All participants are over the age of 18.
Ben was broke. So broke he used all of his money to get to this interview. Getting home was going to be a long walk and a hope that he could ask his new boss for a forward of his first pay. New boss, his mind scoffed at the idea and his stupidity. This job was an offer given to him by Mark. Mark was the worst kind of acquaintance to get a job offer from. It wasn't that Mark was a bad person or that he was stupid or naive. No Mark was the guy he mutually masturbated to porn with.
Ben ruefully shook his head as he arrived at the dilapidated industrial estate. The bus lurched to the left and came to a stop just before the burnt-out bus station. From the address that Mark gave him, Ben estimated a twenty-minute walk. The walk gave him time to go over the conversation in his head. Maybe even talk himself out of this stupidity.
"Hey, you're on here a lot more at the moment." Mark had said, his camera showing a flabby man from a hairy belly button over greying pubic hair down to just below the top of his thighs. Mark exposed his large circumcised cock which was oozing precum and being periodically stroked by a tattooed hand with three gaudy rings.
At the time Ben idly wondered if the rings on Mark's hand added any sensation to the masturbation. Now he wondered why he jerked off with weird people online. Ben had a wide range of sexual experiences some of his earliest was in post high school days living in student accommodation and mutual masturbating with his roommate. They had tried some things but never really progressed as their attention was more focused on the women on the screen.
Ben had met Mark in an online site after answering a post regarding showing exposing themselves masturbating for porn, otherwise a request for a fellow gooner. Gooning was the art of spending long periods masturbating to porn. Being broke is bad, being broke, horny and girlfriendless was worse. Ben enjoyed the porn that Mark shared and the taboo nature of exposing himself to a total stranger online. After Mark's question about Ben's increased online presence, more questions inevitably followed.
"You doing this with others?" Ben mulled that over now as he walked along broken concrete footpaths, shattered by the weight of heavy machinery parked carelessly in the past. He had been doing it lots. He was single and in his parent's house rent-free. Both of his parents worked jobs which took them all over the country. So he had the run of the house. Ben spent most of his time now nude, and either playing video games or masturbating online for or with strangers.
Checking the address for the millionth time he located the street that he had to travel down, looking down it he saw overgrown dilapidated buildings, entire industrial blocks covered in some weird vine and a not a working car in sight. Ben once again cursed Mark. Mark to his credit and like many of his other online partners they complimented Ben on his sleek lithe body, hairless except for some tidy, manscaped pubic hair. Most of all and especially Mark, they talked about his dick.
His dick was nothing spectacular, to Ben anyway. It was straight, well proportioned and circumcised. Its length was a little over average, its girth Ben felt a little under. It had a pale shaft where you could easily identify knotty veins, thick and thin and a large slightly dark red almost purple head. To Ben it was his cock to others it was some wonderful example of masculine penis sculpting. Once again Ben shook his head and wandered down the abandoned road. What had he got himself into?
Ben pondered if it was his age or naivety that had attracted many of the older men. Then in some dark and now embarrassed recess of his mind, he did not mind the attention from the older men. It was that part that had gotten him into trouble, that taboo kernel that liked the older male guidance and the lust-fueled admiration they had for his thin muscular frame and "perfect" cock. Mark probed for answers and Ben let him know, he was broke and needed a job, worse still he had no skills and had flunked out of higher education.
They talked, as men do, looking at each other's erect penises and watching porn. The conversation drifted from what they would do to the actress, to the actor and how they would change the scene. When suddenly Mark revealed his face. An aged one of a man in his early fifties, too much plastic surgery evident by the unnatural aging he presented. This was breaking the unwritten rules and Ben almost shut the chat down.
"Ok, you have seen me, so you know me better. I may. If you are still there, have a proposition for you." Mark's sudden change in action and tone had riveted Ben to the spot unsure of what to do next. Did he shut down the chat with one of his more prolific porn gooners? Ben spoke quietly and asked him what he wanted, knowing that if this was a proposition for sex, that he would shut down his biggest gooner. He was curious about penises but not about becoming a whore.
After a convo and another four-hour masturbation session, Ben agreed. Mark had friends in the local city he lived in that did photo-shoots to sell online. Most were tame softcore pornography where aspiring actresses and even aspiring the odd pornstar would pose. This all seemed ludicrous and a lie when Mark first said it. But Mark persisted and said they would offer cold hard cash and that it wasn't a lie. A number was offered by Mark. It was the number of a manager who ran the place. Calling it he was shuffled through a female secretary and eventually spoke to a gruff guy, the owner, who asked about a health check and had he done anything like this before?
The phone conversation was short, an interview time and date established. Money discussed and a medical test to be conducted. Ben had waited for them to ask him for money, but not demand was made, Ben even checked and was rebuffed. "Why the hell would you pay me?" So after a nervous sleep and pooling the last of his funds for transport costs Ben made his way to the Honeytime Studios in the middle of what Ben named "lock your doors or die" industrial estate. Passing by vacant lots, the chainlink rusted and collapsing in on itself, burnt-out cars overrun by vines and grass, Ben wondered if he was getting out of here alive.
Finally, the small well kept building labelled in large stencilled paint "building four" emerged from the industrial wasteland. Grey and dotted with skylights and air conditioning vents, the building looked like an oasis of maintenance in the land of dilapidation. It was the first heartening thing he had seen all day. Walking onto the lot he noted that the lawn was mowed and the concrete painted to look like cobblestone. Fake plants sat in expensive pots and marked a path towards a set of tinted glass double doors. Upon the solid tinted glass window, Honeytime studios was stencilled, beneath the lettering an anthropomorphic bee looked suggestively over her shoulder, her large cartoon human-bee bottom underlining the studio title.
Ben sighed and took a deep breath. Everything looked ok despite the neighbourhood. Gingerly he shifted his satchel on his shoulder and with wavering confidence walked forward to push open the door. Cold, freezing air hit him, the type of cold air that only an over the top air conditioner could produce. The entrance was marked by an embedded and ridged rubber-aluminium mat for guests to clean their shoes on, beyond that was a deep white pile carpet. The walls were garishly decorated to look like a honeycomb only with purple and yellow hexes. A large reception desk occupied the wall space between two sets of large double doors. The desk was large and hid the receptionist that Ben could hear answering a call.
"Honeytime studios, how can I direct your call," her voice was tinny, nasally and emphasised a tone of youth.
Ben steadied himself, the hidden receptionist sounded younger than him, she had a job, what was his problem? He steadied himself, as the years went on it never got easier. Kids who just left school doing better than him.
"Thanks for your enquiry but we are not after models at the moment."
