Prologue:
To recap what had happened to me in the summer of 1999, chronicled in "The Road to Stardom", I was working at an accounting firm in Los Angles, had a girlfriend, an apartment, and a car. Things were going well. Then I lost my job, my girlfriend moved out of town and my car broke down. I spent my days and nights looking for work with no luck and working out in the local gym, the result of which put me in excellent physical condition with nearly zero body fat, but also nearly broke. Eventually I landed a job as a car salesman, which is where I met Marty Pinner. Marty is a filmmaker and specializes is porn. Gay porn, to be exact, but I wasn't aware of that until I did my screen test. My first gay experience was a blow job from Marty's secretary (and nephew), Barry, in front of two camera crews. After some persuading, I agreed to a three-scene contract with Marty under the pseudonym of "James Monroe." Over the course of 3 weeks or so, I completed my contract by starring in a scene where I was a bottom in a college dorm room, a top as a college professor as the bottom begged me to change his grade, and the bottom in three-way in a doctor's exam room. Up until that time, I'd considered myself straight. But, my experiences portraying a gay man on screen were surprisingly pleasant. I must say that I enjoyed it all very much. The money was good and if I let the other actors cum on my face or in my mouth, I received a big bonus. Looking back, I was amazed at how I was able to transform myself in front of the camera into a raging slut who loved nothing more than an erect cock in his ass, and the taste of cum in his mouth.
After filming my last scene, Marty asked me to re-sign another contract. I told him I'd think about it and walked away. That week, my luck changed and I landed an accounting job at a large firm in the city. With the money I'd made in porn, I was able to get my car fixed and pay my rent until my "day job" caught up. The bad news is that my commute to my new job was over an hour in the traffic nightmare that is Los Angles. The long commute left me many hours to contemplate my film career and think back on what I'd done. Most of my commutes ended with me hoping no one would notice my erection under my clothes as I headed for the men's room to masturbate to the memories I'd created. I must confess, there were many days I had the phone in one hand and Marty's number in the other, ready to sign another contract.
Part II
Working as a junior accountant at a large firm has its up and its downs. On good days, I was able to feel like I was actually accomplishing something in the area that I'd been trained in for years. Those days weren't very often. Most days, my work entailed doing mundane tasks that a trained monkey with a calculator could do. Sitting there in my cubical on most days, I'd take a short break from what I was doing and day-dream about my former career as a gay porn star. The sex I experienced was good enough, I suppose, but having the camera crew and the other people standing around watching me suck a cock and have another pumping into my ass was really what turned me on. Sitting there, pretending to work, I would fantasize about making another film. I could picture myself there, on the set, lights bright above me, camera pointed right at me, on my hands and knees, as an unknown stud fucks me from behind. This often meant that I'd have to head to the men's room and hope that there was no one there so I could relieve myself before I burst.
I'd managed to make a few friends in the office, but no one very close. I mostly stayed to myself, but would chat with my coworkers when I saw them in the break room. One guy, a guy about my age in the legal department named Tim, seemed to be on the same break and lunch schedule as I was, so we became friends. One day, I was looking at the message board in the break room where people would post notices about this and that: bikes for sale, roommate wanted, etc. I looked at one of the roommate wanted notices and saw that it was Tim.
"Tim," I said. "Are you looking for a roommate?"
"Yea," he said. "My current roommate is moving out at the end of the month and I need help with the rent. It's a great place, too. Two bedrooms, two baths, big balcony, and a decent sized living room. I've even got a hot tub on our balcony which is just plain awesome!"
I asked him where he lived and he told me it was about a half mile from here. "Hell, I bike or walk to work every day!", he said.
"Shit! I'm sick of my hour-plus commute! What's the rent?" I asked.
He told me and it was about 50% more than I was currently paying, but I figured that I'd save a ton on gas alone.
"My lease is up at the end of the month! This could work out perfectly! Any chance I could take the other bedroom at the end of the month?" I asked.
He held out his hand and said "Welcome aboard!"
I pulled his notice off the bulletin board and threw it away. Later that day, Tim took me over to his place and it was everything he'd said it was. Saying it was much, much nicer than my current pad would be the understatement of the century.
When moving day arrived, Tim helped me move my belongings into our new place. We unpacked and celebrated with a few beers on the balcony. We made idle chatter as we sat there looking at the city lights. "I'm going for a Jacuzzi," Tim said. He got up and took the cover off the hot tub. "You getting in?" he asked.
"Sure. Let me go change," I said.
"Sorry, man," he said. "No suits allowed in the hot tub. House rule."
"Seriously?" I asked.
"Seriously. There's never been a swimsuit in this hot tub and there never will be. Besides, it's dark and no one will see. Grab us a couple more beers and come on! Don't be a pussy!"
I went into the kitchen, grabbed four beers and as I headed back to the balcony, I could see Tim's naked form slipping into the water. I put the beers on edge of the tub and stripped. Tim was just sitting there with his head back and his eyes closed.
I slipped into the water and popped open another beer. "This is awesome. A great way to end the day," I said.
We sat and soaked in silence and drank our beers. When we'd finished all of the beers I'd brought out, I got up to get out of the tub.
"You going for more beers?" Tim asked.
"I wasn't going to. I was going to dry off and get some food."
"Fuck food! Eatin's Cheatin'!" he said. "Grab us a few more beers! Let's party a while to celebrate you moving in!"
What the hell, I thought. I headed to the kitchen and grabbed four more beers. As I returned, I could see Tim watching me walk toward him. I became a little self-conscious as I walked toward him because I knew what he was going to say to me.
"You don't have any body hair. What's up with that?" he asked me.
I quickly made up a story and told him how my former girlfriend liked me hairless and insisted I keep myself shaved. After she left me, I'd gotten so used to it that I'd kept myself shaved since then. The last thing I wanted to tell him was that my contract as a gay porn star demanded the only body hair I was allowed to have was on my head and on my arms. Truth be told, I'd gotten so used to being hairless that I kept up the routine every week or so. It turned me on, honestly.
"Interesting," he said and cracked open another beer.
We soaked and talked for a while longer and the combination of no food, the hot water, and the beers were starting to get me quite buzzed. When we finished the last of the beers, Tim got up out of the tub and had me follow him inside. "I want to show you something," he said.
