Robin, or, My Adventures in the Adult Entertainment Industry

by Nara Kagerou (奈良蜻蛉)


Gary’s phone call woke me up in the middle of the afternoon. I answered it with a groan, ignoring his insensitive accusations that people should be awake by three p.m. Shows what he knows.

“Listen, Ty, I need you. I’m making a movie. You’re the star.”

He was making a movie. Great. I grunted an affirmative into the phone. Gary’s a business major, completely unremarkable, average grades, average guy. The problem is his affinity for get-rich-quick schemes. Last week he had found a gold mine. An honest to goodness dirt-and-rocks gold mine. He was all convinced that he was going to get some funding together and re-open the mine for production, assuring me that it was loaded, just waiting for someone to go in there and mine it out. Just one small problem: the mine was closed because it was radioactive.

Fortunately, Gary’s parents were loaded, and had no problem financing their son’s never-ending stream of failed ideas. They’d just gotten used to it by now.

Much like I’d gotten used to it by now. Gary was my best friend, and hell, at least it kept my life from being boring.

His parents were gone for the weekend, and Gary planned to use their house for the filming. I agreed to show up at the ungodly hour of ten in the morning, and hung up, immediately going back to sleep. Gary’s parents owned this gorgeous mansion just outside of town. They’d bought it out of a house show, which meant that it was a fine, unrestrained creative work by the area’s top architects, and built with exactly nine other mansions in a charming forest cul-de-sac set away from the rest of civilization. Added bonus that our tiny college town happened to be a hopping summer vacation getaway, which meant that by late autumn, only two or three of the other mansions were still occupied. I knew for a fact that Gary’s parents traveled a lot, and Gary liked taking his girlfriends up there to fuck–especially if they were screamers.

The house was bustling when I arrived. Gary was rattling off orders to two unwashed techs with a camera, his girlfriend of the week who doubled as his personal assistant, and Jez. Jez was the one who was actually in charge, though she was smart enough not to let Gary know that. I felt reassured that she was involved in the project. It didn’t make Gary’s ideas any less crazy, but Jez’s presence suggested that this one might actually have the chance of getting off the ground–and it would, if she had anything to say about it. Jez was a theater and dance major, and unlike Gary, she actually knew something about shooting a film. She was currently complaining about the interior light, while simultaneously picking through a pile of leaves and twigs that had apparently been picked at random out of the backyard woods.

“Yes, Gary, I understand your creative vision, but I also understand that if I don’t get some proper light, no one will able to appreciate your creative vision. All that will show up on the film will be some dark blurry shapes, and that means all our hard work goes to waste. Now go find me some more fucking lights. Morning, Ty.”

She looked up at the end of her tirade to greet me before turning back to her task, seriously analyzing the shape and color of a leaf before adding it to a small, carefully selected pile of leaves at her right hand. “You’d better strip. No point in prolonging the inevitable destruction of your modesty, if you have any, and you’ll probably need touch-up work, so let’s get started.”

It took several seconds to realize she was talking to me, and not to the pile of leaves or the room in general. “What?”

“Are you deaf? Strip.”

Befuddled, I pulled my shirt over my head. By the time it was off, she was already headed out onto the porch, so I left my pants on and followed. “Jez, wait, Jez–”

I stopped. Leaning against the railing of the back porch was this creature. Androgynous and slim, I wouldn’t have been able to identify it as male if he hadn’t been completely nude. Jez immediately went over and started fiddling with the creature’s hair.

I knew Jez well enough to recognize her work, and this was definitely her work. Curious brown eyes glanced over at me, gilded by russet eyeshadow and golden glitter. His lips were painted bronze, full and warm, and a series of shadows and highlights cast ethereal shapes on a once-human face. He looked like some kind of forest god, half sensuous nymph and half feral beast. The effect continued down his body, sparsely patterned with mock-indigenous designs and tattoos.

He watched me with an amused smile, patiently allowing Jez to nitpick at his hair, artfully arranging tangles and leaves in the long auburn curls. “You must be my costar,” he commented, completely casual about the fact that he was outside in plain view of two other houses, made up like a pagan god and not wearing a stitch of clothing.

“Uh,” I said, stunned stupid. “Yeah.”

A moment later, I wished I hadn’t spoken, because Jez realized that I was standing there and gave me an angry glare. “Didn’t I tell you to strip?” she asked. “Go back inside and start work on memorizing the script, what little there is. I’ll be with you soon.”

I went, bumming a copy of the script off one of the techs. It was very short, which I figured was a good thing. Short film meant I might actually get out of there early. I flopped down on the couch and started to read.

The scene opened with the very creatively named main character, Ty, bumming around in his kitchen. Well, at least I knew which one was me. Movie-Ty was supposed to look like a normal college kid, which was a relief. No forest-god make-up for me. Anyway, Movie-Ty is bored, so he leans back against the counter and starts… jacking off?

I stopped, staring at the script in shock. A porno. Gary had me doing a porno, and it took me this long to figure it out. I flipped ahead. Ty’s lust has summoned a forest dryad, who shows up and gives him a blowjob. The rest of the script read like a laundry list of sexual positions.

I blew up. “Gary, what the hell is this?”

He looked at me like I was retarded, holding the script that I’d been reading for the past five minutes. “Uh, the script?”

“You didn’t tell me I was doing a porno.”

“So? What’s the problem?”

“It’s a porno. A gay porno. What about my career?”

“You’re bi-curious, you’re topping, and I seriously doubt this will damage your career in engineering. Engineers aren’t known for their sex scandals.”

I kept yelling until Jez came in and told me that if I didn’t shut up and strip, we’d need a new star because she’d personally cut off my balls. The dryad leaned in the doorway, fighting laughter.

I shut up and stripped.

After my costar’s make-up was done, it only took an hour to get the crew in line so we could shoot. While Jez fussed over my looks — wardrobe wasn’t much of a concern — Gary regaled me with his vision. He corrected me every time I said “porno,” insisting that what we were creating was a work of art, and if I had to refer to it by some vulgar name, I could at least have the decency to use “erotica.” I told him he could stuff it.

At last Jez and Gary were satisfied, and I was left marooned in the kitchen, under orders to “bum around” as if I weren’t being intently watched by six pairs of eyes and a camera. I carried out my role with less than Oscar-winning enthusiasm, and by the time I had my hand covered in strings of cum, I realized I’d forgotten the script.

The entire chemistry of the room changed when my co-star walked in. He knew the camera was watching him, but he maintained a self-confident stroll as he paced into the kitchen, leaves in his hair and shadows on his cheek.

“You summoned me,” he said, and the cheesy line — he’d cut half of it — sounded like an enchantment coming from his lips. His fingers were long and slender, hands soft as he raised my fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, one by one. “My name’s Robin,” he confessed, smiling up at me as he slid to his knees.

I usually take longer to recover — and I’m not sure whether or not I was supposed to come before Robin’s entrance — but when he wrapped those pretty bronze lips around my cock, it didn’t take long before I was hard again. Gary still hadn’t called a cut, and I was hoping Robin would never stop. He was all smiles and moans mixed with little flirtatious glances, and I probably could’ve gotten off from the show alone when suddenly Gary stopped us. I stood there in a daze as I was pushed and arranged until they could get a camera at the right angle over my shoulder so that the horny gay men of America could share in the amazing view I was getting.

Pinched and prodded, my head pushed to the side so that they could fit fifty pounds of camera on my shoulder, I was just about to tell them all to go to hell when Robin smiled at me and went down on me again.

I was pretty sure there was some sort of cruel god at work, dead set on giving me blueballs, because every time I came close to getting off, they had to rearrange everything to get a different angle on the shot, and by the time they were done, I was down to half mast again.

It was past lunchtime before Gary announced that it was time to move scenes to the bedroom, and I roared that if I didn’t get lunch very soon I was going to kill them all, and if no one saw fit to finish the goddamn blowjob, I’d be forced to kidnap Gary and rape him in the broom closet. Jez promised lunch, and Robin led me into the bathroom, laughing. Door locked behind us, he pushed me up against the sink and smiled. “Okay if I use my hand? My throat’s kinda sore now.”

I stared at him, pressed full-length against me with a hand on my cock, both of us still naked. “Is your name really Robin?” I asked, fighting the urge to kiss him. Jez would kill me for smearing his make-up.

“Yeah,” he said, and I could feel his breath against my neck. “When I was born, my hair was bright orange, so my mom thought it was a good idea. It darkened a lot when I got older.”

I groaned loudly when I finally got off, loud enough to earn a round of cheers and laughter from the other room. Robin grinned at me and washed his hands, heading back to the kitchen and cheerfully demanding food. I followed, entering on a conversation about how we should probably film the next scene outdoors because of the good weather. Never mind that the porch was in full view of two other houses, and I really didn’t think we could be absolutely sure they were empty. My opinion was widely ignored, although Robin offered copious suggestions, and received actual consideration of his ideas. My ideas didn’t get consideration until I started yelling and threatening violence.

Lunch finished, they forced us back into filming. Every guy dreams of being a porn star, but I don’t think most of them realize how frustrating it is to be taking orders and advice from a director while fucking the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever seen. Hours passed mercilessly, and it took a full-blown technical failure before I had another chance to speak to my costar alone. Robin found us a couple of beers, and we lounged on a corner of the porch, watching the crew argue over the malfunctioning camera.

“So, uh, you do this a lot?”

Robin laughed. “What, artsy amateur porn? First time. Jez talked me into it.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Gary didn’t exactly tell me I was doing porn.”

“I noticed.” He tried not to laugh, and failed. “You weren’t exactly discreet about your rage and surprise.” I really liked the way he laughed. Wrong as it was, I was really looking forward to continuing the scene. This kid was easily the best fuck I’d had in months, if not years. “Jez offered me a chunk of change and told me I’d be taking it up the ass from Mr. Tall and Gorgeous, her words, while in make-up as a dryad. After I stopped laughing, I agreed. Life’s too short to miss up on an opportunity like that.”

I was pretty sure he was flirting with me. Even if he wasn’t, I still got happy butterflies in my stomach. I really wanted to ask him out, but how exactly do you go about doing that? Does it fall under the no-dating-coworkers rule? I mean, where do you even start with “Hey, want to go out for coffee sometime after we finish fucking?” It’s not quite the one-night-stand “hey, I’ll call you later,” and I’ve never called a prostitute, but I’m pretty sure it’s not like that, either, even if it is just business.

“Are you gay?” I asked, and immediately regretted it. Not my business.

He made an affirmative sound around a mouthful of beer, swallowed, and grinned. “Yeah. You’re bi-curious. I know.”

I blinked at him. “How did you–”

“Gary mentioned it while you were yelling at him about the porno thing.” Robin laughed again, covering his mouth to keep from spitting beer. “Sorry. You were just so livid about it.”

I returned his smile, sheepish. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. This isn’t the sort of thing I do all the time.”

“Well.” He grinned, gaze darting down to my lap. “Maybe you should consider it. You’re pretty good.”

“A career in gay porn?”

“Sure. Imagine all the sex you’d get. And really, being rich and famous for being great in bed?”

I snorted. “Not exactly how I pictured my life in five years. What about you? A career as the finest ass in the west?”

He dissolved into laughter. “Oh, man. I’m keeping Jez as my personal make-up artist. I can be known as Robin Wood, raised by wolves and drag queens out in the wilderness.”

Jez started yelling for everyone to get in places again, and Robin downed the rest of his beer at a gulp. By late-afternoon, it was obvious that in order to get all the scenes done, we were going to have to have a second day of filming. Everyone was sent home, and told that we’d be contacted about the schedule.

A week passed before I heard from Gary. When I gave in and called him, I got a cranky tirade about how the tech guys had dropped out of the project, and he was trying to find a replacement who had a camera and knew how to work it. Another two weeks passed, and Gary got the tech, but Jez was in the middle of rehearsal for a play and couldn’t help out. Two days later and Gary was inspired by taking advantage of cult internet phenomena, and had completely forgotten about the film until I mentioned it to him.

“Oh, right, man, you’re still worrying about that? It’s not going to happen. A cool idea, but the industry’s just not ready for my vision. Anyways, seriously, I’ve gotta tell you about this. All I need is a website.”

I listened patiently and then hung up, disappointed. Two months later, and I was buried in a new semester’s classes, my brief career as a porn star completely forgotten.

“Mind if I join you?”

The student union was always busy at lunch time, so I nodded agreement without really looking up from my notes, moving my bag so that the other student could set down his tray across from me. I glanced at him long enough to see some slender twink, brown hair tied in a ponytail that fell forward over his shoulder. I’ve always thought that long hair looks crappy on guys, but maybe it’s just because all the guys who have long hair are too lazy to take care of it. This kid’s hair shone, soft and wavy, like girls hair. He must use some expensive shampoo.

He sat down, propping his chin in his hand and watching me. I looked up again, surprised by the blatant staring. His face flickered into a grin, realizing that I had no idea who he was. “How’ve you been?” he asked, friendly, crumbling crackers into his soup.

“Uh.” Either this kid was crazy and just fucking with me, or I’d met him in some class and he had just decided to rub it in that I didn’t recognize him. We’d probably done some class project together, and I still had no idea who he was. “Fine?”

“Too bad about your career. Shot down before you even got past the starting line, right? How’s Gary?”

“Uh.” The little bitch was enjoying this, as I racked my brains to figure out who he was. Maybe I didn’t know him. Maybe he was just a stalker. “He’s… fine?”

He leaned over the table, reading my notes upside-down. “Chemistry, huh? That sucks.”

“Listen, uh,” I ran a hand through my hair, sheepish. “I have no idea who you are.”

He acted hurt. “What! Not even the hair? Bad form, Ty, not even recognizing the people you sleep with.”

I stared at him. “I’ve never slept with a gu– oh. Shit.” Robin. I turned red. “You look different when you’re not, uh, wearing make-up.”

He grinned. “I know, it’s cool. I was just messing with you.”

“Sorry. I expected to see you again, after, well. I guess that project is never getting finished.”

Robin smiled at me, watching me without a word for several moments. “At least it was fun, right?”

I watched him eat, feeling like an idiot. “Yeah.”

“You free tonight?”

I blinked, uncomprehending. “What?”

“You do speak English, right? Tonight. Your place or mine?”

I stared, forgetting how to speak. “Yours.”

He wrote down an address on a scrap of paper and pushed it across to me. “Be there tonight at 8.”

I stared at the paper, then at him, speechless as he finished his soup, kissed my cheek, and walked off. Eight o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

He met me at the door and pulled me inside, politely offering snacks and drinks and directing me towards the couch. I sat, unsure if this was about sex or something else. I hoped this was about sex. I really, really hoped this was about sex.

Bringing over my drink, he sat perched on the arm of the couch. “So, you wanna see yourself in the movies?”

I took the drink. “What?”

“The film. After the others abandoned the project, I managed to get the original film from Jez. I called in a couple favors to get it copied and spliced together, at least enough to make it watchable. Do you want to see?”

My throat was dry. I hadn’t even thought about what had happened to the film we’d shot. It took me a moment to answer. “Yes.”

He got up and pulled out a portable projector, setting it up and shooting it against the wall. The film started up with a rough three-two-one warning, and suddenly there was laughter, my demanding lunch and threatening violence, and Robin pulling me off to the bathroom. There was no transition between scenes, just a sudden cut, and there he was, sucking my cock. He looked so natural on screen, eyes flirting with the camera, all attention focused on the moment. I looked awkward, a tall blond college boy, high school quarterback, a stock character in the porno, unworthy of the breathtaking and eager nymph at his feet.

I stared, entranced. The gay men of the world had been cheated to lose this, even rough and amateur as it was. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen–Robin, laughing, snagging a beer from the fridge. Robin again, sucking my cock from a different angle this time. Robin, pushed up against the porch railing and making the most delicious moaning sounds with each one of my thrusts.

He shifted, settling onto the couch next to me, and I was only able to pull my attention away from the screen because I knew that I had the real thing sitting next to me, my very own amateur porn star. I grabbed him and kissed before he had a chance to react, before I had a chance to think about what I was doing. He froze in surprise for only a moment, then melted, returning my kisses and pulling me on top of him.

I pawed at his clothes, undignified in my haste, thinking only of getting bare skin beneath my hands. He was slender and flexible, body bending conveniently to help shift off his clothing, and I had him naked before he’d removed anything more than my shirt. It’d been weeks since I last had sex, so I kissed him again, hands roaming wildly in my impatience. He laughed whenever my haste bumped his elbow into my nose, or got him tangled in his shirt. I pulled him back onto the couch after accidentally tipping him off while removing his pants, and he couldn’t stop laughing when I kissed him after that.

I’d never given a blowjob before, but I wanted to return the favor, so I broke the kiss and moved down, putting out my tongue to taste him. He stared down at me, eyes wide in surprise, but he quickly dissolved into moaning as I took him down. I’d practiced once on a cucumber, but this was a lot different, and also thinner than the oversized cucumber I had on hand at the time. I was obviously inexperienced, but he didn’t seem to mind, petting my hair and begging me not to stop. Before long he changed his begging, warning me between gasps that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

I lifted my head, watching him. Cheeks pink and glowing, hair tousled, he looked down at me, eyes pleading with me to keep going. “Do you want me to finish you, or do you want me to fuck you?”

His eyes widened, staring at me for a few moments and licking his lips once before making a decision. “I have condoms in the bedroom.”

I pulled him to his feet at once. “Where’s the bedroom?”

Stumbling slightly, he laughed and took my hand, leading me down the hall to his bedroom. It was a lot neater than my bedroom, tastefully decorated in dark blue and white. Everything matched. I stared, dumbfounded, until he put a condom into my hand and started unzipping my jeans. That got my attention quick enough.

We hit the bed in a flurry of limbs, me kissing and groping while he tried to do something actually useful and get me out of my pants. “Ty,” he gasped, shoving me back long enough to get the condom on me and slather me with lube.

“Can I?” I gasped, and he nodded, locking his ankles behind my back. I slid in without a moment’s further pause, catching myself with a forearm on either side of his head.

He gasps, but doesn’t stop grinning. “Go slow.”

I do my best. We’ve fucked before, but this is totally different. Then, I was concerned about looking good for the camera, trying not to come, trying not to make any really stupid faces while I fucked. But right now I’m just thinking about him and me, the way that he shivers under me with each thrust, and the sweet taste of chocolate on his tongue–he must have eaten a candy bar before I came over. He reaches down to touch himself and I watch. I watch his face, flushed with pleasure, brow furrowed with need. I watch his hand, the way it slides up the shaft and around the head in a continuing pattern. I study the way he gasps as I thrust into him, the way he writhes with pleasure as he strokes himself, and the breathtaking expression that he makes as he throws his head back and comes. I didn’t get to see him come before, and this is something that the gay men of America can never have. It’s mine, the shuddery, gasping moans as he spills himself over our bellies.

I don’t last much longer, pulling out and tying the condom when I’m done, finding the trashcan by his bed and dropping it inside. He lays back, pulling his hair to the side to get it out from under his neck, and watches me.

“Um,” I say, feeling awkward.

“I’d like it if you stayed,” he says, studying my face.

Unsure, I bite my lip, then grin. “Careful, you might never get rid of me.”

He pulls me over with a hand behind my neck, kissing me. “Could be worse.”

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