gay male movies

For two weeks after fleeing Grime’s home Rick laid low in a seedy gay-friendly rooming house on Galisteo Street at the fringe of the old Santa Fe plaza area. He had no idea what to do now and was considering starting to look for work in an auto repair shop. None he tried out initially needed help and at two of them he was told, “There aren’t many job openings here because there aren’t nearly enough repair shops here. You should try Albuquerque. More dealers and I hear they have openings.”



He waited a bit too long. He needed money to settle his account at the rooming house and also for a bus ticket to Albuquerque, which was just a couple of hours away by road but wasn’t a place he’d want to try walking to. He’d already tried that once to near-disastrous results.



He needed money fast and he needed a good bit of it. He frequented a gay bar nearby, The Matador, at the corner of San Francisco and Galisteo, and every time he went in there someone tried to pick him up—and most offered him money. So, he decided this was his quickest way to a ticket out of Santa Fe.



The man was in this thirties. He was trim, darkheaded, at least partly Hispanic. He looked a little mean and dangerous, tattoos running up and down his arms and one, covering part of his well-muscled chest, was showing through the white sleeveless athletic T he was wearing over black jeans. Black boots and black-leather wrist bands with studs on them. He had a ring in an eyebrow and a big gold bead pierced in the top of his tongue near the tip.



Those were the possible downsides toward a sign of potential “bad idea” trouble. The upside was that he said, “$200, I come twice, you come as many times as you do. And I got a room.” And he flashed the cash and was willing for Rick to put it in an envelope and mail it to himself before they went up to the guy’s room, if that was what Rick wanted.



It sounded OK to Rick. A quick accumulation of what he needed, even if he had to take it a little rough.



The guy was all business. He had Rick on his back on the side of his bed in a room that looked far better furnished and taken care of than Rick would have expected. It was an apartment, really, with at least two bedrooms, although the door to the other bedroom off the hall was closed. The living room was more an office than a parlor. This bedroom was as good as any motel room Rick had been in before.



He told Rick he wanted Rick to come first, and he wanted to undress Rick, which he did expertly and without tearing anything, running his hands over the exposed skin as he freed it. He pushed Rick down on his back, told him to open his legs, and then stood between Rick’s thighs and stripped his own clothes off, revealing the tattooing was full body and he had a ring in his navel and a super thick one in the bulb of his cock.



“You gonna give me back the $200 if you won’t be bound?”



“No, I’ll do that for the cash.” Rick answered. He wasn’t quite prepared for the two heavy frames the guy brought out, though, and put on either side of the bed, spreading Rick’s arms and binding them at the wrist on one frame, and his legs by the ankles on the other one so that Rick was spread-eagled and trussed up at all four points.



Then the guy knelt between Rick’s thighs and went to work on his cock. Rick quickly found out that the bead in the guy’s tongue could drive his cock crazy, not only in being run up and down the length of the shaft, but because it also could be positioned at his piss slit and pushed in there in a fuck stroking motion. The guy fucked Rick’s piss slit until Rick couldn’t take it anymore and came in a great gush. Then the guy moved down and worked on Rick’s balls and his channel opening with the bead until Rick was moaning for the cock, which, when it came, punished Rick’s channel walls and prostate wonderfully with the thick ring in its bulb.



Rick came again before the guy did. After he’d finished, the guy sauntered off and came back with three chilled bottles of Corona beer. One he drank while he rolled Rick’s ass up toward him so that, forcing the necks of the beer bottles up Ricks channel, he filled Rick’s ass with two bottles of beer. Then he stopped up the beer from seeping out by plugging the hole with his cock again. While he fucked, he reached up and over and released Rick from his bonds, and they wound up in a close clutch, the guy’s torso covering Rick’s and Rick’s legs hooked around his waist, as they kissed and the tattooed guy pumped, and beer seeped around his cock and down Rick’s thighs.



“You’re every stroke as good as in the movie,” the guy muttered as he still was pumping Rick.



“What? What do you mean?”



“You’re in that film, Journey to Mirage, showing over in the gay film festival in Arizona, aren’t you? You’re Randy Lane.”



“No, no, you have me mistaken with someone else.”



“No, I wasn’t sure. But I am now.” He moved a hand to Rick’s hip as he continued stroking, slow and deep in the soppy beer lube, driving Rick crazy with that thick ring of his. “This here birthmark gives you away. Just like in the film. It won grand prize. The film, that is. You knew that didn’t you?”



“No,” Rick answered, and then, on another subject. “Yes, yes, right . . . there. Oh, shit, yes. Oh fuck!”



And he came again, although the tattooed guy didn’t miss a stroke in his own rhythm.



“I’ve been watchin’ you for a week. I thought it was you. Now I know. I got you up here—$200 is a hell of a lot of money for a double fuck you know—cause I’m a filmmaker too. Different films than that one, Journey to Mirage. Not so artsy fartsy. Straightforward leather and such. But you’re a sweet fuck on film. I wanna do a couple of forced ones. I think you’d do reluctance good. I’d like you in them.”



“Sorry, not interested,” Rick said, his voice still a whimper from the working over his channel was getting from the thick ring.



The guy pulled out of him and walked over and leaned against a bachelor’s chest, his arm on top of the chest and his slim, well-muscled, and tattoo decorated torso tilted at a provocative angle. He looked so nasty and beautiful at the same time that Rick moaned.



“I know you’ll take it and love it. You want me. You want me now.”



“No, sorry. I don’t want to do movies. I’m moving on.”



“Sure you are. But it’s OK. I’ll let you think about it. I’ll pay you $1,000 for the first film. More after that if the first one turns out good. We film right here. Here and in the other bedroom. Got it fixed up real nice. Some special equipment. Wanna see it?”



“No, I don’t think so,” Rick answered. But the truth of the matter is that maybe he did—maybe he wanted too much to see it. He forced himself to resist. He had resolved not to go down that road.



“But you’ll think about it? I’ve got a card I’ll give you and you can call me when you’ve decided you’ll do it. I know you will. You were dynamite in the film. Sold it all by yourself. You and the other blond cutie. Wonder where he is. Ever do it together you two?”



“No.”



“You bring him in and let me and the boys work you both over in a film and I’ll pay you double. God, the number of dicks you took one after the other. And the vampire scene. I coulda sworn you were gonna buy the farm before that was over. You got a million-dollar ass. And a great actor. You had me believing you thought you were gonna get snuffed too.”



“I guess I’d better go now,” Rick said, “OK if I use your bathroom and take a shower before I go.”



“I didn’t come a second time. I paid for two.”



Rick watched, wide eyed, as the guy opened a closet door and rolled out a metal apparatus that looked like a saw horse with two saddles in tandem on it and leather straps on the sides front and middle. He found that the saddles were for his belly and pecs and the straps were for his arms hanging down at the sides in front and his feet and ankles bent at the sides like he was pumping a bicycle. This left his ass raised and at just the right ankle for the tattooed filmmaker to thrust inside his channel and work off his second session.



“Liked that?” he asked when he finished. “It could be in the first film if you like.”



Rick indeed had liked it—he’d known for some time that he liked being bound when he did it. But the day the $200 reached him in the mail, he was out the door and on a bus for Albuquerque.

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