by Tyler Knight
“Sounds good.”
There is the distinct rumbling bass of two black men talking coming from deep in the house, punctuated by the staccato laugh of a young woman.
Stan says to me, “You done anal before, right?”
Never, you freaky bastard. That shit’s nasty. But I need the cash.
“Yep.”
“A’ight, coo’. Lemme handle some bidness an’ I’ll come get you in a hot minute.”
I’m wondering what kind of people rent a home like this out to let strangers fuck on their furniture just as Stan says, “This is Ray Golden’s house…he directs for Red Assholes Films but we gotta wrap this shit up before his kids get home from school.”
He peels off to another part of the house and I continue straight into the kitchen.
Julio sits at the table sipping on a Hennessey. He passes a blunt to another instantly recognizable man wearing his trademark baseball cap, Mr. Darkus.
Darkus has a brunette girl sitting on his lap. She looks like she should be going door-to-door selling cookies. She’s wearing a neon fishnet top and squirming on Darkus’s lap. His cock is out and she’s stroking it. I recognize her from the trade magazine as Assley Screw, the reigning Female Performer of the Year.
Julio sees me, and Assley and Darkus turn to where he’s looking. The boys are all pussy-and-rainbows smiles.
The girl releases the cock, hops off Darkus’s lap, points her elbow at me and says, “Hi, I’m Assley.”
She’s sincere. I sense a kind soul without the slightest hint of jadedness or artifice in her at all…not at all what I’d expect.
I offer my hand to shake, but then I remember where her hand was a moment ago and it’s right about now that I gain an appreciation for the porn handshake. I say hello and return the elbow bump.
She says, “Okay, I have to get to my next scene so I’ll see you guys later. It was great working with you again, Darkus.” She slips on some flip-flops, snatches some keys from the table and drags a travel bag by the handle like an airline stewardess. The guys introduce themselves, and when I hear myself say, “I’m Tyler,” in my nasal mid-Atlantic accent, I immediately want a do-over. My idle hands need to do something to keep busy so I snag a diet Red Bull from the ice chest on the floor and join them at the table and they resume their conversation about phat Brazilian ass. I don’t talk. I nod and listen as they dish. “So-and-so girl is a freak,” and “Those crazy white boys that shoot their dicks up with needles to get hard,” and “Did you film in Prague yet this year?” and “Yo, Rex is working day and night. He clocked twenty gees last month. Nigga be straight ballin’!”
My brain is shutting down from lack of sleep, but I don’t want to miss a single anecdote. My head’s on a slow swivel from Julio to Darkus as I read their lips; the lip movement seems to come a full second before the words hit my eardrums. I let their baritone voices lull me into their world: an exotic lifestyle of travel, flash cars, bitches and money. I reflect on my world: an exotic lifestyle of running after busses and washing my scrotum with paper towels in a McDonald’s bathroom sink.
Stan slithers into the kitchen holding a video camera. “Yo, we good to go, niggas. Let’s do this!”
When everyone clears out of the kitchen I pull a Viagra out of my pocket and chew it. Darkus says goodbye and how it was nice to meet me and, unlike most people in LA, I believe he means it. None of the upper-level talent are anything like I expected.
Julio and I follow Stan back to the foyer. He motions me to stop and we hang back a few paces.
Stan continues to the base of the steps. Stan says, “A’ight, so I’ma talk to Lana and we gonna go up the stairs and into the bedroom. TK, just hang back and do how Julio do, and you’ll be straight.”
“Okay.”
Julio unbuttons his shirt and slides off his pants and stands in his underwear. I undress as well. Stan turns on his video camera and points it at Lana on the steps. They talk.
“Tell us your name.”
“I’m Lana Pierce.”
“And where you from, Lana?”
She sits, and the shorts strain against the puff of her pussy. “I’m from Canada.”
“Tell us why you’re here today?”
“I love it hard, deep, and black in my ass…” she says. “…I’m here to fuck.”
Naked, I rock back and forth on my heels and toes. My hands clasp, unclasp, and then search for pockets that don’t exist on my side. Two scenes more…enough money for own spot.
I fold my arms.
Stan says, “Stand up and let us see that fat white ass, boo.”
Lana is on her hands and knees, bent over with her ass aimed at the camera and she looks over her shoulder. She pulls her booty shorts to the side, plunges a finger in her with a sklisssh, pulls it out, and shows the camera. It sparkles! Julio spits in his hand and strokes his elephant cock. My hands cup over my softie in an attempt to hide it.
Fuck, he’s already hard and I’m still soft! What the hell is taking the Viagra so long? I can’t blow this.
Stan says, “We got two stiff black cocks for you today.”
Lana moans as she frigs her wetness with three fingers now. She says, “Hurry up with that black cock! I’m a big girl, I need more cock than the average woman!” She rips the fishnets so that her muff is unobstructed.
Stan says, “Here you go, girl!” and hands her a vibrator. She turns it on.
The vibrator roars to life. Julio has pre-come. Lana’s pussy glistens. Stan goes in for a close-up as Lana attacks her clit. My cock hangs cold and inert. I want to flee.
Julio speaks to me in a whisper, “First time doing anal?”
“Um…yeah.”
He backhand strokes his cock. The vibrator is a muffled howl when it’s plunged into the cooze. It rattles like a can of bees on the out stroke.
I should have taken the pill earlier… Julio smiles. “Relax, it will happen. Use your eyes. Hear her breath. Work with your body.”
Lana coos and places the sex toy on her quivering folds that ripple and dance. The aroma of her pheromones invades my nostrils.
Please, God…this has to happen… Stan says, “Let’s go upstairs to the bedroom. I’m sure we can find you some black cock.”
Lana clicks off the vibrator, stands, and walks up the stairs. Hips swing, the fishnets threaten to snap under the strain, and ass cheeks wiggle as she climbs the stairs. I feel a twinge. My cock climbs to room temperature. The Viagra kicks in.
Stan follows her up the steps, the camera’s lens a tongue-length from her wonderful fleshy backside. Stan waves from over his shoulder without looking up from the viewfinder as he walks. Julio and I follow them up the stairs. My skin stretches tight.
Lana kneels doggy style on the bed. Stan backs away from the action and blends into the wallpaper like a goddamn ninja. Julio rubs his cock on her lips and her tongue flickers on the head. Then he stuffs his cock in her mouth.
Slurping.
I take a lung full of air and climb onto the bed and position myself behind her and with one hand, then I grab her by a hip that’s already slick with a sheen of perspiration. Her flesh gives fractionally in my grasp and pushes back against my fingers. My other hand is just able to wrangle my dick. The skin on my dick feels like it’s separating like a wet paper bag. My tip rubs on her pussy lips to scoop up some juice for lubrication.
I push past her lips; she gives a sharp inhalation. Synapses overload. My mind snaps alert!
• • •
Julio and I play “fuck, fuck, pass” with Lana. We’ve both taken our turns going biblical on her with savage impunity for the vaginal sex positions. There are only two anal sex positions in this scene and he’s already done the first one on Lana. It’s my turn.
Julio slides off the bed and steps off camera to clean his dick with a baby wipe from the rape kit. Lana r
olls over onto her belly, props up on her elbows and rests her head in her hands.
Pussy drunk when I step off the bed to grab a bottle of lube from the rape kit, it’s with all the grace of a newborn fawn discovering its legs. I hold the bottle of lube over Lana’s ass cheeks but do not squeeze it. Gravity does its work. The clear and sparkling oil oozes from the nozzle with the velocity of rolling tree sap. When the cold lube hits her skin she emotes a squeal pinched off by a cough, and the lube piles upon itself before breaking surface tension and spreading out under its own weight. I write my name on her ass the way a kid would decorate a pancake with syrup. My heart pulses in the tip of my cock.
I drop the bottle. With my shaft, I slather the lube on her cheeks, then on her asshole with my tip…the goo warms with the friction… Next, I take the excess fuck oil on my hands and massage it into Lana’s cheeks… Kneading. Needing.
I take a Tyler moment to enjoy my handiwork.
The primo pussy scent hangs in the air. It’s inebriating. I inhale deep.
A slap from my hand makes her flesh jiggle and glint golden under the lights.
Lana coughs and lies on her side, inviting me to lie behind her like a spoon.
How does a girl that looks like this end up getting her ass bored out by two strangers…in porn?
Right before I insert into her anus I notice something odd. That voice that usually screams in my head when I’m unsure, afraid, or trying something new…is silent. I wait for something to go wrong, like locusts to come crashing through the bedroom window. Nothing happens. Sometimes things do work out for me, I guess.
My tip pushes past her O-ring and she grips me tight and I take my first hit of ass. Ever. Not sure what I should have expected… It’s like pussy, but…tighter. But only at the entrance. Not bad, not great. Just…different. While fucking away, I forget I’m partaking in the sodomy arts and I say how great her pussy feels, out loud so the camera can hear, by mistake. My first anal position speeds by without incident and is over faster than it took Stan to film her crawling up the stairs.
Stan says, “A’ight, we gonna take the stills of the sex now, then do them pop shots.”
I forgot the bastard was even in the room.
Julio takes command and says, “Let’s work backwards—last anal position with Tyler, then mine, then wipe our dicks off for vag and BJ so we can fuck pussy to pop. Easier.”
Stan says, “Coo’, coo’. TK, just stay in the ass since you all up in it right now.”
“OK.”
Stan snaps stills of me spooning Lana’s asshole.
The three of us go through all the positions for stills. Julio knows when to pump to keep his erection going between shots and when to freeze for the picture. He changes up fuck faces, hitting each pose sharp. I take notes.
Stan says, “A’ight, who gonna nut first?”
Lana coughs.
Julio says, “Let Tyler go first. I can pop at will.”
“Yeah, I know how you get down, Julio,” Stan says, “TK, we gonna clear off the set so you can fuck to pop without a bunch of niggas starin’ at you ’n’ shit. Holla when you feelin it, but give a nigga thirty seconds so I got time to turn the camera back on, a’ight?”
“Yeah, sure.”
Even though Lana and I have been slam-fucking for the entire scene, now we may as well be first cousins sitting in church. We sit side by side on the bed, both of us staring straight ahead and out the window, looking but not seeing the city sprawling below.
She’s the girl I picked up at the club to fuck and when I wake up she’s still there in the morning and we’ve got nothing to say to each other. My alter ego turned off with the camera and I’ve got nothing to hide behind. Right now, I’m not Tyler Knight, just Erik, and being Erik without pretending to be somebody else has always been hit-or-miss with the ladies. No one is more amazed than I am for the high-quality actress and model pussy I’ve scored in spite of myself.
Lana makes the first move by stroking my cock. “I guess we better hurry, they’re paying location fees by the hour.”
“Yeah.”
I lean over to kiss her but she turns her head. Smooth! Real smooth, Erik.
She says, “We should keep it professional. Besides, I have a cold.”
I take her by the chin and turn her head toward mine. She smiles at me…really smiles at me, and I lose the power of speech. I’m fucking doomed.
“You’re beautiful,” she says to me, not much more than a whisper.
She looks into me and I into her… I swallow and I feel a fire gliding down my throat and into my gut like a shot of aged rye. We kiss.
I manage a “thank you.”
She strokes my cock as I finger her clit, which swells under my touch.
I say, “What the hell are you doing here?”
She smiles. “Same as you.”
Lana lies on her back and pulls me on top of her… Kissing… Our faces pull away…eyes sync. I enter her.
Within a few strokes our pace speeds to a blur and I wrap a handful of her sweat-drenched, honey-flavored locks in my fist. My other hand cups under her ass. Our pubic bones slam together, over and over. Her lips part, framing teeth like slick alabaster. Eyes exchange what actual words would ruin. Connected. Our mouths touch again and stay that way, shattering the last vestige of the pretense porn stars construct to keep it professional.
Biology pulls a “Surprise, motherfucker!” on me.
FUCK!
Lana’s face screws into a questioning look. “Did you just come in me?”
“No!”
I look away, and this time it’s her taking me by my chin. “Tyler?”
“Yeah… I’m really sorry.”
She furrows her brow. I feel like the time I got caught stealing sunglasses at the mall and security called my mom. Lana says, “Why did you lie?”
“I dunno.”
She chuckles. “It’s okay,” she says. “I’m on birth control.”
I say, “I’m still screwed, though. No way I can give a pop shot now.”
“Relax, you’re still hard. Call Stan back in, and when we set up the pop shot I’ll drop to my knees you’ll pretend you’re coming in my mouth. Leave the rest to me.”
“Thanks.”
• • •
I stroke my dick. Lana kneels in front of me. Julio hangs off to the side. Stan rolls camera. I give a wail like I’m having the best orgasm ever felt by man or beast then I shove my cock in Lana’s mouth. When I pull out, she lets spittle dribble from the side of her mouth…and fuck me if it doesn’t look like come! She smiles at me with her eyes and I do my best to keep from laughing. When I step back Julio steps forward to deliver his load.
“Cut, we got it,” says Stan.
Lana and I exchange complicit grins.
The three of us pose for the pop shot stills, and I hold a freeze-frame pose. I do my best to put on my my-face-is-contorted-in-the-thralls-of-ecstasy look but it comes across as my I’m-taking-a-shit-but-the-log-is-too-big-for-my-asshole face. Apparently this is good enough because Stan says, “Stills done,” and leaves to go downstairs. Julio follows him, Lana goes to take a shower. I sit on the bed, evaluating.
A place of my own.
A yawn pushes past my lips as I come down from the vagina high and I lay back.
• • •
“How do you think that went, Gee?”
I open my eyes.
Okay, he’s not looking for honesty. Don’t say shit about the pop shot.
“Well, Stan. I think it went well.”
He sits on the bed beside me. I’m still naked. I slide over to make more space between us.
“Yeah,” he says, “I was sure you’d find a way to fuck up, so I threw you in the scene with another guy that I knew could handle bidness in case you failed.”
I nod. “Sure.”
He says, “Didn’t know if you could do it. I had to protect the studio’s money. The pop shot was tricky—”
Fuck.
“—next time tell a nigga if you gonna nut in a ho’s mouth—but I caught it on tape. You did your thang though, homey. You did it.”
He offers his elbow. “Give a nigga a pound!”
We bump elbows.
“You can pick up your check in a couple of days from da office.”
He gets up, walks out the door, and tosses, “I’ma have Wanda holla at you!” over his shoulder.
Lana comes out of the shower. The booty-shorts-and-fishnets whore uniform is gone. She’s back in her denim gardening bonnet and cargo shorts. She covers her mouth, coughs, and walks over to me.
“I’m Lisa.”
She extends her hand, I take it.
“Nice to meet you, Lisa. I’m Erik.” I kiss her hand.
We smile.
“You’re going to go very, very far in this business, Erik.”
• • •
“Tyler?”
“Yeah?”
“This is Wanda calling from DVD Gangstas.”
Wanda! I sit up, “Hello, Wanda! Nice to finally talk to you! How’s it hanging?”
Jesus, “How’s it hanging?” You schmuck!
She says, “Your check is ready. The receptionist has it at her desk. Also, Stan said you didn’t blow it the other day, so I’m letting 2Cock go and giving you his slot in the male talent rotation. Expect a call from our directors Dana and Alfred Divine tonight. You’re working for them tomorrow.”
She hangs up.
“Thank you.”
Amanda, now awake, sits up, too. Her bed is small. Contact from someone with no ulterior motives is rare in my life. I never told her I’m sleeping in twenty-four-hour Internet cafes or the train. But I don’t have to. One look at my rumpled clothes and matted hair and you know my story. Every once in a while I crash at her place, but not too often so I don’t feel like I’m taking advantage of her kindness. What the hell does she see in me? I can’t figure her out.
We speak in Spanish.
