0 comments/ 18408 views/ 16 favorites My Bronze God By: bjmichaels It was 10am in the morning and that meant rent was due for my motel room. The place where I lived was in the seedy part of town next to railroad tracks, shuttered business' and vacant lots. My neighbors were an eclectic mix of hookers, coke whores and less glamorous degenerates. I went into the office and lazy-eyed Eddie was working behind the front desk, he buzzed me through the security door and I went to the apartment door behind the counter. I knocked twice and Lonnie answered; I followed him to the couch. He sat next to me; our thighs touching, "Hey little sweetie, how are you today?" he asked softly as he took my hand and placed it on the bulge in his slacks. I could feel the heat coming from his hard-on. My breath caught in my throat. My own penis twitched with excitement. My fingers curled around his hard penis and squeezed. His cock felt warm and firm through his slacks. He smiled at me. He put his arm around my shoulders, "Why don't you open my pants and take it out," he said; it was more of a command than question. I was breathing harder as I fumbled with his belt. My hands trembled as I unfastened his pants and pulled down the zipper. My own cock was now erect. I fumbled with his belt then unfastened his slacks. I hooked my fingers into the waistbands of his slacks and underwear and pulled them downward. He lifted his hips to help me. I pulled his slacks down to his knees. His hard cock sprang into view. It was uncircumcised, six inches long and slim; my small hand easily fit around it. My other hand cupped and rubbed his balls. "Ohhh, that feels good..." he groaned. I began to slowly stroke his cock. I am uncircumcised as well, so I know how to slide the foreskin and squeeze it against his smooth cockhead. I watched myself masturbate Lonnie's cock one more time. It was fascinating. I stroked him slowly at first—just the way he liked it. When I saw small droplets of pre-cum ooze from his slit, I used my thumb to smooth it on his glans. I moved my hand faster-and-faster. His hips began to thrust upward matching the rhythm of my stroking hand. His head rested against the couch, moving side-to-side. He was moaning and groaning and making small, animal-like noises. Listening to his pleasure excited me. I wanted to make him cum. My hand became a blur on his cock. The idea of masturbating a man to orgasm thrilled me; pre-cum leaked from my cock-slit and stained my briefs. His cock felt wonderful in my hand; it seemed to shoot jolts of electricity up my arm and throughout my whole body. My own cock ached for release. I worked furiously on his cock. Suddenly, I felt his balls contract in my hand and I quickly lowered my face and took his cockhead into my mouth. My tongue flattened against his cockhead and streams of foamy cum shot out from his slit. I lapped it up with my tongue and swallowed every drop. I was always amazed at the amount of semen he had in his balls. I continued stroking and sucking until he stopped me with his hand. I licked his cock clean while he gasped for air. When he regained his composure he looked at me, smiled, and said, "Well, you paid your rent for another few hours—see you at 4." I know what you're thinking: that I'm no better than the hookers and degenerates that live here, and you may be right, but a boy's got to do what he can to survive in this cold, cruel world, doesn't he? It wasn't my fault the factory where I worked shut down and I lost everything. It isn't my fault we have the highest unemployment rate since The Great Depression and there aren't any jobs to be had. It isn't my fault that when Lonnie taught me how to sexually satisfy a man that I liked it, is it? Marleen and Andrea, my neighbors, were out front when I returned to my room. "Good morning, ladies, what are you doing up so early today?" I cheerfully greeted them. They were good people; I liked them. "Well, hey little cutie," Marleen smiled and checked her watch, "...only ten-twenty and Lonnie's 'break time' is over already—you must be getting g-o-o-o-d!" we laughed; they were great gals but both were in need of serious dental work. "Ya know, Jamaal still wants you to work for him...at least you'd be paid with cash money!" At that moment Jamaal drove up in his new lavender Escalade and the girls climbed into the backseat. Jamaal lowered his window and whistled at me: "Hey pretty boy, when are you going to get smart and let me hook you up with some classy gentlemen?" I smiled and said, "Jamaal, I'm way too old for your chicken-hawk clientele—you'd starve to death if I worked for you." He laughed and drove away. I had to wait until eleven for lunch so I turned on the tv and stared at the snowy screen. I lowered my jeans and underpants and masturbated. Lonnie never touched my cock when I was with him so I took care of it myself afterwards. When I was finished, I started thinking about the old days when I had a great job, money and a nice car and freedom to do whatever I wanted. I had many fond memories and every now and then I'd relive those days in my mind. It had only been a couple months but it seemed like years ago. At eleven I went to the diner down the street. Mister J, the owner, was behind the register counting the breakfast receipts. He was from Pakistan, and everyone called him Mister J because no one could pronounce his last name. I struck a deal with him to clean the diner after they closed in exchange for lunch and dinner. "Hi Mister J—business good today?" I asked. He looked up and smiled, "Ah, my little bur—to answer your question—no, business is terrible!" I laughed—he said the same thing every day. I never asked him what 'bur' meant. I sat at the counter and Renee brought me coffee and water. "Hi sweetie," she smiled, as she handed me the newspaper, "...what's up today?" "Hi, Renee...oh, the usual...working hard on my stock portfolio (she smiled)...guess I'll have a burger and fries." I picked up the paper and read the 'want-ads' first. Each day there seemed to be fewer and fewer jobs listed, and I wasn't qualified for any of them. I always wondered how out-of-work men with families to support were getting-by. I felt sorry for those families. I imagined my life was paradise compared to theirs. I picked-up the news section and read about the usual wars in the usual places; the usual rioting of people who had been screwed-over by their governments; and of course, how our drones killed more members of Al-Qaeda. I always wondered how they knew the people they killed were Al-Qaeda. The paper never said 'how we knew' that they were members just that they were. I wondered if they carried Al-Qaeda membership cards like the NRA or AAA? How else would we know? My food arrived and I moved to the business section. That took all of three minutes then I moved to the Sports section and ate my food. When I was done I left my customary one dollar tip. When I first ate there I left Renee two dollars, but she knew I was down on my luck and pushed it back at me. We haggled on the price and she agreed to accept one dollar. It was only right—she was trying to make a living, too. She brought me a paper bag with Harry's lunch in it. Harry owned the drugstore two blocks down the street. I would bring him his lunch and in exchange he allowed me to stand at his magazine rack and read the magazines. Sometimes I stood there reading for hours. "Hi Harry," I said as I handed him his food. "How's Loretta's back today?" Loretta was his wife who suffered with back problems. "Hey sport," he answered, and took the bag of food, "She's still bitching about it; doctor gave her some pain pills and she feels pretty good for awhile, but...you know..." I stood at the magazine rack until two o'clock. I love reading—it's a pleasant escape. I found interesting articles in four-five magazines then I noticed the new 'Playboy' was out, and I saw one of my favorite authors had a story in the new issue. I read the story, and yes, I looked at the girls, too. It was hot and the sun blinded me when I went outside. I crossed the street and went inside the Salvation Army. Anita was working. She smiled when she saw me, "Hi cutie...anything exciting happen on your walk today?" "Well, a guy stopped me and handed me a brown paper bag filled with hundred dollar bills, and—Oh--I think, I just may have solved the Kennedy assassination," I said with a smile. She laughed and said, "Oh, I set aside a shirt for you---I think you'll look adorable in it!" She gave me a bag with the shirt then I asked, "Need anything done today?" She thought for a moment and answered, "Uhhh...no, I don't think so. We'll have a truck come in Saturday morning at six, though." "Okay," I smiled, "I'll be here...see you tomorrow." "Bye-bye, sweetie." Whenever a truck came in I helped unload it, and sometimes the women would give me clothes in return. I walked slowly back to the motel. I really couldn't complain about my life. I had everything I needed, and I met nice people every day. Sure, I would like to work at something more challenging, but for the time being, I was contented. After I took a shower I climbed into bed naked and waited for Lonnie. He came over every day at four o'clock for, what Marleen and Andrea called, 'Happy Hour'. I drifted off to sleep but woke immediately when I heard Lonnie's key in the door. His hair was still damp from the shower he had taken. He stripped off his clothes and joined me in bed. I wondered which way he wanted me to suck him today. If he climbed on top of me, after he had enough kissing, he would straddle my chest and I would suck his cock that way. If he wanted me on top, after the kissing, I would gradually work my way down his body until I was kneeling between his legs. He climbed on top of me and I spread my legs to accommodate his size. I had to admit he was a good kisser. He used kissing as foreplay and his cock never failed to rise—neither did my own. Our lips melded together in perfect harmony. I stroked his back and sides as he held my head in his hands and our lips and tongues greedily intertwined with one another. I felt his erection between my legs and I knew he could feel mine. Soon his knees were on either side of my chest and he moved his body forward until the tip of his cock was pressing against my lips. He towered above and looked down at me, "Kiss it," he ordered. I knew what he wanted. I cradled his balls in my right hand while my left grasped the base of his shaft. With my eyes admiring his cock, my lips kissed his cockhead and slowly kissed their way down his shaft. When I reached the base, he lifted up on his knees to give me easier access to kiss his balls. I kissed his cock and balls until I'd kissed every inch of them. "Lick it," he said, his breathing was becoming labored. I repeated the process and my tongue glided up-and-down his smooth flesh. I licked his cock and balls until he raised himself and dangled his balls above my mouth. "Suck my balls," he commanded. He lowered his scrotum between my wide open lips and I was able to take his entire ball sac into my mouth. My tongue lathered his balls and the soft flesh of his scrotum; he groaned with delight. He grunted and shifted his weight on the bed; he was ready for the main event. He aimed his turgid cock at my waiting mouth and pushed forward. My precum-slick lips slid over his cockhead; my tongue worked over the sensitive skin of his cock. I stroked his shaft and massaged his balls while my mouth sucked his cock. He moaned and pushed his cock further into my mouth. I concentrated on deep breathing through my nose so I didn't gag when his cock hit my throat. He pushed and pulled his cock in-and-out of my loudly slurping mouth. I sucked his cock like a man possessed—I knew my frantic sucking motions drove him wild with desire. He grunted and groaned; I tenderly rolled his balls in my hand. My other hand stroked him faster-and-faster. His cock pistoned in-and-out of my mouth. Suddenly, I felt his balls contract in my hand at the same time his cock expanded and widened my lips. I flattened my tongue on his cock-slit as his cum shot ferociously out of his balls and into my swallowing mouth. My tongue lapped up his cum and my throat swallowed all of his tasty jizz. He collapsed in a heap beside me on the bed. I lay my head on his rapidly rising and falling chest; my ear was against his pounding heart; it thrilled me that I could make a man feel this way. My own cock was hard, and I knew he'd never touch it, but we were only half way finished and I'd get my pleasure in round two. When his breathing returned to normal, and we'd lie still for several minutes, I began kissing and nipping at his nipples. My hand gently stroked his cock and balls. I kissed my way down his body until I was kneeling between his legs. He instinctively pulled his legs back and spread them apart and my mouth found his anus and perineum. I kissed and licked him down there for some time then I curled my tongue and pushed it against his anus. I pushed it through the opening and into his asshole. My tongue licked the tender flesh of his asshole while I caressed his penis into another erection. "OOhhhh, baby you're good!" he exclaimed. When his cock was rock-hard I became impatient waiting for his command so I rose up, straddled his cock with my back to his face, and slowly lowered my hips until I felt his cockhead against my anus. I took a deep breath and pushed downward; his cockhead popped through my opening; I waited until my asshole became used to it then I pushed steadily downward until I could feel his pubic hairs rub my bottom-cheeks. I had his cock all the way inside my asshole. It was uncomfortable at first, it always was, so I concentrated on loosening my sphincter. When the pain subsided, I slowly rose up until just his cockhead was inside me then gently lowered myself on his entire cock once again. I fucked him like this for a few minutes then my own lust seized control of me. Faster-and-faster I rose up then rammed my hips downward and impaled myself on his wonderfully rigid cock. I felt his cock throb in my rectum; my own cock throbbed in my hand as I stroked it in time with our fucking. When I pushed down on his cock harder-and-harder it bumped against my prostate and I filled the room with screams of joy. I began to babble incoherently, my head rolled from side-to-side—I was overcome with a raging inferno of lust and the need to release my cum from my aching balls. I wildly pumped my hips up-and-down on his cock—nothing mattered anymore except to reach my orgasm. I could have been fucking a plastic dildo for all I knew or cared; my whole being was centered on the delicious pounding of my asshole. My hand stroked my cock faster-and-faster; I rose up-and-down his stiff prick like a mad man; suddenly, Lonnie's hips bucked and jerked wildly and I felt his scalding cum burning the tender flesh inside my asshole. My own orgasm started deep in my balls and shot-out of my cock like a geyser. Our bodies flailed about insanely as we came and came and came... When I caught my breath I rushed to the bathroom and sat on the toilet. His cum poured out of my asshole and into the bowl. I wet a wash cloth and cleaned the cum off my stomach and thighs. Lonnie came into the bathroom and I wiped his cock clean, as well. He patted my head and exclaimed, "Wow, boy! What got into you today?—that was fantastic!" His words of praise felt almost as good as my orgasm...well, not quite. After Lonnie left, I took my third shower of the day then I watched the snowy tv screen until seven. I walked to the diner for dinner; it was a simply beautiful evening. The meatloaf special was excellent! I was on my third cup of coffee when the diner closed at eight. I waited until the stragglers were gone then assembled my supplies and cleaned the restaurant, kitchen, bathrooms and Mister J's office. I was home and in bed by eleven. I slept until nine. When I rolled out of bed I had difficulty standing; my bottom-hole was bruised and sore from last night's fucking. I took a lortab and a shower. I went to the motel office early to have a cup of coffee. I gingerly sat and waited until ten. Eddie buzzed me behind the counter and I knocked on Lonnie's door. I had a hard time believing Lonnie would be ready for this after last night. To my surprise, not only was he ready, but he was wearing a robe and he was naked underneath and his cock was already hard. He wanted a blow-job this morning, fine enough, he sat on the couch and I nestled between his open thighs and worked his cock with my mouth and hands. I had swallowed his cum and was cleaning his cock with my lips and tongue when he began speaking: "OOhh, that was another good one champ..." he said, then hesitated. I could tell he wanted to say something. "What is it Lonnie?" I asked. I sat beside him on the couch. "Well, ah...Mr. Punjabi called me yesterday morning...he, ah...he wanted to know why I wasn't getting any money for your room...." I felt my heart sink. "What did you tell him?" "I...ah, I said you were doing work around here...I said you earned your room," he said, his eyes averting mine. "And—what did Mr. Punjabi say?" I asked. "Well, champ...he said that's why me and Eddie are here—to do the work, that is...he said you either pay or get out." Damn, I thought. I didn't think it would go forever, but it hurts when you actually hear it. "And you knew this when, Lonnie? Yesterday morning?" I demanded. "Well, ah...yeah...." "So you knew you were kicking me out of here before last night's fuck session, and this morning? " I demanded he answer. "Well, ah, yeah—I hope this doesn't affect our relationship—you can still come here and see me, can't you?" I smiled and slowly shook my head. "You're scum, Lonnie," I said and walked out. I packed the few things I owned into my blue nylon duffle bag and walked to the diner. My mind was lost in a fog. I had never felt so alone and nervous in my life. Mister J was at the counter. He saw my duffle bag and he frowned, "What's up with that?" "Oh... I lost my room at the motel..." I said, and sat at the counter. He sat beside me and asked, "Are you all right? What are you going to do?" I fought hard to control my emotions, "I don't know...I don't have anywhere to go..." He said, "Eat your lunch—let me think about this..." I ate in silence. Renee refilled my coffee three times. I remembered Harry wouldn't be at the drugstore today—that would save me a trip there. Mister J stood beside me and said, "Little bur, come back to my office and let's talk." I left Renee a dollar and followed Mister J to his office. I cleaned his office every night and knew it was the nicest place in the whole building. He had a big oak desk, a long leather couch, a few chairs, a tv and a bathroom with a shower. It was a lot nicer than the motel room. I felt a ray of sunshine. Maybe, just maybe he would say I could sleep there for awhile, I hoped. Once inside his office I set my bag on the floor beside the couch. We stood in the middle of the room. "I normally wouldn't do this," he started; I liked the sound of where this was going, "...but you are a special boy...you can stay here for as long as you need, okay?" I broke out in a huge smile, "Mister J—thank you—thank you...is there anything I can do to repay you?" "Well..." he said and smiled shyly; I knew then I had 'stepped in it'. "...there are some things my wife will not do for me—and you are such a pretty boy—if you know what I mean..." Of course I knew what he meant; I maintained my composure. I noticed the bulge in the front of his trousers—it was more like a little lump. I smiled sweetly at him, moved closer and placed my hand against his 'bulge'. He seemed relieved I didn't punch him. He blushed but didn't say anything. My Bronze God I went to my knees, opened his pants, pulled down the zipper then pulled his pants and underwear down. His erection sprang into view. He was the same size as me—fairly small, five inches long and maybe an inch around. I proceeded to give him the best blow-job he'd ever had—maybe the only blow-job he'd ever had. When he came in my mouth he shouted and squirmed and squealed his pleasure. His cum tasted like curry chicken. I began to work more hours at the diner. Mister J actually slipped me money from time-to-time. He didn't come to work until eleven so I could sleep in, or watch tv, or read a book and shower by the time he arrived. The other employees thought nothing about me staying there. Everyone in that neighborhood had enough problems of their own to worry about. I still cleaned at night, and during the dinner rush I bused tables, and took money at the register. Every day at three when Mister J was there, I'd go into his office while he was behind his desk; lock the door; and strip naked for him. I taught him how to be a 'top'. I would either kneel between his legs while he sat at his desk, or coax him to strip naked and fuck me. He loved to stroke my cock when he fucked me. I began to feel an emotional attachment to him. He treated everyone with respect, and he was generous to a fault. And once I got to know him I discovered he had a helluva sense of humor, too. Plus, I loved that little brown cock of his. All my old neighbors from the motel were regulars at the diner. They kept me up-to-date on the gossip and sordid activities of their lives. We joked and laughed and generally had a good time. They were all happy for me in my new surroundings. When you are as far down as we all were, you are happy for even the smallest improvements in your friend's lives. Something good happening to someone was reason to celebrate. One day a friend of Mister J's came into the diner and they sat together in the far booth. He was from Pakistan too, and they were excitedly speaking their native tongue. I refilled their coffee, the man looked me up and down, and when I went away I looked back and could tell he was talking about me to Mister J. The dinner rush hit and we got busy and I lost track of them. The next day at three, I knelt between Mister J's legs under his big desk. I teased and tantalized his cock with my mouth and hands. He squirmed in his chair; I heard small noises escape his lips. Someone opened the office door and walked up to Mister J's desk—I had forgotten to lock the door. I heard the cook, Arnie, ask a question. I decided to have a little fun and I gently nipped Mister J's cockhead with my teeth--he yelped and Arnie asked him what was wrong. Mister J said, "Nothing—nothing..." When Arnie left I stroked and sucked Mister J to orgasm—he screamed and pumped a huge load of cum in my mouth. I was about to leave his office when he called to me, "Pretty-one...I want to discuss something with you." I sat on the chair in front of his desk. "Now please don't be offended...I don't want to hurt you in any way...have you ever been a model?" he asked. Why would I be offended by that, I wondered. I shook my head and said, "No." "Well...my friend who was here yesterday is also my business associate...he likes you—he thinks you would be a popular model...and it would give you an opportunity to earn some really good money." I knew where this was going. I had a feeling I wouldn't be modeling clothes. "Mister J, don't be shy with me, you can tell me what this is about." He blushed then cleared his throat. "Well, my pretty-one, there are many men in my part of the world who pay money to see pictures and films of someone as pretty as you—without your clothes..." "Because I'm white?" I interrupted him. He smiled, and seemed to relax. "Precisely...anyway, what sells best is when you are photographed with darker skinned boys...doing things with those boys...submitting to those boys..." I understood. He wanted me to suck and fuck brown-skinned boys on camera—be a total 'bottom' to these boys. The idea intrigued me; I felt my penis twitch in my pants. "My only concern, " I told him, "...is my friends and family seeing these pictures, I don't think I—" He cut me off. "No-no-no...these pictures would be for sale only in Asia, Africa and the Middle East—no one in the western world would ever see them!...we would pay you three thousand dollars for about a week's worth of work—and—you would share in whatever profits we make!" This sounded too good to be true. I was sure I'd get the three thousand, but I couldn't believe they'd give me any more than that. He stared hard at me, and said, "You have my word on this!" I thought about it. Even with just three thousand I could do some good. And, the work would be fun.... A week later Mister J's friend picked me up at the diner. "Good morning," he said, as I climbed into the front seat of his car,"...my name is Mr. Punjabi." That startled me, but I shook his hand. "You own the motel down the street?" I asked. He smiled, "Yes-yes-that's right—do you stay there?" "Well...I used to...," I smiled weakly. I was wary of him; he was a fat man with a dangerous face and I hoped I wouldn't have to 'audition' for him, if you know what I mean. It was a thirty minute ride, and he made small talk and I relaxed. He was much nicer than he looked. Now I guess I had a preconceived notion of what was about to take place. I figured he'd take me to some trashy motel and it would be me, a photographer and whoever I was going to 'diddle' in a small room with a big bed. It turned out to be very different. He pulled the car into a lot in a pretty good part of town and parked near a door of a large warehouse-type building. When we went inside I was stunned: they must be renting almost half of the building, and after walking down a long hallway, we came out in the warehouse part of the building. I stood still and allowed my eyes to absorb what I was seeing: there were 10-12 people standing around, waiting for me, I guess; someone had constructed three movie 'sets'; one resembled a living room with a couch and two chairs; there was a kitchen with a table and it even had a stove and refrigerator; and, finally a bedroom, with a king-size bed; I was nervous for the first time. I saw three large movie cameras--this was a much bigger 'production' than I had anticipated. All the people there looked like Mister J and Mr. Punjabi, so I assumed they were all Pakistani. Two young women approached me, one of them said, "Come this way," and I followed them to a 'dressing room'. One of them began undressing me, and I would have died of embarrassment but her attitude was so casual and indifferent, I figured she'd done this before and couldn't care less when I was naked. She helped me into a silk robe and I sat next to the other girl on the couch. She had a 'script' in her hand. She explained to me I needed to learn some lines and she would teach me. She taught me phrases in Urdu, Pakistan's most prevalent language. We were there an hour before she was satisfied I could say them properly. I had no idea what she was teaching me, and she smiled and said it wasn't important that I knew what I was saying. When we were about to go to the 'movie set', the other girl came to me and offered me a pill. "What is it?" I asked. "It will make you feel good," she smiled. I refused. Then she offered me a blue pill and simply said, "Viagra." I blushed and declined, telling her I had no problem in that area. She shrugged her shoulders and I followed them to the set. I was introduced to 'The Director'; a tall man who spoke broken English. He explained what he wanted in the first 'scene'. "In this scene—actually, every scene we shoot this week has the same theme: the man you are with is dominant and you are submissive. You will meekly obey every command given you...your motivation is the same for every scene—your love of brown cocks. Brown cocks drives you mad with desire. Any questions?" I shook my head—little did he know that I really did love brown cocks. There wouldn't be much 'acting' on my part. The 'wardrobe girl' led me to the couch, and handed me two items of clothing: a white tee shirt that only came down to my belly-button, and a pair of white cotton, string bikini briefs. I could have worn my own underwear for the scene. I nervously shed the robe and put the clothes on; I noticed that no one was watching me—there was no need to feel embarrassed. I sat on the couch. Soon my 'co-star' appeared; he was probably my age, three inches taller and a little heavier than me. He wore a black tee shirt and blue jeans. He sat beside me on the couch. He smiled at me and I smiled back; he wasn't too ugly. When the director yelled "ACTION"—he put his arm around me and I placed my hand on his thigh. We kissed, and I stroked his thigh. He grabbed my hand and pushed it against the bulge in his jeans. I caressed his cock through the jeans. My fingers traced the outline of his cock. He said something to me and the director yelled, "CUT". The director scolded him and pointed to the boom microphone above our heads. We started over. This time when he said his line to me it was more forceful and louder. I kneeled between his legs and opened his pants. His erection sprang free; I grasped it with my hand and sucked it into my mouth. He stood up with his cock still in my mouth; I pulled down his jeans; he wasn't wearing underwear; he pulled his tee shirt over his head and flung it towards a chair. I had an erection of my own; there was something so sexy about these brown, Pakistani cocks. He towered over me and gave me a command: I stripped off the tee shirt and briefs. My five inch erection waved in the air. I let my instincts take over: I held his balls in one hand while I stroked his cock with the other. My lips and tongue danced over his cock-flesh. Suddenly he pulled his cock out of my mouth and pushed me to the floor; he reached down and took hold of my hair; he dragged me across the carpeting by my hair until we were before a large wall mirror. Being pulled by my hair hurt, but I found it incredibly erotic. Once in front of the mirror, he had me kneel again. He moved close to me, his balls hovering over my face, he gave me an order and my mouth opened wide as he lowered his scrotum into my mouth. I licked and sucked his balls; I made slurping noises loud enough for everyone to hear. He yelled something and pulled his ball sac from my mouth. He turned around, spread his legs and pulled apart his bottom-cheeks. He yelled an order and I buried my face between his cheeks. I kissed and licked his anus, careful that the camera could get a clear shot. My tongue snaked out and pushed against his anus. I pushed my tongue into his asshole. I could feel the flesh inside his asshole on my tongue. I tongue-fucked his asshole. He abruptly pulled away from me, turned around and faced me, and barked out another command. I held his balls in one hand and stroked his cock with the other. I took his cockhead into my mouth and sucked his cock. This is when I began 'acting'. Usually I don't make many noises when I'm doing this for a guy, but now, with his hard cock in my mouth, I moaned incessantly and made whimpering and mewling sounds. I stroked his cock faster. My lips moved quickly over his hot flesh. My tongue reveled on his silken skin. Suddenly, he pulled his cock out of my mouth, my hand was a blur, stroking his cock faster-and-faster. He pushed my hand away and stroked his own cock. He aimed his pulsating cockhead at my face; I opened my mouth. His cum hit me directly on my face. I tried to catch it in my mouth but he would have none of that. He emptied his balls on my face. My face was drenched with his cum. He grabbed my hair and forced me to look in the mirror: his sticky semen covered my cheeks and nose and chin. He rubbed his deflating cock on my face, smoothing his semen into my skin. He barked an order and my lips and tongue cleaned his cock. The director yelled "CUT" and everyone applauded. I felt oddly proud and happy with myself. The WG (Wardrobe Girl) covered me with a robe, and wiped the cum off my face. She said, "Follow me" and led me back to the dressing room. The director stopped us on the way and asked me, "Will you allow him to fuck you?" and I nodded my agreement, after all, he only had about a five-inch cock. The SG (Script Girl) followed us to the dressing room. The WG took my robe and led me into the bathroom. The SG came with us. The WG picked up a device lying on the sink; I recognized it immediately and shuddered. It had already been prepared and she said, "Bend over and spread your cheeks!" It felt strange enough to be naked before two women, but this really tested my resilience. I did as I was told and felt the tube penetrate my anus. She squeezed the liquid inside me and told me not to spill any of it. I stood there, fighting hard to keep the liquid from escaping. Finally, she told me to sit on the toilet and let go. I should have felt humiliated as the water and my waste flowed into the bowl, and filled the air with a putrid smell, but the girls seemed oblivious to the situation. They had obviously done this before. As I sat there shitting my brains out, the SG ran lines with me for the next scene. Welcome to Hollywood, I thought. When I was ready, I put on the robe and we walked back to the set. I saw a boy kneeling between the legs of my co-star; his mouth working feverishly on his cock. I knew what he was doing, I'd read about this before, it was an actual 'job' for a boy to keep the stars' cock erect, he was called a 'fluffer'. The WG led me to the mirror and had me kneel down like before. She produced a squeeze bottle and covered my face with a sticky substance. I'm sure to the camera it looked like cum, but it was much thicker than semen, and would probably last a good while on my skin. When the director shouted "ACTION", my co-star turned around and presented his anus to me again. I kissed it then buried my tongue inside him. I understood the intent of this: it was more realistic to have me lick his asshole and let the viewers believe I was giving him another erection so quickly. After a few minutes he pushed me to floor again and grabbed my hair and pulled me across the carpeting to the 'kitchen set'. He roughly pulled me to my feet and made me bend over the kitchen table. I was saying things in his language, what I don't know, but I did as I was instructed and sounded like I was desperately crying out to him. I said the words perfectly, but I didn't know if I was begging him to fuck me, or pleading with him not to fuck me. I guess either way was pretty sexy. He pinned my head and shoulders to the table top and barked an order at me. I spread my legs as far apart as they would go then reached back and pulled my ass-cheeks open for him. My anus was exposed for all to see. A tube of lubricant appeared out of nowhere (the magic of movies, I thought). He oiled his middle finger and rubbed it around my anus. He applied more lube and slowly pushed his finger into my anus. His finger remained in my asshole as he applied even more lubricant. His finger pushed into me all the way to his knuckle. My cock was hard as a rock. I squirmed my backside against his finger. A moan escaped my lips--that wasn't in the script. He sawed his finger back-and-forth then abruptly pulled it out of me. He shouted something and my hand reached back and found his erection. I gave it a couple strokes then placed the cockhead against my anus. He shouted another command and I pushed my hips backwards until his cock popped through my opening. I pressed my hands on the table top to give me balance and continued to push back at him. Suddenly, he took hold of my hips and thrust his cock into me. I screamed out; my head rolling from side-to-side. I was completely impaled on his throbbing cock. He paused for a few seconds then began fucking in-and-out of my asshole. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a camera low to the floor; it must have been trained on my rigid cock. Another camera came in close and concentrated on his cock sliding into my ass. The third camera was focused on our faces. I ignored everything around me—he was giving me a great fuck and all I wanted to do was shoot my cum. I babbled incoherently as his strong hands pulled me onto his cock. A smile of ecstasy spread across my face. I began pushing back at him—meeting his every thrust. Our timing was impeccable—his cock slid in-and-out of me with ease. When he began to fuck me faster, I frantically pushed back at him and my ass swallowed his entire cock. I felt the cum churning in my balls. I wouldn't last much longer. He fucked me like a madman. Everyone could hear his balls slapping my flesh. We both moaned and groaned loudly. I wasn't acting now and I don't think he was either. We were both straining to cum. His strokes became shorter but faster. Suddenly his hips jerked and bucked and I felt his hot cum filling my asshole. He cried out then I cried out as the cum shot from my balls and sprayed all around us. When he pulled away from me he barked an order and I reached behind me and opened my ass-cheeks so the camera could clearly see his cum oozing from my asshole. I remained posed like that for a full thirty-seconds. He yelled another command and I dropped to my knees and licked up my cum from the floor. Then I turned to his now-flaccid cock and licked him clean. The camera was only a couple feet from my face and it zoomed-in and captured the serenity and satisfaction of a guy who was well-fucked. The director yelled "CUT" and the room burst into applause with some people shouting "BRAVO!!" I couldn't take any credit for my performance, though—that was all natural—I wasn't acting. My legs felt like rubber as the WG wiped the cum off my anus and legs. She held my arm and led me to the dressing. The SG was close behind. I was tired and felt like taking a nap but we had a schedule we had to abide by. I 'did' four more guys that first day. Three of them I agreed to fuck, the fourth guys' cock was so big it scared me, but I made sure when I sucked him they got their money's worth. He covered my face with the most cum I'd ever seen shoot out of a cock. After twelve hours, I was ready to go home. I looked around for Mr. Punjabi but didn't see him. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and when I turned around—OH MY GOD—I was face-to-face with the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. He saw the stunned look on my face and apologized profusely. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to startle you—Mr. Punjabli sent me to drive you home—my name is 'Rahim'," he explained. We shook hands. He had the deepest, bluest eyes.... As we drove to the diner I tried to make small talk just so I could look at him. He was a few inches taller than me and maybe thirty pounds heavier. He might have been a couple years older than me, but his face was so pure and angelic he looked much younger. He had broad shoulders and strong arms. He was slightly darker than the other Pakistani's but to me he looked like a bronze God. I was smitten with not only his looks, but his voice and demeanor, as well. He was very pleasant and easy to talk with. He smiled and laughed when I made little jokes. I wasn't sure, but he seemed to like me, too. Mister J saw the condition I was in when I walked in the diner so he left me alone. I ate a huge dinner then did my cleaning. I had made arrangements with someone to take Harry his lunch for the week, and had told The Salvation Army gals I wouldn't be around for awhile. I fell asleep immediately on the soft, leather couch and woke to the alarm at 5:00a.m. Rahim was waiting in the car when I came outside. Was it my imagination or did he comb his hair differently? I wondered. I could smell the faint aroma of after-shave, as well. My Bronze God We greeted each other and our conversation just took off from there. He was fascinated with America and asked questions I tried to answer. I asked about Pakistan, but he didn't seem interested in talking about his country. When he dropped me at the door of the warehouse, he smiled and said, "I hope you have a wonderful day! I'll see you tonight." My heart was fluttering as I climbed out of the car. I had five 'co-stars' on the second day. They were all brown and fit, but I would only fuck one of them. The director improvised by posing us in positions that we appeared to be fucking, but their cocks were really just sliding between my thighs. By the end of the day, I could smell their semen on my face, even though WG had washed my face after every load of cum. We finished earlier than the day before and I didn't see Rahim yet. I began a conversation with WG and asked her about Rahim. "What ah...what is his story?" I asked her. "Meaning, what?" she asked me right back. "What is his job? Is he married?" I inquired. She laughed, "No-no...he 'works' for Mr. Punjabi..." "I know-I know, but is he married or seeing someone?" She looked at me like I was stupid, "I said—he 'works' for Mr. Punjabi!" I understood her meaning this time. She must have seen the disappointment wash over my face because she added, "He is an 'indentured servant'...Mr. Punjabi paid his family money to bring him to America...when he pays his debt he will be a free man...," she smiled then added, "...and no—he is not married...and whatever he does for Mr. Punjabi is purely part of his job." I thanked her. I knew she told me the last part because she sensed my feelings for him. On the ride home I screwed-up my courage and inched over on the seat until I was sitting right next to him. He looked surprised and confused, but he smiled. When we arrived at the diner, we looked into each others' eyes—I leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips; he kissed me back. We held each other and kissed again. "I...ah...when this is over—I'd still like to see you...is that possible?" I asked quietly. I think I embarrassed him. His eyes looked away and he had trouble clearing his throat. "I work for Mr. Punjabi..." he said, his voice trailing off. "I know—I know, but it won't be forever—can't we continue seeing each other?" I asked. Sadness swept over his face; he looked away from me again and said, "It would not be a good idea." I climbed out of the car heartbroken. Rahim did not drive the next two mornings, it was Mr. Punjabi. He seemed tense and somewhat irritable. He said, "Good morning" both days, but that was all. Mid-way through the last day my spirits soared when I saw Rahim standing with the crew. He watched me suck-and-fuck two guys—I didn't know what he thought of while I did it, but I hoped he understood that, much like him, I was only doing my job. WG and I were in the dressing room when SG came in and announced, "There is a change in the script." When she told us what it was WG winced, and I said I wouldn't do it. She looked at me and said, "This is Mr. Punjabi's idea—he wants a grand finale--he's insisting you do it—if you refuse he will not pay you!" I was naked under the robe when we walked to the stage. I quickly glanced at the crew and saw Rahim standing among them. Mr. Punjabi was next to him. Another 'set' had been hastily constructed. It faintly resembled a very low-sided bathtub. WG took my robe and I was made to lie down on the cold, rubber surface. There were restraints for my arms and legs. Once I was securely fastened, the director yelled "ACTION" and eight men appeared on the set. They were naked, each man had a boy caressing and stroking his erect cock. Two men stood on one side of the tub; two men stood on the other side; and two men stood at each end. I stared at the eight hard cocks surrounding me. The boys took their places behind the men. Each boy performed the same actions: they reached under their man and massaged his balls while they reached around their waists and stroked their cocks. The 'circle jerk' took about ten minutes. At that time the men grunted and groaned and shot their cum onto my body and face. Eight men covered me from head-to-toe with semen. It wasn't over with yet. The boys continued holding their man's cock, and after a short while, the men began spraying me with their urine. The men must have been saving up for this moment because they pissed-and-pissed what seemed to be unending streams of urine. By the time they finished, my whole body, face and hair was soaked in piss. My head rolled from side-to-side to fight keeping the piss out of my eyes. When it was over, I thought they left me fastened to the tub and wallowing in piss longer than they needed. Tears welled in my eyes. I was naked as WG rushed me to the shower in the dressing room. She stripped naked and climbed in the tub with me. She helped me clean the semen and urine off my entire body. She used a scented-soap and lathered me from head-to-toe. The kindness of her actions brought tears back to my eyes. On the ride back to the diner, Mr. Punjabi broke the silence by saying, "You brought that on yourself, you know..." I couldn't believe my ears. "How did I do that?" I asked him. "Rahim is 'my boy'," he said softly, "...you don't understand our culture...no matter the circumstances, nobody comes between a man and his boy...at home, men have been killed for it...consider yourself lucky!" How could I respond to that? I didn't.... "Anyway," he continued, "...I told Rahim it was your idea—that you loved to get pissed-on and abused...that you are a true degenerate--you should have seen the look on his face—he was appalled!" My heart ached that Rahim actually believed that of me. I didn't know how to reach him; I had no idea where Mr. Punjabi lived—I would never see Rahim again and it hurt that his last memory of me was of eight men jerking off and pissing on me. When we arrived at the diner, Mr. Punjabi handed me an envelope. "Here is three thousand dollars—when the profits start coming in—and they will—you were very good—you will receive more money...as long as you don't try to contact Rahim...." I took the envelope; didn't say 'thank you', and left his car. It took a few days to get back into my routine. I was sluggish, depressed and thought about Rahim constantly. I was devastated that I'd never see my bronze God again. I slowly came around, though; I even pleasured Mister J more than once a day. I still loved his little brown cock. Two weeks had gone by and life was as normal again as it ever was going to be in that neighborhood. One night Marleen and Andrea came in for dinner. When they saw me they shrieked and hollered and gave me big hugs."C'mon," I said, "...open up—let me see them!" They smiled wider than I'd ever seen them—their teeth were perfect. "Cutie-pie," Marleen gushed, "...you're something else—as soon as you get a little cash in your pocket you go and blow it all on our teeth—if you ever get tired of boys, you come and see me and Andrea!" We all laughed. I still brought Harry his lunch at the drugstore, and after reading magazines, I still crossed the street to see the good ladies at The Salvation Army. Another week passed and Mister J called me into his office. He had a grin on his face from ear-to-ear. He handed me a check. It was my first 'royalty check' from my 'modeling job'. I looked at the amount and Mister J laughed at the expression on my face. The check was for $22,850.75. I opened a bank account, and moved back to the motel—as a paying guest, this time. Lonnie wanted to resume our 'relationship' and I said "No way in Hell!" Every two weeks for two months Mister J gave me checks that were equal to, or greater than the first one. I was flabbergasted. He said not to count too much on future checks, we'd probably drained as much porn money as we were going to get. I continued with my daily routine. I had no idea what I wanted to do with the money. I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. One night after cleaning the diner, I was walking home to the motel; I noticed a car slow down behind me then suddenly speed up and pass me. I didn't recognize the car. The car must have turned down a side street and double-backed because it happened again: it would slow down behind me then speed up and go by me. My nerves were on edge when it reappeared behind me for a third time. Quite a few undesirables in that neighborhood knew I had come into some money, and my friends had warned me to be careful. I walked faster and was almost at the motel when it stopped beside me and a female voice called out to me. I stopped in my tracks. I recognized the voice: it was WG, my Wardrobe Girl. I went to the open car window and she said, "Get in—HURRY!" She drove for a mile or so then stopped in the parking lot of a grocery store and shut off the engine. She turned and faced me; she looked older and more tired than the last time I saw her. She looked worried. "You scared the hell out of me," I said through a relieved smile. "I know—I know—I'm sorry...I didn't know if anyone else was watching you—I have to be careful...I would be in major trouble if certain people knew I was talking with you," she was serious; she was scared. "Who?" I demanded to know, "...who would you be in trouble with?" She sighed, "Never mind...what's important is you're here..." She stared ahead, a sad glaze covering her eyes. "How do you feel about Rahim?" I was hoping she was here because of him. "I have very strong feelings for him...I hardly know him but I think I'm in love with him," I confessed to her. "Yes," she said, her voice sounding distant, "...I too, am in love with him...I have loved him a long, long time..." "Why are you here?" I wanted to shake her out of her reverie and make her talk. "Rahim is very, very unhappy...he's talking crazy...he says he's going to run away from Mr. Punjabi to try and find you...I can't let him do that...he could get hurt...or worse..." Oh my God! My heart leapt with joy at the mention of my bronze God. She continued, "Rahim is a special man—very intelligent—in Pakistan he was a neurosurgeon—an important doctor...over here he is a slave...until he can repay his families debt—he has no future." She was talking 'around' the subject—it was driving me crazy. "What can I do? How can I see him?" I demanded to know. She looked at me through misty eyes, and said, "You're a lucky man—I never knew for sure until recently that he likes men—not girls...and you're a lucky man because he loves you!" He loves me? Oh my God—the exhilaration I felt! She continued, "He was devastated when he saw you last—Punjabi convinced him you were a pervert...I had a long talk with him—I told him what really happened that day..." I had a million thoughts running through my head and one of them was I wished to hell she would get to the point. "All I want for him is to live a happy life," she went on, "...even if it's not with me...I think you two could be very happy together." I wanted to scream—I wanted to tell her to get on with it—where the hell is he? How can I see him? What exactly do I have to do in order to be with him? After much coaxing, she told me what needed to be done. I told her I could do what she asked. I told her I wanted to be with Rahim more than anything in the world. I assured her I would take good care of the man she loves. The last thing she said before we parted was, "I will talk with Punjabi—I will tell him of your offer...but you don't understand our culture..." The following morning I presented a check to Mister J. I explained what it was for. He said he would give it to Mr. Punjabi that afternoon. He frowned, he said, "Punjabi won't like this, but he is a decent man—he will honor your request." He looked at me and asked, "And you, my friend...you are doing this out of love? Why?" "Because I finally found someone I love more than life itself," I said with a tear in my eye; then added, "...we don't choose who we fall in love with—it just happens—if you're lucky." The next day I was a bundle of nerves as I waited in my room for Rahim to arrive. The longer I waited the more doubts crept into my mind. You don't even know this man, I told myself. He's from the other side of the world—what could you two possibly have in common? He's a doctor, my God—what are you? A slut? A whore? You live like a lazy degenerate! I was in full-blown panic mode when I heard a soft knocking on my door. My chest was pounding; a clammy layer of sweat covered my flesh. Calm down, I told myself. Take this slow and easy—don't force anything. When I opened the door and saw his face my heart melted. My old feelings for him returned stronger than ever. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold him tight; hold him so he could never leave me again. "Rahim," I beamed; I wanted to kiss him—smother him in kisses, but he seemed oddly distant, "...please, come inside." Something wasn't right. Instead of being happy to see me, he was subdued with a forced smile on his face. He came inside and acted stiff; uncomfortable. I sat on the bed; he sat in the chair farthest from the bed. He fidgeted; he was clearly uneasy. He wouldn't look me in the eyes. We were quiet for a long time. "Is something wrong?" I asked, "...please talk to me...your silence is unbearable." Finally he spoke; softly, his eyes averting mine, "Thank you for paying my families debt to Mr. Punjabi—it was a very kind act...you are a generous man...may I inquire of your intentions for me?" My intentions for him? My jaw fell open. I was stunned. This should have been the happiest moment in both of our lives instead I felt like crying. "Rahim, what are you talking about? You're a free man!...and my intentions are to get you in bed and give you the best time of your life," I said with a huge smile on my face. I saw a flicker of hope in his eyes but it quickly faded. He was troubled—he wanted to say something, but couldn't--a sadness swept over his face and I felt my heart being torn to shreds. "Please talk to me," I said, "...please tell me what's going on with you..." After a long pause, he cleared his throat then said, "You paid my debt to Mr. Punjabi—therefore my debt is now to you...I will perform whatever work or duties you assign me." "My God, Rahim—this is America—no one owns anyone else here—you are a free man to do whatever you want to do!" Tears welled in his eyes, "Please—please do not dishonor me..." I was stunned by his words. This had never occurred to me. I couldn't let my ignorance of his culture be a barrier between us. This was a matter of great importance to him. I had to be very careful with my words and deeds. "Rahim—sit next to me, please," I asked. When he didn't move, I shouted, "SIT NEXT TO ME!" Startled, he stood and walked to me and sat on the bed. I put my arm around his broad shoulders. I caressed his back. I really didn't know what to do next. I just allowed my natural instincts to take over. I turned his head so he faced me, and said, "Kiss me." His lips were tentative at first; I held the kiss until I felt him respond. We kissed again and again. Each time I was more brazen; I pushed my tongue between his lips and he didn't back away. Our lips melded together. He was breathing harder. The passion we felt from our very first kiss many months ago returned. I stroked and caressed his thighs. I brushed my hand against the front of his slacks and felt a huge erection. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt; I caressed his chest and kissed and licked his nipples to hardness. I pulled his shirt off and threw it in the corner of the room. He smiled—he finally smiled. The fire was back in his eyes. I stood up and quickly removed my clothes. I stood naked before him and he sighed. He took hold of my hard cock and was about to go to his knees but I stopped him. Instead, I went to my knees. I unlaced his shoes and pulled them and his socks off. I held his foot and took each toe into my mouth and sucked on them. I reached up and unbuckled his belt, opened his pants and he lifted his hips as I pulled his slacks and underwear down and off. I gasped when I saw his beautiful, bronze boner. Seven-inches long, two-inches thick—my cock throbbed at the sight of him. I had to kiss it; I had to have it in my mouth. I gazed lovingly at his crotch. He had very little pubic hair; his scrotum was smooth; hairless. I licked his ball sac. His balls were large; I could only suck one at a time into my mouth. My tongue lathered his soft flesh. I alternated sucking his balls. I couldn't get enough—I loved having his balls in my mouth. Reluctantly my mouth left his balls; my lips traveled to his beautiful, bronze cock. I gazed at it in awe. I pressed my lips and tongue against his tender flesh. His manly aroma filled my nostrils and I swooned in delight. My lips and tongue moved up and down his turgid pole. I had to have it in my mouth. I opened my lips wide and slid them over his cockhead. My tongue bathed his glans. Suddenly, he stopped me—I glanced up at him with a questioning look in my eyes. He breathed deeply and said, "My little pretty-one, please join me on the bed." He made room for me as I lay down beside him. We embraced and kissed. Our hands caressed and fondled each others' cock and balls. He moved down the bed—we lay head-to-tail on our sides. I felt his lips and tongue on my cock—I moaned loudly and sucked his cock into my mouth. We stroked and sucked each others' cock-flesh. Our throaty groans filled the air. I matched his tempo; his mouth moved faster on my cock so I slid my lips up-and-down his cock in time with him. He massaged my balls—I massaged his. We were both very near. I rubbed his anus with a finger and his hips bucked wildly—his balls erupted and he filled my mouth with his cum. I greedily swallowed all that I could—his cum was delicious. Suddenly, my balls contracted and my cum shot out of my cock and into his mouth. I flailed about wildly in ecstasy as he drained my balls. We licked each other clean. Afterwards, I lay with my head resting on his chest against his heart. His heart beat was music to my ears. I held his heavy balls in my small hand. I had never felt so happy in my life—I was a very lucky man. Finally, he spoke softly and said, "My little pretty-one, we still have a problem..." I placed a finger over his lips to stop him. "Rahim," I said, my head still resting on his sculpted chest, "...you are a doctor--is that correct?" "Yes," he answered, "...but I cannot practice in this country until I get accredited...and to get accredited I need two more years of school..." "I will pay for your school," I told him. He chuckled, "My little pretty-one, you don't seem to understand...that would only put me further into your debt!" I moved up and lay my head on the pillow next to his. I smiled at him. "Yes—you will be indebted to me," I said, "...but, you silly man, what you don't understand is how much money a neurosurgeon earns in this country...once you begin to get paid for your services—you will pay me back every dime that you owe me—that, my bronze God, is the 'American Way'...until then--I own your ass!" His eyes opened wide. I could tell he was thinking hard over my words. A smile played across his lips. "I see nothing wrong with that arrangement," he said. We kissed and hugged and made plans for our future life together. We talked for two-hours non-stop. He opened up to me about his life in Pakistan—his family, his friends, his hopes and dreams. I asked him about Mr. Punjabi. "He brought me to this country—what can I say? I am very grateful for that..." My Bronze God "I understand...but what was it like to 'be with him'?" I asked. A wry smile formed on his lips, "He is short and fat and never gets fully aroused..." I told him about my meeting with WG. "Her name is Ahlam," he said wistfully, "...she was in love with me." "She still is," I said. "She works for Mr. Punjabi and she hates it—she wants to be free of him—maybe one day I can return the favor to her." I had been absentmindedly holding and stroking his beautiful, bronze cock. I felt it tremble in my hand. My thumb spread his pre-cum on his glans.I looked deep in his blue eyes and said, "I want to feel you inside me." A genuine look of concern appeared on his face. "My little pretty-one, I don't want to hurt you." "No," I said, "...I want you to make me yours—I want you to fuck me hard with that beautiful, bronze cock of yours!" I pointed to a tube of lubricant I had intentionally placed on the bedside table. Rahim groaned, and said, "You are a sexy little bitch, my pretty-one...how do you want it?" "I want you on top of me," I whispered, and spread my legs wide for him. I smiled as he opened the tube and applied some gel on his middle finger. We stared into each others' eyes as his finger rubbed the gel on my anus. He applied more gel and his finger gently popped through my opening. We continued gazing at one another as his finger pushed deeper-and-deeper inside of me. He withdrew his finger to the tip and pushed it inside me again to ensure my rectum was thoroughly lubricated. He kneeled between my wide-split thighs and grasped my legs behind my knees and lifted me upwards. My anus was inches from his beautiful, bronze cock. He took hold of his cock and pressed the glans against my hole. He pushed forward. It hurt but my face remained stoic. He watched me carefully for any sign of pain, but I refused to show it. Deeper and deeper he pushed his cock into me. I thought he was going to split me open but I fought hard to keep a small smile on my face. He slowly pushed into me until I could feel his scrotum resting on my bottom-cheeks. His cock was all the way inside me. I closed my eyes so he wouldn't see my pain. He pulled out to the tip then pushed it inside me again. He fucked me slowly as I became accustomed to his size. Suddenly, he thrust deep inside me and his cockhead bumped my prostate. "OOOHHHHH GOD" I screamed. I had never felt such intense pleasure in my life! He quickened his tempo and fucked me with long, even strokes. Each time he pressed against my prostate I screamed my joy. This spurred him on. He fucked me long and hard. The pain was gone—I felt nothing but incredible pleasure. I never knew it could be like this. I wrapped my legs around his back and thrust my hips upward to meet his every stroke. My throbbing cock pressed against his belly. Jolts of electricity coursed through my body. I could feel every vein and nuance of his cock as he fucked me harder-and-harder. He fucked me like a madman now. I loved the feeling of his strong, masculine body pinning me to the bed as he impaled me on his cock. Our sounds of passion and lust filled the room. We were animals now and we grunted and groaned as we strained to cum. I begged him to fuck me deeper and faster. He rammed his magnificent cock in-and-out of me. Suddenly, I felt his cock expand inside my asshole; he fucked me harder with shorter strokes; he screamed out; his cock shot load-after-load of hot cum inside me. I shouted as my balls exploded and I shot stream-after-stream of cum on our bellies. We jerked uncontrollably on the bed as we emptied our balls. When we were drained, he collapsed on top of me. I could feel his cock deflating inside me but I locked my legs around him to keep him inside me. I held him tight and whispered in his ear. He looked at me with wonderment and joy. He said, "I love you, too, my little pretty-one."