Sword and Sandal

by Roland Graeme

  I accepted a coffee, but I turned down the marijuana when it was offered to me. I explained that I was supposed to make a loop, and I didn’t want to risk anything that might interfere with my concentration. Especially since this was my very first porn shoot.

  The other guys were supportive. Apparently, they made a night of it, working until dawn. They made one loop after another, taking breaks in between, until the cameraman either ran out of film or the performers lost their erections. Once a performer was sure he could no longer rise to the occasion or come, he was free to leave. But I was encouraged to stay the distance, if I wanted to. Those who remained until daylight always went out and had breakfast together, I was told.

  “Maybe I’d better have another cup of coffee,” I said. “Caffeine always seems to make me horny. Maybe it’s just because of that little extra bit of pressure it puts on the bladder. Anyway, I’ll be embarrassed if I can’t get it up.”

  “Don’t sweat it. Everybody has a little trouble once in a while, and especially their first time. It’s the hot lights. They take a little getting used to. Just relax,” I was told, by one of the pot smokers—who was certainly setting a good example, since he seemed very relaxed, himself. “Remember, we’re not on a fixed schedule. Hang out and do your thing whenever you feel good and ready. If it doesn’t go right the first time, you can always take a break and try again later.”

  One of the other guys offered me some advice. “Once you do get into the groove, though, don’t stop for anything, until the cameraman says ‘cut.’ If you make an awkward move or something like that, don’t worry about. They can always edit it out. This isn’t Shakespeare, you know! But don’t tell Dirk I said that,” he added, with a laugh.

  “If you can’t come right away, you can always do it later, and they can splice it in,” a third man said.

  “Yeah, but if you don’t come at all, though, you don’t get paid,” I was reminded, by the first guy who had spoken.

  Then and there, I determined that I was going to do everything in my power to make sure I got paid.

  I drank my second cup of coffee, and then I wandered over to inspect the set, which was set up in a far corner of the loft.

  The “set” consisted of an old-fashioned brass bed, which looked as though it had been rescued from a used furniture store. It was pushed back against a wall, and it was made up with inexpensive department store sheets and pillow cases. Next to the bed was a little wooden nightstand, on top of which was placed a bottle of poppers and a jar of petroleum jelly. Back in those days, you must realize, nobody used condoms—except for conscientious straight guys who didn’t want to get their girlfriends pregnant. As for us gay men, we all barebacked, although the term hadn’t been come into use yet outside of the rodeo circuit. “Raw” sex, as we’d term it today, was the norm.

  The bed was flanked by a pair of photographer’s lamps set on tripods. They were the same sort of lamps John used in his studio. Oddly enough, the sight of these familiar objects reassured me and made me feel at home.

  Dirk now made his appearance. As usual, he was puffing away on a (tobacco) cigarette.

  “Hey, stud,” he greeted me. “How’s it hanging?”

  “Fine, so far.”

  “You ready to change your luck? You know, try some dark meat on for size?”

  “Sure.”

  “We’ve found a real whopper for you to fuck around with,” he promised me. “This dude is hung huge.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  The cameraman was loading a fresh film canister into his camera. I introduced myself to him, and learned that his name was Mark. He consulted a clipboard, to which was fastened a list of names. Some of the names were crossed off, others had check marks next to them, and still others were linked by arrows drawn on the paper. Additional symbols and annotations were scrawled in the margins. Apparently, this informal device served as a combination of script, story board, and shooting schedule.

  “Dirk told me he wants to pair you up with Zeke,” the Mark said. “Is that all right with you?”

  “Sure,” I replied. I had no idea which of the guys was Zeke, or even if he’d arrived at the loft yet, but I was willing to commit myself to him, sight unseen.

  “Great! Do you think you could be ready to go on next?”

  “Sure,” I said, again. As a porn actor, I was turning into a man of few words—all of them expressing my desire to cooperate to the fullest possible extent, I hoped.

  “Hey, Zeke!” the cameraman called. “Come on over here, will you? We’re ready for you.”

  Zeke was an amiable young black guy who had a nice physique—and, as Dirk had forewarned me, an absolutely enormous cock. It was flaccid at the moment, but it was making a sizeable and eye-catching bulge, stuffed down inside one leg of his tight pants. We shook hands.

  “I’m Gino,” I told him.

  “Oh, you must be the guy from Jersey that Dirk told me about. It’s nice to meet you, Gino,” Zeke said. “Do you like to get fucked?”

  “Yeah. I love it, as a matter of fact.”

  “Perfect. I’m hung kind of big,” he warned. “Or so I’ve been told. Some guys have trouble taking me up the ass.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “We’ll use plenty of grease.”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  “Listen—if I start pounding away too hard, you just give me a little tap with your hand, like this—okay? And then I’ll slow down.”

  “Got it.”

  That was the extent of our rehearsal. With the two strong lamps switched on and aimed at the bed to kill any shadows, we were ready to roll.

  We stripped and got onto the bed. Dirk, with a cigarette still stuck in his mouth, was hovering about, looking solicitous. Mark raised the camera and positioned it on his shoulder. Looking through the viewfinder, he gave us a nod, and he started rolling. The red light went on and started blinking at us, like a tiny electronic eye.

  Zeke and I embraced and kissed. We played with each other’s dicks. We were both hard, although I felt as though my penis was like David going up against Goliath.

  That guy I’d spoken to before hadn’t been kidding. The lights were hot. Zeke and I were both perspiring freely, our sweat running down our bodies and soaking into the sheets.

  Dirk, in his capacity as director, talked us through it, giving us instructions, suggestions, and encouragement. Like most loops, this one was going to be a silent movie. (Sometimes these short films were supplied with “soundtracks” consisting of crappy music and dubbed-in dialogue, during post-production.) In the background, I could hear the other guys in the loft talking, and the music playing.

  Zeke and I took turns snorting the poppers, and then I sucked Zeke’s cock. That ebony phallus was truly of daunting dimensions. To my surprise, I was able to fit it all the way inside my mouth. Mark moved in close to get a nice tight shot of my face, with my lips stretched around the base of Zeke’s shaft and—as I saw later, when I had a chance to view the finished product—a look of dazed, amyl-enhanced ecstasy on my face.

  Next, Zeke sucked my cock, while I used my hand on his awesome erection. It was still wet from my saliva, and I masturbated it lightly. Then I bent my head down to his groin again and I turned the blow job he was giving me into a nice, tight sixty-nine.

  We sucked each other for some time, really getting into it. He reached between my buttocks and played with my ass. I could sense, rather than see, the Mark moving in toward us again, to get a close-up of Zeke fingering my ass,

  I was getting very horny. I pulled away from Zeke and I silently urged him to lie flat on his back. He grabbed one of the pillows and stuffed it under his head. His muscular body, gleaming with sweat, looked like polished ebony against the white sheets.

  I greased up his cock with some of the petroleum jelly, and then, as a precaution, I rubbed some more of it onto my sphincter and inside my hole. I was now more than ready to get fucked. I was impatient to feel that big black cock
inside me!

  “Fuck him, Zeke,” Dirk instructed, from the sidelines. “Take his ass!”

  I snorted the poppers again, knowing that they’d help me relax my sphincter, and I sat on Zeke’s cock. I rode him for a long time, as we passed the bottle of amyl back and forth, and my asshole seemed to get hotter and hotter as it flexed itself around Zeke’s impaling bulk. Zeke was pounding me hard, as he’d warned me he might. But I was quite proud of the fact that I never tapped out. On the contrary, I took everything he had to give me; and indeed I begged him for more. Encouraged by my whorish receptivity, he fucked me quite brutally, until the mattress springs squeaked under us and the headboard and the footboard of the brass bed rocked back and forth along with his thrusts.

  “Ride it, white boy!” he taunted me. “Work your ass around my big black dick. Squeeze it. Yeah, let me fuck that sweet, tight man pussy of yours. Goddamn it—I’m just about ready to pop.”

  A final hit of the poppers, and I was ready to pop, myself. I ejaculated helplessly, my cum flying out of me and spraying all over Zeke’s sweating face and chest. I continued to ride him until I was fully spent. Then I eased my ass off his horse dick and I twisted myself around so I could stare at it as he took it in his fist and pumped it, roughly. It took him only a few strokes to bring himself off. He blasted his semen all over my eagerly awaiting face. I had my mouth open and my tongue sticking out, and some of his cum landed on my tongue and flew straight into my mouth.

  To capture the two come shots, Mark was now kneeling on the floor beside the bed, and he was in fact leaning over the edge of the mattress, so that the camera lens almost nudged our bodies. Mark’s presence made what Zeke and I had been doing to each other feel more like a ménage à trois.

  Moaning, I licked my lips. I heard Dirk say “cut,” and then Mark lowered the camera from his shoulder. We’d gotten the job done in a single uninterrupted take.

  “That looked fantastic through the viewfinder, guys,” Mark assured us. “Very hot.”

  Dirk agreed. “Yeah, good work, men. See, Gino? I told you there’s nothing to it. You’re a natural.”

  Zeke high-fived me. “I could use a beer,” he said. “How about you, Gino?”

  “Sure.”

  He really was a satisfying sex partner, and a nice guy to work with.

  We didn’t bother to get fully dressed. We just pulled on our pants, as a token gesture toward modesty.

  It was only then that I realized that most of the other guys in the loft had gathered around to watch Zeke and me fuck, from a discreet distance. They congratulated us.

  I felt a bit giddy—a common post-orgasmic reaction, heightened in this instance by my sense of accomplishment. With my debut performance safely in the can, I treated myself to a celebratory bottle of beer, I even took a few puffs on a joint which someone offered me.

  Two of the men busied themselves changing the sheets on the bed. The next round of filmed action, however, took place not on the bed, but on a leather-upholstered sofa in the middle of the living room. I assumed that this “change of scene” was done for the sake of variety. The coffee table was moved out of the way, and the lamps were positioned so that their light shined on the sofa.

  I sipped my beer and, from the sidelines, I watched the loop being made, under Dirk’s supervision. This time, interestingly enough, it was all oral and no anal. The two men’s lips and tongues never seemed to tire. They licked every part of each other’s bodies before concentrating on each other’s genitals. I had rarely seen such impassioned cocksucking—or ball sucking, for that matter. When they moved on to rimming, jamming their bodies tightly together and forcing their tongues deep inside each other’s buttholes, I could feel myself becoming aroused all over again.

  This feast of flesh climaxed with the inevitable double ejaculation.

  By now it was past midnight.

  Dirk and Mark consulted their trusty clipboard, and then Dirk came over to where I was standing. “Are you about ready to go again, Gino?” he asked me.

  “I guess so. No time like the present, as they say. Who do I get to play with this time?”

  “I’d like to shoot a three-way. Are you okay with that?”

  “Of course. Looking forward to it.”

  “You and Zeke partnered each other so well that I thought I’d put you together again.”

  “Perfect.” Now I wasn’t just feeling cooperative. I was downright impatient, to make it with the black stallion again.

  “As for the third guy—hey, Gerardo, come over here,” Dirk called out.

  Dirk introduced me to Gerardo, who was a tough-looking young Puerto Rican who spoke accented English. Gerardo seemed extremely macho. He shook my hand, and then his dark eyes roved slowly up and down the full length of my body. His gaze lingered on my behind. He was checking me out in that blatant way in which some straight guys react to the sight of an attractive woman. I didn’t know whether I should feel insulted, or flattered.

  Every time he looked at me, I felt my cock twitch as it grew a little harder.

  “Nice ass, man,” he told me, at last. I decided I was flattered.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Encouraged by my response, Gerardo reached out and gave my “nice ass” a good, hard grope through the seat of my jeans.

  We made our way across the loft, back to the “bedroom” set. Zeke led the way. Gerardo walked beside me—and at one point he leaned over and whispered into my ear, “Zeke’s told me about you.”

  “Yeah? What did have to say?”

  “That you’re hot. I can’t wait to find out for myself, if that’s true.”

  “You shouldn’t have long to wait,” I predicted.

  It was an accurate prediction on my part, I must say. Zeke exchanged a few words with Mark, who was reloading his camera. Dirk, puffing away on the inevitable cigarette, was fussing over the bed, smoothing the sheets, plumping up the pillows and putting them in place at the head of the bed. I didn’t understand why he bothered, since, if our first shoot that night was any indication, we “actors” would be making a mess of the bed again in a few moments.

  Next, Dirk turned his attention to adjusting the lights. While he did so, Zeke slid his pants down to his ankles and stepped out of them. His awesome cock was already half hard, and at the sight of it I felt my own cock start to swell. Eager to reacquaint myself with that big black ramrod, I stripped out of my jeans, too. Gerardo pulled his clothes off. The three of us stood there around the bed, stark naked.

  Dirk was beaming as he blew smoke rings into the air.

  “Yeah, this is going to look fantastic,” he murmured. He seemed to be speaking more to himself, thinking out loud, than addressing any of us. “Those three contrasting skin tones … all that hard muscle … and all that cock! It’s going to be sheer sexual geometry. Just like a golden triangle, only with gay male bodies forming the composition instead of straight lines.”

  Gerardo, looking puzzled, caught my eye. “What’s he talking about?” he asked me, in a whisper.

  I shrugged. “Who knows? Dirk’s the artistic type, you see. He’s interested in aesthetic considerations.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m the easy type,” the Puerto Rican stud boasted. “I’m interested in sexual considerations.” (This, as it turned out, was no lie.)

  Zeke and I got started. Once again, I admired his tight, muscular body, with its charcoal-hued skin. And if he was exciting to look at, he was even more exciting to touch. Within seconds, we were both hard, and before another minute had elapsed, Zeke was running his hand up and down my prick, sucking my balls, while I went down on him.

  When Gerardo joined us, he started by greasing his cock up, and then he grabbed my ass. Zeke shifted around so that he was up on his knees in front of me, and I was on my knees, too, still sucking him off. Gerardo was behind me, running his hand over my balls; and the next thing I knew, that fat cock of his was pressing against my ass crack.

  Just as I took Zeke’s prick all the way down
my throat, I felt Gerardo shove himself into my ass. And then, while I eagerly sucked Zeke’s cock, Gerardo rammed his prick in and out of my ass, driving it in as deep as he could and then pulling it out until I felt my sphincter close around the thick head of it. And when he was about to come, he pulled almost all the way out, and I heard him groan.

  “Are you going to come, Gerardo?” Dirk asked.

  “Hell, yeah!” was the breathless response.

  “We need to see the come shot,” Dirk reminded him.

  “Coming right up,” Gerardo warned.

  Then he plunged that fuck tool of his all the way into me for a final time, before he pulled out of my well-used hole. I could feel him pumping his load out, all over my back and my buttocks, wetting me down.

  Dirk didn’t say “cut,” and we didn’t stop. Breathing hard, dripping sweat, we went right on going.

  The fact that Gerardo had just fired his wad didn’t seem to slow him down in the least. Still hotly aroused, he took over the directorial duties for a moment, guiding my body into the new position he wanted. He had me lie down on my back, and then he and Zeke took turns going down on me for a minute or two, until I was so hard I was afraid I was about to shoot.

  But then the macho Puerto Rican stud had a surprise in store for me. Gerardo straddled me, greased up my prick, and, squatting over me, he took it slowly up his ass. His back was to me, and when he lay back, his shoulders were against my chest. I reached around and took his cock my hand. I began to jerk him off while he lay on top of me and I fucked him from below.

  Meanwhile, Zeke was kneeling between my legs. With agile darts and swipes of his tongue, he licked both of our genitals. His tongue swabbed Gerardo’s balls, flicking over the fingers with which I was grasping and stroking Gerardo’s cock. Then Zeke pushed his face lower. He licked my balls and the base of my cockshaft, as it jackhammered in and out of Gerardo’s hole. That was the lewdest thing I’d ever had done to me, up to that point.