DVD playing, the sound down low. “Looks like you were about to start without me.”

  “Just getting in the mood,” I say, grabbing him. He’s already hard. “Feels like you’re in the mood already.”

  “I’m always in the mood.”

  I take Kurt’s cock out, and even though this isn’t the first time I’ve seen it, I’m awed by its size. I use both hands to map its length and girth, squeezing it gently, feeling the resistance of the turgid flesh. Then I bring my mouth to it, my tongue circling the plump crown. Opening wider, I take the dick inside. I want to deep-throat him, but he’s so huge that I can only swallow five inches before I start gagging. I’m embarrassed by my failure, but Kurt’s understanding, saying I don’t have to take the whole thing at first, what I’m doing feels just fine.

  So I suck the first five inches of Kurt’s cock. I grab his balls, squeezing them cautiously at first, then harder at his urging; he tells me that a little pain makes the pleasure that much sweeter.

  Kurt grabs my dick, and I must admit I’m embarrassed again. I’m average sized, but compared to him I might as well have a cocktail wienie. But Kurt makes me forget my inadequacies when he fondles my cock, my body trembling at the touch of his experienced fingers. He smears my precum around my pulsing cockhead, and then brings his fingers to my mouth; I taste my own juices. He pulls his fingers from my mouth and slips them between my spread thighs, sliding into my asscrack until he finds my hole. His wet fingers glaze my butthole, pushing against the muscled ring. When one of his fingers works its way inside, I whimper. Slowly, he slides the finger in and out, and my whimpers become moans.

  He pulls his finger out of my ass and brings it to my mouth, saying I need to lube it up some more. So I suck the finger he was fucking me with, as well as the other four, until his hand is dripping with my spit. When that hand returns to my ass, two fingers go into my hole. As he finger-fucks me Kurt rubs his horsecock against my prick, asking me if I want more. I say yes, yes, begging.

  I cover Kurt’s pole with lube, stroking him playfully until he tells me to stop, saying I’ll get him off too soon. I lie back on the bed and bring my legs up. First, Kurt rubs his lube-slick dong against the groove of my split ass, making my asshole pucker—and my cock drool—with anticipation. Anticipation becomes apprehension when he presses the head of that monster against my asslips. Taking a huge cock up your ass sounds hot in theory; the real thing trying to force its way in gives you second thoughts. I knew it would be difficult, but getting fucked by Kurt was more than worth the pain.

  He applies pressure, forcing my asslips to open. I gnash my teeth as he pushes his way into me, crying out when his cock-head punches its way into my hole. My cock goes limp. Kurt waits a moment, letting me get used to him, letting that first shock of pain die down before he goes any further.

  It’s easier from there, Kurt sliding into me an inch at a time, my butt warming to the idea. He pushes on, my ass proving more accommodating than my throat: I take every last inch of him, right down to the base. His balls press against my ass.

  My dick springs back to life, signaling to Kurt that all is okay. He starts pumping and I start writhing. My arousal ratchets upward each time he rams into me, leaving me breathless and gasping. I say things like, “Fuck me with that huge cock,” knowing it’s a stupid porno video line, but in the heat of the moment it doesn’t sound so dumb.

  Kurt rams into me harder and harder. He curls a hand around my aching prick, making my body shudder. He strokes my cock while he plows into my ass, the simultaneous sensations taking me so close to the brink it’s impossible to fight it. My body jerks and I exhale a strained groan as I spew my hot load onto my belly. Kurt pushes into me with one decisive thrust, grunting. I squeeze my butt muscles against his shaft, holding him inside as he cums.

  I close my eyes, drifting off to sleep, with Kurt’s cock still buried inside me. I hear the performers in the porn DVD moaning and groaning and I smile, happy that I have the real thing.

  The Following Saturday

  The bell rings twice before I open the door. Jake is standing there, smiling. He’s wearing a gray T-shirt with the logo of a popular gym chain emblazoned across the front, and judging by the way his chest pushes against the shirt’s fabric, he’s a regular patron.

  “Hey there,” he says, real friendly. “I was having a little get-together tonight—not really a party, just a few friends—and wanted to know if you’d like to come?”

  “Well…”

  “I’m having a Pia Zadora film festival,” Jake giggles. “My friend Kyle just got a bootleg copy of Voyage of the Rock Aliens, and of course I’m going to show The Lonely Lady. Christ, I’ve practically worn that tape out, but it’s just so damn funny. And after a couple of margaritas and a toke or two, it’s hysterical. So, will you join us? Please say yes.”

  There was a time when I wouldn’t have to think twice about accepting such an invitation, especially from someone like Jake. A month ago, he could’ve asked me to go to church and I’d have run out and bought a Bible. I should be excited. Instead, I’m annoyed.

  “I’d like to,” I say, “but I’ve already made other plans.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He doesn’t try to hide his disappointment. “Some other time, then?”

  “Sure,” I say, closing the door.

  Kurt’s waiting for me in the bedroom. “Sorry for the interruption,” I say, pulling off my shirt. “Every time I turn around, the phone’s ringing, someone’s at the door. Why can’t I just be left alone?”

  “You used to hate being alone,” Kurt says.

  “That was alone alone. But I love being alone with you.” I pull off my shorts. “Now, where were we? That’s right, on the floor.”

  I straddle a long, narrow mirror that I took down earlier from the closet door. My naked body looks back at me. I watch as Kurt positions himself behind me, his cock already hard—it’s always hard—and lubed, the head nudging my asslips. That’s all it takes for my cock to snap to, and I’m fascinated watching it swell, as if that’s not me reflected in the mirror, but some third person joining us, a stranger with my identical body.

  Kurt pushes his rod against my rosebud, my sphincter loosening. My ass is a lot less resistant, what with Kurt fucking me almost every day, sometimes twice. The cockhead pries open my hole, and his prick tunnels its way inside. I raise my ass and push backward, urging him in deeper. “That’s it, baby, that’s it,” I pant. “All the way inside.” I watch in the mirror as my butt swallows up his cock, watch as my own dick quivers, a thin, viscous thread of precum swinging from my piss slit.

  I reach between my legs, grabbing Kurt’s balls, pulling on them roughly so they touch my own swollen ’nads. My hips roll, up and down, while Kurt moves in and out. The pleasure is fiery and intense, making my legs weak. When Kurt grabs my cock, I almost collapse.

  “I don’t…I don’t know how much longer I can last,” I hiss, fighting the ticklish hint of an orgasm.

  Kurt says nothing, just keeps fucking my ass and pulling on my dick.

  “I’m going to cum,” I warn.

  He fucks me harder and strokes me faster.

  I cry out and almost fall face-first onto the glass. Milky white drops rain down onto the mirror.

  Kurt’s dick pulses inside my chute. My eyes focus on different parts of the reflection beneath me: my ass-ring gripping the base of Kurt’s rod; my cock, the crown capped with one stubborn drop of jizz; the puddles of cream cooling on the mirror’s surface.

  A command is issued, barely audible, and I have to listen for Kurt to repeat it. “Lick it up,” he says.

  I don’t question and I don’t protest. I move back, Kurt moving with me, until the face staring back at me is distorted by thick gobs of cum. Kurt, his cock still stuffed up my ass, leans to one side so he can watch as I lower my face to the mirror. My tongue touches down in one of the pools of spooge, and I lap it up in long, lusty licks, like a dog. Kurt pushes the back of my head until my nose is crushed against the mirror. I turn my head, my cheek sliding against the sticky-slick surface, and close my eyes. Kurt pumps my ass a few more times until he’s done. “That was awesome,” he whispers.

  I squeeze my ass against Kurt’s swollen shaft, wanting to milk out every last drop of him. “You bring out the best in me,” I sigh.

  A Month Later We pass Jake on the stairs; he’s climbing up as we’re heading down to the lobby. He’s sorting through his mail, but looks up long enough to give me a quick hello and a tight smile. There are no invitations for a drink or to watch bad movies.

  “That’s the neighbor?” Kurt asks when Jake’s out of earshot. “He’s hot.”

  “He’s been kind of cold lately,” I say.

  “Why didn’t you introduce us?”

  “I want you all to myself.”

  “Selfish bitch,” Kurt chuckles.

  It’s raining as we step outside the apartment building. I’ve forgotten my umbrella, but I don’t go back for it. It’s only a light drizzle, I reason, as Kurt and I start up the street in a trot, giggling like two schoolboys playing hooky. It’s a testament to our relationship that I’m so happy these days. Given the circumstances, I should be morbidly depressed. I got fired last week for chronic absenteeism. I’d been calling in sick a lot so I could stay home and fool around with Kurt. I mean, who wouldn’t? One week I didn’t even call in, and that was the last straw, apparently. I’ve never been fired before, and have always been terrified by the prospect. But when I was handed a box containing the personal items from my desk and escorted out of the office, I actually smiled. Not having a job just gives me that much more time to spend with Kurt.

  We’re fairly well soaked by the time we reach our destination, Video XXXtra, where Kurt and I first met. Inside, it’s bright and smells of plastic. We head right for the section with all the gay videos. Even though I have a specific title in mind, I wander the aisles, browsing. Shopping for porn is like picking someone up at a bar: no matter what you bring home, you always suspect you could’ve done better.

  But Kurt’s impatient. “Just get the one you talked about,” he says. “You know it’s hot.”

  Ultimately, that’s what I do, taking the case up front and telling the unsmiling middle-aged woman behind the counter I want to use a viewing booth. She takes the DVD case and my money, telling me to go to booth number four.

  “You don’t think anyone saw you come in here with me, do you?” I whisper to Kurt when we’re inside the booth. It’s cramped, the smell of bleach almost masking the funky odor of stale spunk.

  “I was careful,” Kurt assures me. “And no one’s going to see me cum with you in here, either.”

  Hearing Kurt say that makes my cock throb. I was getting hard as I was walking into the back room where the viewing booths are, and now I’m rigid. In the dark I reach for Kurt. His dick’s out and hard as usual. “You’re incredible,” I whisper, stroking his shaft, bumpy with turgid veins.

  The screen in front of me flickers to life, and a minute later I have my pants undone and my cock out. Kurt rubs his thick pole against my hard-on. “Ever been fucked in one of these things?” he asks.

  “You know the answer to that,” I whisper. “I’ve never been in one of these things, period. They always seemed spooky. I wouldn’t be in one now if you hadn’t suggested it.”

  I sit down on the booth’s vinyl-covered bench. Kurt, kneeling between my legs, undulates against my body, the weight of his cock rubbing against my own engorged prick, creating a heated friction. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got a visitor,” he says.

  A glance to my right and I see what he’s talking about. The guy in the neighboring booth has stuck his cock through the glory hole in the wall, beckoning my attention. I’m at once mortified and intrigued.

  “Suck it,” Kurt encourages.

  “But…”

  “I think it would be hot, you sucking some stranger’s cock while I fuck you from behind. C’mon, don’t pretend you don’t want to.”

  He’s right. Kurt knows me so well. I turn and kneel on the floor. Kurt pushes my pants down, and while he fingers my hole with two spit-lubed fingers, I regard the stiff pole in front of me. It’s not as big as Kurt’s—few are—but a good-sized cock all the same. I curl my fingers tentatively around the shaft. It’s warm and smooth and responds to my touch. I think I hear the guy in the other booth moan, but I’m not sure. It could be Kurt. It could be the performers in the porn video.

  Leaning forward, I bring my tongue to the head of the anonymous cock, tasting its salty residue. My tongue caresses the tapered crown, and I feel the shaft pulse in my fist. Behind me, Kurt is pushing his lubricated dong against my puckered ass-hole. My dick quivers in the open air, impatient for release.

  A grunt pushes its way around the cock in my mouth as Kurt thrusts his hard rod in deep. I raise my ass to meet his downward plunge, the weight of his dick pressing against my prostate making my hard-on ache. I gulp down the anonymous prick stuffed in my mouth, hungry to taste every last inch. Still, I wish it was Kurt’s cock I was sucking, wish he was cloned so I could enjoy that fantastic meatpole of his at both ends simultaneously.

  Kurt rams into me, wiggling his hips so his cock twists inside my chute. My dick is really dripping now, and I take my hand away from the mystery dong and reach between my legs. I curl my fist around my shaft and my body shudders. Three strokes and I could be gushing all over the nasty floor of the viewing booth. So I keep my hand still, wanting the moment to last as long as I can manage.

  The guy in the neighboring booth thrusts forward, fucking my mouth. My lips cling to that throbbing tube of flesh, my tongue presses against the swollen head. Kurt’s moving very little now. He’s got his cock buried all the way inside me and holds it there, keeping still, letting my ass muscles massage the veiny contours of his thick shaft.

  My breathing is a roar within my ears, and all other sounds— the grunting of the man in the next booth, Kurt’s moans, the stale music of the porno—are beneath it, like a separate track. Then, through the rush of my own breath I hear Kurt snarl in my ear: “Is he about to cum? You ready to swallow that hot load, baby? You like that, don’t you? You’re my little cum pig, aren’t you?”

  He’s talking low, raspy and mean. It’s the type of voice that would scare you to death if it came from behind on a deserted street. Other times, like now, it can get you so hot you think you might burst into flames. Unconsciously, I start pulling on my cock. I hear, “Yes, yes, yes…” and realize it’s my own voice.

  The mystery cock and mine erupt almost simultaneously. Tart, salty cum floods my mouth and I pull away, just in time to take another splat on my face. Kurt says, “Oh, yeah,” in a low, guttural moan. I cum then. My body shakes, and I make a noise, something that sounds like a dying breath. The anonymous prick pumps out another spurt. I grab it and rub the sticky head against my face, knowing Kurt enjoys watching.

  Kurt calls me a string of filthy names and pumps my ass a few more times before letting go. Even though I’ve spent my load, my cock still quivers as he slides in and out of my hole.

  The stranger’s dick retracts into the glory hole. I hear a zipper and he’s gone. Kurt and I reposition ourselves so I’m sitting on Kurt’s cock and facing the small TV screen. The scene has ended and all that’s showing now is a static advertisement for a straight porn website.

  I close my eyes and smile.

  Then suddenly voices are screaming at me…hands grabbing me… I fight back... “Kurt, help me! Don’t go!”

  I can’t feel him, see him; he’s gone. I struggle with the hands pulling me from the booth, away from my lover, from his big dick and his strong arms….

  Two Weeks Later

  I’m sitting on a sofa that looks like a hand-me-down from the lobby of a Ramada. Plants line the windowsill and the drab green walls are decorated with diplomas and Escher prints. A heavyset woman, whose haircut accentuates the roundness of her face, sits across from me. Dr. Patricia—“Call Me Pat”— Weidler wants me to repeat my story for the hundredth goddamn time.

  “You remember what you were doing? Before you were brought to…here?”

  Pat doesn’t like to say “hospital,” as if not saying the word will help me forget I’ve been sent to a loony bin. I don’t know what happened to Kurt. I haven’t seen him since that night in the arcade. I think the cops dragged him away. They don’t want me to see him. Don’t they know we belong together?

  I roll my eyes. At my first session with her, I was embarrassed to tell the story, and kept skirting around the details with a bashful, “You know.” Now, though, I enjoy sharing every raunchy detail.

  “You like that story, don’t you?” I say. “Okay, again: Kurt and I went to the porno bookstore to have some fun. We went back to one of the viewing booths and…”

  Pat’s shaking her head. “No, that’s not it at all.”

  “Don’t tell me how it went. Kurt and I went into the booth. We were both real horny and had our cocks out before the video—”

  Then she says, again: “James, there is no Kurt.”

  “The hell there isn’t! He’s been fucking me for a month! Now my parents and their homophobic lawyer have put me in this place, trying to keep us apart. ‘You need a rest,’ my ass! You’re in on it, too, I bet. This is some sort of conversion therapy, isn’t it? Christ, it all makes sense now. My parents sure didn’t choose this place based on the décor. My jail cell was nicer.”

  Pat does her best to appear understanding, but I read her expression as one of condescending tolerance. “When the security person at the store opened the door, they found you on the floor with a…a dildo in your”—she looks out the window at the parking lot—“rectum.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you used a sex toy to bring a fantasy to life, a fantasy that took on more meaning to you than real life.”

 

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