Cinema Erotica

by Laura Antoniou

  Eve looked at her roommate with thinly disguised glee. “I think he's lying,” she announced. “He should be punished for that. Terrible thing, lying.”

  “Absolutely,” agreed the bound man.

  The three of them finally collapsed in laughter.

  Chapter Seven:

  Helping a Buddy Out

  Greg and Alan rode the train to their Queens neighborhood. The two of them had known each other from college, and roomed together for the ease on their wallets. But no one could deny they were good friends, despite being roommates. They had separate rooms for privacy, and separate shelves for beer and a “no surprises” policy for parties, guests, and their cable bill. (That was after Greg piled up almost fifty bucks’ worth of pay-per-view movies in one month.)

  Greg was loud and obnoxious, but Alan could do a fair imitation of him when the situation called for it. They both dated around, and Greg had a “kind of steady” girlfriend as well, but neither was in a rush to settle down with anyone. They had a good life, full of bachelor comfort.

  And in a lot of ways, they had each other. If the girls weren't cooperating, they could go out to a game or a movie or something, or rent a couple of movies with lots of explosions and very little plot and top off an evening with some porn flick with lots of blond babes.

  And it was the ritual of watching porn together that led to jerking off in front of each other, then finally “helping each other out” from time to time. Each guy would lend a hand to the other—literally—for the novelty of a foreign touch. There were a few times, especially when more than a few beer bottles lay scattered throughout the apartment, when one or the other actually got a mouth in on some action, but neither one really thought about it. They were young and horny. There really wasn't much to think about there. It wasn't like they were in love or anything. They were just being good guys, helping a buddy out.

  Of course, it helped to be turned on first. So when they climbed the stairs to their apartment, still insulting each other, their parents and girlfriends, their pets and taste on clothing and art, Alan stalked into the living room and noisily pulled open the storage case where they kept their videos. As he rummaged through it, he called out, “Sure you don't wanna watch this? How about the one with the cheerleaders instead?”

  Greg snorted as he shucked his jacket and sneakers. “Fuck that. It would take every one of the Cowboys cheerleaders to get a boner out of me tonight. Man, I'm never gonna get that stupid movie out of my head! Y'know, you have some seriously bad fucking ideas.” He turned to his own room and slammed the door behind him.

  “Well, fuck you too,” Alan muttered, pulling Sorority Babes III out of the case and popping it into the DVD player. He hit the fast-forward to get past the credits and plot, and stripped off his shirt. Although he was considered the quiet and gentle one of the two, he was well built. He still lifted weights at a local gym and played football whenever he could, out in the park. He knew the beer he drank went straight to his belly. In the mirror, he could see the start of a problem there, but he was confident he could manage it. He kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt, pulled open his fly, and prepared to enjoy the erotic antics of a bunch of girls at a college dorm that looked suspiciously like a cheap rented house in Las Vegas.

  Minutes passed, and the movie got into its “all action, no plot” phase, and he was still waiting for some reaction from his dick. But somehow it just wasn't working. The girls on the screen were pussy lapping, and he kept imagining spanking them. They were playing with their fingers and some vibrators, and he kept wishing they would tie each other up.

  “Maybe Greg was right,” he murmured to himself. “Maybe that movie does affect the brain.” He pressed the fast-forward button again, and tried another part of the film, a part that never failed to get a riser out of him. He stirred all right, but it wasn't because of the shower scene. It was the thought of using all that soap as a lube and forcing one of those babes to bend over and take his stiff one right up her crack. Maybe swatting her butt while she took it, making her squeal—

  This is not working, Alan finally realized. He hit “off” and didn't even bother to take the DVD out of the machine. I can't even concentrate. Sighing, he walked toward his room, thinking about just doing the deed on basic fantasies, and skipping visuals all together. Because sick or not, he was still kind of horny. It was just that his dick wasn't cooperating.

  But as he passed Greg's door, he thought he heard something.

  He paused to listen, then easily identified the sound coming from Greg's room. It was his bed, the frame a little lopsided, knocking against the wall. Long nights spent listening to each other between the wall had given them easy ways to tell when the other was jacking off, and Greg, with his wild pumpings and thrashings, was much easier to identify.

  Alan felt a grim triumph spread through him. Ha! he thought, standing in the hallway, dick in one hand. So it didn't turn him on, huh? It was just a stupid fucking movie? Well, who's in his own room wanking away while I can't even concentrate on a dozen blond babes galore on the tube? And what the fuck was all that shit about, dissing me and making fun of me just because I admit I liked the stupid thing?

  What a jerk, he thought, turning toward his own room. Even though I came out and fucking asked him to get off with me, he has to pretend he's not turned on and go off by himself. What kind of a friend is that? Then Alan halted in his tracks.

  Why should I let him finish? he asked himself. Let him wrestle with a limp one for a while. He deserves it! But wait…maybe I can really get him. Don't I have a camera with some shots left over from the Halloween party we went to? And it has a flash, too. I'll open the door, and get a snapshot of him pulling his dick.

  He slid into his bedroom and got the camera and pushed the button to charge the flash. The light thumping continued from Greg's room, and when the little light went on, Alan threw open Greg's door, making it slam into the wall, and immediately snapped off a shot. The sound and the light startled Greg so much that he actually fell off the bed.

  Because Greg wasn't in his usual flat-on-your-back position. He had been kneeling on the edge of the bed, a pillow under his belly, one hand clutching the pillow to him, the other one presumably holding onto his dick. He was totally naked, his hairy butt displayed for one startling moment to his roommate before shock took over and he tried to get up too fast.

  “Stupid fucking movie, huh? Didn't turn you on one fucking bit, did it?” Alan repeated, still amazed at what he'd seen. He raised the camera and got another shot of Greg sitting on the floor, a pillow next to him.

  “You asshole!” Greg retorted, rolling over. “I coulda got killed! What the fuck are you doing with that fucking camera?”

  “Taking pictures of a pervert,” Alan retorted. “At least I wanted to jerk off the regular way. What the fuck is that, with your ass up the air? I never saw such stupid shit. What's the matter? Were you getting off on being the slave, or the master?”

  “There'd better not be film in that camera,” Greg said as he began to get up. He actually sounded nervous, and Alan took a step back and dropped the camera out in the hall. Then he threw himself into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. Greg tensed for a moment at this odd intrusion, then tried to get up. In an instant, Alan was on him, pushing him back against the bed with a strength and force Greg knew from football.

  What was going through Alan's head was too complex for him to sort out all the way. All he knew was that he had endured his friend's ribbing all the way through the movie and all the way home, even to the point of actually believing he was wrong for liking the stupid movie, and here was Greg jerking off all alone while Alan couldn't keep a hard-on in the living room with those babes for company. He held his friend down in a pin and said, “You know, you are too fucking much. I practically begged you to come on and do the right thing and party with me, and you called me a pervert. Well, what are you, pal? I guess you're just another pervert, right?”

  “Get th
e fuck off me!” Greg yelled, struggling. But Alan pushed into him again and refused to let him up.

  “No way, man, not until you make like you're sorry.” He pushed harder with his shoulders, squashing his roommate against the bed, and Greg snarled, trying to push back.

  “You son of a bitch, get off me!” he shouted, fighting. Alan held on, though, and the two of them seemed to be at an impasse. Greg tried to struggle again and again, but Alan just allowed his weight to keep him down. Together, they panted from their exertions, and slowly their eyes met.

  “All right, all right,” Greg finally growled. “I'm fucking sorry, okay? Get off me!”

  Alan pulled himself up and back, but as he did so, he kicked away the pillow still wedged between Greg's thighs. And revealed something very interesting.

  Greg still had a hard-on.

  And so did Alan. He stood, breathing heavily for a moment, as Greg scrambled to get up. Then he swept down to pick up the pillow.

  “So what the fuck were you doing, pervert?” he asked, tossing the pillow into Greg's chest. The dark-haired young man snatched the pillow angrily.

  “Come on, admit it, asshole. The movie made you hot. So how come all that bullshit about me being a pervert and everything, huh? At least I was honest about it.”

  “Okay! Okay, you're right, okay? Jesus, what do you want from me?” Greg exploded, now blushing. His boner still hadn't decreased, not in the slightest, and both of them were aware of that. Alan decided to push him even further.

  “I want you to do the right thing, buddy.”

  “Fine! No fucking problem, man,” Greg seemed relieved for some reason. “Let's go get that DVD, okay?” He started to move toward the door, but Alan stopped him.

  “No, let's do it here. And I wanna see you get off first.” He pushed Greg in the chest, back toward the bed. “I wanna see you get off just the way you were doing it when I came in.”

  “Aw, come on, Al, give me a fuckin’ break,” Greg complained. “That was private. Let's just go and take care of things the normal way, okay? We'll watch the babes video, have a couple of beers. okay?”

  “No, man. I wanna see you on that bed again with your butt up, just the way you are in the picture. If you do it, I'll give you the roll of film, and you can do whatever the fuck you want with it. Piss on it, make it into Christmas cards, or whatever. But I really wanna see you get off like that. I'll help you out. You gonna do it? Or are we gonna say goodnight and I keep the pictures?”

  “You son of a fucking bitch!” Greg declared, clenching his teeth. “I don't believe you're doing this!”

  “Believe it, or say goodnight, hotshot.” Alan stayed still for a moment, then turned toward the door.

  There was a long moment as he reached for the door handle. Finally, Greg spoke up.

  “Fine, man, just fine. Leave it to my buddy to come up with fucking blackmail. You wanna watch my asshole while I jerk off? Hey, it's no problem, man.” Angrily, he turned toward the bed and pushed the blankets back. Alan turned back with an expectant grin.

  Greg took a deep breath or two, then got up on his knees on the bed again. While his back was straight, Alan asked him, “What part of the movie are you thinking about?”

  “Jesus! Gimme a minute to clear my mind, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay, okay.” Alan pushed aside some laundry and a near-empty box of cookies and sat down on the room's only chair. He had a great view of Greg, as the young man began to stroke his erection back to fullness, his eyes closed. As quietly as he could, Alan began to pull his belt through the loops on his jeans. He moved very slowly.

  “I'm thinking about that mama in the high boots and those stockings,” Greg said, after he got into gear. “Her fucking legs went on forever. And those tits!”

  “Did you like it when she wrapped her legs around that guy's head?” Alan prodded, three more loops to go.

  “Uh…yeah, sure. She could wrap her legs around my face anytime, you know?” He changed the position of his hand and began to compress his erection with his fingers, one finger pressing at a time, like he was trying to milk his cock to bring forth its essence.

  “Yeah, you liked it all right. You liked that part when she almost smothered him, too. I remember watching you when that happened. I bet you'd get off on being some kind of slave, huh?” The belt was free. Alan doubled it and held one end in his right hand and stood up.

  “What's your fucking problem, man?” Greg started to complain, opening his eyes. He was surprised not to see Alan in the chair, and he turned his head to look for him. At that moment, Alan took a swing with the belt and caught Greg once, hard, across his hairy ass.

  Greg immediately dropped his dick and tried to get up, but Alan was relentless. He struck his roommate again and again, across his ass and thighs, and when Greg tried to move out of the way, Alan reached out and caught a handful of his hair and pulled his head up and back. All the while, the belt rose and fell, leaving broad, red lines all over Greg's body, hitting his legs, his waist, his back, and back to his ass.

  Greg screamed out his rage, and caught hold of the hand Alan had knotted in his hair. But Alan tightened his grip, and the pain of having his hair pulled actually shocked the punished young man. “Goddamn it, you motherfucker, let go of me! Shit! Ow! Goddamn!” His litany of profanity became more imaginative, then alternated with threats. He tried to kick backwards, but the belt caught his calves and feet until all he could think of was pulling away. Finally, the threats lessened, and his cursing became more limited, and his thrashings on the bed became much more an attempt to pull in his more vulnerable spots, his legs and arms.

  “Jesus, Al, stop! Please…” he finally sputtered, his voice quavering. Alan stopped and pushed his head down to the bed, keeping his ass elevated, the way he was when Alan had first burst in the doorway.

  “All you had to do was say please,” Alan said, out of breath from the energy expended to physically chastise his friend. “Now, you get to jerking off. It should be better for you now. You got marks all over your fucking body, just like the guy in the movie. Come on, pervert. Make it hard again. Get yourself off, or we'll get a picture of you like this, too.”

  “Man…” Greg's voice sounded almost weak, and he groaned as he shifted on the bed. “I can't…”

  “Yes, you can, fucker,” Alan declared. “And you will. Or I'll add some more marks on top of those, okay? Come on, you love it. You're just too chickenshit to admit it. Get your hand on your dick and start dancing, Greggie, or I'll make you dance for me. Got it?”

  There was a long moment where Alan thought Greg would defy him, but amazingly, Greg's hand crept between his legs and began the motions to make his somewhat softened dick come back to life.

  “This is why you were so afraid to admit you liked the movie,” Alan said, wiping some sweat off his forehead. “You didn't just like the damn thing, you loved it. But you wanted to be the slave, not the fucking mistress or whatever. Some big macho guy, huh?” Alan kept a tight watch on Greg's busy hand, and was gratified to see the jerking motions going faster as he spoke. It only confirmed what he was saying.

  “So you're gonna get yourself hard for me, and then you're gonna let me figure out what to do next, okay? You listening, Greggie?”

  “Yeah, yeah!” Greg quickly answered. “Whatever, Al, just keep that fucking belt off me, okay?”

  “No deals, brother!” Alan gave Greg one fast crack across the ass with the belt, and Greg almost fell forward. But he held himself, groaned loudly, and kept on pumping.

  After a while, Alan looked a little closer, and asked, “Well? Are you hard yet?”

  “Yeah,” his aching pal said, with a slight edge to his voice. “Lemme come, okay?”

  “Nah, I told you I'd help you out, and I will.” Alan stripped off his jeans and sat down on the chair again, the looped belt held loosely in one hand. “Get up.”

  Greg got back up on his knees and slid carefully off the bed, his body aching with every movement, a dee
p heat rising in particular along his ass and thighs. He faced Alan, his erection in one hand, and looked entirely like he was awaiting orders.

  “Get down there and get me harder,” Alan said, pointing between his legs. His penis was not exactly at its full size, lying half limp in his tangle of dark curls. “On your knees, Greggie boy. And make it feel good.”

  Greg snarled for a moment, but Alan just shrugged and started to get up, the belt swinging in his right hand. Then Greg dropped, avoiding Alan's eyes, and reached out for Alan's dick.

  “You son of a bitch,” he said, his voice low.

  “Yeah,” admitted Alan, sitting back again. “I can be. Come on, get me up.”

  Greg dropped his own cock to tend to Alan's, and their history of helping each other out gave him the knowledge of how to do it right. Alan liked it hard and slow, to a steady, long tempo. As he worked, he shivered from time to time, the aftereffect of the beating he had taken.

  Alan rose in response to both Greg's ministrations and the effect this experience was having on the young man. This is fucking hot, Alan admitted to himself, easing back and enjoying the massage of his manhood. And as for how Greg was feeling? Well, the erection he had achieved at Alan's demand was still hanging between his legs, even without attention.

  Soon Alan felt about ready to get to the main attraction. He stood up, shaking Greg off, and pointed at the bed again. “Get up,” he said, reaching down to help Greg. Then he pushed the shorter man toward the bed, but stopped him before he got on it. “Wait right there,” he said, looking around the room again. What he needed was hanging from a hook on the back of the bedroom door.

  He pulled the cloth belt from the waistbands of a robe that Greg never wore. Something he got for Christmas years ago, but kept around for any sleepover girlfriend who might want to shower the next morning.

  Then, he pulled one of Greg's hands behind him and looped the belt around the wrist. Greg resisted, pulling away, but a knee in his back easily pushed him down to the bed, and once one wrist was secured, it was easy to grab the other.