Jewels for Vishnu (Siren Publishing Allure ManLove)

by Roland Graeme

  “Tell me about it! I just got fucked by a real man,” Joey gloated. He laughed, his body shaking with the combination of the laughter and his continued deep, quick gasps for breath.

  They lay together for some time, recovering, before Corey gently pulled his spent cock out and disposed of the condom. Joey stirred beside him.

  “I guess we’d better get dressed,” Joey said, his voice drowsy from post-sex relaxation.

  “I guess so.” Reluctantly, Corey got up and started to sort through the clothes on the floor, separating his things from Joey’s.

  “Thanks, man,” Joey said when Corey handed him his shirt.

  “Don’t mention it. Hey, are you hungry? I could make us something for dinner. Or we could go out. My treat.”

  “Thanks, but I really have to be getting home. I hadn’t planned on meeting anybody like this today. I don’t like to rush off after sex, but you know how it is. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I understand. I hope I haven’t disrupted your schedule too much.”

  “Hardly. This has been the high point of my day, that’s for sure.”

  “That’s good to hear. Come on, I’ll drive you home,” Corey said.

  When they were in Corey’s car, Joey said, “You can drop me off at that coffee shop, if you want to. I don’t live very far from there.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll take you to your front door. Unless there’s some reason why you don’t want me to know where you live?”

  “No, not really.”

  “It’s not one of those neighborhoods where we’re likely to be carjacked, is it, or end up with the car riddled by bullets?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Joey protested.

  He gave Corey directions. The address, as it turned out, was not all that bad. Joey lived in a predominantly commercial block, above a small Greek takeout restaurant.

  “I didn’t want to bring you here for sex because I was kind of embarrassed,” Joey confessed as Corey pulled over to the curb.

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  “My apartment is kind of a dump. It’s all I can afford.”

  “I don’t care. Do you think I’m stuck-up or something?”

  “No, not now that I’ve gotten to know you. You see, I did bring this guy home with me the other night, and he kept telling me, the whole time, how crummy my place was and how it was so depressing to be there that he could hardly get it up.”

  “What a jerk. I hope he hasn’t been invited back?”

  “Hell, no. To top it off, he was a lousy lay.”

  “Well, assuming I’m an adequate lay, Joey, you can consider yourself invited back to my place any time you feel like it. Or I can come here. I’m not a fussy queen, thank God.”

  “No, you’re not. I’d like to see you again.”

  Those were the magic words as far as Corey was concerned. Better yet, Joey gave him a kiss, right on the mouth, before he got out of the car and said good night. Corey drove home through the warm, humid Californian night, in a daze of pleasure.

  Chapter Two:

  Every Gay Man Needs a Horny Straight Friend

  “Corey, you’ll never guess who I met the other day.”

  “I’m sure I never will. Some celebrity, I imagine.”

  “I’ll say. A big celebrity.”

  “I can see you’re bursting to tell me, Kevin, so don’t leave me in suspense. Out with it.”

  Kevin was one of Corey’s best friends. Today, the two men had gotten together for lunch, as they often did. Theirs was a somewhat-peculiar relationship. Kevin, ostensibly straight, was fascinated by the whole concept of gay sex, to the point of being obsessive about it. At times, he seemed to be living a homosexual lifestyle vicariously through Corey. The latter often joked that, in Kevin’s imagination, he was getting more male-on-male action than Corey himself ever saw.

  “Come on, tell me,” Corey urged when Kevin remained silent, deliberately stalling. “Who was it?”

  “Pierce Taser.”

  “Pierce Taser, the porn actor?”

  “You know another guy named that? Of course it was him.”

  “This ought to be good. Tell me all about this unexpected encounter. It was unexpected, I assume?”

  “Absolutely.” Now eager to divulge the details, Kevin plunged into his story. “I was walking down Melrose Avenue, and he came out of a men’s clothing store, carrying a shopping bag. So there he was, on the sidewalk right in front of me. I did a double take, and then I was sure it was really him. So I went up to him, just as bold as brass—”

  “Yeah, that part I’m not having any trouble picturing inside my head.”

  “Don’t interrupt me. Anyway, I went up to him and caught his eye, and I asked him, ‘Has anybody ever told you that you look exactly like Pierce Taser?’ And he smiled and said, ‘Yeah, I get that a lot.’ So I said, ‘But you are Pierce Taser, aren’t you?’ And he actually looked a little sheepish, and then he said, ‘Yeah, guilty as charged.’ ‘I’m not a stalker,’ I told him. ‘That’s reassuring,’ he said. ‘I’m a big fan of yours. I’ve seen all your videos.’ ‘All of them?’ he asked. ‘Well—most of them. Listen. I swear to God I’m not trying to put the make on you or anything like that, but I’d love to buy you a cup of coffee, or a drink, and just talk to you.’ So he checks his watch, and then he said, ‘Well, I guess I don’t have to be anywhere for the next half an hour or so.’”

  “Wow. Such sparkling dialogue. Too bad you didn’t have a tape recorder with you so you could preserve it for posterity.”

  “Be nice. Pierce was nice. Not at all stuck-up or standoffish, just a regular guy. So the next thing I knew, I was actually sitting down opposite Pierce Taser, having coffee with him. Talking to him.”

  “So, what’d you two regular guys talk about?”

  “You, mostly.”

  Corey groaned. “Please don’t tell me you tried to set me up with him.”

  “Sure, why shouldn’t I? What’s a friend for? Imagine how wild it would be if Pierce Taser did want to go on a date with you.”

  “It’d be a threesome, because we’d have to take you along as our chaperone. Which would also save me the trouble of having to you tell you all about it, a blow-job by blow-job description so to speak, afterward.”

  “You’d better be nice to me,” Kevin threatened, “or I won’t give you your present.”

  “My present? What’s the occasion?”

  “None. It’s a surprise. Here.” Kevin produced two photo cards, about the size of postcards. Each was a shot of none other than Pierce Taser. In one pose, he was wearing a jockstrap, which showed every sign of long use and having been thoroughly broken in. The frayed elastic pouch of the jockstrap barely contained the actor’s legendary ten-inch cock, which was in a semierect state. In the other photo, Taser was nude—and fully, gloriously erect. All ten inches of him. Each card had the actor’s signature scrawled boldly across his bare torso.

  “Okay, I have to admit it,” Corey conceded. “This is a surprise. Quite impressive photography. They must’ve needed a wide-angle lens to capture that fully hard dick in all its glory.”

  “Pierce told me he always carries a few of these around with him, to give to fans who recognize him and want his autograph. He sells them through his website, too, sends them through the mail. He usually charges five dollars apiece for that. He gave them to me for free because I paid for our coffee and donuts.”

  “Oh, so donuts were involved, too?”

  “He’s a big guy and he has a healthy appetite. Anyway, take your pick. I got two, one for you, one for me.”

  “Kevin, I’m truly touched. Which one do you prefer?”

  “Oh, you choose.”

  “You know you’re dying to have the one in which he’s got it all hanging out. Or rather sticking out. I’ll take the jockstrap shot. It has a comparative subtlety and suggestiveness that appeals to me.”

  “Corey, you’re a prince. I’m going to frame mine and hang it up in my bedroom.”r />
  “Really. Don’t you think any, ah, female visitors to your bedroom might be slightly taken aback by the sight of a framed picture of a naked porn star with a huge hard dick displayed on the wall?”

  “I don’t see why. It won’t be the only one up there, you know. I’ve started quite a nice little collection. They make great conversation pieces.” Kevin pocketed his card, and Corey did the same. Kevin looked at Corey and smiled. “His phone number’s printed on the back. He escorts, of course. You can call him up and arrange a date with him. A sex session, for three hundred dollars.”

  “Um, I’m afraid I’ll pass. I spend so much time on commercial transactions every day at work that I don’t feel any desire to carry them over into my spare time. Although I do have to admit that three hundred bucks seems quite reasonable. If what I hear is true—it’s hard to judge such things just by watching a video—that comes out to about thirty bucks an inch.”

  “If what you hear is true? What, exactly, have you heard?”

  “Oh, I’ve met a couple of guys in bars who’ve claimed to have scored with the well-endowed Mr. Taser. I don’t know whether they were bullshitting me or not. And it’s interesting that they didn’t mention any money exchanging hands. I suppose even an entrepreneur like Mr. Taser occasionally gives it away for free.”

  “Never mind whether they had to pay him or not,” Kevin said impatiently. “What they tell you about what they did with him? Is his dick as big as it looks on screen?”

  “I vaguely remember one of them saying that it was like being fucked by a baseball bat. Ouch. Another reason why I don’t think I’ll be availing myself of Mr. Taser’s services. I’m not into pain, let alone paying for the privilege of finding out what giving birth must be like.”

  “Do you know what Pierce told me?”

  “Once again, my imagination fails me. Fill me in.”

  “When I told him that I’m straight, even though I have a lot of gay friends—”

  “Please tell me you didn’t actually use the phrase, ‘but some of my best friends are gay.’”

  “Give me some credit, Corey! Anyway, when I told him that, he just smiled and said, ‘Well, if you ever decide you’d like to play on the other team, let me know. Just give me a call, and we can set something up. I specialize in first-timers and guys who are still undecided about their sexuality. I’m good at guiding them through the experience, if I do say so myself.’ Isn’t he cool, Corey?”

  “A scholar and a gentleman, obviously. In fact, a real public servant.”

  “One of the other things we talked about was the whole concept of gay for pay. I asked him if he was gay, and he said yes. But he told me he’s worked with lots of guys who claim to be basically straight. He said it can be strange, to be on a film shoot, naked in bed with a guy under the lights with the camera rolling, doing everything imaginable with him, and then the minute the director says ‘cut,’ the guy you’ve been having sex with suddenly cools off and doesn’t want you to touch him.”

  “Well, I guess that’s why they call it acting.”

  “I can’t imagine what it must be like, to be gay for pay. You know, sucking another guy’s dick, even taking it up the ass. And all the while telling yourself you’d rather be fucking some pussy instead and that you’re only doing it for the money. It must be so degrading. You must really feel like a whore.”

  “Well, you ought to know. Every time you complain about your job, I get the impression that you let your boss screw you on a daily basis. And he doesn’t even kiss you first, let alone buy you dinner. You just bend over and take it. Talk about being a whore.”

  “Now you’ve got me thinking, Corey. I wonder if it would be possible for a straight guy like me to sleep his way to the top at work by being gay for pay.”

  “Only if the people at the top of the corporate heap are men who aren’t faking it but are gay for real. And blissfully indifferent to the possibility of getting hit with a sexual-harassment suit.”

  “Fuck. All of the openly gay guys in my building seem to work in the shipping department, for some reason. What is there about operating a forklift truck that attracts the really macho gay types?”

  “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Now tell me what you’ve been up to, Corey. Sexually, I mean.”

  “Unlike you, I don’t have sex on my mind twenty-four seven,” Corey protested.

  “Are you trying to tell me you’ve been celibate since the last time I saw you?”

  “It’s been less than a week.”

  “Don’t evade the issue. Have you tricked with anybody or not since then?”

  “All right! I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition. One guy.”

  “I want to hear all about it.”

  “I’m afraid my story is going to be awfully anticlimactic, after yours. This guy I met is really nice. But he’s no porn star.”

  “Maybe not, but that grin on your face is telling me he must’ve performed like a porn star. Come on, Corey. Pretend this is a confessional and you’re seeking forgiveness for your carnal sins. I want all the sordid, disgusting details.”

  Corey provided them, knowing that the recitation would give his buddy a great deal of pleasure.

  “Oh, fuck,” Kevin groaned when the explicit narration had reached its orgasmic conclusion. “Corey, you horny dog, you!”

  Corey had made the mistake of describing Joey—accurately enough, in his estimation—as “a sweet guy and a terrific fuck.” Kevin instantly seized upon this.

  “A sweet guy who’s good in bed, huh? Are you sure he’s not an escort?”

  “Oh, shut up. I know you find it hard to believe, but not every guy in this town is either addicted to porn, the way you are, or active in the sex industry, like your new coffee buddy, Pierce Taser.”

  “You could fool me, sometimes. So tell me more about this hot little guido of yours.”

  “He’s not a guido!” Corey snapped.

  Kevin snickered. “Uh-oh. Touched a nerve, did I?”

  “Joey is Italian-American, and for your information, he’s very intelligent.”

  “I’m sure he is. That must be why he pumps iron for a living. When he’s not dropping his pants in front of a camera. Somehow, I don’t think it’s his intellect you’re interested in. Especially since, by your own admission, you balled the kid’s brains right out of his skull the other night.”

  “You can be such a bitch.”

  “I love you, too, man.”

  “You are the gayest man I’ve ever met, and you aren’t even gay.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously, Corey. Are you going to call him, or are you going to wait to see if he calls you?”

  “Ah, I already called him. Last night.”

  “Oh, you’ve got it bad, don’t you? But wasn’t that kind of risky? You might scare the guy off if you come across as too eager.”

  “I couldn’t help myself. I was eager.”

  “So how’d it go?”

  “Pretty well. At first, when I suggested we get together again, he told me, ‘I’m kind of booked up all this week.’ And I thought, oh shit, he’s blowing me off, this was just another goddamn one-night stand. But then, in his next breath, he said, ‘How about Friday night? We could go grab something to eat, if you want, and then maybe take in a movie.’ So I said sure—of course. And then he said, ‘And then we can go to your place afterward, can’t we?’ And believe me, he was the one who sounded eager then.”

  “You have the most disgustingly smug look on your face.”

  “Yeah, because I’m going to get laid again on Friday night. Big time. And it’s not going to cost me no three hundred bucks, either.”

  “Are you going to jack off every night between now and then, thinking about him and looking forward to screwing him again, or are you going to save it up until the two of you are actually together?”

  “None of your business. You’re disgusting.”

  “I’m horny. Come on, buddy, work with
me here. Give me my cheap vicarious thrill.”

  “I’ll probably save up my spunk, assuming I can hold out that long.”

  As things turned out, Corey was able to hold out until Friday night, but barely.

  He and Joey had a most enjoyable evening. As they’d arranged, Corey picked Joey up in front of his place, in the Triumph.

  “I do have my own wheels, you know,” Joey said, looking and sounding rather apologetic. “It’s a Jeep, as a matter of fact. But it’s kind of old and beat-up. And I have to admit it—I do kind of like the idea of being chauffeured around town by a good-looking guy in a sexy little sports car.”

  “Keep talking. You’re going to turn my head.”

  “Speaking of which, people do look at us as we drive by, have you noticed? They think you’re my rich boyfriend.”

  “Well, they’re wrong on both counts, aren’t they? Unfortunately.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. At least you do have a job, which is more than I can say for some of the men I’ve dated.”

  Corey laughed. “All right, now that we’ve determined what a great catch I am, let’s get down to the serious business of strapping on the feed bag. Where would you like to eat?”

  “Do you like Italian food?”

  “Love it. I have a weakness for Italian men, too, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  “I know a great little Italian eatery not far from here. My treat.”

  “Nonsense. It’s my treat.”

  “We’ll split it, half and half.”

  “I’m supposed to be your rich boyfriend, remember? Let me enjoy the fantasy.”

  Joey took Corey to the kind of unpretentious Italian restaurant where good, simple food was served at reasonable prices. The décor told the story—red-and-white-checked tablecloths, empty Chianti bottles with rattan basket bottoms recycled as candle holders, travel-agency posters depicting Italian tourist attractions on the walls. Joey was known there, so Corey, as his dining companion, was also treated with warmth and familiarity.

  Their dinner conversation somehow strayed to the topic of straight men in general, and their respective straight acquaintances in particular. Corey told Joey about Kevin. Joey, perhaps more than a little cynically, expressed some doubts about just how straight Kevin really was.