His Assistant,the boy I'm fucking, does not break concentration, doesn't flinch; in fact he angles his head toward the light.
Okay, apparently I'm the only one that's suprised. No, that's a lie. This is predictable, it's to be expected. This is my social life. It's the second time this year I've accidentally wound up in porn and it's only mid January. I can't really complain, recently I received a clean bill of venereal health from l lovely lesbian doctor and some things are still worth documenting.
There are very few photographs of me in existence, fewer still are the good ones. Neither I nor anyone else has had the time, inclination (or in my case, resources), to document my youth. It's as if I vanished shortly after high school. Now that ostensibly I have only a handful of good years left- it's NY honey, I'm practically geriatric- I should take what I can get. Presence, presence, presence.
Guess I'm ready for my close-up. Does anybody care? The fact that I don't care...does that mean I am in a good place? A bad place? Regardless, the place I'm in is characterized by a tangle of grunting, sighing naked boys. Pretty boys. Sweating boys. I recognize it, I inhabit it. My habitat. I'm sure I will see you there eventually. This room is as inevitable in your life as it was mine in mine, I have only the highest expectations of you.
Besides the pool of sweat gathering in this boy's clavicle. I'm thinking about Jonathan Caouette's film Tarnation. I'm thinking about this film to keep myself from coming. Thinking about art and accidental moments of genius keeps me comfortable beneath the glare of the camera's shotgun light. Distraction. I'm no siren of the silver screen. Thinking about documentation and aging will definitely keep me from coming, also these thoughts engender defiance. Defiance keeps me hard.
I'm always overwhelmed by the wealth of imagery Caouette has archived. Seemingly every phase of his life is captured in lovely, flattering footage and prints. It's seems so predetermined, an aesthetic embedded in the artists life. When did all the pieces fall together for him? How did he manage to collect all the pieces in the first place? I remember renting the movie in 2005 and watching it with my friend Elizabeth, we got drunk and ranted about how visually dull our own lives had been. As if nothing had ever happened to us.
It's as if all the passing days are erasing me, recording over, leaving only a few clips at the end of the video tape, a few seconds of original footage on the video cassette labeled "old man". I kept renting Tarnation, probably about 8 times. I would play it silently on my t.v. while I fucked random boys in my rent controlled apartment. That's why it's important that right now, in this lovely West Village brownstone while fucking this (very pretty) boy, somebody has bothered to press record. Thanks.
One day I will point to this moment, "look, do you see that boy? Notice the absolute abandon in his face - wait, here's the close up. See how his gaze becomes ferocious, one could say feral? That's me he's looking at." And then, "Oh, yes..I remember, see how the camera pans down his torso, his legs over my shoulders and then zooming down, see? He is impaled on my body" There is music playing but it's bad, it should be edited out. It's the moaning the viewer wants, laughter and snickering, it's the random mundane snatches of conversation that proves that these are real boys having real sex. Really.
There are 7 other boys in the room. 7 other boys and everyone is fucking. Smoothly I withdraw from the Assistant's body, seamlessly another boy replaces me and instantly outclasses me. Although by day a pencil pusher, this kid is truly porn star material: blond, lean muscle, and at least 8.5" hard. He fucks like a machine. When people on the Internet talk about someone getting pounded, this is what they mean, however I'm pretty sure that only a small margin can actually pull it off. The Star pounds the Assistant as if he were a punch bag in a Brooklyn Community Recreation Center; his slamming is both an exertion and a proud display of aggression - a warning and an invitation. He commands attention. The Assistant is drenched in sweat, his face is pushed into the carpet. He moans appreciatively. He clasps his hands behind his head as if he were being arrested. The Star slams into him relentlessly. The sound of their bodies colliding is the metronome that guides the room.
The Ecuadorian is boning the Activist Twink on a nearby couch. Slender Top feeds his cock to aforementioned Twink.
It's my turn with the Teenager whom I have been assured is at least 18. This kid, on all fours, has taken on every boy in the room, some of us even twice. The Film-Maker takes position in front of us placing his exceptionally large cock in the boy's mouth. Steadying the camera on his shoulder he simultaneously zooms and thrusts, capturing every moment as I slide slowly home. I'm impressed at our hosts skill, the Teenager is no slouch in the oral department, and yet while swallowed balls deep the Film Maker smoothly pans around the living room capturing the various combinations of rutting boys.
I'm struck by Teenager's commitment to fashion. During this entire fuck fest, most of which he has spent simultaneously sucking cock and getting rammed, he's never removed his obnoxiously huge vintage spectacles and they will continue to remain in place.
I can't imagine being as sexually adventurous at his age, well...er..unless you count letting the occasional old man blow me for pocket money after school. Actually I really don't know if that counts. Not sure. Still to this day I have never been fucked by more than one person at a time. I'm thinking this as the Film-Maker and I switch positions and I watch as the goggle-like glasses dive into my crotch. In New York group sex is the norm, almost the standard. "Double penetration is the new black," I will say to a colleague a few nights later.Sometimes when I masturbate I fantasize about an imaginary Directors Cut of Tarnation. I find it hard to believe that somebody as obsessed with self-documenation as Caouette wouldn't have ample home made porn. Also with his particular eye for beauty and his own good looks, I'm sure that it's really good porn. Ultimately the true test of beauty is whether you look good while having sex. Discuss.
I'm getting close to coming, it will be my second time this afternoon. I have no intentions of holding it off any longer. Sometimes I like to go for 3 at these things, all you-can-eat, like an old lady at Olive Garden, almost an obligation. Not this time, it was delicious, thank you, i simply couldn't have another bite. Slender Top and I am ready to blow at the same time, I pull my cock out of Teenager's (he is eighteen I swear) mouth, the two of us blow our loads all over his silly (but sweet) hipster glasses. An immortal moment. The camera keeps rolling, the lights are hot, milky come drips down onto his beatific smile at is projected decades into the future into a room where somebody sits in the dark and whispering
"look, do you see?"
