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Jak Rollins licked across the palm of his hand, captivated, as the thick strand of sperm, connecting his tongue with his hand, stretched, and finally broke. Slurping up the results of his own orgasms had been a ritual he'd followed since he'd shot his first load, five years earlier. He loved the taste of other men's juice, and the feeling of their cock as it pulsed, flooding his mouth, until he finally had to swallow. 'Other men's jiz tastes great,' he'd thought, more than once, 'but I like the taste of mine best.' First, he'd lick across the palm of his hand, then suck each finger clean, then, more often than not, he would fall asleep. Today, he squeezed the length of his penis and milked out whatever sperm remained, then, once again, licked his fingers clean, savoring the taste. Finally, satisfied, he lay his head back against the pillow, oblivious to his surroundings, licked his lips, heaving a sigh of contentment. "Perfect! You're hired!" Jak's eyes flew open, as reality reasserted itself. Instead of being alone, he was in a fancy hotel room, where three men, not much older than himself, had momentarily dismissed him from their thoughts while they spoke among themselves. Two of the men gestured in his direction as they spoke, neither looking at him. Finally, the person Jak labeled as the boss, glanced toward him and grinned, yet remained silent. 'So, he's watching me. How is it possible for me to feel even more naked than I already am?' Jak asked himself. 'I shouldn't be embarrassed. After all, I've just finished masturbating in front of three strangers. I've sucked my fingers clean, and am now sprawled on a hotel room bed, with my legs spread wide and my erection gradually shrinking. Hell, after doing all that, in front of total strangers, I shouldn't be embarrassed by much of anything.' He raised his head and looked down at the fine sheen of perspiration covering his chest, and lay back, too exhausted to move. 'I wanna take a nap,' he thought, stifling a yawn. "I've never seen someone so at ease in front of strangers," he heard one of the men say. "Where'd you find him? He's perfect! Sexuality oozes from every pore. Hell, I was about ready to pop, just watching him shoot!" Jak frowned. 'Huh?' he groggily thought, around another yawn. 'What's he mean . . . oozing from every pore? No one ever told me anything like that. I'm just a regular guy . . . nothing special.' Jak half-listened to the two men prattle on. Deciding he was not going to be allowed to take a nap, he propped himself up on his elbows and studied the room, cursing himself for being such easy prey for someone offering "a couple bucks." Jak didn't have to think too hard about why he accepted the offer. 'I feel poor,' he lamented. 'I don't like having to work two jobs just so I can keep my beat-up car running, and pay for school. After helping out with the household expenses, there's not much left for me. Dad makes a good living; it's just . . . well . . . things seem to have always been stretched tight. 'So . . . there it is. Money talks, and earning a few bucks for beating-off in front of a couple guys is easy money. It may buy a tank of gas, if nothing else. Now, though, look where I am,' he thought, as he scooted to the side of the bed farthest from the three men, and stooped, reaching for his underwear. "Wait!" Levi Witter, the man who'd convinced him to put on a little show, spoke with authority. It seemed weird to call someone not ten years older than himself, 'sir', but . . . it felt right. While the other two men claimed he oozed sexuality, this man oozed authority. It'd been almost palpable the moment he'd sat down across the table, as Jak ate a sack lunch in the College Commons Building. After a few pleasantries, he described his business, and asked Jak if he would be interested in possibly being a model for his studio's website. "My apologies for ignoring you, . . . um," he hesitated, searching for a name, irritated at himself for not being able to recall the name of the young man who stood, frozen in place, as if he were a deer facing an oncoming car. "The name's Jak," the naked man warily supplied, still unwilling to face the three men. He rubbed a hand across his stomach, irritated at discovering a patch of liquifying sperm, which had begun to leave wet streaks over his belly. 'Oh great!' he silently groaned, 'what am I supposed to do with a spermy hand?' Somehow, licking his hand clean didn't seem quite so appropriate as it had a few moments earlier. 'I can't wipe it on the bed sheets. Mom would have a fit if she knew I did something like that.' Jak paused, grinning to himself. 'Hell, I can't begin to think what she'd say if she knew I had just beat my meat for three strangers, all for a couple bucks. I'm not that hard-up for money, am I?' he asked himself. While two of the men discussed his . . . assets, Jak quickly brought his hand to his mouth and did his best to clean off as much of his juice as possible. Whatever was left, he wiped over his thigh, and hoped the guys had been too busy talking to notice. "What a perfect ass," one of the men commented, "and look at those legs!" Jak glanced at himself in the mirror on the far wall of the room. 'I've always liked my butt,' he thought. 'I wonder why they haven't mentioned that.' The mirror reflected a man of average height, with short blond hair, large dark-blue eyes, broad shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist, and long, muscular thighs and calves. 'The dick could be better,' he thought, 'though I like the way it hangs over my nuts. I've got thick pubes; I like that.' "The face, you mean;" corrected the second man, "the eyes . . . and those lips!" 'I'd bet the farm that I'm gonna end up bald,' Jak thought, wondering why someone didn't point that out. 'And what's so great about my lips?' he wondered, trying to see himself in the same light as the two men who were analyzing him, bit by bit. 'I'm surprised someone hasn't commented on me clipping my chest hair.' He studied his reflection, trying not to be too obvious. 'My lips? With the way they're talking, I would have thought they'd be asking to take a close look at my hole, not talking about my lips!' Then he turned slightly. 'I really do like my butt.' Jak tore his attention away from his reflection, and determinedly pulled the brief pair of underwear up his legs. 'Geez, I'm not a horse,' he groused, as the evaluation continued, wondering when they were going to ask to see his teeth. He arranged himself in the pouch of his briefs, then turned toward the men, now . . . safely . . . hidden behind the thin, dark-blue fabric. "Guys," he said, breaking into the conversation, "I wish you'd stop talking about me as if I wasn't in the room. Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" He retrieved his shirt and, while fastening the buttons, realized how quiet the room had become. When he looked up, two of the men were red-faced, while their boss, was grinning. "Well?" Levi Witter asked, turning to look first at one friend, then the other. "The young man asked you a question. Show some manners and answer him." "My apologies for treating you like a piece of meat," the youngest of the two men mumbled, not quite meeting Jak's eyes as he spoke. "Mine, too . . . um . . ." "Like I said, the name's Jak." "Of course . . . Jak. Sorry. Mine's Pete Landry. I was just wondering what sort of work-name would be good for you. You knew you wouldn't be using your actual name, didn't you?" "Um, I guess I hadn't thought about it. This entire website sex-thing is still sort'a vague to me. I mean, I've seen guys have sex online, but those were guys off the street. What you're doing sounds more . . . um . . . professional, I guess." Pete snorted. "It's like the difference between night and day. "And . . . you think I'd fit in with the guys you already have working for you? This Cody person, you've mentioned a couple times, doesn't sound like a very nice guy. Must really be a looker, though, I guess." Pete shrugged. "Yeah, he's easy on the eyes, and he . . ." His eyes lit, and he snapped his fingers. "I know! You should be called 'Soren'! It's an unusual name, without being too unusual, and it's not trite like some names. What'cha think?" "Soren?" Jak said, finding it strange to think of himself answering to a name other than Jak Rollins. "If that's an okay name, that's what we'll start calling you," Mister Witter said. "That's the name you'll be known by online, as well as by the other guys who work for me." "It's perfect!" Pete Landry announced. "Just like you." Jak zipped his jeans, then slipped on his loafers. "Guys, 'Soren's' a cool-sounding name, but I'm definitely not perfect, so stop going on like that; okay? I . . . I don't know exactly what to say about all this," he gestured to himself, then the messy bed. "Thanks, I guess, would be right. It was sort'a fun, getting naked and playing with myself in front of you all." Jak massaged the back of his neck, as he thought. "Still . . . I . . . I just don't think this performance-thing would be right for me. I'm too . . ." "What? You're perfect!" "Huh? I'm shaking like a leaf, I'm so nervous. If you'd been watching me instead of gushing about my face, and butt, and all, you would have noticed." He nodded toward the bed. "Whether you know it or not, it was all I could do to get hard, a while ago." "But you did," Mister Witter added, with a fatherly smile, and a raised brow. Jak snorted. "Yeah, after fingering my butthole. That always gets me hard." He looked at one of the men with a frown, as the guy tilted his head back, covered his eyes, and groaned. "Is he okay?" Mister Witter's smile broadened. "Definitely. Dave's just a little . . . demonstrative, that's all. It's his nature." Jak studied the man for a moment, as if unsure of the assertion, then continued. "Guys, this whole thing has sort'a freaked me. I mean, sheesh, there I was, naked as a jay-bird, beating my meat, while three total strangers look on, sort'a grading me, like I was in the Olympics, or something. 'Give him a seven, for style,' I can almost hear one of you saying." "I'd have given you a ten," Dave Adams said, "and another ten for your climax. Geez-Louise, I've never seen someone blast like that! Do you shoot like that every time?" "Huh?" Jak thought back to when he'd shot. "I . . . Yeah, I guess. All guys do the same thing." "Then I'd like to know the guys you know," Dave mumbled, as the man next to him spoke. "I'd have given him a twelve," Pete Landry added. "Um, what sports do you play?" "Huh? . . . None. Why?" "None? Do you lift?" "You mean, weights?" After seeing a nod, Jak shook his head. "No. I'm too busy going to school and trying to keep my frippin' car running! I'm not wealthy, guys. My folks are doing all they can to make ends meet, and support my sister and brother." "Brother! You have a brother?" Jak frowned. "Yeah, why?" he asked, warily. "I suppose you want him to beat-off for you too?" "Would he, y'think?" Dave asked, eagerly. "He's fourteen, for pity's sake! So . . . no, he won't. I think it was a mistake for me to come here, and get naked for you, too. Don't get me wrong," he added, as he reached for his jacket. "It was fun n'all . . . shooting a load always is, but I'm sort'a feeling all weirded-out." "If you really don't think working for me would be a good move for you . . . here," Mister Witter said, holding out a hand, and a folded piece of paper. "I understand your feelings. I think you're mistaken, but I do understand how you feel. This is to compensate you for your time. I mentioned that you could expect payment for masturbating for us." "Huh?" one of the men began, but stopped speaking, after Mister Witter frowned and shook his head, once. "As my colleague, here, has . . . gushed . . . you would be perfect. With your looks, your body, your cock and butt, and your personality, you could go far." "Far?" Jak mumbled, wearing a puzzled frown, as he accepted the piece of paper. "What's this?" He unfolded it, to find a check. "Huh?" He looked up, wide-eyed. "You mentioned giving me a couple bucks to jerk-off for you. This," he held up the check, "would pay my frippin' tuition for next semester!" He extended his hand, and handed the check back to Mister Witter. "Here. You keep this and give me twenty-bucks, and I'll be on my way." "Is that what you'd charge to put on a show like the one the three of us just witnessed?" Levi Witter asked. Jak shrugged, tugging on his jacket. "Hell if I know! I've never given a performance before. I figure that's about what it was worth, though. I mean, all I did was shoot a load. There's nothing special in that!" "It's not what you figure that's important to me, Jak," the older man said, in a kind voice. "When it comes to what Dave, Pete, and I just saw, it's what I figure that's important, and I figure that the performance you just gave was worth the figure on this check, and more. If things work out like I think they will, you could expect to earn four or five times the amount on that check each month, for something like . . . six or seven days work." He grinned, encouragingly. "It wasn't a performance, guys," Jak protested. "I just jerked-off, nothing more! I do it every day, sometimes twice . . . or more, when I'm super horned-up. I didn't do anything for you all that I don't do at home." "You'd do something more?" Dave Adams asked, his brows rising. "Huh?" Jak's eyes flicked from the short man, to Levi, then back, unsure if he was being teased. Mister Witter gestured to the check. "Jak, let me put things plainly, if my too-vocal assistant will refrain from interrupting." He turned back to Jak, wearing a smile. "You're right. When I met you, over at the college, I offered you a couple bucks to masturbate, for me and my friends, with the understanding that I might make you a job offer, afterward." Jak nodded, agreeing with what had been said. "I make the same offer . . . often," he continued. "It's my job to locate men who would like to make some good money, while having sex with one another, and having their performances displayed on my website. Each of the men to whom I offer a job, as well as those who work for me, are very much like yourself - young, good looking, eager to have sex. Most of them are gay, but not all. All of them, though, like the money, and, if they're not gay, they're able to convince themselves that having sex with another guy is fun, as long as they're paid. I pay more than most studios, and, as a result, I have men working for me that other studios only dream of being able to hire. I believe you could be one of the best; that's why I'd like to offer you an exclusive contract. What I'm saying is, I don't want anyone else snatching you away to work for them. By being under an exclusive contract, you would be paid substantially more than most of the other guys who work for me. I believe you are special, Jak, and I know the people who subscribe to the site would think so, as well. "Now, to get back to what would be expected of you. You wouldn't be working, like in a regular job, Monday through Friday, and all that. We'd fly you out for a couple weeks at a time. You'd hang out with the guys on a casual basis, and make a few videos, or do interviews which we'd set up. You'd be paid, then we'd fly you back home. The videos would eventually be seen on our website, by our members. "The members are the people who pay the bills, Jak. I'm not being generous to you, because you're such a nice guy. I'm in this business to make money, just as you would be, if you accept my offer. Since I believe you would be extremely popular with my site's members, I believe you would therefore end up making money for both of us. "If you choose not to take me up on my offer, I would be greatly disappointed, but I would understand. Either way, this check is yours. Believe me, young man, you are worth much more, to both of us, than a mere twenty bucks." "Um, uh . . . thanks." Jak gestured helplessly, as he accepted the check, with an uncertain look. "Is this f'real? Not the check. I'm talking about this whole thing. I'm guessing it must be, since you gave me this," he said, holding up the check. "I mean, it's tough for me to believe that you want to pay me big money to have sex with another guy? I mean, sex! That's it? You're not gonna ask me to have sex with your dog, or anything like that, are you?" he asked, his lips twitching in suppressed humor. "And, exactly how many people would be in the room while all this is going on? Are there women around? I'm not sure I could handle that." "I guess that means you wouldn't consider being filmed with women?" Levi asked. Jak made a face. "Um, sorry, but no thanks. I mean, women are nice n'all. I've got a mother and sister, after all; but to have sex with one of 'em . . . no thanks! I'm talking about women in general, not my mother or sister." He cleared his throat. "I'm into guys, and only guys." He frowned at the man who was making the offer. "You're not gonna ask me to do something weird, are you, other than with women, I mean? You never did answer, about your dog, y'know. By weird, I mean, I'm not into slapping another guy around, or being slapped around, or stuff like that. I like regular ol' sex . . . sucking, fucking, ass licking, n'kissing. I love kissing." He thought a moment. "I guess an occasional slap on the butt would be okay, but nothing serious, like whips n'stuff, y'know? It's okay for other guys. It's just . . . I'm not into that." "To answer your question, the dog is definitely off limits, and any smacks on the butt would be negotiated beforehand." "You mean, negotiated, like, 'you can slap mine if I can slap yours?'" Jak grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. 'A sense of humor, too!' Levi thought. 'I love it!' "So, you'll at least think about the offer?" Levi asked. "Um, yeah, I guess. And . . .," Jak held up the check. "Thanks for this." He shook Dave Adams' and Pete Landry's hands, followed by Mister Witter's, then turned back. "You're not just jerking my chain to see what I'll do, then have a big laugh at my expense, when I jump, are you? That wouldn't be cool." He looked at the check. "I'm not going to cash this until I've visited your website. I also want to check with some people at the university, about this," he said, glancing toward the envelope, containing the contract. "I'd also like to talk with my folks." He inhaled deeply, then slowly released his breath. "That's gonna be rough, since they don't know I'm gay." He rubbed a hand across his face. "Geez, I'm not looking forward to that." * * * Jak carefully tucked the check into his wallet, as he walked down the hallway, heading for the elevator lobby. He was lost in thought, overcome with the possibilities Mister Witter's offer presented, but wary of hidden strings, which were sure to exist. 'I mean, sex! All he's asking me to do is have sex with another guy. Strip naked, roll around on the bed, kiss, suck, fuck, shoot a load, kiss some more, laugh, have a good time, kiss some more. I could do that! 'So . . . okay . . . I could do it, but does that doesn't mean that it would be a good thing for me to do it? Would I be contracting myself into some sort of sex slavery? I wonder what the guys are like who work for Mister Witter. What happens if someone, who's told to work with me, can't stand me, or, I'm not handsome enough, like they said that Cody-guy told someone. How would I feel if that happened, or, worse yet, what if I'm told to work with someone I can't stand? Is that why they call it acting? Am I a good enough actor to let a guy I don't like, fuck me, and make everyone believe I'm having a good time? What happens if the guy's huge? What if someone laughs at me, 'cause I'm not muscular enough, or my dick's not big enough? Can I handle that sort'a thing? 'I have to be realistic. This type of job can't go on for a very long time,' Jak told himself, as the elevator descended to the parking garage, and his car. 'I mean, I can't let this whole, 'you're perfect,' thing go to my head. They may think I'm perfect today, but tomorrow, someone more perfect could come along, and I'll be yesterday's left-overs. 'Otherwise, this isn't a long-term profession - it's a job, which means,' he thought, drawing out the word in his mind. 'Which means, that I have a commodity which Mister Witter wants to pay for, so I shouldn't go around giving it away, no matter how much I might be tempted.' Jak slid behind the steering wheel of his car, lost in thought. 'So, does all this mean that I want to accept Mister Witter's offer, and, if so, how in the world am I going to break it to Mom and Dad, that 'I'm planning on quitting college for a while, and . . . oh . . . by the way, I'm gay, and I'm going to be working as a gay porn actor. 'I can just imagine what my sister will say! The girl's more conservative than a Baptist minister's mistress. Both Aubrey and Mom will probably howl, asking what the neighbors are going to think, as if I'm going to send 'em all invitations to, 'Join the rest of the world and watch Jak get fucked by a total stranger, on the World Wide Web.' The whole world . . . Am I that much of an exhibitionist? Hell, before today, I didn't think I was any sort of exhibitionist. Now . . . the whole frippin' world's gonna be blessed with a closeup of my asshole as some guy plugs me.' Jak thought a moment, and grinned. 'I wonder what my asshole does look like when someone's fucking me.' His grin turned into a bright smile. 'It might be sort'a cool to see myself having sex.' He barked a laugh. 'So . . . it looks like I'm not only an exhibitionist, but a narcissist, too! "Then, there's m'brother, Rex . . . he may only be fourteen, but knowing him, he'll want to get in on the act, the horny little fucker. Oh . . . and horror of horrors, once he finds out what I'm doing, he won't rest until he finds Mister Witter's site, and sends all his friends to visit and watch his brother have sex with a bunch of . . . dudes.' Jak leaned his head back and groaned. 'Maybe this whole thing isn't such a good idea, after all. 'So, that leaves Dad. What'll he say about this whole thing? Geez, though, I need someone to be able to talk with, about all this.' * * * "Holeeee smoke!" Dave Adams howled, as he flopped onto the bed recently vacated by Jak Rollins. "That boy is about as fuckin' sexy as it is possible to be!" Dave rolled onto his stomach and nuzzled the young man's pillow, hoping to find an overlooked dollop of sperm. Finding none on the pillow, he examined the bed's headboard, and found a spot which was still wet. He wiped his fingers across the spot and licked them, then fell onto his back. "Fuck!" he shouted. "He tastes awesome, too." Then he held the pillow to his face, inhaling what remained of Jak's scent. "Did'ya lick the friggin' headboard?" Pete Landry teased. "You're probably tasting the cleaning lady's furniture polish." Dave rolled his head from side to side. "Nope. I know sperm when I taste it. I just tasted sperm, and it was excellent. Oh," he sighed, tossing the pillow aside, "some lucky fucker's gonna get to have a mouth full of that sweet stuff! I am going to be soooo jealous." "Did you see the way he slowly brought himself close to shooting, then backed off, only to start working himself again?" Pete Landry asked, turning to his boss. "Damn, but he's got a nice cock . . . thick, and long enough to stretch a guy's hole without doing lasting damage. "And, the way he almost made love to his friggin' hand, as he licked off his juice, then seemed to savor the taste of his own stuff, as he moved it around in his mouth!" Pete groped himself, as he recalled watching the sperm blast out of Jak's penis, splatter against the bed's headboard, and leave behind a thick white trail over the young man's chest and belly. Jak's back arched, as he spread his legs, dug his heels into the bed sheets, and shouted, as his penis erupted. Pete glanced toward the headboard, then climbed onto the bed. "Suppose there's any more stuff left behind?" he asked. "I'd like to taste it." "Nope," Dave chuckled. "You're gonna have to kiss me to find out what it tastes like." "In your dreams, shorty." "It's either that, or lick the headboard." "No contest! The headboard wins!" Pete laughed, as he pushed Dave and the pillows aside, then fell onto his stomach, intending to search the entire headboard, if necessary. "You both are just turned on by the young man's short blond hair and deep voice," Levi Witter laughed, as the two men on the bed playfully wrestled. "Not to mention his perfect tan, his firm nipples, slim waist, and milky white skin, which never sees the light of day beneath his Speedo swimsuit. "Personally, I was taken with his eyes," Levi observed, as he slapped the seat of Pete's shorts, urging him to make room on the bed, so he could sit down. "So large and blue . . . and his teeth . . . an orthodontist's poster boy, for sure." "What about his fuzzy ass cheeks?" Dave asked, before falling back onto a pillow with an exaggerated groan of frustration. "He's got some smarts, too," Levi continued, ever the practical one of the three. "Many guys his age would have jumped at the chance to make good money and fuck around while they're doing it. Not him. He wants to speak with some people at the college, and visit with his parents. I love it!" Levi turned to the two men, one still searching for some missed sperm, the other squeezing his own cock through his shorts. "Guys, if he decides to work for us, we're going to have to treat him very well. He's not someone who jumps into things lightly, and, I'm thinking that his emotions and sense of self-worth are not as well developed as he might think." "Otherwise, he can be easily hurt," Pete Landry observed, finally giving up his search for any remaining sperm, and beginning to speculatively eye his friend, wondering if he should take him up on the offer to kiss, as a means to taste Jak's juice. Levi nodded. "We can't allow Cody to do that to him," Dave Adams declared, suddenly serious. "If he signs on, one of us has to warn him." "I'm thinking that he's had a rougher life than he's willing to talk about. I'm not suggesting he was abused or anything," Levi added. "I'm talking about not ever having quite enough money. That's one of the things which impresses me about him, too. He likes the idea of the money, but his decision isn't going to be based solely on how much he can earn. Guys, what he needs is a confidant; someone he can pour out his soul to." "A lover?" Pete wondered. Levi shrugged. "Someone whose opinion he values. Someone he trusts." * * * "Dad," Jak said, slowly sinking into a chair opposite his father's. Steve Rollins looked up, and after seeing his son's expression, put the newspaper aside. "I'm needing to talk to you and Mom about something really important, and I'm thinking that I may need someone to prevent Mom from going ballistic on me. Well . . . both Mom and Aubrey, actually." He grinned. "They're both the ballistic sort of folks." "And, you trust me not to go . . . ballistic?" Steve Rollins grinned. Jak took a deep breath. "Dad, I'm gay." "Okay, so when are you going to give me the news which might make me ballistic?" Steve smiled. He leaned forward and lightly patted his son's knee. "Jak, parents know when one of their children is gay." He smiled. "Don't look so puzzled. Your mother and I didn't come to that conclusion because of something you did or didn't do, or a way you act, or don't act. We talked about your orientation years ago, and, yes, she went semi-ballistic, but . . . she's gotten over it. Now, your sister . . ." Steve Rollins shook his head. "Her I won't vouch for. She has rules of propriety to which a saint wouldn't be able to conform. But, don't worry about her, or how much she howls. I have a feeling the young lady is going to lead a very lonely life." "There's more," Jak began, as his sister and mother came into the house, laden with groceries. "Why are you both looking so serious?" Jak's mother, Rachel, asked, as she and her daughter came back into the living room. "Rachel," Steve said, in a warm, no-nonsense voice. "Jak has just come out to me, and was seeking my support. I gave it to him, wholeheartedly, and told him that your support was his, as well." "You mean you're a fag?" Aubrey shrieked. "My brother, a fag! You can't be my brother. You're a fag! You live in the same house as me. Ewww!" "Aubrey Rollins!" her father shouted, his voice filling the living room with his displeasure. "You . . . will . . . never . . . use . . . that . . . word . . . in . . . this . . . house again! Do I make myself understood? I'm sorry that I cannot make the message any simpler. There are no words more simple than those with one syllable! Now, apologize to your brother. You've been brought up to behave better than that." "I'd like to see you try and make me apologize," Aubrey sniffed, as she tossed her hair, and stomped out of the room. Jak sank back in his chair. "About what I expected from her," he murmured, turning to his red-faced father and ashen-faced mother. "Sit down, Dad, and don't fret about her behavior. There's nothing you or anyone else is going to do to change how she views the world." "Well, the young lady is, very soon, going to find her life interesting, in the extreme," he said, as he slowly returned to his seat. "I agree with you, though. Bigotry, such as hers, is close to impossible to change, but I, as her father, do not have to support her while she shoots off her mouth like that in my house. She will soon learn that behavior like that has a price, and I'm sure it's a price she will be loath to pay." "Steve," Rachel warned, but stopped speaking, at the look her husband turned on her. "Mom?" Jak asked. "I don't want to disappoint you, or make you angry, or anything." "Hush, Jak. You haven't." She looked up as the telephone rang. "I want you to be happy, more'n anything," she said, as she hurried to answer the telephone. "Jak," Steve Rollins said, in a low voice, as his wife spoke on the phone. "There's more?" Jak solemnly nodded. "Is it essential for your mother to hear what you have to say . . . today? We've had quite enough drama for my stomach." "Dad," Jak gulped. "I need to talk." Steve stood, then moved to sit on the arm of his son's chair, and rested an arm over Jak's shoulders. "I see you do. Would it be okay if it was just you and me? We can ease your mother into whatever it is, later on. Deal?" he asked, squeezing his son's shoulder. "Yeah, Dad . . . deal." "Y'gonna be okay?" Steve asked. "Y'need some time alone, or anything?" Jak shook his head. "No. I just get a little emotional n'stuff, from time-to-time. I don't handle this sort'a stress too well." "Your sister's outburst bothered you more than you're letting on, hasn't it?" Steve asked, as his son stood, and melted into his father's embrace. "Yeah, sort'a. No one likes being called names n'stuff." "Yeah, well, rest assured, Jak, payment time for Aubrey is approaching, as early as this afternoon, in fact," he said, as he scooped up the keys to the car he'd given his daughter. "None of my children are going to dare me to make them do what's right. You and Rex have never so much as made me raise my voice. That girl has been a constant source of aggravation, since the day she was born. She's my daughter, and I love her, but she has apparently yet to learn who is boss in this house. "Now, enough about your sister." "Rachel," Steve shouted, interrupting his wife's telephone conversation. "Jak and I are going for a walk. We'll probably stop someplace for dinner, or something." He waved to his wife, then smiled at his son. "Don't look so glum, boy!" Jak's mouth moved, but he couldn't speak around the lump in his throat. Instead, he hugged his father and held him close, finally managing to croak his thanks. "I couldn't ask for a better father," he said, as he swiped a hand across his eyes. "Emotions," he jerkily laughed, "bad things." Steve Rollins ran a hand up and down his son's back, as they left the house. "No, Jak. You're wrong. Emotions are good things. Too many men are afraid of showing theirs. I'm thankful you and your brother aren't." * * * "So . . . tell me about what's gotten you so anxious. I swear Jak, I can feel the tension. What's going on? What is it you need to talk about? Does it have to do with being gay?" Jak and his father walked side-by-side in the shadows of the trees lining the sidewalk leading to the neighborhood park. In the distance was the sound of children laughing, mixed with the excited barking of a dog. Jak's father waved to one of the neighbors who was mowing his lawn and complaining about the summer heat. "Can't stop to visit," Steve shouted, over the sound of the lawn mower. "My son and I are out for a serious man-to-man." Jak returned Herb's cheerful wave. "Man-to-man," Jak mused, turning to his father. "I like the sound of that. I don't feel very manly, at the moment. I'm feeling more like a little boy." "Stop putting it off, son," Steve urged. Jak resolutely nodded, moistened his lips, and began talking. "Dad, I've been offered a job. It pays really, really well. I've checked it out with the legal guys in the Clinical Law program, over at the University Law School, and they don't see any problems with the contract, but I need to talk to you about everything." "Are you being asked to do something I wouldn't approve of?" Steve asked. Jak shrugged. "That's the problem. I don't know. I'm not being asked to do something against the law, or anything. I'm not being asked to hurt someone, or do something I know to be wrong, but . . .," he shrugged. "Just what is it you're being asked to do, which pays really, really well, and needs the opinion of lawyers to tell you if it's okay?" Steve teased. Jak inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. "I've been offered a job to act in . . .," he hesitated. "In porn. Gay porn." "Whoa!" Steve laughed, uneasily. "My son, a gay porn star." He held out a hand, asking for silence. "Just a minute. I need to get my mind around the idea of the whole world seeing you buck naked, having sex with another guy." Steve massaged his forehead, and slowly turned away. "Dad . . ." Jak hesitated. His father scratched the back of his neck, and finally turned back to his son. "I'm not pissed, Jak. I'm just trying to assimilate this into my view of you." After a moment, he tiredly smiled. "Surprisingly, imagining the whole world watching you have sex with another guy wasn't so difficult to imagine. In fact, I think it'd be hot, in the extreme." "Dad!" "What? That was intended as a compliment!" Steve snickered. "I'm kind'a wondering what I'm going to think, as I watch you and another guy make love. I'm sort'a looking forward to the opportunity," he grinned. Jak covered his eyes in embarrassment, and half-turned away. "Aw geez, I hadn't thought about you seeing me . . . y'know . . . do it. I've been thinking about contracts n'stuff, and completely spaced by the fact that you'd see me. I did hope that, if Rex finds out about the whole thing, he won't broadcast what I'm doing to all his friends so they can gather around the computer and have a good laugh." "I really doubt Rex would do that to you. More importantly, though, is the question of why wouldn't I want to see you?" Steve lowered his voice. "We've seen one another naked, lots of times, Jak. I don't think we've ever been around one another when we're hard, but . . . it's not difficult to imagine you with an erection. We both were born with the same equipment, after all." "Yeah, well . . . maybe, but I just use mine differently," Jak laughed. Steve Rollins chuckled, and patted his son on the back. "Y'know, Jak, it's a funny thing, but our children can never seem to imagine their folks having sex. I know the thought of my mother and father having sex gives me the willies, even today. I'm betting you're probably thinking much the same thing about me and your mother, if you've ever thought of it at all." Jak grinned. "But, let me assure you, son of mine, that I and my equipment have experienced about anything you can imagine." Steve paused. "Well, maybe not anything you can imagine, but close. Most guys' fathers, if they were answering truthfully, would give their sons the same answer. It's just that you and I are having a man-to-man, and I thought you should probably know that seeing you having sex with another guy isn't quite so alien to me, as you might think. Now, let's leave things right there. We're here to talk about you, not me." "Um, okay," Jak grinned, despite himself. "Sometime, though, I'd like to talk about you and those experiences you mentioned. Steve winked. "Deal. "Now, tell me about this job opportunity. How did they find you?" Jak shrugged, as he and his father resumed their walk. "Picked me out of the crowd, I guess. I was having lunch at the College Commons, and a guy approached me. A nice guy, clean cut, not too much older than me. He told me he represented a company which makes gay sex vids for the Web. He wanted to know if I might be interested in being an actor. I was sort'a shocked, but at the same time . . ." "Turned on?" "Got that right. It doesn't take much. It's not as if I have all that much experience . . . with other guys, but whatever I do have, has been way fun. The thought of stripping-off and masturbating for him and his friends, for a couple bucks, was a huge turn on. That's what they wanted me to do, sort'a as a test, I guess. They wanted to see what I look like naked, and if I would have trouble masturbating in front of strangers. "Anyhow, the guy seemed legitimate. He explained how things worked, and told me that many times a guy thinks the idea is cool, but, no matter what, he can't y'know . . . perform." Steve snorted. "He doesn't know you." "Hey! How do you know how well I can perform?" Jak laughed. "I don't know, but you've always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in you. Not like your brother, by any means, but it's there, nonetheless. So, this guy asked you to go back to his hotel room and jerk-off for him, right?" "Geez, this sounds bad when I'm telling it. Also, I never thought of myself as being an exhibitionist, but," he grinned, sheepishly, "I'm thinking that I probably am." Steve shook his head and gestured for his son to continue. "That's about it. I didn't want to go with him without someone knowing where I was, though, so I sent a text message to a friend of mine, telling him where I would be, asking him to call me in a couple hours." "So, you jerked-off for this person?" "Yeah, him and two other guys." "No trouble performing?" Steve grinned. "No, not really. They were impressed, I guess. Mister Witter, that's the guy who talked to me, while I was having lunch, offered me an exclusive contract with his company, and gave me this." Jak fished out his wallet and handed his father the check. "Good grief!" Steve almost shouted. "He gave you this for just shooting a load?" "Yeah, I told him it was too much." "I swear Jak, you must have made a very good impression on the man!" Steve laughed, studying the check. "It's good, I assume." Jak nodded. "I went to the bank and asked. They say it is. I didn't want to cash it, though, until after speaking with the folks at the Law School, and you, n'all." "Exclusive contract, huh?" "Yeah. He said he didn't want me being lured away by another company. From the sound of it, he doesn't offer everyone the same kind of contract, so I guess I'd be making more money than the other guys who work for him." Jak grinned. "I like the sound of that. Besides having a good time playing around, the money is the main reason I'm even considering taking him up on his offer." "The lawyers have reviewed the contract?" "Yeah. They told me it looked good to them." "What are you going to do?" "I wanna do it, Dad, but . . . would you be willing to meet with Mister Witter, just to check him out, and give me your opinion? I told him I'd be talking with you before I made any decision, but he doesn't know I'm asking you to meet with him. If he squirms when I ask him to visit with you, it'll tell me that things maybe aren't as legitimate as they seem. If that's the case, at least I'll know beforehand, and can give him back his contract and his money; then you and I can go home and you can tell me about your past." Jak grinned. "Sound like a plan?" "I'm going to regret ever having told you about my sordid past," Steve laughed. "Ohhhh, sordid, was it? Funny how it's gone from some fooling around, to sordid, in only a couple minutes. You haven't done gay porn stuff, have you?" he asked, grinning. "No, but for that sort of money," Steve said, nodding to the check, "I'd seriously consider it, let me tell you. And, sure, if your Mister Witter, would agree to meet me, I'd like to know the man who is rich enough to pay my son big bucks to jack off for him."
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