“Next.”
A young man with shoulder-length hair was thrown through an open door with tears in his eyes. He was wearing a towel and rubbed his hole through it as he walked through the waiting room and out the door.
That’s where Nick was sitting. He’d responded to an ad in the paper:
YOUNG (18-21) MODEL WANTED
NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY
PAYS $50
Nick was taking a gap year before he went off to college and felt confident enough in his pretty-boy looks to be a model. When he saw this ad on Craigslist, he jumped at the opportunity. Seeing the violated man flee the room naked made him nervous.
”Get in there, Nick.” said a voice from the Intercom.
He obeyed.
When the young man walked through the door he saw a nude man in the center of a studio bedroom. He was wearing spandex that hid his bulge poorly. There were some men in a booth a few meters behind him. They were whispering to each other, but loud, so he could hear them:
”Look at this pretty boy.”
”Jesus. Damon’s gonna eat him alive.”
”Gonna need a bodybag for this one.”
He got closer to the man sitting on the prop bed.
“You’re here for the audition?” the old man asked.
”Y-y-y-yeah,” said the boy. “My name’s Nick.”
”My name’s Damon. Look at the camera,” Damon said.
The boy turned and saw a flash-bulb light up. A green light appeared by a camera lens. He was being filmed.
”Take your shirt off,” said Damon. His cock throbbed through the thin fabric of his pants. “Come on, boy,” he said. “This is a competitive industry.”
Nick understood. He was a very fit young man, having played Varsity tennis for all of high school. When Damon saw Nick’s small, cut frame his cock throbbed and left a wet spot in the middle of his singlet.
”Baby boy,” the older man said.
”How old are you?” said Nick.
”Sixty-six. How old’s your Dad, son?”
”He’s 41,” said the boy.
”Oh, babyboy,” he said. “Your Dad was born in ‘83, then, huh? I spent most of that year in bathhouses. I bet I’m as old as your grandpa.” His cock throbbed when he said “grandpa”.
”You spent the 80s in bathhouses?”
”Came with a cost.”
“What cost?”
Nick knew what the answer would be. He’d studied the HIV crisis as a sophomore in high school. He couldn’t believe he was talking to someone who’d lived through it.
”Kiddo, I’m HIV positive. Have been for a while. I’ve been on meds since there were meds. But it’s kind of a chore taking them every day. You understand.”
He did. Nick had bipolar disorder, and his pills tasted fucking disgusting. He hadn’t taken them in a week.
”I understand,” he said. His asshole started throbbing. He knew that he was manic. He knew that he wanted this guy to fuck him, that he would beg for him to take the condom off. He was 66, 5’5”, and overweight: but his cock was 11” (he had a ruler tattooed on the shaft) and he had a Prince Albert. A cock you don’t say no to. A cock that owns your hole, not the other way around.
“Nick, nice to meet you,” someone said. It was the director. “Damon here is an old friend of mine. I met him under a bridge. Hopefully you can tell what his special talent is,” he said.
“Is it hyperspermia?” said Nick. “Please say yes.”
Damon and the director looked at the boy sullenly.
”You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
”Maybe Damon can show me,” said Nick. The boy had had experience with older men before, and it’d made him smug. He assumed a 33 year old would be as easy to control as a 66 year old. The boy rested his hand on the tip of Damon’s cock and watched as it throbbed to a size he didn’t think was even possible. Damon and the director made eye contact at the same moment the boy saw the biohazard tattoo on the older man’s chest.
“Hot,” said Nick, tracing his fingers across the curves of the older man’s tattoo. Damon’s cock was throbbing. “I’m a good flirt, huh?”
The director stared at the boy in open-mouthed silence.
”I think you just passed the audition,” said the director. Damon’s cock throbbed so intensely that the fabric tore. “Let’s see if you survive the callback,” he said.