After the Date

"If that's what you want from the date, you still could get it," Nunez said in a low, hoarse voice. It was clear that Phil's admission had aroused both men—and toward each other. Nunez was lightly massaging Phil's neck and shoulder with the hand of the arm around Phil's back. The hand he had on Phil's thigh was lightly massage that too. Phil was hard and they both knew he was. He slouched lower into the passenger seat and opened his thighs more. If Nunez wanted to fuck him, Phil would let him. If Nunez indeed had seven inches, Phil would want to be fucked by him. Tonight. "Go on, though. Other interests the two of you could talk about?"

"Sports, of course. I was intrigued that he was a local sportscaster. He'd been a star on the Georgia Bulldog's football squad until he'd shattered his knee. The replacement was good enough to let him be a Green Beret, but his football was over. He went into team scouting and sportscasting. He told me all about working with the Falcons football and Braves baseball. And the basketball and helping to start up an ice hockey team again. All I had to talk about was swimming and tennis and the gymnastics I did at Dartmouth, but he's a good listener. He kept saying that sports were sports and he liked them all. He made me laugh when he said that sex was a sport too. He asked me a lot about the gymnastics. He wondered if I was still flexible enough to put myself in all those contortions."

"Are you?"

"Not at the top of the game, no. But that's what I do a lot in the gym—work to keep limber. I guess you could say I'm still more flexible than guys who didn't train as gymnasts."

"Did he touch you—like I'm doing? And did you two talk about what you could be doing later, after the date?" Nunez was running the fingers of his hand lightly over Phil's basket, and Phil was shuddering at the touch. They both knew that Nunez was going to fuck him.

"A bit. I think we were getting into that. We went to Mixx Atlanta—you sent us there—after dinner at the Bullpen Rib house, near Turner Field, where Jimbo told me a lot about the field and the locker room and the guys interacting. He wasn't shy about talking about fucking other guys and hooking up at the gym. Some of the things he said made me hot and I thought he'd get into talking about us and doing it, and he did a bit."

"He talked about fucking you—after this date?"

"Yes. He did more at Mixx Atlanta as we were on the dance floor. But then, at Bulldog's, where I was the only white guy in the room and a preppy one, at that, stuff sort of boiled over and he backed off, more concerned, I think, in protecting me than making me."

"And you would have liked for him to be making you." Nunez said it as a statement rather than a question.

"Yes. I wanted the date to end in bed. That he was a big, black bull aroused me. I wanted to take the risk, to try him. I prefer big cocks. I wanted to feel that PA ring. He let me feel it, though his jeans, when we were at Mixx Atlanta."

"On a scale of 1 to 5, how would you rate the date, Phil?"

"Uh, I guess a 4.5. He was a god."

"What would have made it a 5?"

Phil hesitated but then, with a sigh, said, "It would have been a 5 if we were somewhere together now and he was fucking me, letting me feel that PA ring inside me."

"You really wanted it didn't you?" Nunez asked. He turned Phil's face to his and took his mouth in, first, a tentative kiss, and then, when Phil responded to him, a deeper one. "You want it now, don't you?" he whispered when they came out of the kiss.

"Yes," Phil murmured.

"From me. It doesn't have to be Jackson. You'd be happy taking seven inches of me now, wouldn't you?"

Phil didn't disagree.

"Feel me," Nunez continued. "I'm ready for you." Phil put a hand on Nunez's crotch and gave a little shudder. He was ready.

"Yes," Phil whispered. They went back into a possessive kiss, and Phil listened to the sound of, first, his zipper, and then Nunez's being pulled down. They extracted and stroked each other's freed cocks and kissed.

"There, on the dashboard, that folded piece of paper," Nunez said. "Open it and read it. It's something you said in your questionnaire that you wanted."

It was Nunez's blood test certificate, verifying that he was clean. Nunez was unbuckling Phil's belt, and pushing his trousers and briefs down and off his legs. Phil was breathing heavily.

"It's OK, baby," Nunez said. "I'm clean. You want it this way. You'll remember this date."

Nunez got a hand between Phil's now-bare buttocks and the seat back and nudged Phil's butt forward in the seat. Phil complied and widened his stance. He let out a groan and an "Oh shit, oh fuck," as Nunez placed the heel of his hand under Phil's balls and snaked his middle finger down Phil's perineum and penetrated Phil's ass with it. Phil immediately, almost subconsciously, began to rock his hips on the buried finger.

"Open up for me, baby," Nunez murmured. They both felt Phil's passage opening to the attention.

"You're going to let me fuck you, aren't you?" Nunez murmured.

"Yes," Phil responded.

"Remember the extensive questionnaire you filled out, Phil," Nunez whispered. "We collected your fantasies. I'm sorry that you haven't gotten all you wanted from Jackson. But I can still make this a memorable date for you. You dream of being barebacked, don't you?"

"Yes," Phil said.

"It's OK, then. You've seen my certificate."

"Yes."

"I'm hard for you. I have seven raw inches for you, Phil. Come over into my lap. Straddle me. Fuck yourself on me. Raw. We're going to bareback."

Straddling Nunez's lap, his knees buried where the seat met the back of the driver's seat on either side of Nunez's hips, Phil rose and fell on the Cuban-American's hard, unsheathed shaft as Nunez embraced his torso and they kissed. Phil was no novice or shrinking violet. He knew how to move his passage on the cock to full mutual pleasure.

Leaning back into the steering wheel, still sheathing Nunez's cock, Nunez's cum slathering his insides, Phil sighed and brought his breathing under control. Nunez had unbuttoned Phil's sport shirt and was playing with the young man's nipples, pulling at the silver bars both nipples were pierced with.

"You wanted that," Nunez said.

"Yes."

"You needed that."

"Yes."

"That was good for you, the barebacking, fulfilling that fantasy."

"Yes."

"You want it again."

"Yes."

"I have a proposal for you. There's a part two about this dating operation I haven't told you about yet. You can live some more of your fantasies and be paid for it as well."

"Tell me," Phil said, and Nunez did, telling Phil about the sex movies.

"Are you interested?" Nunez asked.

"Filming with you?"

"Yes. I'll be topping you."

"I'm interested."

"Look in the back of the van, Phil. What do you see?" He moved a hand to the dashboard and turned the lights on in the back of the van.

Phil sucked in air. "It's a sex van. Padded floor, restraints hanging from the ceilings and extending from the walls. Lights. Video cameras mounted on the walls."

"Yes, it is. It's set up for high-quality filming. Flick of a button and it will operate itself, leaving me hands free for you. I've already fucked you once. The only difference is that this would be on camera, to be shared, for money. Good money. And your fantasies. The bareback, but not just that. Vulnerable, bound and barebacked. Missionary style. You said in your interview that being bound was a fantasy of yours."

Phil sucked in air again.

He was spread-eagled, on his back, his pelvis elevated on a padded wedge. His arms spread and bound to the corners of the van interior at the back doors. His legs spread and raised, restrained at the ankles by restraints extending from the ceiling at either side of the van interior behind the passenger seats. A ball gag in his mouth. A naked Nunez kneeling between his thighs. Seven inches of raw cock inside him, Nunez fucking and fucking and fucking him as the lights blazed and the cameras whirred.

Afterward, Nunez drove Phil to the Country Inn and Suites near Turner Field and guided him up to the one-bedroom suite, where, in the living room, they signed the contract on the film and Phil signed the release.

"Everything fine, Phil?" Nunez asked, adding, "You were great. A great lay. You're a star."

"Everything fine," Phil said. "But this release. It's for two films."

"I thought, as long as you're here . . . that was an exotic vid. There will be men who eat it up. We have more conventional clients, though. There's a bedroom here. I thought, as long as we're here . . ."

When they went into the bedroom, Phil found that it was lit up like a Christmas tree, and there were two guys in there, with video cameras on their shoulders.

Nunez fucked Phil in a conventional missionary position on the bed, Phil on his back, his arms flung out in a sacrificial position and Nunez between his spread and bent legs, the Cuban-American's knees pushed under Phil's buttocks, raising Phil's pelvis to a good angle—both for depth and for the camera angle—for Nunez, leaning back, with fists buried in the mattress behind him and out of the way of camera money shots, and his long, silky black hair hanging free behind him, to fuck Phil in long, seven-inch slides.

The moans and groans emanating from Phil's smaller, beautiful, naked body were caught loud and clear as the cameras whirred. The two men on the bed tensed and Phil cried out, "Oh, shit, I'm gonna come," and they both did. Nunez pulled his bulb out to the surface to shoot his load there, to prove that he was barebacking to the end, and then pushed the dick back in, deep, for several more strokes, while Phil, stroking himself hard, sent an arc of cum high into the air. On film, both money shots would be repeated twice each to conclude the movie.

Nunez was both surprised and pleased. Phil hadn't been nearly as shy or difficult to buy as Nunez had thought he'd be—and he was hot in the sack.

Nunez asked Phil if they could contact him for future work, and Phil readily agreed.

When he'd left, one of the cameramen approached Nunez and said, "That's a live one, I think."

"Yes," Nunez answered. "He looks so innocent and all-American, but he takes it like a trooper."

* * * *

"I wasn't sure you'd come. Are you sure you want to do this? You're a pretty little guy—don't take me wrong. You're a luscious little guy. You sure you can take this? You can take it big?"

"Yes," Phil DuPont said to Jimbo Jackson as they sat by each other in the booth at Bulldog's. "I wanted to do this last night." Jimbo was fondling Phil's package under the surface of the table, and Phil was letting him. Other black guys were drifting by the table and giving Phil looks. Phil was giving them hungry looks back. He widened his stance, lying back in the seat, giving the big black full access to him. He reached, tentatively, out with his own hand and traced the line of Jimbo's cock inside his tight jeans. Phil sucked in air. Jimbo was every bit as long and thick as he claimed. And he was hard. And he had that thick cock ring.

"Fuck me. Lay me out on the table and fuck me right here," Phil whispered.

Jimbo laughed. "We don't have the cameras here. I think you can only take it the once today, so we need to save it for the cameras. Besides, I'll bet you got it good from Ermano Nunez last night after I left. He had the hots for you, and he's hung like a bull. He told me he had the hots for you. I thought he'd do something to queer the date. He didn't tell you I was black, did he?"

"No, he didn't."

"I didn't think so when he had the night end here at Bulldog's. You were guaranteed to get the black rush here. You didn't care, though, did you?"

"No. It turned me on."

"Nine inches of me and seven of Javon over there and eight of De'Andre?"

"All of it, yes," Phil answered. He was trembling. His zipper had been lowered and Jimbo's big mitt was inside, fondling him. He unzipped Jimbo and fished the monster out. Jimbo groaned for him. "Let me ride it right here," Phil whispered. "Let me sit on it and ride it."

"In front of these guys leering at you, circling the table? You didn't seem like a wild guy from your questionnaire and the date."

"Them after you," Phil answered. "I can surprise you."

"God, you're a little slut, ain't you? How many times did Nunez do you last night? You were filmed? How much did he pay you?"

"Twice. Bareback. Bound once. He paid me $2,000."

"I'm paying you more than that for one film. No barebacking, though. I'm not going there. The other guys can if they want and you're willing."

"You said there would be up to five guys in your film," Phil said, "besides you. I don't care, though. As long as you fuck me. I wanted it so bad last night."

"It'll be nasty. You still want it?"

"Now, right now."

"I want you to be very sure," said Jimbo. "As you know there is a second page to the questionnaire the dating service had us fill out. What you don't know is that I got to read your second page. I got to see what your fantasies are."

Phil started to say something, looking a bit disgruntled, but Jimbo raised a hand as if to stop whatever Phil might have said. "Let me finish. If you go with me, you'll be getting some of the fantasies you said you have. But I gave wants and fantasies, and they say I'd take you rough and totally. So, here, I have a copy of my second page. I want you to read it before committing."

He handed it to Phil, who looked it over and then looked up. "I've been thinking about you since yesterday. None of this surprises me. I'll always think about what I might have missed if I don't do this."

"So be it," Jimbo said. "I have a release form here. I copied it from one Nunez had me sign. You need to sign this." Phil did.

The two had hit off better on the date the previous night than they'd let on. But Jimbo was enterprising. He'd figured out the film scheme and the marketing when he'd gone on a date with the dating service the previous week and carried the date through to the after-date fuck filming. Practically killed the date they had him set up with, he did, he thought proudly, although he left the dude drooling and grinning. He figured he could cut out the dating service middle man and make more by setting up his own arrangements with porn sites. He'd slipped notes to Phil during the date, noting what was what, and how Phil could make more money with him than with Nunez, as long as he was willing to be filmed being fucked. Phil had said he was willing, and they arranged for both of them to walk away from the date and for Phil to call him after it was over.

Phil also figured that he could do both. He knew Nunez was hot for him, and Nunez was just fine with Phil as a partner. The only problem that Phil had to overcome was being filmed in scenes shared across the Internet. But that was a little kicky too. He'd almost put that down as his fantasy fetish—sharing being fucked hard with the world.

The filming wasn't here at Bulldog's. They went to a seedier club deeper in the black neighborhood around Turner Field, Black Jude's, where the clientele was blacker and nastier, and a back room was set up with a bed, surround lighting, and guys with video cameras. Enterpriser that Jimbo was, he wasn't paying the other tops to film; they paid him to be able to play. They all traipsed together over to Black Jude's.

The way Jimbo approached making a porn film was entirely different from what Ermano Nunez's had been. He used shock and surprise. He also didn't get into the film without preparation. He took a good shower and an enema, cleaning himself out. A masseur worked Phil's body in another room before he was sent in to where they were filming the scene. He was massaged and oiled, and then he was turned on his back, made to open and bend his legs. His pelvis was raised on a bolster and the masseur worked his channel with a lube-slathered thick, ten-inch dildo, with the comment, "You'll be glad we did this." Then he was told to put his clothes back on and, on signal, enter the room of the scene.

Jimbo, naked, his ebony body magnificent, was sitting at the foot of the bed, elbows on spread knees, hands cupping his chin, his cock in angry erection jutting out of his jet-black pubic bush, his balls hanging low in a long sac. His left arm and pectoral were covered with a colorful and swirling tattoo. His nipples had thick rings in them as did the bulb of his cock. The five other black men, all fit bulls, three of them covered in tattoos, were standing around the sides of the room, naked, some with erections in their hands, others swinging low. All of them hung. The ceiling was two stories up and there was a mesh steel-floored walkway all around the sides, where the cameramen moved, out of visual range of the action. There were cameras mounted to the walls at lower levels, though, and a technician on the catwalk controlled these to get the close-up shots.

Movies had been shot here before. Jimbo had every intention of making more movies here in the future.

"Stop there, baby," Jimbo said in a low, rich baritone voice when Phil had entered and reached about ten-feet short of the bed. "Strip for me, baby. Do it slow, make me want you."

Phil did as he was told, slowly pulling off his T-shirt and then his shoes and his jeans and his thong briefs.

"Leave the socks on," Jimbo directed. They were bright red footsies. Phil complied. Later, they would become a focal point in the viewing as they waved around and were used for leverage in the dance of the fuck.

An understanding of who was master and who was slave was being established. Tension was being built as well by the slow, deliberate action under Jimbo's control. When Phil was stripped, Jimbo picked up a jumbo condom packet from the bed beside him, split the packet with his teeth, extracted the disk, and ever so slowly rolled the condom on his cock and smoothed it out. Next came a bottle of lube and he lubed his cock up laboriously and copiously. Phil's channel had already been emptied out and lubed up. No reason to waste footage on preparations like that.

"Come here, baby," he said in a low voice. "I don't do this for everyone," he said. "This will make it special."

Phil went to him and, still sitting, he pulled the young man into him, laying his cheek on Phil's belly and grasping Phil's butt cheeks in his hands. He kissed Phil's belly and then moved his face down, taking Phil's cock in his mouth. Phil's moan marked the lips pushing down the sides of the cock. Jimbo may not give blow jobs often, but he certainly knew how to give them.

As he relentlessly sucked Phil off and Phil writhed a bit in his grasp and audibly moaned and groaned, the black bull's grasp on Phil's butt cheeks tightened. He rolled the cheeks and squeezed them and pulled them apart, revealing that Phil's hole was gaping open. Jimbo's fingers worked their way over the hole and then into the darkness there, as Phil gasped, and pushed and pulled to Jimbo's upper body as if to pull himself away from the assault on his cock and ass but without effect. With a jerk, Phil visibly came.

In a flash that both surprised and shocked, Jimbo rose from the bed, twisted Phil around, grabbing the young man's hair at the back of his head with one hand, and palmed Phil's belly with the other, bending Phil over the bed. He pulled Phil's head into the hollow of his shoulder, arching his back cruelly as he used the hand palming Phil's belly to lift and jut the young man's buttocks back. The viewers quite clearly were being signaled that Phil was going to be brutally penetrated and fucked by a black bull's cock.

Jimbo positioned his cock at Phil's hole and thrust inside him, jerking back on Phil's belly to pull the young man's ass into his crotch. He pulled back and thrust forward again and then again. Phil jerked, gasped, and cried out with each thrust.