Bearing No Relationship To The Jean-Luc Godard Film Of The Same Name...
When we arrive at the Chateau, it takes my breath away. It's an amazing place of turrets and ivy-framed balconies, set in its own private grounds, like something from an exotic tourist brochure. Once there, Paul and I spend most of the time naked, obviously because that's the required state for the films, but also because it's part of the agreement with the ageing wheelchair-bound Comte who owns the place. He's an aged cadaver with effete pince-nez glasses, a deep-green velvet jacket and cravat, and his obsequious manservant Raphe in constant attendance. The benefit of opening up his property for our use, for him, is that he gets to see attractive boys in the state of nature. At François' urging me and Paul approach the Comte to thank him for the use of the chateau. Naturally, we must do it naked. The old man drools with delight as we stoop over him so he can take our cocks into his hands, one in each wrinkled arthritic hand. I fear it'll bring on a heart-attack at any moment.
"You are both such healthy boys" he rasps, making 'healthy' sound like something disgusting, as his withered claws squeeze and fondle our firm young flesh. "Fifty years ago I'd be rogering you both, wouldn't I Raphe?"
His manservant nods dutifully. "Certainly sir, no young ostler or pretty serving boy was safe from you in those days."
I wonder momentarily what dubious services Raphe is performing for his ancient master these days, apart from pushing his wheelchair, and shudder at the thought.
Later, as the crew set up the cameras, François takes me into a private side-room for the 'intense one-to-one tuition' he'd promised.
"You like Paul?" he begins conversationally.
"Sure I like Paul."
"You like having sex with Paul?"
I shrug. "I guess so."
"You see, I've given this some thought, Dear. He's a poppet, a slip of a thing, and he's popular. They all like being paired with Paul on film. He's prettily-hung, but he guarantees good reliable sex. From the feedback we get, the jack-off junkies who buy and download the end-product, they like him too. With some experience, with some practice, I think you could be like him, yes?"
He shoves me a couple of capsules. "Here, take these, they'll give you a firmer and more long-lasting erection."
"I never have problems with that."
"I've noticed, Dear, take them anyway."
I gulp them down.
"Now, on your knees and open wide, you're ready for my advanced blow-job class" he says, shrugging his pants down. "Be my guest choke yourself on it."
I simply do as he says.
He looks down as I tongue his glans. "Hmmm" with a critical edge, as it eases its way between my lips. "You'll have to lose some of your curly locks. Either that, or you pull it back into a pony-tail." I've taken half its length now, and begin sucking. "When the viewers see stiff cock plunging into your mouth, they want a full uninterrupted view of the cock, the whole cock and nothing but the cock. They don't want their sightlines spoiled by random strands of hair. Right?"
I mumble approval as best I can, before spending a full hour with his cock in my mouth in various positions and from a variety of angles, on my knees, on my back, crouched, on all fours, as he instructs and encourages my blow-job technique this way, that way, deeper, pausing only long enough for him to regain control with breathing exercises, before beginning again. It's as though the episode in the glade was a deliberate desensitising process, because once you've interacted with specific cocks, it's easier to do it the second time. And the time after that. By now I'm at ease being naked with other guys. Maybe it's part of my extrovert self emerging? And, amazing to say, it's no longer terrible having a thick cock pulsing in my mouth. It's just something I do. I'm just adding a few new skills to my sexual repertoire, and that's always useful.
"You're all the same" comments François as my head bobs up and down in his groin. "You protest 'Oh no, I'm not gay, oh no, I could never do that, I could never do gay sex.'" He waves his arms in an effeminate way, and caricatures his voice into a campy high-pitched bitch affectation. "Then, when you get a cock in your mouth, you just can't get enough of it. Admit it."
I make an indecipherable gurgling noise in the depths of my throat.
"Well Dear, just think of that lonely sex-starved porn-using guy. When he logs on to watch you sucking cock, he's fingering his hungry hard-on as he's watching you on-screen. Think of him, you've got to work for him, make him imagine that you're on your knees between his legs, that there's nothing you want to do more in the entire world than to get his cock in your mouth and give it the sucking of his life. That's it, crouch with your legs splayed so the camera can focus on your excited cock, so it can see the way it bobs as your head goes up and down, that's it. Now take it deep... ugh, I realise when you're doing this fun-stuff with your boyfriend you just take it deep then do lots of intimate tongue-stuff, but the camera can't see that, so on-film you take it deep, then slowly pull back, bit by bit, not all the way, leave the glans in your mouth, but just so they can perv in and see just how much you're taking, so it makes them gasp, then slide it all the way back in. Looking into the lens. Make it personal, for him, the viewer..."
"No hands, just mouth and cock, nothing to interrupt the sightlines. Make little pleasured noises to show you love doing it. Wriggle your bum so your cock and balls sway and jiggle, c'mon, squirm for me boy, let's see those bollocks bounce. The trick is to make him feel that you're giving him the blow-job, that you're performing on him, so it gets him off. You're the slut-guy gone bad, the answer to his dirtiest dreams and fantasies. You want his spunk in your throat. And don't make it seem too easy. You're enjoying this, but you're enjoying it because his cock is so big that you're having to strain, it's a little too big for comfort, but that's how you like it... right? And when that pervy porn-using guy spunks-off he has to believe it's your mouth tight around his cock, slurping it down greedily. That guy, and all the others. You're sucking a hundred guys, maybe more, they're all coming in your mouth. That's the way it is... If they like the online taster, they'll use their credit-card to download the whole movie."
His words have an undeniably arousing effect. It gets easier. After a full twenty-minutes with the same cock permanently in my mouth, sliding back and forth, all the way into my gullet, then back until just the slimy glans is inside me, but never for a moment leaving the warm cavity of my mouth, I gain confidence. It's snug, warm and familiarised. It's dribbling wet with my saliva. It's no longer strange or unnatural. It's familiar, intimate. That's what this is all about, familiarising me with it, breaking down my resistance – what little resistance I have left. Bizarre to think with what trepidation I'd reacted to Paul's first sexual approaches in his apartment so recently, yet here I am, so soon afterwards, taking cock like a seasoned Gay Porn professional. Perhaps I really do have an aptitude for these skin-games? But judging by the persistent strength of François' erection, by the force of the copious river of hot fluid he ejaculates across my up-turned face, and by the way he gets me to lick and suck his spermy glans clean, I've a suspicion François gains more from the session than I do.
"You know Dear" he says conversationally as I lick the last gooey white blobs from the tip of his wilting cock. "I'll let you into a trade secret that few know. Since the very origins of porn film – not just gay-film but straight as well, when the guy can't muster up enough spunk for the final money-shot, when he can't make it look good, they use egg-white, spattering it onto the face of the up-turned cock-sucker as though it's a rich deluge of fresh sperm."
He laughs conspiratorially. "Porn-viewers like to see a generous amount of spunk, you know. And raw egg-white makes a convincing substitute. But I'll level with you. The team we've got here, I've never had to resort to that. With Pierre and Jacque, when they cum, they shoot copious amounts, as you've found out. No problem there. Jean-Claude too, his ejaculations are endless, a wonder and a joy to behold. You know, in many ways, you're lucky to be a part of this project..."
I emerge in a hot fug of arousal with a slightly-bruised lower lip.
Paul is waiting for me, with a sympathetic and encouraging smile. "François gives each newbie some intense oral tuition. We've all benefited from his personal attentions" he tells me. Then he comically adds "Dirty Perv" in a way that makes me laugh out loud.
By now the equipment is set up and the crew are ready. I'm nervous. But once begun, the filming goes ahead in a blurry fug of highly-sexed bodily arousal. Details merge into one another confusingly. I remember Jacque's rigid cock on my mouth, his wrinkled-foreskin sleeve pulled back, and Pierre's cock up my ass, then the other way around. The more it goes on the more it effects me, the more my body reacts to it, the more I want. But after the initiation I'd endured on the journey here, with Pierre and Jacque in the glade by the stream, I was physically and psychologically prepared for anything. The fluttering butterflies in my gut drowned by the spunk I've inadvertently swallowed. At odd moments I look up and catch a vision of the old Comte and Raphe, his manservant, sitting in a corner watching it all going on, a curious expression on his face midway between longing and regret, memories and yearning. Then we watch the playback rushes at the end shooting, and I can't believe what I'm seeing. Did I do that? Did I really do that? Yes, it's undeniably there on screen.
During a lull in filming that afternoon, still nude but free of their lecherous attentions, Paul and I sit together laughing. When he offers to trim my pubic hair I stand and allow him to.
"When did you...? Y'know, start doing this?" I ask him as he holds my cock to one side to snip stray strands.
"I've been gay since before I knew there was a word for it" he smiles openly, kissing the tip of my glans prettily. "Sometimes I think there was a homosexual agenda at Grand Ecole, where we showered together after games. The big-cocked boys swaggering and showing off. The small-cocked boys hiding behind their towels. The rest of us just taking notes, eyeballing each other's genital set-up, compare and contrast, thinking 'yes, I like that one, oh – not so sure about that one, and ah, that one's really scary.' The master knowingly watches us going into the shower-stall limp, and coming out perky after the furtive tweaks and fondles. He must have been aware what was going on. I soon had a crush on a dishy boy a year older than me, I'd have done anything for him. Once he found out, he took advantage of that, and had me doing pretty much everything for him, sexually, if you know what I mean? Did he fancy me? I doubt it, he just took advantage of my infatuation to get his cock regularly sucked. I was only too happy to oblige. Crouching down with his luscious cock halfway down my gullet I considered myself the luckiest boy in school. Believe me, no-one loves cock more than an infatuated gay-boy."
