Well, it looks like the results of my poll about which story to expound upon point to the "makin’ gay porn" story as being the one y’all is be most interested in.
As some people were amused by the short convo champagne and I had about it, I have retained that below. Then, in the cut, is the full tale..
Mitcz: so it looks like everyone wants to hear the gay porno story
Mitcz: guess I’m gonna have to pen that one when I get home tonight.
Pagne: ah yes, good times
Pagne: well not really, I saw Nad’s nads that night.
Mitcz: Nad’s Yaussy
Pagne: I didn’t glimpse the full yaussy
Pagne: just his ass and balls as he was dashing across the doroway
Mitcz: I, unfortunately, did.
Pagne: yeah well you guys have been friends for like half your lives. it was inevitable
Mitcz: I s’pose
Mitcz: but i don’t think he’s seen my Marzoni yet
Mitcz: at least, not in the way I saw his.
Pagne: and what "way" would that be? fully erect?
Mitcz: Which is to say, he was wielding it like a sword and giving the camera (or viewer, as it were) the "hey fella, come get this" look
Pagne: oh right, THAT way
Mitcz: it was easily the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen
Mitcz: and I still have nightmares of it.
Mitcz: doesn’t help that I’ve walked in on him roughin’ up the suspect enough times to start a documentary on the matter
Ready? Let’s do this..
It was the summer of 1999 (making me 20 at the time), I was living in Phoenix, in a 2-bedroom apartment in the semi-ghetto of Phoenix. By semi-ghetto I mean, from my window, I could see a trailer home across the street from my apartment that was for sale. With little to no money, they didn’t get any kind of realtor, just took a huge piece of wood and spray painted "Fore Sale" (typo in-tact) on it, and leaned it up against the trailer.
Oddly enough, at the top of the hill that I lived at the base of, were multi-100 thousand dollar homes and a private golf course. Many LSD-induced adventures in the wee crack hours of the morning took place on that golf course.
Anyway, the apartment was $455/month. This is when a 1 bedroom just about anywhere in Phoenix would easily run you in the starting range of $800, so you can imagine a bit more about where I lived.
With rent as cheap as this, and the occassional client taking pity on my sorry ass, I never held down a job for the entire 8+ months I lived in this wretched, stinking, shithole apartment. Instead, I got by on whatever means I could. This included drug dealing, making websites, and.. the highlight of this story – posing for a gay porn site.
I was job-hunting online one afternoon, feeling the residual effects of a bit too many drugs the night before, when I came across an ad that just said "MALE MODELS NEEDED – ALL TYPES – GOOD PAY". I’m not so naive to assume that "male modeling" as advertised on a corner-of-the-web job posting site is going to be non-nude. In fact, I had assumed it was full-on porno. Didn’t bother me, I needed cash.
I called up the number on the site, they said "we’ve got all the females we need for our adult site, so now we just need men – the pay is $250 per shoot, which takes about an hour". Pretty straight-forward, and.. hey, half a month’s rent for an hour of "work"? Shit, I stand around nekkid for free, bring on the cash!
I gave my good buddy Nad a ring-a-ling on the ol’ phone, told him the scoop. He sounded intrigued and said "well, let’s go meet w/them dude, might be kinda cool. I could use a few hundred extra bucks".
I called back the number, and we set up a public meeting space at a coffee shop in downtown Phoenix. My permanent "get everywhere I needed to go" person at the time was none other than champagne so I gave her a call, and we set it all up. She was laughing her ass off already. Apparently, she didn’t buy the "we already have all the females we needed" bit. Whatever. Skeptic.
Nad, Champagne and I showed up, and met with a guy in his late 20’s. A somewhat heavy-set guy, he didn’t come off like a creep or a perv, and was actually pretty much on the level, intelligent, mild-mannered and.. really, I had no reason not to trust him. This isn’t a decision I lived to regret, either, in case you think I’m building it up that way. He told us the location of the place, and we were to be back the next night.
When we arrived, Nad was a pro. I wanna get that outta the way. No matter how well you think you know someone, when you find yourself in an odd situation w/them that neither of you have ever been in – you will be surprised at the outcome and you will almost assuredly see something in them that you’ve never seen before. Such was the case with Nad. Dude showed up with his favorite recent issue of Playboy, featuring "Downtown" Julie Brown of former MTV fame. Nad always had a thing for the dark meat. Nothin’ wrong w/that, but I’m happy to see that his latest girlfriend, who is black, has a fetish for skinny, nerdy white boys. It’s nice to see two people come together like that. But I’m digressing (again).
They had a quick talk with us, giving us the schedule..
10 pics in full clothes
20 pics in various states of undress
10 pics lying in boxer-briefs (which they provided, oddly enough)
and 10-20 nudes.
I still can’t remember who went first. I wanna say Nad went – or that I was supposed to, but I took so long "getting ready" that he went in the time I sat in the bathroom. I really don’t remember, and I don’t know that it matters. I asked Nad just now and… he doesn’t remember who went first either. So, maybe Champ knows. But, I’m pretty sure it was me, now that I think about it – because I remember taking forever.
Champagne and Nad, in a solemn attempt to avoid the horrors going on inside this apartment-turned-porn-studio while I was modeling, decided to hang out on the balcony of the place and smoke.
They handed me my white boxer-briefs, and I remember saying "but.. dude, I don’t wear underwear". They said "well, you do for this shoot" and handed me a size that was at least a few sizes too large. They were more like long shorts, coming down to just above my knees, and bulging out in all the wrong places.
I went into the bathroom, to put on the boxer-briefs, and "prepare myself" for the shoot. Now, this is where the story (finally) gets interesting.
I sat in this bathroom, looking down at my recently-pierced bits and pieces. Thinking "okay penis, don’t fail me now". It failed me, right then. I pulled, I twisted, I sat and thought about every hot piece of ass I’d ever had, and even more about the ones I’d always wanted. I thought I’d only been in there for a minute or so, but a knock hit the bathroom door and I heard "hey Mitcz – you about ready in there?". Fuck. I said "Uhh… well, I’ve got the boxer-briefs on but… can I come back in here before the nudes?" "Yeah man, that’s fine, c’mon out".
I walked out, looking about like this :
And by "about like" I mean "exactly like" because.. yeah, that’s one of the shots. Look out, there’s more a-comin’.
After doing an embarrassing set of photos in various states of undress…
(yes, I am now without shame, but this is the first time I’ve ever posted these online – so be happy, fuckers).
…. I was ready for the big nudie shots. Or, I was…supposed to be ready. "Nad, hit me w/that Playboy". Playboy’s never helped before, and out of all the porno mags I collected, and subsequently sold to other kids on the playground, I always tossed the PB’s. I still think PB sucks. Never enough "hardcore", the chicks are never real-enough looking to entice me, and as an older gentleman… their articles suck!
Anyway, so here I am, sitting on some strangers toilet, pants around my ankles… correction – over-sized boxer-briefs around my ankles, trying to pull my pud to the deadened crowd of Downtown Julie Brown’s airbrushed image. Oooh boy. How hot. Not.
Again, I thought of every fucking woman I’d ever met, I even made up women in my head. I imagined scenarios, body parts, positions, words, conversations, entire fucking lifestyles and portions of lives I’ve never lived were going through my head and NOTHING was working. Nothing. Nada.
A knock at the door "hey man, hurry up, we gotta get your friend’s shots done, too". Fuck, now I’m under timed pressure. Fuckity fuck fuck. I didn’t masturbate until I was 17, I’m not lying here, so it being only 2 years later, I was feeling VERY self-conscious and very unable to perform to my full duties. I wasn’t afraid of nudity, by any means, I was afraid of nudity as a limp individual. That’s a fear I wasn’t ready for. And, of course, it’s ironically that fear that kept me from getting erect.
A small bit of hope came, however, in the final minute of sitting in that fucking all-too-clean bathroom in some weird guy’s apartment. I got hard. Really fuckin’ hard. I almost shot a load, hard. I was so fuckin’ excited, I rushed out and fell flat on my face because I forgot to pull up the boxer-briefs.
Rushing out into the living room (err… photo studio, sorry), I said "get that camera – the cock is hard!" That’s a phrase I never thought I’d utter and, until writing it here just now, I’ve not uttered since.
I ripped those fucking boxer-briefs off with the determination of a fuckin’ tiger and guess what? The goddamn cock was not goddamned hard. They said "fuck it, we’ve gotta get these done" and went about shooting anyway. I did manage to pull on my ring enough to stretch my limp-and-frightened Marzoni Monster out enough to fake some kind of erection. I guess my thinking was "at least someone will see that it COULD be very big, when hard" like I was showing them the stretching of a balloon, as if to sell it to them,
The guy shooting the photos (and his roommate/friend who was there, cheering everyone on) just said "man.. that’s fucking gross" when I pulled on my Prince Albert. Champagne reminded me of a conversation that took place that night..
Guy #1 : Can you… pull on your thing?
Guy #2 : It’s not his "thing" it’s a cock! Call it a cock!
Guy #1 : No, I meant his… the ring, ya know… yeah, pull on the ring. Goooooood.
Wonderful.
So, I finished up, got dressed and joined Champagne on the balcony while Nad went in to face his own demons. He took considerably less time than me, and I had in fact thought he was done when I walked back in to use the bathroom. Oh no, sir, far from done. There was Nad, my best friend of what is now 12 years, standing in the corner of the room, completely butt-fucking-naked, with his bare ass pointing towards me, flogging the dolphin with the speed, voracity and determination you see only in hardcore porn of the late 70’s yelling "okay, I’m gonna pull it a few more times then take a few more shots.. I just don’t wanna cum".
Again, not what I needed. But, as I said, Nad was a fuckin’ pro. Dude waltzed in there and took care of business. He didn’t need no trip to the bathroom and memories of non-existent women and Playboy mags — he had his hand, his pride, and a corner. Nad’s still my hero for that. Fuckin’ amazing porno hero.
When all was said and done, Champagne came back inside and sat on the couch, as did I. Nad, unfortunately, wasn’t quite "finished" getting his clothes on and ran through the apartment still-naked, treating Champagne to a nice little "Nad’s bare ass and floopy nutsack" show, from behind.
The photographer said, from the kitchen where he was downloading the pics onto his laptop "wanna come take a look at your shots?". Naively assuming he knew I was on the couch, I got up and walked to the laptop. Forever now this moment will be burned into my retina, as the overweight photographer stepped out of the way of the laptop, said "See? Pretty good, eh?" and there before me was a full-screen image of Nad holding his rock-hard, bulging member, held firmly in hand like he was ready for a battle, staring into the camera (which would by extension mean – at the viewer, and by further extension mean at this moment in time…. me) with a look that could only be described as THE GAYEST LOOK I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE. And, I’ve watched gay porn before – so… yeah, this was gay. That, my friends, is why Nad and I will be friends until we’re fucking dead and buried and probably STILL try to set cherry bombs off on each others’ gravesites.
It wasn’t until I saw the site "Str8boy.com" (which I’ve, until this point, never revealed the name of to just about anyone – certainly never online) that I said "wait.. this is a GAY porn site". They said "yeah". I said "but.. str8boy? And… ya know… you said you had female models" "ohh.. we tell everyone that". So, that’s how my gay porn modeling was "inadvertant" as I stated earlier.
I never did get those photos. Bastards wanted me to pay for a membership to the site. I’ll never justify paying $5/month to look at what I can see for free at any given second of the day (provided I don’t mind either finding a bathroom/closed door nearby – or a little embarassment). Occassionally, I even see the photographer online – and about every 3 years I IM him from a new city and say "hey – any chance I could get those photos?" and he says "yeah, sure…" and we talk for a few minutes and the pictures never come and he signs off. Oh well. I did try to design the site but he didn’t really wanna pay. Still.. I made the logo:
I had one semi-nude that I was always very proud of, from that shoot. Oddly enough, a gay friend of mine found it while searching for porn one day. I can’t find it now, though, it must be archived on a CD somewhere but I havent the slightest idea where it would be. You couldn’t see anything, I was crawling on my hands and knees towards the camera, giving the "tiger face". It was pretty hot, I think, if I do say so myself. But, it was also about 100×200 pixels, so.. not much to see. But, yeah, that’s all I had.
EDIT : I found the pic! Thanx nellynel!
Okay, so.. that’s the story. What’s next?
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