Making of a Porn Star

Did he know just how destitute I was? How much on the edge I was living? How I couldn't afford to continue my studies here even if I wanted to without a scholarship—or a mentor? And did he know how persuasive he was in his raw sexuality? I was hard just from what he said to me.

Yes, I'd thought of giving myself in exchange for being supported through my studies. I knew there were professors and administrators in Tucson who had signaled the possibility of such an arrangement. And I had come to the place of considering them. How was this different from what Costas Nikolides was proposing? If he paid me over and above all the rest, I could come back to Arizona for my studies and I'd have important archaeology work on my resume. I'd always figured I would be in some man's bed some day. This was an opportunity.

"You have contracts to sign, you say?" I asked.

"Yes, here in this briefcase. Have another glass of wine while you sign them."

After handing me the papers and a pen, he placed a hand, with long sensuous fingers, on my thigh and squeezed. I could barely do more than scan the top few papers as his hand moved to my basket. I was trembling almost uncontrollably as I signed here, there, and there again. I only now was realizing that I very much wanted him to make love to me—that I'd ached for him sexually almost since the first moment I'd seen him.

It didn't help that he put his lips to my ear and whispered, "I can't wait to be inside you. I am very big, you will find. I will take you with a passion such as you have never felt before. I will work you to a glorious exhaustion.

* * * *

Finding Xantos and Benji, bare-chested and in their low-rise cargo shorts and with video cameras in their hands, in Costas's room when we got there was a shock, but, his hands already on me intimately to add to the effect of the drink in stripping my inhibitions away, Costas was quite straightforward.

"You said it would be your first time having a man inside you. It's a special occasion—for both of us. I work in film, in recording history. This will be just for us; you'll be glad—we'll be glad—to have this recorded for us to enjoy later." He was whispering, Xantos and Benji already were recording, and Costas already had our shirts off and our trousers and briefs pushed down off our pelvises and his hand frotting our engorging cocks. He was moving us both toward the bed, which dominated the room.

And he completely dominated me, not giving me the time and space to object to two men filming us fucking—or, rather, Costas fucking me, dominating me completely. Having his way with me.

It was only later, when I was fully enthralled to him and dependent on what he gave me, that I learned how much of it was lies. His comment on working in films—which was the most truthful thing he said to me as he was taking me totally—could have alerted me if I hadn't been half looped and aroused to the heights by him. The film wasn't just for the two of us. That had been an idiotic assertion on the face of it. Xantos and Benji were in the room too, recording it when they weren't participating in it. It was my debut on Costas's subscription Internet site.

He was more pornographer than archaeologist, and among the contract papers I'd signed on the terrace of the Far View Lodge, while he was distracting me with his sensuality, was a release on the viewing and distribution rights for my maiden porn film. The film in which I lost my anal-sex virginity became a best-seller. Costas later told me that my response to the popping of my male cherry was one of the most realistic scenes he had in his collection and continued to sell month after month. I knew how real and excruciating painful and, ultimately, passionate it was. I was there.

That maiden film would be followed by films in which I symbolically would lose my virginity again and again before Costas moved me to the big black bull taking category. The fantasy of it became more important to buyers than the reality of it.

My first time started off on familiar ground, standing against Costas and receiving his kisses and the touch of his sensuous fingers, and moved slowly into escalating intensity so that when the height of being taken—and not so gently—came, I was as well prepared as I could be and it wasn't abrupt. He told me to pay no attention to the cameras and soon was working my body to the point that the cameras were the least of my concern—nor were Xantos and Benji when Costas gave way and let them ravish me as well.

I had sucked a man before, so it wasn't new ground when Costas sat at the foot of the bed and pressed me down on my knees between his legs and presented a thick, hard cock to slide along the roof of my mouth and to my throat, where he would withdraw when I gagged, but soon was pressing again until I was able to take him deep. When he pulled me up onto the bed, our bodies stretched against each other in reverse and he started doing the same to me that I was doing to him, this both engaging at once was new, but not a great leap from what I'd done before.

When he was tonguing my entrance and whispering to me what he was preparing me for, these were new, not unpleasant sensations. At this point the camera, held by Xantos intruded, coming close to my face to capture my facial expressions in response to Costas's attentions, while Benji recorded the action lower on my body. I know I was being expressive and vocal, and Costas encouraged me not to hold back.

I certainly didn't hold back when Costas turned me on my stomach, coaxed me up on my knees, covered me close from above and behind, and slowly, painfully, relentlessly entered, entered, entered me. Unsure, not liking the pain of the entry, I struggled against the invasion—enough to get across my apprehension; not enough to make him consider stopping. He said he liked having to fight for it a bit. When he was inside me, though, which entailed a good bit crying out and grunting, groaning, and begging for mercy from me, I went docile and submissive for him. I already was undone, I had known that I would be undone at some point, and the man who grabbed my virginity from me was a magnificent stud. Costas later told me that he liked my complete surrender to him as much as my initial struggle.

Once saddled and me cowed, he held there, waiting for me to open to him, which, miraculously, I did, slowly and with much panting, groaning, and whimpering, all of which was caught in close-up on tape, with Costas whispering encourage murmurs of "Good, yes, open to me. Take the cock. You are so sweet, and so tight. I'm going to be so good to you."

Initially, he worked me slowly, solicitous to my ability—fuck my willingness at that point—to receive him, cooing encouragement to me and assurances that the pain would recede into pleasure as he inched inside me, his hard, throbbing cock relentlessly moving deeper, stretching me, coaxing me to open to him, which I did as I trembled and nearly sobbed from the possession of him. And I believed him about the pleasure overtaking the pain and I could feel that that was becoming so. But he suddenly changed, raising to his feet and crouching over me, covering me close from above and behind, grasping my wrists, and beginning to mine my channel with rapid, possessive deep strokes. Breathing heavily in my ear, muttering obscenities of what he was going to do to my body, how totally he was going to master me, how relentlessly he was going to pound me. That he was going to break, conquer, and reduce me to his sex slave.

And then he proceeded to do all of that.

I surrendered all to him, my mind no longer on the cameras and Xantos and Benji moving around the bed, vying for the best angles and careful to stay out of each other's field of camera vision.

Costas turned me over on my back, slapped my legs open, grabbing them under my knee and spreading them, kneeling between my thighs, sliding inside me again, and pounding me deep. I flung my arms wide, arched my back, and moaned my submission, with Benji coming in close to get a total surrender shot.

Costas came deep inside me. He hadn't worn a condom. None of them did. None of the men who subsequently covered me on film would. Barebacking was a hallmark of Costas's films, with the signature shot being the cock coming out to the surface enough to catch the ejaculation and then sinking inside again, the deep stroking continuing as long as the top could do it. That first time, he took it on faith that I'd never been anally fucked before. After that it was a stringent medical checkup of all men involved in the films.

The moment of ejaculation and the sinking of the cock back inside me, sliding through the cum, was, I'll have to admit, a moment of high arousal for me—all three times that night. When Costas did it, when Xantos did it, and, most assuredly, when the horse-hung cock of the black bull, Benji, did it. Each successive time was made easier by the extra lubrication of each additional man.

After he had come, Costas pulled out of me and went off the bed at the foot, pulling me down to him with fists grabbing my ankles. He pulled me all the way down to the floor on my knees, with my back against the foot of the bed and my head arched back onto the mattress. I stretched my arms out along the edge of the bottom of the mattress, suggestive of a crucifixion position, Costas whispering for me to do so as a symbol of my sacrifice and surrender and because he said the camera would love it. He stood over me, facing me, grabbed the hair on the back of my head, and made me take his cock in my mouth again to clean it and to let it probe the back of my throat.

Meanwhile, Xantos went down behind Costas and between his legs, took my cock in his mouth, and invaded my entrance with the fingers of one hand, while filming what he was doing with the other. What he was doing extended to pushing his knees under my buttocks, hooking my legs on his hips, getting his long, thin cock inside me, and stroking to an ejaculation while I was servicing Costas's cock with my throat. Xantos was easier to take than Costas. The apprehension that there would be no pleasure to overtake the pain was gone, and, though he was longer than Costas, he wasn't nearly as thick.

He lacked Costas's stamina. He came quickly and withdrew quickly to return to filming the scene from a distance.

Benji was the last, the most taxing, the thickest and longest, and the most virile and longest lasting, as I lay, docilely, and moaning slightly in surrender under him on the bed, as he went into a pushup stance and fucked me in the missionary position on the bed, with Costas and Xantos capturing everything on camera. With Benji, the pleasure far outstripped the pain—the exotic sensation of being taken by a man of color, with a beautiful, muscular body, and of now being able to sheath a man as thick and long as he was heightened the arousal. Added to that, I now was well open and lubricated. I sighed and nearly was purring at his ejaculation, my arms outstretched in supplication, my chest arched up to his mouth devouring my nipples, Xantos's camera trained on a close-up of my face, showing an expression of ultimate surrender and satisfaction.

Days later, when we reached the rambling stucco and glass house in the hills overlooking Limassol, Cyprus, and I learned that I now was under signed contract to star in porn films on an equal basis with excavating at the Lemba archaeological site and that my initiation film wasn't really something just for Costas and me to share, I learned that my first film had broken all records of download sales on Costas's Web site.

At the Limassol house, I joined a large group of other men who were featured in Costas's films in three separate studios in the house and who were kept busy around the clock working on or in the productions, or both. There were three directors, but Costas kept my films for himself, and he starred with me in several films.

I was making good money above the free room and board—and the experience I was gathering and the credit for my résumé from working on the Lemba dig would give me free sailing through graduate school at the University of Arizona and on to a professional position in archaeology.

Someday. I couldn't play the young innocent on film forever and those who remained stars as they aged were mostly tops. I was a submissive. And I'd found that I loved having a man—or two or three—fucking me. And I loved watching myself being fucked on film.

I didn't know when I'd move on from this.

* * * *

I heard Costas whisper that they were coming in for close shot of me deep-throating the Algerian's thick, black cock. I knew just what beleaguered look I was to give at that moment. I could even make my eyes water.

"Ever the virgin," I heard Costas whisper approvingly in the background. "Incredible. Provides the illusion of popping his male cherry each time." As long as I could play this role . . .

When Sami was on his back on the bed, his broad, strong hands gripping my waist, as I straddled his pelvis, the bulb of his big, bluish-black cock nestled in my hole, I cried out, on cue, in pained ecstasy as he pulled me down on the impossibly thick cock. Xantos and Benji moved around the bed, catching close-ups and long shots, ever mindful to keep each other out of the camera lens and their shadows unseen as well. In the background, Costas whispered directions in a voice that would be edited out of the final film. He was excited and I caught glimpses of him stroking his shaft as he watched. He would fuck me either on or off camera after the scene with Sami was concluded. And as long as I could keep him interested in doing that . . .

I cried out and flopped around, pressing my fists ineffectually into Sami's meaty pecs as he slammed me up and down on his cock. He was filling and working me hard inside and I was in ninth heaven, but my responses for the camera had to show that I was being taxed to and beyond the limit.

On instruction from Costas, I swooned and went limp, as Sami continued slamming me up and down on the shaft. I arched my back, letting him hold me in position with his hands gripping my waist. I let my head arch back too and my arms to go limp at my side. There would be some who would interpret that I had been fucked unconscious and was continuing to be fucked—the virgin taken beyond the realm of endurance. At length, Sami pulled me up enough to show his bulb emerging from the hole and shooting off. I groaned a low, exhausted groan, and he slammed me down on the cock again, showing his cum oozing out of the hole around his shaft. A few more slides, and Sami let me fall back between his legs onto my back. He came with me, covering me in a missionary, and continued shafting me.

To the extent that being broken by a fuck could be shown on film, this was it.

The camera came in close to my face to show a beatific smile and my eyes rolling up into my head. The camera panned out as I flung my arms out wide from the sides of my body, taking on a cruciform stance of total surrender, as, his knees pushed under my buttocks and his hands grasping my waist again, Sami continued pulling my inert body on and off his cock.

The crucifixion surrender stance was my signature position. The buyers on Costas's Web site loved it and snatched up every new film showing it.

I was a porn star.

I am a porn star.