The Paragon Porn quarantine

by Absman420   

After being offered an exclusive contract to film in the Paragon Porn post-pandemic “bubble,” Domenic uses the 2-week quarantine to work through the online training manual.

“Congratulations, Domenic! You have successfully logged onto the Paragon Porn Employee Reference Site! Please take a moment to fill out your profile page, then we will pair your headset with your bluetooth connection. Please click here.”

I do. It brings up a page for personal information, regular stuff: address, phone number, payroll forms, social security, the whole routine. I’ve filled out enough of this sort of thing through the years—business is business, after all—even in porn companies, you have to pay taxes, it seems.

That I’ve even come this far is comical in itself. When my buddy Austin approached me at the gym, I thought he was kidding. I mean, I knew he was a “porn star”—I guess I shouldn’t use sarcastic quotes there, he’s a legit star, not some guy who’s filmed a couple scenes and uses the title. In that world, Austin was a celebrity—his name alone could sell millions of units of merch—he won awards (there are awards!)—and all the little twinks loved him. (And he loved them—often.)

We worked out at the same gym, we worked out at the same time, we had nearly identical physiques, but we weren’t partners. He preferred entertaining some different fan-obsessed boy daily and I preferred to train alone. 2020 was the year I turned forty and I’d just done my first official contest—I’d placed second in “Masters” physique, so I was flying high on myself. I’d performed well on stage, mask and all, probably from having been an actor/dancer in my 20’s, and my stage-savvy helped me.

And then Austin approached me in the gym and asked me if I’d be into doing some porn?

What ego doesn’t need that stroke?

I mean, I’d been an actor most of my life—I knew how to work an audience—and I’d always been curious about porn. Like… how do you motivate yourself? How do you fuck in front of a crew? Is there any intimacy or is it all business? Is there a script or can you improvise? What do you tell your mom?

“Serious?” I asked Austin.

“Yeah, sure, why not?” he said, adjusting his mask. “You got the bod for it. And I think you got the cock…” He glanced purposefully down at my crotch—I adjusted myself self-consciously—he smirked.

It wasn’t the best cock, but it did okay. Was it a porn-star cock? Doubtful. “No one complains,” I said.

He winked and said, “I sure wouldn’t.”

I chuckled. “Tease,” I said. “You like the twinky boys.”

He smiled professionally (seductively). “I like everybody.”

I smiled—the joke was easy but I didn’t take it.

“Listen,” he said, “I’m exclusive with Paragon—they’re great! Best house I’ve ever worked for. They really care about the talent, they provide opportunity for growth, investment, marketing and stuff to help you build your brand.”

“That sounds… surprisingly great! I’ve heard that porn kind of chews guys up and spits them out.”

He shrugged. “Some studios do,” he said. “It’s a shame. It’s a great way to make a living—you just can’t let yourself get treated like shit.”

I laughed. “You sound like a salesman, not an actor!”

“I’m a testimonial. Four years ago, I was just a physique model trying to bust out of the pack on IG—now I’m a freakin’ celebrity! And I owe it all to Paragon. And they’re looking for muscle tops right now, preferably mature, level-headed guys without sexual hang-ups. I thought of you right away.”

I was genuinely flattered. “You did? Thank you,” I said. “I’ve always been curious about porn, honestly… as an actor, I mean. I know that sounds weird…”

“No, not weird at all—we’re not robots. It’s all about creativity—dude, it’s fun. Give the guy a call and do the initial interview—everything’s on facetime now… you know, cuz of the Covid, so it’s even easier. I mean, in my day, I had to strip naked and blow the guy…. Kidding, kidding!”

He gave me a card—I thanked him and we elbow-bumped. “Let me know how it goes,” he said, indicating the card. “My number’s on there—shoot me a text.”

“I will, thanks!” I pocketed the card and resumed my set—he left with his pretty partner, no doubt to fuck.

Maybe porn wouldn’t be so bad…

“Please select your Virtual Training Coordinator.”

There are five different profile pictures to choose from, each a different type—a lean black guy with mind-blowing abs; a twinky bottom with an impossible bubble butt; a professorial type, all nerdy and neat; a bad boy in his leathers. I pick the one most like me—a middle-aged, well-muscled bearded guy with a slight roid-gut wearing workout tights that do nothing to hide his prodigious manhood. His blurb reads: “COACH ROD—great for Jocks and Sports-Gear Fetishes. From straight guys who’ve never sucked a dick to muscle daddies looking to be young again, COACH ROD is for you.”

I select “COACH ROD” and a download begins—I have to give it permission—finally a pop-up appears with what looks like a FaceTime window with the Coach, a CGI character that seems impressively complex. He’s sitting on the edge of a desk in a locker room/ office—the place just exudes organized chaos. He picks up a whiteboard and writes on it, then holds it to the camera. “PUT ON THE HEADSET.”

“Oh,” I say. I quickly slip the headset on my head and adjust the microphone while I say, “Got it.”

“Great,” he replies, his AI voice smooth and rich—a baritone. “Can you hear me okay? Do I sound clear?”

“Yes, I hear you fine—the volume’s okay.”

“Great. Give me a second—I’m downloading your profile information. We’ll finish filling out your paperwork together and we’ll let my algorithm get to know you a little better, then we’ll work our way through the employee training program. It’ll give us something to do during your two-week quarantine period, right?”

“Sure,” I say—dictating was better than typing any day. “Seems like kind of a big set-up…”

“…for a porn company?” Coach Rod finishes. “Yeah, maybe. I think you’ll find Paragon is the premier studio for a reason—we treat our people well. Our performers aren’t just assets—they’re family. It’s too easy in this business to find low self-esteem, drug abuse, burn out, a real use ’em up and throw ’em out mentality. Paragon doesn’t have that.”

He pauses for just a second, holding up a finger in a “wait a minute” pose. “Okay, I’ve just finished downloading the results of your physical this morning and I’m going to put together a diet/ training program that will better address your needs. You’re in good shape, Dom—especially for your age—but you can be significantly better.”

When I don’t respond, he looks up into the camera and says, “Problem?”

I smile. “I guess I’m just blown away by this technology,” I say.

He smiles and touches his muscular body. “Yeah, I’m pretty real, aren’t I? Listen, I’m just an instruction program—I can be whatever you think you learn best from. Do you want me to change race? Age? Costume? More muscle? Big, shameless cock? Anything that’ll keep you focused. As I get to know you better, I’ll probably refine myself, both in looks and motivational approach, to get the best out of you. We want to launch a successful career for you with Paragon—that’s always the goal.”

“Thanks, Coach,” I say.

He laughs. “See? You’re gonna do just fine. Now, let’s start with some basics. I’m gonna ask you a bunch of random questions to get to know you better. Answer honestly—I’m not going to judge you—I can’t, I’m just an algorithm right?—but your truthfulness will matter, so don’t be embarrassed or ashamed, no matter how weird the answer might seem. Okay?”

“Go ahead—shoot!”

“You’re gay, right? 100% gay/ 0% straight? Or is there some pussy love in you someplace?”

“Well, I fucked my high school girlfriend—does that count for something? Of course, that was decades ago and I haven’t been with a woman since. So, 100%, yeah.”

Coach smiles—it looks so real. “Top or Bottom?”

“Top.”

That smile again, as if he knows something. “Percentage?”

“If I say a hundred, it doesn’t sound like you’ll believe me, but it pretty much is. I’ve bottomed a couple times but it’s never worked out well.”

He hmphs—a computer hmphs! “Is that because it hurt too much or because it didn’t feel natural?”

“Both, I guess. And don’t tell me it’s cuz I haven’t met the right dick, because I assure you, I have! I’m just… not a bottom.”

“Okay,” he says, matter of factly. “Being vers will get you more gigs, but maybe if you have other skills. Do you suck cock?”

“Uh… yeah, sometimes.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Are you good?”

“Uh… I think I’m okay.”

He looks up from his notes into the camera. “Have you ever made a guy cum?”

“From a blowjob? No.”

“From lacking technique or desire?”

“Jesus… these questions.”

He smiles a tight smile. “Don’t evade. Answer it—honestly.”

I shake my head as if I’m searching for something to say. “Um… I don’t know.”

He nods. “Fair enough. Would you like to watch a training video?”

“Excuse me, what? A training video? Are you kidding?”

“Of course. Why not? It’s a skill—and skills can be learned. You learned to ride a bike, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, trying to find some way of arguing it. “I guess. It just seems… I’ve never considered…?”

A link pops up in a text window below him. “Click on the link,” he says. “We’ll make fun of the acting together afterward!”

“Okay, what the hell? I got nothin’ better to do.”

“Good man!”

I click the link.

You’re in a classroom—no, it’s a movie set of a classroom—it appears functional but it’s not real. The teacher sits on the edge of the desk, except he’s clearly not a teacher—he’s too muscular and tan. Even in his short sleeve dress shirt, his neck ink and forearm tats give him away. Gruffly handsome, his hair and beard are the same shaggy buzz. As he leans against the front of the desk, you see his pants are unzipped and open, revealing his sizeable erection.

Aside from you, there are two other boys in the shot. Both are young and handsome, a blond and a brunette in schoolboy uniforms. You are all three on your knees at the feet of the teacher, looking up at him. The brunette is sucking the teacher’s cock while you and the blond look on. You’re in a porn movie, you realize. That makes sense—just follow the script.

“Okay, that’s not bad,” the teacher says. “Work around the base of the glans a little more. Good, good. Like that, yes.”

The brunette, confident, attempts to deep throat the “teacher’s” huge cock, but ends up choking and gagging. He backs off immediately, sitting back on his heels.

“That’s okay,” the teacher says. “Your eyes are bigger than your throat. That’s why we’re here, to learn. Who’s next? Who wants to give it a try?” He waggles his hard dick. “You?”

He looks at you, and you don’t need anything more of an invitation—his cock is magnificent. (Well, all cocks are magnificent in your eyes—cockslut!)—so you shuffle on your knees into a more advantageous position for the camera and you get to work. The script calls for you to be hesitant at first, maybe intimidated—it’s hard for you to play that when this cock is so clearly suckable—but you’re an actor, so you do what the director tells you.

The “teacher” develops a nice dollop of pre-cum at the tip of his dick as you play with his balls—he told you right before filming that he’d heard how amazing your mouth was and how much he was looking forward to this scene—looking into his eyes, you gently lap it off with the tip of your tongue, teasing the slit of his cock for more.

Fuck, that’s good! Sweet and slick, it fires you up for more. You grip the base of his shaft with your left hand and begin to roll your tongue around his mushrooming head. “Yes,” he moans. “Very nice.”

He begins “instructing” you—that’s the point of this video, remember—techniques to stimulate the glans, using the tongue to tickle the very spot where the ends of the glans merge, how to create just enough suction—this is a swirl, this is a tease, this is how to stimulate the nerve endings—you demonstrate as he discusses. The whole thing feels very sophomoric to you, you who’s born to suck cock, you who’s such a natural. Without waiting, you plunge deep, taking this spectacular cock into your throat, past your naturally suppressed gag-reflex. You hold your breath and constrict your throat slightly, letting his head run along the soft tissue of your throat. Your tongue is magic.

He moans—loudly. “Yes,” he says. “Very good—you’re a natural.”

You start bobbing your head in a rhythm that grips him, countering that by pulling on his balls. You can tell he’s close—you’re connected—it’s a gift you have—so you decide instead of teasing him and passing him to the blond boy, you’re going to finish him off yourself, this beautiful man and his tasty cock. Who could blame you? You got into porn to show off your skills, after all—show them!

You deep-throat him again and you can actually feel his balls churn. Your mouth races his cum to the tip of his cock—you pull your head away just in time to have him shoot two long white ropes across your face, then you take his cock back in your mouth and swallow the rest—your reward. Your drug of choice.

You continue sucking him, draining him until there’s no more to get—what a hunger you have! Little slut.

“What a mouth you have!” the teacher praised. “That’s the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten from a Freshman!”

You smile, still gripping the base of his dick, and lovingly kiss the head, never breaking eye contact.

“I wanna see what he does that’s so great,” the brunette says, standing and revealing his own erection. “Suck my dick!”

“No!” complains the blond. “I want him to show me—I haven’t gotten to do anything yet.”

“Don’t worry, boys,” you say, taking one of their cocks in each hand. “I can do this all day!” You suck the knob on one, then switch to the other. They both taste good.

“See, boys?” said the teacher, “that’s the kind of cockslut you should aspire to be! You just gotta love it…”

And you do—big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks—you love cocks! Not just having them in your mouth, but pleasing them, pleasuring them, getting them to cum in your mouth…

This is an instructional video—here’s how you get two guys off at the same time. Getting a guy to cum is powerful enough—getting two guys at once shows you’re a master of technique and desire. When the blond and the brunette are simultaneously shooting their loads across your face, you know what a cockslut you are—how much you truly love it.

The teacher brings your cum-covered face in for a deep, loving kiss.

You’re Teacher’s Pet.

Fade Out—End Scene

I wake in the morning to the sun streaming in the window, pleasant and warm, even the cinderblock dorm rooms don’t seem so stark in this light. I’m excited to work out—my quarantine gym time is from 8-10am, giving me a half hour to have some coffee and smoke a bowl before I have to head down. I do hate working out alone, but it’s way better than not working out at all. (If I had to go through a two-week quarantine with no gym, I think I’d go out of my mind!)

As I sip and puff, I scan through my emails. There’s one from Coach Rod—I’m tickled that my virtual trainer is reaching out to me virtually! (Stoner…) “Hey, Dom,” the email reads, “Check outside your door—your meal-prep should’ve been delivered by now. I want to bump your training a notch and clean you up a bit before your big film debut! The meals are all labeled—you’ll have six today—you’ll see the consumption times on there, too! All good stuff—I made it myself (haha).

“Reply to this email to let me know it’s received and understood and I’ll see you at your Noon Training Session with me. In the meantime, enjoy the gym! Coach Rod.”

This is so weird—I respond so.

Outside the door is a cooler with a stack of prepped meal containers. I bring it in the room and transfer the meals to my mini-fridge (but for the one I’m scheduled to eat) and then put the cooler back in the hallway.

I continue to be surprised at the budget of Paragon—this seems a long way to go just to film some pornography. Don’t people make that stuff on their iPhones? Whatever—I’ll enjoy the pampering when it’s offered.

I could really use a cock.

This quarantine has gotten me horny—it’s been too long since I’ve had a cock in my mouth. (Hard to believe about a little cockslut like me! I can’t fucking wait to finally film and get some fucking relief!) I’d suck on a dildo, I want one in my mouth so bad, but I don’t own one. Fuck! Great time to be a top with an oral fixation.

I eat my boring meal of egg-whites and oatmeal and then dress quickly for the gym, baggy shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. It’s a nice gym and I have an intense workout—I think of all the people in quarantine without access to a gym—I’m pumped and gently flexing in the mirrors when I notice someone in the pool on the other side of the glass wall. It’s the first time I’ve seen a live person in three days…

…and already I’m aching to suck his dick.

He’s doing laps in the pool, lean and athletic, smooth and practiced. His back and arms are muscular and well-defined, strong but not big. I’m watching him swim back and forth and I’m gently touching myself. Shameful—but I’m isolation-level horny, so it’s understandable.

I watch him for a good five minutes before he finally finishes and pulls himself out of the water, his back to me. A scruffy-bearded redhead, wearing a neon green speedo, his ass is beyond spectacular. As he walks down the deck, he has to reach in his suit and adjust himself—he’s not hurting in the front, either. What a beautiful, lithe body, not an ounce of fat on him!

Is he a fellow actor?

Dear God, let him be a fellow actor!!!

As he disappears into the locker room, I bring myself back to reality. Damn, I’m horny—I’m fucking hard watching a guy swim, wishing once again that I’d been on the swim team in high school. Anyway, enough regrets, time for my Training Session.

“How’d your workout go?”

“Great! I must say, I was feeling kind of bad about having this incredible gym available while the rest of the country’s on lockdown.”

The coach coaxes. “But…”

“But then I get these great pumps and I get over it.”

“You like showing off.”

I laugh. “I’m not sure I’d make it a statement like that—I mean, I like getting looked at. It took me a long time to get up the nerve to compete, though.”

“But you’ve been an actor for years—you’re comfortable on stage.”

“Oh, I think that’s what helped my win, don’t get me wrong. But when you’re an actor, you’re playing a role. When you’re onstage in a tiny little poser in a bodybuilding, you’re you, as emotionally naked as you are physically—it’s way different.”

“Would you do it again?”

“I don’t know. I mean, the dieting is hell and the shaving is endless… I mean, maybe. I don’t know.”

Coach Rod smiles. “What if you had a really big dick that barely fit in your posers?”

I laugh. “Everything’s a porn movie to you AI-generated training programs, isn’t it?”

“And you evade answers by making jokes.”

I think for a second—how to phrase this? “What man wouldn’t?” I ask. “What man wouldn’t want a really big dick that barely fits in his posers?”

“How big?”

I laugh. “Porn-star big!”

“That’s limited,” Coach Rod says. “Free associate. How big?”

“I don’t know—hyper-masculine, Tom-of-Finland big, ridiculous and seductive, impossible yet challenging, tempting but worrisome—every teenage boy’s transformation-fantasy big! That’s what I mean. Or do you need numbers?”

“No, no. You’ve given me plenty to work with. Let’s communicate with the medical staff and see what’s possible…”

“Excuse me, what?” I sit up in my desk chair, nearly choking on my protein shake. “‘What’s possible?’ Did I hear you correctly? They can… do that?”

Coach Rod laughs. “You’re asking that of an AI program.”

“Which means?”

“Which means they can do lots of stuff that used to not be possible.”

“A porn company?”

“A worldwide adult entertainment juggernaut with a reputation for incredible men with incredible abilities with which you’re entering an exclusive contract. They—via me—will drive you to be the best product you can be. Stick with it and I promise you’ll be very well taken care of. All you need to do is look good and fuck guys—there are worse jobs.”

“True…”

“Do you have any idea how many men would kill for this opportunity? Do you know how lucky you are, to be entering off the street with no experience into this field at this level?”

“I wonder if that’s what my high school guidance counselor would say?”

He holds up a finger in a “wait a minute” gesture.

“Your high school guidance counselor was Jonathan Witek—he retired in 2018. By tracing his credit information, I see he has purchased Paragon’s online content for the last six years. He responds to movies about young twinks who turn the tables on and top their authority figures.”

“Oh my God…”

“With this in mind, we can surmise that he’d approve of your career choice. Perhaps he’ll even be a fan?”

“This just gets weirder and weirder.”

“Or better and better. Now, you’re scheduled to check in with the medic at 1pm—you remember where that is, right?” (A facility map appears on the screen with an animated trail that leads from your dorm room to the medical center in the basement.)

“I got it.”

Coach reappears on screen and blows me a kiss. “Go get ‘em!” he says, smiling. “We’ll talk about doing a video when you get back.”

“Okay—peace.”

The box goes blank—Coach has “signed off”.

The medic is dressed in a blue Hazmat suit, which seems a little overboard for me—his face is shielded and he’s masked beneath. I can only see his eyes, so I wouldn’t be able to identify him if I saw him naked. (I wonder what kind of dick he has?) He’s pleasant enough, but nowhere near the conversationalist my AI-generated Coach is. I try to engage him in conversation as he swabs my nose.

“I think you scraped my brain,” I joke as he removes the swab.

I can’t tell if he’s amused or not through his mask. “A lot of guys say that,” he responds. “I have to do it that hard.”

I smile. “That’s what guys always say.”

Nothing.

I’m sitting in a chair that reminds me more of the dentist than a medic, but it’s comfortable. The medic sets up an IV for me, puts the needle in my forearm and tapes it in place. As he’s satisfied with the drip, he returns to my chart and reads it over. “Oh,” he says as he spots something he hadn’t seen before. “Says here you’re scheduled for some gential enhancements. Wanna get that started now?”

I’m not sure how to take that information—I’d barely mentioned it to Coach Rod a half an hour ago and here I am. “Sure,” I say, shrugging, not really believing him. “Why not? What have I got going on?”

He goes to a cabinet and removes a device that’s connected to a bunch of tubes. It reminds me of a cock-pump, except it’s significantly larger, like it would hold everything.

“You’re not wearing underwear, are you?”

“Beneath my paper gown? What kind of porn star would I be?”

I’m right, the whole of my genitals go inside the tube—it really has a shape more like a swollen package, not just a cock—lifting my paper examination gown, he begins sliding the pump on me without asking permission. It creates a seal around the base of my groin like a cock ring—he then connects the hoses and power cords to a small USB port next to the examination chair.

He pulls a pre-loaded syringe from a drawer and injects the contents into my IV.

“This is gonna take about an hour or so to run the complete program,” he says in a way that sounds almost bored, like he’s done it a thousand times. “Would you like to watch a video?”

“Oh, sure!” I say as he pulls out a VR-headset front he cabinet. “What you got?”

He helps me put the headset on and insert the ear plugs. “You’ll like this,” he says as he presses a key on his pad. Just as the video starts, I can feel the suction begin on my groin.

Oh damn, I think. This is gonna be good.

You’re onstage at a bodybuilding contest—no, it’s the set of a movie—there’s no audience (they use cutaway shots and SFX for audience reactions), only a camera crew. You’re pumped and primed and crammed into your posers, the tiny pouch barely holds all of you, stretched as it is—the root of your cock is plainly visible.

You’re in the final posedown with the other men of your weight-class. The guy on your right is trouble, a big Russian with a back as wide as the Asian continent—he’s blocky, though—thick. He doesn’t have your natural aesthetic, your height.

Or your huge package.

You can’t help your genetics. When you were in high school, going through puberty, having a dick the size of yours made you feel self-conscious—none of the other boys had dicks as big as yours. It made you feel a little freakish—especially on the swim team!

Perhaps because your balls were so oversized—goose eggs at 14—you put on muscle easily. You started working with a coach and trainer because the owner of the gym saw your potential and you did your first contest at 19—you took the Open and the Teen Class!

That posing would cause you to get hard was the challenge. Flexing would always get you hard. Your posing coach laughed it off at first—“You get off on showing off!” he’d say, patting your shoulder as the two of you looked in the mirror and tried to ignore your rod. “You just can’t hide it as easy as some guys!”

Even now, all these years later, flexing for others has the same effect on you—it’s one of the reasons you stopped competing so much. Difficult enough to get past the “does he stuff his posers” memes online—which secretly turn you on—but as you got into the muscle worship scene (and started making some serious bank from it), you realized your flexing fetish got you bookings by the score! And sponsors (mostly underwear companies)! And now… movies!

You and the big Russian with the acne-scarred back start the posedown. The third guy in the lineup—the guy on your left—he’s not even show-worthy, bulky, but with a thick, round ass that can’t be contained in his posers. So you start flexing for the “audience”, for each other, for yourself, and you feel your cock start to come to life, as it always does.

Double-bis, to get attention, then you start flexing your legs. You shake your relaxed quad muscle then slap it and flex it hard at the same time, but this is just an excuse for the camera to get your growing cock in the shot and you know it. The big Russian plays along, jamming his leg up against yours and doing the same bit.

You can see him checking you out—his little dick gives him away. He runs his hands down the front of your flexed quad and he makes an “impressed” face. You flex your bicep and let him feel that, too.

Meanwhile, your cock grows harder, already testing the limits of its spandex container.

The other guy tries to jump in front and do some squat poses, low to the ground, aching for some camera time, some audience recognition. Both you and the Russian ignore him and turn around to do lat spreads. Going from that pose to back double-bi is what causes your cock to pop out of your trunks, the one thing you’ve always worried would happen in actual competition.

It’s strangely liberating, letting it go, not able to stop it. You can still feel your balls contained by the strap, but your cock is free, bouncing up as you hold your pose—when you turn around, the audience screams,—or maybe you just hear that in your head (it’s a movie, isn’t it?).

It doesn’t matter—you continue your show, fluidly moving from pose to pose as your cock rises to full mast, its head just above your belly-button.

The big Russian is hard as well, though his dick is contained in his strained posers. He faces you and, with a smirk on his face, begins punching your pecs. The other guy is on his knees, running his tongue up the grooves in your thigh, nuzzling your bull ball-sac. From your position, you can see his lower back tattoo—above that magnificent ass—of two powerful wings.

The Russian is behind you, reaching around, running his hand down your cobbled abs, purposefully—teasingly—avoiding your huge cock. He pinches your nipples as you continue to flex.

And that’s what makes you cum!

You don’t even touch your cock—your arms are up in a double-bis—but you shoot a massive load anyway. So hard and far it hits the camera lens—stripes of it coat the face of the guy on his knees and you can tell he’s loving it (and aching to get some of it in his hot hole).

The big Russian is standing there pounding his cock. You flex a “Most Muscular” in his face and he shoots his load, which the other guy is more than eager to lap up.

You and the Russian make out, feeling each other’s bodies as the other guy kneels there and shoots his load for the camera—he doesn’t matter.

Your cock is the star.

Another fantastic workout—I’m gonna have to be careful or I’m gonna become a regular morning gym guy, even when my contract is up here. What am I now? Eight days into a fourteen day quarantine? Certainly no one could look at me and think me in any way unhealthy.

My body is amazing! The training regime, the dietary control, and whatever they’re giving me supplementally in those IV’s is taking my physique to a whole different level. I look so good right now that I hate that no one is seeing me. I haven’t announced what I’m doing on IG yet, but I have put up some thirsty shots after my last few workouts. I’m getting a fuck-ton of hits, not to mention all the people trying to slide into my DM’s. I admit to feeling the slightest bit guilty about my gym access with everyone else on lockdown, so I don’t post videos of workouts like I’d like. For the sake of ease, I pretend I’m working out at home like everyone else.

For my chest training today, I’m wearing a red stringer that scoops so low as to show off the entirety of my deep cleavage and a pair of spandex short-shorts, which barely—barely—cover my oversized package. It looks as though any second my gigantic cock is going to pop out, or flop out, or just wear the material down and tear out.

I love being a tease with it—I know what cockhounds guys are. (At least, I know what a cockhound I am—and if I saw someone with a cock as hot as mine, I’d be all over him, too. I can’t blame them.) I’ve been dealing with it since being on the high school swim team, learning how to keep it in my Speedos.

My gigantic cock—my gorgeous, gigantic cock. And my swollen bull balls.

That’s what got me here to Paragon, right? Austin saw me in my contest and thought, the way my package crammed my posers, I should be in porn!

How right he is!

Squeezing out the last few reps of cable crossovers, in the reflection of the mirror I can see the glass wall that separates the gym from the pool. I know he’s over there—I’ve seen him doing laps in the corner of my eye—that beautiful red-haired boy. So I waddle over to the glass wall and watch him swim. I can see myself in the reflection of the glass, so I practice posing—my chest looks amazing!

It doesn’t take more than a few poses for my dick to start to come to life. Whatever—I fuckin’ love posing!

As my erection starts to get obvious, the red-haired boy gets out of the pool. This time exiting on the side facing the glass wall, so I can see his front, which is just as spectacular as his back. He’s probably 5’10” 190 or so, rips so sharp his abs could cut someone. He wears a pair of black jammers so low on his tight hips that they expose his entire deeply grooved iliac furrow—called the Adonis Belt—and rest just above his cock, across his groomed pubis. Other than that and his scruffy beard, he’s completely hairless.

Pulling himself up out of the pool, he doesn’t see me until he’s standing, shaking the water from his head. We make eye contact and he smiles an easy, genuine smile. Gorgeous.

I smile back, knowing he’s seeing the erection he’s given me—with my cock (in spandex) it’s a little more than obvious. I salute and wave—he waves back.

We can’t hear each other, so after a few awkward moments of staring, he points to his eyes, then points to me, then waves, heading off toward the locker room—allowing me to see that ass again.

Fuck that guy’s hot.

Please, please, please, gods of pornography, let him be my scene-partner.

Fucking six more days!!!

Over the last few days, I’ve noticed that Coach Rod has gained some size, especially through his chest and traps (and some big, obvious nipples)—he’s also dressed more provocatively lately, as if he’s purposefully exploiting my spandex fetish. He’s an AI program, I think. He’s clearly adapting to me—right?

“Coach,” I ask, “who picks what you’re wearing?”

He smiles. “You can if you want. Click on this link…” (one appears in the text box) “…and you can pick specific items, or you can just tell me a genre or style and I can work from there. You respond best when I’m wearing spandex.”

I laugh. “I know. Feel free to wear as many singlets or posers as you want.”

“You got it!”

“Tell me something,” I say as I act casual about getting my meal ready, “there’s a hot redhead who’s been swimming laps while I’m training. Do you know who that is?”

Coach smiles—if I didn’t know better, I’d say a knowing smile—and he says, “Hold on—let me check the schedule… oh, yeah! Eddie—Eddie Ginger.”

“Eddie Ginger…?”

“His stage name. Which reminds me, we need to finalize your stage name…”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell me about Eddie Ginger instead.”

Coach can’t stop smiling. “Do you like him?”

“Of course I like him,” I say. “He’s fucking hot as fuck and I’m horny as a motherfucker! I’m so over this quarantine right now—you have no idea! I swear to God I’m gonna stick my cock in the first hole I come across and pound on it like I’ve never fucked before!”

“Then you’ll be happy to know Eddie’s your first scene partner.”

I’m shocked. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “That beautiful boy? That beautiful, twenty-something boy is my first scene partner? Oh, fuck, look at this… my cock is already getting hard. I’m never gonna make five more days…”

“Eddie’s a really nice guy—and one of our top-sellers! He moves more units than the next three featured bottoms put together—you’re very lucky, Dom. Working with him, you’re bound to get exposure.”

“How did I win this golden ticket?” I ask. “I’ve always heard the porn industry chews ’em up and spits ’em out. As an actor, that’s what’s kept me away from porn all these years! If I thought this were possible…”

“Working your way up from the bottom is very hard,” Coach says. “That’s where there’s likely to be use and abuse—guys who are desperate or addicted or lost—very few make it out of that. Some are lucky—they know the right people or they manage their online presence well enough—but most blossom and die without rising to the level of Porn Star. In some ways, it’s just like Hollywood, right? And you? You got a feature film on a referral—and that’s gonna piss so many people off. This guy appears out of nowhere and becomes a huge star—it’s the American Porn Dream come true! It’s just perfect! If only we could finagle you into having been straight before we hired you… that’d be the Porn Hat Trick!” He laughs at his own joke—how odd that AI can entertain itself.

I shrug. “Sorry,” I say. “Can’t help it—I like cock too much.”

“Especially your own!”

I laugh with my usual confidence. “Of course—you know what I’m packing! And you know I love showing it off! You should’ve seen me in the locker rooms in high school—stupid straight boys standing there with their jaws agape as I wagged my cock out of my Speedo. Do you have any idea how many teenage circle-jerk cock-worshipping scenes I started? Paragon should’ve filmed those!”

“Speaking of which, shall we work on a masturbation video today? The one you did yesterday—the one where you were standing there spinning your cock around like a tassel?—the producers loved that!”

“They did?” I ask excitedly. “They saw it? I thought we were just playing around?”

Coach Rod was matter-of-fact. “It was good,” he said. “Part of my programming is to alert the producers to content that stands out. Especially from the newbies. They’ve invested a lot in you—there’s no harm in showing them their money’s not wasted.”

I shrug. “I suppose not. I just… I wasn’t being serious.”

“That’s what they liked about it—it had personality. It was obvious how much you enjoy your cock—that came across very clearly. So let’s make another. I think we should do a seated one this time, so we can really focus on it. What do you think?”

“I’m totally in,” I say, flopping down in the chair in front of the camera. “When do we start?”

As the video opens, you’re sitting back in a chair—the camera is at a high angle, looking down, probably not a laptop—you barely fit in frame, the focus is so tight, your muscles are so pumped. You wear a black baseball cap and a tan-colored thong that could easily be mistaken for nothing if seen out of the side of someone’s eye at the beach. You prefer thongs to jocks—hung as you are, you prefer the freedom of a thong rather than the tight compression of a jockstrap. You’ll wear whatever the client wants, of course, but you prefer the aesthetic of a thong if given a choice.

As you sit back in the chair, you give the audience a chance to appreciate your body, your size, your cuts, your ridiculous abs and obliques. The angle in which you sit, leaning back like this keeps your abs flexed without any effort at all—you reach your arms above your head and stretch—so seductive. You know the audience’s eyes are sliding down your torso and focusing on your insane dick—you’ve done that move before.

You flex your pecs, bouncing them slowly back and forth while staring at the camera—your expression says “come get ‘em”—but when you play with your bare, pink nipples, pinching them just slightly, your cock comes to life.

That’s what everyone’s here to see, anyway—heck, you’re just the co-star and you know it—so you allow your cock to grow, quickly filling the confines of the lycra pouch. Keeping one hand on your nipple, you allow the other to trace down the heavy grooves of your abs—the look on your face, amazed at your own development—until your fingers land on the top edge of your smooth pubis, slipping along the band of your thong, which itself barely covers the root of your cock.

A cock that keeps hardening, seeking escape.

Palm down, you slip your fingers under the band of your thong, two on one side of your cock, two on the other, and you waggle the pouch back and forth, slipping the front down the lengthening shaft. Your cock seems to inflate as it’s exposed, like yeast in dough, until the only thing keeping it from springing out to its full glory is the head, still trapped in the pouch of the thong.

You put your arms back behind your head, again flexing your impossible abs and weaving your hips back and forth, which makes your trapped cock’s struggle obvious as it aches for freedom. The look on your face seems to expect the viewer to jump through the screen and do just that—set that beautiful cock loose!

Finally, the material loses the battle and your cock pops out, arcs up and over, and slaps loudly on your tight abs, just above your navel, thick and full and near fully erect—your balls are still in the pouch, so you pull the band down with one hand, pull your goose-eggs out with the other, and let the band slip behind them, the elastic helping to elevate and keep them in frame (for their fans)!

You play with your nips again, which causes your cock to thrash about, seeking attention—it’s nearly twelve inches long, coke-can thick, gorgeous and intimidating at the same time. A pearl white dollop of pre-cum forms at the tip—you push your cock to the camera, offering it to the audience, then you bend down and actually lick it off yourself.

You can put your own cock in your mouth!

You start jacking it then, showing us how one hand can barely reach around the root of the thing. It takes both: one to stroke the upper cock, to encompass the head, and the other to work the thick root. It’s a technique you’ve mastered through the years and it’s somewhat hypnotic to watch, the same way a snake charmer tames a cobra.

You’ve been jerking this bad boy off for an audience since the locker room on the high school swim team, getting off on the cheering when you’d cum, much less the endless college frat parties where you discovered real big-dick energy where you learned a cock like you had could get you what you wanted. All you had to do was know how to use it.

And you learned how to use it.

Happily, it’s never made you cynical, or contemptuous—you love cock too much. And even if everyone isn’t as lucky as you, a cock is a thing of beauty—and they all deserve a little love—big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks.

And now your cock, the grandest of them all, which is about to shoot.

If their volume is up, they can hear the change in your breathing, as your body tries to get enough oxygen to power this explosion. Just as you’re about to shoot, you pull your hands away, revealing the magnificence of your fully erect unit, and the audience can see your balls churn just before two huge ropes of cum blow out of your cock, leaving streaks across your face. You get your mouth open for the third one, catching a great lot of it on your tongue—you roll your eyes as if you’ve tasted mead.

With your right hand, you slowly stroke the base again, allowing the burbling lava that is your cum to continue to spew from the head, coating itself in its own volume, running down the grooves of your abs to gather via the cum gutters of your adonis belt.

Once again, you look in the camera, as if the audience is challenging you, and you lean over and flat tongue the tip of your cock, licking an ice cream cone’s amount of cum and swallowing in bliss. You wipe the rest off with the two fingers of your right hand, kiss those fingers, then use them to flash a peace-sign to the audience. The video fades out.

Finally, I wake on the day my quarantine ends!

The heavy focus on training and diet have me in incredible condition—especially for a guy who’s forty—I look amazing, better than when I’d competed! I’m not as tan as I’d like to be, but my cuts are totally visible and obvious, so I’m not stressed.

On the bed, I’ve spread out a bunch of posers and jocks and a couple singlets—I don’t know what the director’s going to want for the shoot today, so I figure I’ll bring options.

Maybe Coach’ll have an opinion—an AI opinion….

I open my laptop and Coach’s window pops up. He’s a monster now, a freak—his muscles are so swollen, his body would be barely functional if it existed in real life. Still, he’s managed to squeeze that bulk into the barest of singlets—an old-school 80’s low-cut, revealing nearly everything. He’s also a redhead, but I choose to ignore that. “Good morning, Dom!” he says with a smile, adjusting his substantial package. “You must be excited to shoot today!”

“I am!” I say, mirroring him. “I’m trying to decide what I’ll bring to wear.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” he says. “I’m pretty sure for most of it, you’ll be naked.”

I smile indulgently. “I gotta start somewhere.”

“This is casual—jeans and a loose t-shirt. This is a ‘buddy-shoot’—they’re just testing for chemistry, experience, awareness. It’s not a ‘scene’—that usually has a script, or an intent. This is just two guys getting to know each other. It’s easy!”

“Easy for you to say,” I say. “I’m horny as fuck. I’m liable to blow the minute we shake hands!”

“I doubt it,” he says confidently. “You’ll remember your training.”

“So what if I suck or something—what if I can’t cum or I’m terrible? Will they ship me out? After all this?”

He laughs indulgently. “That won’t happen. Believe me, you’re ready. I’ve had two weeks with you—normally, I get one long Saturday to do it all. The quarantine has been great for us in that regard. You’re here in our bubble for the next six weeks to shoot a shit-ton of content. After that, we’ll reevaluate your contract and go from there—to be transparent, most of our models choose to stay here in the bubble and continue to shoot. I mean, why not? Unlike the rest of California, you get access to a gym during lockdown.”

I chuckle. “That would piss a lot of people off.”

He pinches his nipple. “All the more reason.”

Ultimately, we settle on my blue posers (just cuz I don’t like the look of my cock down the leg of my pants—too obvious) under jeans. I prefer a big bulge. On top, I wear a loose, scoop-neck t-shirt, which does display my cleavage, but whatever.

My scruff is trimmed and my pump is obvious as I proceed to the studio in the basement.

We’re filming in studio 2B, one of the smaller, more “intimate” studios—I can see a gym set and a dungeon set as I walk along—I’m so excited!

As I enter, there are three people already present—it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen live people, even longer since I’ve seen people without masks within six feet of each other—the cameraman is obvious as he tinkers with equipment, setting lights, and running cables. He looks to be about my age, though in nowhere near as good condition, wearing a backwards baseball cap. The other two are talking quietly together. One is the gorgeous redhead from the pool, now wearing jeans and a tank top, and the other is who I assume is the Director. He’s a handsome man in his mid-thirties, slightly stout but not chubby in his tight black jeans and his loose flowered top. When I enter, they both turn and see me—smiles break out on their faces.

“Big Daddy!” the guy I assume is the director says. “You found us!”

I smile—I was loving my stage name: Big Daddy Domenic—or Big Daddy Dom.

(C’mon—that’s damn funny. And isn’t porn built on puns?)

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I followed the breadcrumbs.”

The redhead smirks and adds, “No surprise—they were coated with pheromones.”

We all laugh together—I’m instantly at ease, even if I’m crushing harder than ever.

“I’m Michael McFly,” the Director says, extending his hand to shake. (“Why wouldn’t the director have a stupid stage name in porn like everyone else?” I think, shaking it.)

“I’m so excited to be talking to human beings!” I say, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “For the last few weeks, I’ve just been spying on people through glass walls.”

The redhead laughs, knowing I mean the joke for him.

“And this is Eddie Ginger,” the Director says, indicating what I already knew.

I hold out my hand to Eddie and instead of shaking it, he hugs me, a warm and genuine gesture. He’s firm but gentle and he smells of clean soap and freshness—my cock plumps immediately—I know he can feel it. “Nice to finally meet,” he says quietly in my ear. “I’m excited to film with you.”

“So am I,” I whisper back, inadvertently pressing my package against him. “Obviously.”

He laughs and slaps my ass as he steps back. “We’re gonna have fun, Dom,” he says, smiling. “It won’t even feel like your first time.”

The Director McFly jumps in. “You’re not nervous?” he asks me, gripping my arm around the tricep. “There’s no need for that—Eddie’s a pro!”

“No, no,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’m excited, not nervous. Excited.”

McFly glanced at my package. “So we see,” he says, flicking his eyebrows.

I may’ve reddened, a little embarrassed, but Eddie seems to find that adorable!

Aside from the camera equipment, there’s only a sectional sofa with a daybed, flat and clean and decorated with a few throws. The walls are industrial gray and bare—nothing to pull the eye—but the lights are warm, pink and soft. The Director has us sit on the sectional while he and the cameraman adjust lights and sound. Eddie makes small talk with me about my quarantine and how he finds it funny that we spied each other through the wall—he says he went back to his room and jerked off.

I’m starting to get hard again when the Director says, “All right, looks like we’re ready to get rolling. You guys ready?”

“Yeah!” Eddie says excitedly.

“Sure am!” I say, ready for anything.

“All right, gentlemen, let’s have some fun—and… action!”

And the moment he says “Action” I feel dizzy… something deep…

You’re on the set of a porn movie—there’s only a sectional sofa in frame. You share this sofa with an incredibly hot redhead, sleek and muscular, with cream-colored skin and the small remains of the tan freckles of his youth. He wears comfortable jeans and a red tank top with a unicorn printed on it—you’re in jeans and a loose low-cut t-shirt, humble-bragging on your ample cleavage.

DIRECTOR’S VOICE (off-camera): Hey, everybody! Welcome to another Paragon Porn First Timer Video. We have the always incredible Eddie Ginger with us today as our experienced model.

Eddie waves to the camera. “Hi!” he says, smiling. “Been a hot minute since we’ve filmed.”

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And he’s joined today by our newbie, Big Daddy Dom, right?

You laugh. “Yeah,” you say. “Domenic Luger. Just Dom is fine.”

“Oh, but I like Big Daddy,” says Eddie, punching you in the arm. You smile at him.

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And Dom, this is your first time doing something like this?

You look around nervously, glancing into the camera. “Yeah,” you say, with a bit of an enigmatic smile. “But I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me, too!” Eddie chimes in, patting your knee.

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: So you’ve never sucked a dick before?

You act embarrassed. “No,” you lie. “I mean, guys have sucked mine—guys have begged to suck mine—but I’ve never…”

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: But you’re gonna try today?

You look at Eddie enthusiastically—very enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah,” you say, trying not to smile. “Looking forward to it.”

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Well, maybe you guys should do your first kiss.

The two of you glance at each other like you approve the idea—small, teasing smiles—he slides across the sofa to be closer to you. You wrap your upstage hand around his neck and gently pull him in—he allows this, already submitting to you.

His lips are soft, gentle but confident—his kiss is more tender than you expect, a little playful, too—surprisingly intimate. You kiss lightly a few more times, then you finally go in for something a little more serious. Already you feel a connection. As you pull apart, you both mumble “Wow!” and then laugh—he falls into your arms and you begin kissing a little more seriously.

“Take this off,” you say, pulling his tank slightly. He strips it off, exposing his defined torso and his puffy pink nipples—his abs are so cut and sweet, small little veins evident across his thin skin. “Damn,” you say, running your hand up along his strong core until it ends up cupping his pec and squeezing his nipple—he gasps. “Look at you and your hot body…”

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Yeah, but Dom, show him your abs!

“But I just got off a show,” you say, raising your arms so Eddie could remove your shirt. “So it’s not completely fair…”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says as he reveals your abs. “Holy shit—you praise me? Dude, look at these abs—eight pack?”

You smirk. “Very early in the morning, before I’ve eaten, yes.” He removes the shirt and you flex for him (which always turns you on.) You bounce your pecs, which makes him flat-palm your chest—he’s smiling a gleeful grin, clearly enjoying himself touching you.

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You said you just came off a show? A bodybuilding contest?

“Yeah,” you say, continuing to flex for Eddie. He’s feeling the peak of your bicep right now. “I compete in what’s called ‘Classic Bodybuilding’—we don’t go as big as the freaks.”

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You look very big.

“Everything’s very big,” you tease, winking obviously. You indicate your jeans to Eddie. “Help me get these things off.”

You both stand, you and Eddie kissing as he unbuttons the waist and fly of your jeans. You keep your hands behind your head and your abs flexed as he opens the waist, revealing the blue poser you’re wearing beneath. “Sexy,” he says, gently pulling the waistband of the posers, then getting back to work on the jeans.

He has a hard time getting them down over your thighs—and you don’t help him by keeping them flexed so he has to struggle. You love to tease. “Damn,” he says, smiling. “You weren’t kidding everything’s big!”

“Big thighs is why I’m a bodybuilder, not a physique competitor. Pull ’em like you mean it!”

His tugging makes your package flop around, which you love. Finally, he gets them down to your ankles and you step out of them—he remains kneeling.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, eye-level with your pouch.

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Do you have to have those specially made?

You smirk, adjusting yourself. “Yeah, I can barely squeeze myself into the standard ones—though I like trying! I worry that one day I’m gonna be onstage and pop right out.”

Eddie strokes your thighs and gently grips your hamstrings as he nuzzles into your package. He then licks his tongue up your spandex-fighting cock until he gets to the root, itself barely covered by the waistband of the poser.

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: That would make a good movie. Would you mind flexing for us?

“Not at all,” you say, and you begin your routine. Flexing has always turned you on—it’s your favorite part of the sport, certainly not the training! No, it’s listening to the audience screaming, seeing the disbelief and awe in their faces, the desire, the envy.

Of course you get hard when you flex.

And Eddie is right there, worshipping away, stroking and punching and feeling everything he can, imprinting it onto his fantasies. Facing him, you do an ab/thigh pose, so he can see your half-hard monster straining, yearning for escape.

He takes the bait, gripping the waistband with both hands and slowly pulling it down, revealing the entirety of your beautiful cock. When the head pops out, it swings up and swats him on his fuzzy chin. He grins broadly and kisses the head, as you step out of your posers.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mumbles as he takes it in his mouth—or as much as he can, which is a surprising amount (more than half). He pulls back and spits to help lube it, then wraps a hand around the base to stroke while he sucks. He’s got a good mouth—well, he should. (He’s a professional.)

More, he’s not afraid of your balls, big as they are. He squeezes and strokes and gently pulls on them, accenting the pleasure he gives to your cock. Adding to your enjoyment, you begin to pinch your ample nipples.

You expected to lose track of the camera, to forget it’s there and just focus on your technique. But it’s just the opposite, you’re very aware of the camera—it’s like you’re showing off for it, opening up angles for better views, making love to it. You know the camera loves your flexed abs as you lean slightly back to make a better picture, the swollen cum-gutters taking the focus right to your magnificent cock, which Eddie slaves away on.

He’s got you on the edge and he knows it—you can see the glint in this eye—but it’s way too early to cum, horny as you are.

No, you want a taste of him first.

As he pulls off your cock to catch his breath, you pull him up into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your neck, allowing you both hands free to open his pants. Turning his back to the camera, you slide your hands down over the cakes of his ass and bring his jeans with them, giving a clear shot of his spectacular bubble butt.

Spinning him around, you seat him on the sectional and pull his jeans off him—he leans back, straightening his legs and flexing his own fine abs. He’s got a beautiful cock, uncut, maybe eight-and-a-half inches, pretty pink head—he leaks precum.

You kneel between his legs and kiss him deeply—it’s hard for him to resist the urge to wrap his legs around your torso, but he does make a show of embracing you with them, gorgeous muscular limbs. You bite his fuzzy little chin, then kiss his neck, working your way down his beautiful body, his pale skin and bright pink nipples (which you make a show of working), then you’re licking HIS abs, defined and obvious, even if not as developed as your own.

Finally, you’re at the trimmed little patch of auburn pubes and you can feel his hard cock stroking your cheek as you kiss the base of it. As an actor, you’d like to continue the charade of having never sucked a cock before, but your own internal horniness casts that aside quickly. You’re on his cock like a whore on crack, the sweet taste of precum your drug of choice.

It’s no small cock—Eddie’s a porn-star, remember—and whether a bottom or not, it’s a nice piece. You’ve been dying for a cock, much less a nice cock, much less this fantasy cock for a while now! You’re conflicted about taking your time and savoring the moment or just banging out a desperate load then going for the slow cook on the second.

But then you remember teasing the camera is your job, so you make a show of it.

It’s possible that Eddie’s that good an actor, but his reactions seem very real, as if he’s legitimately turned on by what you’re doing. You’ve no reason to doubt it—you are. Fuck, you’re so turned on, living this fantasy cum true, that you never want to step out of your filming bubble. You’ll stay here forever fucking hot guys for fun and profit. (You already want a scene with Austin to thank him.)

And then you’re just deep-throating him and going to town, bobbing your head effortlessly on his beautiful dick—how happy you are to have a cock in your mouth again! The sheer joy of that drowns out any thought of pacing for the camera or making the moment last—you’re too eager to make this beauty cum!

For his part, Eddie moans and rolls his head. He’s up on his elbows, leaning back, so he can look down across his flexed abs at your effort—he’s supposed to be the “experienced” guy, remember? “I’m gonna shoot,” he moans, as you tug his balls. “Oh, Big Daddy, I’m gonna shoot!”

You pull your mouth off his cock, still stroking the base, just in time for him to orgasm, the first volley hitting you right on your tongue. You deep-throat him and he screams, thrusting into your mouth. You flat-tongue his big dick, showing the camera how much cum he produced, and just swallow it all. “Oh, fuck, Big Daddy,” he mumbles. “Oh, fuck…”

You advance onto the sectional and kiss him, sharing his taste. Then, in a semi-push-up position, you continue to slide up his body, until he’s face to face with your monster cock. He takes the head of yours in his mouth and you begin doing push-ups, slowly dipping your cock into his mouth, then rising back up. The camera loves your muscular back.

You sit back onto his torso, putting his arms under your knees in a wrestling school-boy pin. The tip of your erect cock rests on his chin—he only has to slightly lift his head to get it in his mouth, which he does. “You want it, pretty boy?” you ask, tapping the head of your cock on his lush pink lips. “You want Daddy’s big load?”

“Yes,” he answers, trying to lick your cock with the tip of his tongue. “Please, gimme it! Please!”

It takes little more than a few tugs and you can feel your big balls churn. “Here you go, Eddie,” you say as you release your cock and flex a double-bis just as you begin your orgasm.

Your first shot crosses his entire face, but he gets his mouth open for the second one.

But you don’t stop—it’s been too long.

You just keep shooting and shooting, volleys that just coat the redhead’s pretty face.

You’re panting as your finish, releasing him from your hold. As he sits up, the two of you kiss, your cum running down his face—you snowball it back and forth, as you wipe the rest of him clean with your hand. The two of you are laughing about the amount.

DIRECTOR’S VOICE: A-a-a-a-and cut!

The moment he says “Cut”, you feel dizzy… something deep…

Eddie and I are standing in each other’s arms, soaked in cum, giggling like schoolgirls. Someone throws us towels and we begin wiping each other down. (It’s a lot of cum!)

The Director is still talking to us. It’s clearly a Post Show—the camera’s still rolling. “That was great you guys!” he says.

Eddie laughs, wiping his face. “Dude shoots some big loads!” he says.

I shrug. “I do everything big!” I laugh.

Eddie is playing for the camera—he points to your cock and brings his hand to the side of his face in an “astonishment” pose. In the same spirit, I spin him around and show the camera his perky bubble butt, smacking it with my open palm. He laughs.

“All right, thank you guys,” the Director says. “Great shoot!”

“It was a lot of fun,” Eddie says, playfully kissing me.

“It was,” I agree, kissing him back and glancing at the camera. “That was just… easy. I could do it all fuckin’ day!”

He chuckles. “Don’t say that too loud or they’ll make you!” He slides into his jeans. “I guess you’re coming out of quarantine, right?”

“Yeah!” I say. “Finally…”

“Well, then maybe I’ll see you at the gym and stuff?”

I smile, sliding my jeans up over my ample quads. “I hope so!” I say enthusiastically.

He strolls up to me seductively. “I’m sure of it,” he says. “I’m gonna put in to do a full-scene with you.”

“What?” I ask. “Are you kidding? That would be fuckin’ awesome!”

He indicates my bountiful cock as I tuck it into my jeans (I didn’t put the posers back on). “Big Daddy, I want to get fucked by that log—it’s fuckin’ hot as fuck.”

“Anytime.”

He smirks. “How about a shower scene right now on my OnlyFans page?”

“Let’s go!”

Outside the bubble, the virus continues to run unchecked, gyms are still closed, lockdowns still enforced, Americans still feeling like masks infringe their freedom—it’s just unbelievable. Naturally, desperate to stave off boredom, people are seeking content, entertainment, anything to fill the time. And nothing fills time better than porn.

Most of the major entertainment companies set up their own production bubbles, but Paragon was far-and-away better prepared than their major competitors, creating what the industry has been calling Paragon’s “Porn World” where all the biggest names live and film as if it were still the Before Time.

My first six weeks are up today and I’m hoping my contract will get renewed. I’ve been filming almost daily, mixing and matching with the other studs in the bubble—it’s honestly been some of the best times of my life, professionally. Well, socially, too—I’ve made some good friends and fuck-buddies.

I open my laptop to see Coach’s Tab blinking. I open it and link up with the program.

“Good morning, Dom!”

“Morning, Coach! What’s the word?”

“Your number’s are great!” he said. “They’re offering you a contract extension. Would you like to pull another twelve weeks?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Hell. Yes.”

I love this job so much—seriously, they can use me until I’m dried up and dead. I don’t care. “Great!” he says. “I’ll forward the contract to your email and we can get it done. There’s a couple of perks we can talk about, but it’s an improvement over what you were getting. Of course, they’d like you to start performing private services for clients…”

“Private services?” I ask, suspiciously. “I don’t know, Coach. It’s one thing to be a porn star, it’s another to be a whore.”

He laughs indulgently. “It’s not being a whore,” he says. “Here, let me show you a video…”

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