Rebel_Ballsy Boys 1

by K. M. Neuhold

  “Dude, there are porn stars. Why would you need bribing?”

  “All right, all right, all right,” he says with laughter sprinkled all over his voice. “Where do I meet you?”

  I had planned to pick him up, but maybe it’s better this way. Less of a commitment for him. “You know the Wonderland Arcade?”

  “Are you kidding me? I used to live there as a kid. Only happy place I ever had.”

  He’s quiet after that unexpected revelation, undoubtedly because he revealed a bit more than he intended to. I think the best strategy is to pretend I didn’t pick up on it. “Awesome. We’re meeting there at noon.”

  I almost hold my breath, knowing he’s one second away from blowing me off.

  “Okay, see you there,” he says, and I exhale.

  When I arrive slightly after noon—arriving exactly on time is pretty much impossible with the unpredictable traffic here—Troy is already there. Dressed in faded jean shorts, a tight-fitting white T-shirt, and a pair of beaten up Converse, he looks edible.

  He’s talking to Brewer and Campy, and as I walk up, Pixie and Heart arrive as well. Tank isn’t coming, of course. He doesn’t do much social stuff, and especially not when he knows Brewer is coming.

  We do the usual round of hugging and somewhat-manly back slaps, and I formally introduce Troy to the others. I can tell he’s a little star struck, but he holds his own as we grab some hot dogs from the best hot dog vendor in LA. He even manages to hold a more-or-less intelligent conversation with Campy, who turns out to be a big-time gamer like Troy himself. Who knew?

  “What’s your favorite game?” Campy tries to drag me into their conversation.

  I scratch the stubble on my chin. “Erm, Angry Birds?” I joke. “I haven’t played video games since high school, for real. And even back then, it wasn’t really my thing. But I love these arcade games.”

  Campy mumbles something about me being a heathen, whatever that means, but Troy merely laughs at me. “You just haven’t found the right game yet,” he says with confidence.

  We make our way inside the arcade, and my eyes are drawn to a huge, old-fashioned pinball machine. “Now there’s a game I love,” I say with deep satisfaction. “You game?”

  Troy nods. “Bring it on.”

  I do pretty well on my first try, but when it’s Troy’s turn, he absolutely slays it. I watch him while he’s playing, completely focused on what the balls are doing. He even whispers encouragements that turn into louder cheers as the game progresses. Hot damn, he’s good at this.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” Pixie asks me softly.

  I hadn’t even noticed him standing next to me, totally engrossed in watching Troy. “No,” I say quickly. “We’re friends with benefits, sort of.”

  “He’s hot,” Pixie observes. “I’d totally let him fuck me.”

  My head shoots sideways, and my eyes meet Pixie’s, who’s grinning. “Just friends with benefits, huh? Keep telling yourself that.”

  “It’s complicated,” I say defensively.

  “It always is,” is Pixie’s answer. There’s too much wisdom and sadness in his voice, considering how young he is.

  “You’re new to this, baby-boy, but having a relationship is hard when you’re doing porn. Most men have a big issue with their boyfriend having sex with others, even if it’s for a job.”

  His gorgeous misty eyes turn sad. “Yeah, I can imagine. Then again, having a relationship is hard even when you’re not doing porn, you know?”

  I want to hug him, but instead I rub his neck a little. He lets out a little sigh. He’s a tactile one, our little imp. Does he even realize himself how much he loves being touched? Even with this little gesture of my scratching his neck, he steps closer to me, as if to make sure I have full access.

  Troy raises his hands and lets out a loud cheer. “I broke my record!”

  I let go of Pixie and step closer to look at his score. My eyes grow big. “That’s your score? You didn’t just break your own record, you broke the record on this damn machine!”

  He spins around and suddenly lifts me in a bear hug, smacking a fat kiss on my lips. “I sure did, babycakes!”

  Babycakes? What alien has taken over Troy’s body and mind? He lets out a happy laugh and lets go of me to take in high fives from the others.

  “I’m not even gonna bother after that,” Campy says, laughing.

  “Come on, I’ll let you beat my ass on this retro Pac-Man they got,” Troy says.

  “And such a fine ass it is,” Brewer says, licking his lips. I smack the back of his head in true Leroy Jethro Gibbs style—I love me some NCIS. If I’m the stern Gibbs, that would make Brewer the goofball and playboy DiNozzo, and damn, that fits him to a T.

  “You guys fighting over my ass now?” Troy asks, turning around and shaking his butt. “Keep going, this does wonders for my ego.”

  “There is nothing wrong with your ego,” I grumble.

  “Nothing wrong with your ass either,” Brewer fires back.

  “Mine or his?” Troy wants to know.

  Brewer pretends to think about it. “Well, Rebel here has got a nice ass, but I’ve tapped it already. I’m always interested in fresh meat.”

  For some reason, his incessant flirting suddenly irritates me. It’s irrational, because I don’t have exclusive rights to Troy. Hell, we haven’t even mentioned the word exclusive. I can pretty much guess how fast he’s gonna run when I utter that red-flag word.

  Still, I want Brewer to stop, because he’s really hot, and he’s got all these cool tattoos, and he’s the perfect happy fuckboy for Troy, and what if Troy decides he likes him better? I run out of breath in my head to think, and all that time Brewer is studying me with a look that says he knows. He knows this is messing with my head, and he’s thoroughly enjoying this.

  “I’m so gonna propose a scene with you and Tank to Bear,” I say and watch with satisfaction as Brewer pales.

  Troy sends me a cocky grin and saunters off with Campy. “Just friends with benefits, huh?” Pixie repeats his earlier remark, and I don’t know whether to slap him or hug him.

  14

  Troy

  Lazing in bed on a Sunday morning is never complete without my Ballsy Boys. But I hesitate for a second before clicking over to the site because I’m worried it’ll be weird if Rebel has a new video. I know he doesn’t do scenes often anymore so if a new one is up, it probably means he filmed it since we’ve started hooking up. And in theory that doesn’t bother me—it’s his job after all—but I don’t know if it will freak me out to actually see it.

  Hanging out with all the guys last weekend at the arcade was a blast and totally surreal. I always figured you probably didn’t want to get to know porn stars in real life, the whole watching the sausage get made principle. But those guys are chill as hell, especially Campy. He knew his shit about gaming, and he even asked if I wanted to hang out and play sometime.

  I snort a laugh to myself remembering Rebel’s expression when he overheard just the last part when Campy asked if we could play sometime. I swear his head looked like it was about to explode.

  Wait...was he jealous?

  The thought stops me in my tracks for a few seconds. That can’t possibly be right. What would Rebel have to be jealous of? We’re not together. We’re fuck buddies, friends with benefits, whatever. But none of those rambling thoughts brings me to any sort of conclusion about whether it’s weird to watch porn when I’m hooking up with the guy in it.

  Dammit, just because I’m getting some prime porn star cock doesn’t mean I’m going to give up checking out my favorite porn site on a relaxing weekend morning. I click the link on my favorites bar and, sure enough, there’s a brand new scene up with Rebel and Heart.

  The thumbnail has the two of them lounging on a bed together in just their boxers. I stare at it for a few seconds, waiting to feel a flare of jealousy, but all I feel is horny as hell...and honestly a little curious to compare Rebel’s performance with what he’
s like one on one.

  I click on the video and settle back against my pillow to watch. It starts like most Ballsy Boys videos do, with a few minutes of flirting and banter between the two men and the off-screen director.

  “Heart, you told me you were looking forward to working with Rebel. Are you nervous at all?”

  Heart blushes a little and glances at Rebel. “Nah, I think I can handle him,” he answers and then gives Rebel a playful wink.

  “Good, then I won’t promise to be gentle,” Rebel teases.

  I smile, watching my man in his element, clearly having fun. Wait...my man? No, Rebel isn’t my man. He’s a man that I happen to be fooling around with, nothing more.

  The chatting ends and the men get down to business, kissing and touching each other. Still, I don’t feel any jealousy. I certainly wish I was there to join in, though.

  As they start getting into it, I notice Rebel’s moan is different, more over the top than how he moans in private. And, for some reason, that makes me feel a little smug. I know something about Rebel that most people don’t know. Sure, millions of people have watched him fuck and get fucked, but very few know how he really sounds when he’s overcome with lust.

  I stroke myself as I watch Heart deep throat Rebel, and my mouth waters. The pleasure on his face is fucking gorgeous.

  My phone rings on my nightstand, and I almost decide to ignore it, but so few people call me that it’s almost certainly Rebel. I pause the video and grab my phone.

  “Hello?” Even to my own ears my voice is breathless and a little rough.

  “Hey, baby. Am I interrupting something? You sound out of breath.”

  “Um…” Is it weird that I was jerking off watching a video of his? Hell, my barometer of what’s fucked up sexually isn’t exactly fine-tuned, I’ll be the first to admit that.

  “Oh, shit, you have someone over? Well, this got awkward… I’ll just let you go and call you later.”

  “Rebel, wait. I don’t have anyone over, I was watching...something.”

  “Something?” I can hear the teasing in his tone. “Were you watching one of my videos and jerking off?”

  “Yes, I was. Are you happy now?”

  “Very. Which video was it?”

  “The new one with you and Heart.”

  There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone, and I start to wonder if I should’ve lied.

  “Is that weird?” Rebel asks cautiously. “I mean...you know I filmed that like two weeks ago, right?”

  “Yeah, I figured. Why would it be weird? It’s your job.”

  “True, but I didn’t know if you’d feel...I don’t know, jealous or something?”

  “Honestly, I thought I might, but once I started watching it, all I felt was turned on. You look hot as fuck.”

  “You know, I could be over there in five minutes.”

  “Then why are we still talking on the phone?”

  Rebel chuckles, and then the line goes dead.

  I glance at the freeze frame one last time and admire the flush of arousal in Rebel’s cheeks and the way his lips are parted on a moan. Then I force myself to close my laptop, because if Rebel is on his way over, I don’t want to waste a good orgasm jerking off alone.

  As promised, there’s a knock on my door six minutes later. I open the door in nothing but my boxer briefs, my half hard cock filling them out nicely.

  “Mmmm, hey sexy,” Rebel greets me, not hiding his slow perusal of my nearly naked body, his eyes lingering on the bulge of my hardening cock.

  “Hey yourself. I’m starting to wonder if this is some sort of coma dream, because there’s no way this is real life that I can be watching my favorite porn star get blown one second and have him on my doorstep the next.”

  “You must’ve done something very good in a past life,” Rebel says with such a serious expression that I can’t help but laugh.

  “I must’ve been Mother Teresa,” I agree as I step aside to let him in.

  Rebel makes a bee-line for my bed, shedding his clothes haphazardly along the way.

  “Way to make a guy feel easy,” I tease.

  “I assumed we were having a lazy Sunday in bed, am I wrong?”

  I smile at the innocence in Rebel’s expression as he dives between my sheets and settles in like he owns the place.

  “That’s exactly what we’re doing,” I agree, following suit.

  “So how do you normally spend a Sunday in bed? Or do I even need to ask?” Rebel waggles his eyebrows at me.

  “I usually alternate Netflix and porn.”

  “I’m game.”

  “Netflix or porn?”

  “Surprise me,” Rebel suggests.

  I open my laptop, and the Rebel/Heart video I was watching is still up.

  “Do you ever watch your own videos?”

  “Nah, I end up nitpicking them too much. I watch the other guys’ videos though.”

  Just for fun I go back to the main site and pick another recent upload, this one with Pixie and Brewer. I set the laptop between us and settle back to watch as the two men flirt and chat, and then Pixie climbs onto Brewer’s lap and they start to make out and grind against each other. They started the scene in just their underwear, but they lose those quickly enough, and Brewer takes both their cocks in his fist and jerks them together. Rebel shifts beside me, and I glance over to find him with his hand down the front of his boxers, lazily stroking his growing erection.

  “Mmmm,” I hum and then shimmy my own underwear down and kick them away.

  Back on screen, Brewer is on his knees sucking Pixie’s cock with noisy slurps and dirty groans. I wrap my hand around the base of my cock and slowly tug from root to tip, spreading my legs wide and flexing my muscles to put on a good show for Rebel.

  I can feel his eyes boring into me, and it makes me hot as hell. The smell of sweat and pre-cum fills the air as we lay side by side jerking off in my bed. His arm brushes against mine, and he presses his hairy thigh against mine.

  I don’t know about Rebel, but the clip playing on my laptop is nothing more than background noise since I can’t tear my eyes away from his cock as it grows darker and firmer in his grasp. Rebel flexes his hip and fucks into his fist, and I’m done for. With a deep moan, I spill into my hand, a few spurts making their way into my happy trail and my belly button. Rebel gets up onto his knees and kneels over me. With a few quick jerks, his cum covers my stomach, mixing with mine.

  When he’s got nothing left, Rebel leans over and laps our combined release off my stomach. He crawls up the bed until we’re face to face, and then he opens his mouth to show me our cum on his tongue. I grab him by the hair and tug him to me, shoving my tongue into his mouth to get a taste. Rebel moans into my mouth as we share a filthy kiss that leaves us with cum sticky lips and dirty, satisfied smiles.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Rebel asks when we’re laying side by side again.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you ever like to top? I kinda pegged you as vers when we met, but since we’ve been fucking, you haven’t said anything about wanting to switch it up.”

  “Oh, yeah I’m vers, but it usually depends a bit who I’m with. I don’t let randoms top me usually, so I guess I’ve been indulging with you since you’re so damn good,” I admit.

  “Oh,” Rebel breathes out, and I can tell by his expression that my answer surprised him.

  “I want to fuck you, but I didn’t think there was any big rush.”

  “No rush at all,” Rebel agrees, rolling onto his side, facing me, and tucking his arm under his head.

  “Good.” I nod, scooting a little closer to Rebel. “What’s your favorite thing to do in bed?”

  “On camera or off?” Rebel clarifies.

  “Off. When you can do whatever you want, what do you like to do?”

  “Rimming,” he answers without hesitation.

  “Really? Not getting a blowjob or...I don’t know, something really kinky?”

  “Don’t get
me wrong, that’s all great, too. But there’s just something about having a man on his hands and knees, quivering, waiting. Taking the firm globes of his ass in my hands and parting them to expose a tight little pink hole. Then, running my tongue up and down his crack until he starts to soften and welcome me in. Licking and fucking his ass with my tongue until he’s begging for my cock.”

  My spent cock makes an effort to take interest in this conversation, but it’s not happening so soon, unfortunately.

  “Damn, that’s fucking hot.”

  “Mmhmm. You going to let me eat your ass?”

  “Anytime you want. Just not until I get a few minutes of recovery time. How about some Netflix in the meantime?”

  “Works for me.”

  15

  Rebel

  “And Hendrix, I do not want to see you show up by yourself, you hear me, honey? Find yourself a hot date. We’re gonna dance all night, and your dad and I want you to have fun!”

  I sigh, biting back a cringe as my mom waves at me on FaceTime once more and ends our session. I close the screen with a tired move. She means well, my mom, but fuck my life for having parents who not only fully accept me being gay, but also wholeheartedly support my chosen career. They’re weirdos, both of them.

  Wait, that didn’t come out right. I love my parents, don’t get me wrong. They’re kind of a rare commodity in the gay community: accepting, loving parents who couldn’t give a shit about who I date, fuck, or love, as long as it’s consensual and safe. Yup, that’s the exact speech my mom gave me when I came out.

  Not that they didn’t know before, even though I thought it was this huge secret. Turns out, my mom had started suspecting when I was, like, eight or so. I knew they wouldn’t freak—my parents are the classic hippies from the seventies—but I still needed to gather my courage for months before I told them.

  My dad patted me on the back and told me he loved me no matter what. Bless his heart. My mom gave me a massive hug and then lectured me on safe gay sex. Judging by the level of detail, she’d done some research. I was thirteen, mind you. No wonder I ended up in porn.