Chapter 2

My phone pings with an incoming text message just as I pull on my pants. After a quick shower to wash the smell of sex off me, I'm ready to go home and lie in bed, though I'm not as tired as I am after any other day. The scene today was pretty easy—a mutual masturbation scene with my least favorite costar, Trev, that polled high on the Carnal Desires website. I don't know why Jake insists on letting the audience have so much say in what we film. It's cool to be interactive, but I don't like my costars being picked for me. Especially the one I worked with today.

God, I hate working with Trev. He was an arrogant shit that liked to pretend every scene was about him. He might be a hot bottom, but he's an ass otherwise. He has some hair up his ass about me and has had it for about two years. No one knows why, but he can't stand me. After how he treats me, the feeling is mutual. If only he'd do us both a favor and tell me what his problem with me is.

Shaking thoughts of Trev from my head, I look at my phone to see a text from Jake.

Jake: Come to my trailer. I need to test out your fluffer.

Holy shit, he really got me one. When my dick kept deflating while I was fucking Trev, I told Jake I can't work with him anymore. But it seems like the fans love seeing me rail him into the mattress because our videos have been the most watched from all of my costars. By a lot. Close to a million views and downloads between my next highest video without Trev. But his fucking attitude makes it hard for me to keep it up. I flat out refuse to take Viagra—my cock doesn't have a problem with anyone else, just Trev. I'm not going to run the risk of heart issues by popping a pill when I know my dick doesn't get soft with anyone else.

When I told Jake he needed to hire someone to keep my dick hard or I walked, I figured he'd limit my scenes with Trev so he wouldn't have to pay someone to jerk me off or blow me between scenes. But I guess he took my threat seriously. Which is insane because he's willing to shell out more money on hiring someone than not pairing me with Trev. I know Jake is a good guy, but I need him to worry about more than his bottom line.

I'm not sure if I really would have quit though. I like my job. Getting paid to fuck is a dream for most men. Getting paid to fuck the hot men that are employed with Carnal Desires and I never want to leave.

Before I jumped into this career, my hook ups would tell me I fucked like a porn star with a dick to match. It was an ego boost, but nothing more. Until I had one guy that asked if he could film us and post the video. He said homemade videos were getting paid well and he'd split the profits with me. He wasn't kidding. We had a lot of hits and the comments asked where they could find more of my videos.

After that video was discovered by Jake, he called me for a meeting. When it was all said and done, I had a new job with Carnal Desires Studios as one of their headlining performers. It's my fifth year and I'm living the dream.

I wonder how Jake found someone to agree to being my fluffer. It's not like he could put up a help wanted ad.

I'm the only one that needs one, as no one else has issues with Trev. All the other performers do is fill his mouth with their cocks to shut him up and tune him out otherwise. Trev likes to goad me more than he does anyone else, so stuffing his mouth full doesn't work for me. Besides, it's his face that annoys me, along with his mouth.

He's like a child that has a crush, except I know he doesn't have a crush on me. He can't stand my guts since I took his spot as top earner. Oh well, fuck him.

Speaking of the devil, Trev walks into the locker room and eyes me with disdain. "Figured you'd be gone by now. You left fast enough after coming on my face."

Giving him my brightest smile, I reply, "Yeah, well, that's what the people wanted. Not like I would come on you by choice."

"Fuck you, Yuri," he says, nostrils flaring.

"No, I'm the one that fucks you. Your dick isn't coming anywhere near my ass." I'm not a strict top, but I'd never let Trev fuck me. Not because he's unattractive, but because my pucker probably wouldn't relax to let him in, he annoys me so much.

We're about the same height and weight, both over six feet tall and close to one hundred and eighty pounds. He's not half bad looking—blond hair, green eyes, and a pouty mouth perfect for sucking dick—but his attitude is the worst I've ever encountered. I'd never bottom for someone like him, regardless of what the fans wanted. Luckily no one has asked. Probably because I punish his hole well enough they don't need to see him have a go at mine. I'm glad. I would have to draw the line there and tell Jake fuck no, never in a million years.

With a snarl, Trev pushes past me to the showers, mumbling something about

"top earner" under his breath, but not loud enough for me to catch everything he said. Shrugging, I finish getting dressed so I can go to Jake's trailers.

Shouldering my bag, I head out, waving to a few people that aren't working. Bailey, a cute twink that's a joy to fuck, is currently filming a double penetration scene and is in heaven—eyes rolled back, moaning like crazy. Now, that's someone I'd fuck over and over. Bailey is responsive, sexy as fuck, and sweet as pie. He also knows how to keep my dick hard.

I watch the scene for a minute or so—Bailey really is loving two hard, fat cocks in his ass—then hurry to the trailer. Don't want to keep my fluffer waiting.

Knocking on the door, I enter when Jake yells for me to. When I step inside, I see Dario, one of the set designers leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. I smile, holding my hand out to him. We clap palms and I bring him in for a one-armed hug. "What's up man? You're not my guy, are you?"

Dario barks a laugh, shaking his head, his shaggy brown hair moving around his face. "Definitely not. I can't deep throat that anaconda you have," he says, pointing to my crotch. Even though Dario does set design, he watches us often. Hell, most people on set that have nothing to do with the actual scene stop and watch us sometimes.

"You could try," I tell him jokingly, winking. We've had this conversation before. While I flirt with Dario, I know he's not into me like that and that's completely cool. He's a good guy and lets me have my fun. He gives the vibes that he might be into men, but I'm not one of them he's into.

"This is your guy," Jake says, drawing my attention to a man that looks like he's about to vomit standing beside him. The man is very attractive, in that gym bro way. Like he has sense enough to hold a conversation, but not enough to really carry it, if you know what I mean.

He's a little shorter than me, but he's fucking ripped. His tan skin looks natural, like he does a lot of outside work, not that he lies in a tanning bed all day. His body is insane. Muscled, but not overly so. I can see his six pack through his shirt. I'm in good shape, but this guy puts me to shame. Holy fuck, he's hot.

But he doesn't look one hundred percent comfortable with this. "Hey, man," I say, holding my hand out. "I'm Yuri. Stage name is Houston Stallion." I roll my eyes, knowing my stage name is lame as fuck, but it was chosen for me. "What's your name?"

He swallows hard, then says, "Clayton. I go by Clay."

"Well, Clay. You know what you're doing?"

Clay looks over at Jake, then Dario before focusing on me. "I think so?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Look, I don't fuck with straight guys. I don't try to make anyone uncomfortable. You don't have to be my fluffer."

Jake jumps in. "He said he can handle it, Yuri."

Even though Jake spoke, I don't take my eyes off Clay. "Do you want to do this?"

He nods. "Yeah. It's no big deal. I touch my dick enough to know what I'm doing. I'll make it good for you."

Well, fuck, he doesn't sound completely unsure. Fuck it, if he wants to jump into the deep end, I'll let him. He'll have to find his own floaty.

"Turn around for me." He rolls his eyes but does what he says. My eyes drop to his ass, and I nod in appreciation. It's nice, perky and round. A perfect squat booty. "Face me again." He does and I zero in on his mouth. Yeah, I'm sure his plush mouth will get me hard when Trev's face pisses me off. That's if Clay wants to suck me off. From how he's looking, all scared and shit, I'll probably have to make do with staring at that fat ass of his the entire scene.

Shrugging, I say, "Let's see what you got." Stepping closer to him, I unbutton my pants and hook my thumbs in my underwear. I pause, giving him a moment to change his mind. "I'm not small. And I require effort, not just your hand limply on my cock." He nods as if he understands, and I drag my pants down. Even soft, my dick is pretty impressive.

Dropping his gaze, Clay drags in a deep breath. "Um … Okay." He swallows thickly, then pulls his eyes to mine. "What do you want me to do?"

His innocence and inexperience are a turn on, making my dick stir. "I want to see if you can get and keep me hard. I'll need you on set when my dick won't cooperate with my co-star." I scowl, my dick shriveling thinking about Trev. "Make it good for me," I throw his words back at him. I know I'm pushing his buttons, but if he's going to do it, I'd rather he do it here than on set. If he doesn't want to touch my dick with just three people around, he won't touch it with a full crew.

Clay looks at Dario and Jake. "Do you have to watch?"

"I don't," Dario says, pushing off the wall. "I'll be on set, making sure we're good for tomorrow. Come find me when you're done," he tells Clay, then heads out. Jake steps back to lean against his desk but doesn't leave.

When Clay looks back at me, I raise an eyebrow. Sucking in a deep breath, he reaches over and closes his hand around my dick. I fight hard to contain my moan. His hand is rough and calloused, like he lifts all day without gloves, his grip tight and sure. You'd never be able to tell he was having second thoughts just moments ago.

He tugs on my cock slowly, watching his hand as he moves it back and forth. "Feels different, but not bad," he mutters as if he's talking to himself. His grip tightens and I hiss. He looks at me quickly, then back down to where he's touching me. "It would be better with some lube."

As if he materialized from thin air, Jake is beside us, drizzling lube between us. "Thanks," Clay murmurs, not taking his eyes off my dick. "That better?" he asks me, pumping me in sure strokes.

"Much," I groan, not bothering to pretend this doesn't feel fucking phenomenal. God, his hand is like magic. The right amount of pressure and his stroke technique is impeccable—twisting on the upstroke and gripping my cockhead firmly. "Damn, Clay. You got skills."

I try to step back, but he puts his arm around my back, startling me. I didn't expect him to touch me anywhere but my cock. His touch sends a bolt of awareness through me. It zings down my spine and settles in my balls.

"No," Clay murmurs. "Let me finish. I told Jake I could get you off in three minutes or less." Jake chuckles darkly beside us.

With wide eyes, I look up at him to see if he's serious. He sure looks it. Though he was cautious before, now he looks determined. Fuck it, why not?

Chuckling, I check the clock above Jake's desk to note the time. 4:51 pm. "I just came ten minutes ago. I don't think you can."

"Watch," is all he says, then really goes to work.

His grip changes, tightening but not painfully. His hand moves at a leisurely pace, but something about it feels urgent. Groaning, I place my head on his shoulder, leaning into him as I watch his hand work. My angry red cockhead popping in and out of his tan fist is obscene and I have to shut my eyes against the image.

Groans and grunts trail up the back of my throat and fall from my lips, unable to be contained from the onslaught of Clay jerking me off. His hand around my back tightens and I lean in closer to him, fighting hard not to fuck the circle of his fist. He said he wanted to get me off himself—this is his show.

Then Clay does something with his hand—not real sure what since my eyes are closed—and I can't hold back anymore. With a shout, I'm coming all over his hand. My orgasm tackles me, shooting down my spine and out of my dick before I can give him warning. Body shuddering, I come hard, like I didn't just come minutes ago in a scene. My climax rolls through me and I have to lock my knees so they don't buckle from the intensity. Clay's hand around my back holds me up as he continues to stroke me, pulling all the cum from my dick until my balls are empty.

When my body stops shaking and his strokes become painful from sensation overload, I stop his hand and move it from my dick. Opening my eyes, I see that I got cum all on his pants. I also notice how much I'm leaning on him. Embarrassed, I bend my knees, trying to restore circulation in my lower legs before I pass out.

Clearing my throat, I lift my head and push off him, pulling my pants up with shaky hands. "Sorry about your pants." My release is all over his dark gray sweats, a wet spot pooling over his thigh. My cock twitches as I watch it slide down his pants leg and have an overwhelming urge to come on his bare skin. That'll never happen, but a man can dream.

As if dazed, Clay looks down at his pants then back at me. "No problem. We have a washing machine at home. Though I could use a towel or napkin."

We stare at each other, Clay and I, for what seems like forever, but could have only been a few seconds.

Then Jake interrupts us, stuffing a towel in Clay's hand. With a pleased tone, he asks Clay, "When can you start, kid?"

I step back from Clay to adjust myself, glancing at the clock. Well, fuck me.

It's 4:53 pm.