Best Gay Erotica 2011 (24 page)

Of course, there were a few extraordinary cases where he did more than just show up. He participated in a celebrity date auction sponsored by COLT Men to benefit the pediatric AIDS ward at Los Angeles Memorial Hospital. He was “won” by Stefan and Eduardo Franz-Lopez, a professional bodybuilding international (Latvian and Ecuadorian) couple. He didn't know if the wild evening (very passionate sex on the beach, by a fire, under the moonlight) they spent together was worth the $7,650 they bid, but it was for him (it was his first—and still his best—
ménage à trois
). He earned $4,000 as a model for a Tom of Finland exhibit in San Francisco, where several of the artist's works were brought to life. He was captured being fucked in a locker room by one white man while another looked on. As BuTay stood with both his head and dick positioned to the left and arched upward, Baron was seated behind him with his dick halfway up inside BuTay, focusing on the ass while clutching BuTay around the torso with his right arm and squeezing a tube of what was marked Vaseline (it was actually toothpaste) with his left. The shoot was supposed to take less than an hour but dragged on for close to two. An exact replica of the drawing was needed (one detail was changed: it wasn't done bareback) and something was always in the wrong position: BuTay's ass, Baron's dick, BuTay's neck, Baron's left arm, BuTay's right shoulder, Baron's hair, BuTay's right elbow, Baron's left eye, BuTay's nose, Baron's left thumb, BuTay's right pinky, Baron's shorts (which were pulled down between his waist and knees). While it was supposed to
look
like they were fucking they weren't
supposed
to be fucking, and BuTay and Baron kept messing up the shot because it was feeling so good. Getting in was no problem; getting
in and remaining completely still was. Baron was expected to get excited but not
too
excited, and it was
hard
for him (his dick) not to—and it was
hard
for BuTay (his ass) not to, too. Even if Baron moved his dick just a quarter inch, BuTay couldn't help but react and move his ass along (it also impressed BuTay that Baron could hold an erection for much of that time). BuTay also found it hard not to stick out his tongue, unpurse and lick his lips and hold his dick in check. Just when the photographer was about to lose the few strands of hair on his head, they finally nailed it—and then Baron went on to nail
it
. BuTay shot his own load, as did Kristoff, the voyeur, who remarked: “That was the best almost fuck I've ever seen in my life.”

And let's not forget the well-known televangelist in Fort Lauderdale, who threw a costume party in which two lucky guests won a raffle to participate in a foursome—while the other eight guests watched. Clips can be found on Forbidden Videos and XTube, with BuTay by a pool sucking off Jason Vorhees, being sucked off by Captain Hook, and getting fucked by Predator. The nine-hour fiesta, which included a buffet where the Green Lantern, Spider-Man, Batman and Robin, Pinhead, the Lone Ranger, Freddy Krueger and the Grinch doused him with soy and duck sauce and ate sushi off of him, brought him a hefty $30,000.

 

Evan was having fun. Lots of fun. Maybe
too
much fun. He never imagined being a part of the Triple X club and at times still couldn't believe that he was. He accepted that, at this time in his life, he was fucking for a living and there was nothing inherently wrong with that. It was easy money—he could shoot a scene a day (more like three to five hours) and make enough to cover all his bills for several months. He loved to fuck, loved to
be
fucked, so if someone wanted to shell out thousands of dollars a pop for
him to get popped, why not? He paid off his student loans and became a homeowner at twenty-three, a power move that made his parents proud. He visited countries and met people he probably never would have. And his time was his own—he could devote days, sometimes an entire month, to writing the Great American Novel he'd been carrying around since he was twelve. He didn't have to punch a time clock or ask permission to take a break. He was his own boss; others had to work around his schedule—if he chose to have one.

He knew that, one day, there'd be no more gravy for the mashed potatoes—but was somewhat taken aback by the reason why.

 

There's an unwritten but understood rule Black actors operate under in gay porn:
Once you go Black you can never come back
. White actors can fuck and be fucked by every color of the rainbow on film but Black men usually have to choose a side. This is why you will probably never see a Matthew Rush (yeah, he's a Negro), Jay Black, Dred Scott or Simon Cox paired up with someone who doesn't have a tan courtesy of the sun or a salon (that includes your Latinos Blancos). You can start out on the Blackhand side and venture over (uh, what colored man
doesn't
want to be with a white boy?), but once you cross that white line, you fall out of flavor. You're no longer “exclusive.” You are no longer “one of ours,” as BuTay heard more than one white man say to him.

His membership in the Snow Patrol was revoked (and immediately passed on to Deisel Washington) with the release of
BuTay-Liscious
, his Full Moons debut. His contract was up with Good Ol' Boy and, while Jess pushed to extend it for another eight films, he wasn't interested (they did issue one last title—
Black Puddin: BuTay's Best
). After being smothered by white men for
three years, he wished to get Black to his roots. He took a
lot
of flack from folk, Black gay folk especially, in and outside the industry, working for a company with such a “questionable” name, for
only
getting fucked by white men onscreen, and for being a snow queen (which was totally untrue; Bubba was his very first white man, and he always said the only way he'd sleep with one was if he were paid to). He had never really cared about what others thought, but being branded a traitor to the race—a spook, Mandingo, house nigger—by his own bothered him. It also ruined his love life: while marriage proposals from white men presented themselves weekly, the brothers weren't calling at all, except those who wished to brag they bagged a porn star (he could smell 'em a mile away). Even some of the cuties at Full Moons who had become friends threw him shade.

BuTay could have “retired.” Between the films, photo shoots, public appearances, gifts and escort service, he'd clocked nearly a half million, most of it undeclared and sitting in various stocks, money market CDs, high-yield savings and checking accounts (he received sound financial tips from an investment banker who waived his consulting fee after BuTay waved his ass in his face and up on his dick for three hours; it was one of the few times BuTay had sex with a Black man during that whiteout period). But he felt…not obligated, not indebted, perhaps
grateful
to EJ. The man was the first to offer to put him in pictures, gave him his first big break (indirectly), and remained a close friend and confidant after he left to become part of the Good Ol' Boy family, advising him on what moves to take to make the most of his first fourteen minutes of fame.

So, to take ahold of his own image (and as sort of a quid pro quo), BuTay joined Full Moons as a contracted star player. Truth be told, BuTay was actually coming to EJ's rescue: after releasing a string of moderate successes, Full Moons was on the
brink of bankruptcy. EJ needed new blood to pump new life into the company and pairing some of his somewhat-popular performers with the enormously popular BuTay could do just that. BuTay's salary dropped considerably (from $12,500 to $2,500) and the escort service dried up (the white men no longer wanted to pay for the privilege) but he didn't mind; he was, in a sense, coming back home, and his peace of mind and happiness were more important than money. While there was some initial resistance to his addition to the roster (a few refused to work with him, and one actor, Masta Ace, snapped on him to his face: “The white boys don't want yo' azz no mo', so you come to us, huh?”), that changed once they saw how uninhibited and insatiable he was (he had been storing up the
real
freakiness for some time and was finally able to let it all out). Pretty soon the other actors were jockeying for position to be next in line, including Masta Ace—and so were the “down low” hip-hop artists, R&B singers and professional ball players, who usually requested his cumpany after a concert, awards show or game. BuTay purchased a special cell just for them, their reps or their boiz to call, clocking several G's per appointment (after a few tried to use their own ice as payment, he required the funds be wired into a special account or the cash be placed in his hands before the do went down). He was also the “headliner” (he bobbed on at least a dozen knobs) at FreakOut, a midweek sexcursion for closeted Black male celebs (to keep gossip hounds like Wendy Williams at bay, the dates and city are switched each year).

So he was still BuTay, but was also affectionately referred to as EOA (Equal Opportunity Azz) by the Children, for just about every color under the sun, moon and stars had had him (on film, anyway). His FM catalog includes:
Rican Rump Shakers
(the ravenous Ricky Martinez pulverized him in the last car of a northbound #1 train on an early Sunday morning)
; Dominican
Dick Down
(the “J” Crew—Jonathan, Jaime, Jiminez, Jermaine and Joey—jumped his ass as part of an initiation, then took turns jumping
in
his ass)
;
the
My ____ Guy
trilogy, in which three fans were selected by BuTay to be his costar (the
Jamaican
was Rowdy Boi; the
Brazilian,
Mighty Manuel Montez and the
Arabian,
Kaseem the Dream who, as the DVD cover proclaimed, “knows how to make BuTay scream!”);
My Chocolate Fortune Cookie
(with the delectable Brandon Lee showing BuTay how to prepare and
do
the chop suey)
; Cowboyz & Indians
(Chief Beef, a hulking six-foot, two hundred-forty-pound Navaho with a braided ponytail that reached his waist, lassoed BuTay round the waist—and up the ass); and the TLA Video #1 hits
Two Gays Can Play That Game
(in which the studio's first white actors—identical twin brothers Kain and Able—played the sex switch on and double teamed BuTay; they earned a GayVN nod for Best Threesome) and
Workin' It Out
, a tribute to the infamous
Black Workout
series of the late eighties/early nineties (and, for those in the know, the tawdry
he
nanigans at the New York Sports Club in Harlem), which brought Full Moons seven GayVN nominations—Best Director (EJ), Best Actor (BuTay), Best Duo (BuTay and Francois Sagat), Best Orgy (BuTay, Supreme, Tiger Tyson, Sexcyone, Eddie Diaz and Shorty J), Best Screenplay (Henry “The Head” Howdini and BuTay), Best Music (openly gay hip-hop artists Tori Fixx and Shorty Roc), and Best Ethnic-Themed Video (yes, a bone thrown to the “minority” flicks that usually find themselves shut out of the other categories). It only took the latter category (the first winner that didn't feature white actors in the cast), but the recognition was a vindication for EJ, who found himself mentioned in the same sentences as powerhouse porn director/moguls Chi Chi LaRue, Michael Lucas and Bruce Cam and invited to give insight as an “expert” in the trade publications and at porn conventions. In some quarters, Full
Moons was no longer dismissed as just another “urban” (read: Black/Latino/Blatino) studio, á la CoCoBoyz, Latino Fan Club, and StreetLife.

 

He had the profits, he had the profile, he finally had the respect. But there was still one thing EJ wanted.

“EJ, no.” Evan pushed him back. EJ attempted to kiss him. They were alone in the office on this particular night.

EJ leaned forward; they were nose to nose. “Evan, please. I…I have wanted you for so long.”

“I know.”

“No, you don't know. It's not about fucking you. It's about making love to you.”

Evan recalled their discussion about mixing biz and pleasure. “We work together. We're friends. It would ruin both relationships.”

“But I love you.”

Evan's eyes widened. “You…do?”

“Yes, I do. I always have. And I am in love with you.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

Uh-oh
. Evan could tell by the look in EJ's eyes that he was serious. “I…love you too, EJ, but…not that way.”

EJ stepped back, looking down, defeated.

Evan reached out for him. EJ pulled away.

And he continued pulling farther away. It was never easy for EJ, watching Evan being fucked by so many others, and it certainly didn't get any easier after disclosing his feelings and being rejected. Now he was
humiliated
and had to continue directing the man he loved and was in love with being fucked by others. Before it was frustrating; now it was painful, and it pained Evan to see the pain EJ was going through. But what
could he do? EJ became indifferent; he soon addressed Evan only as BuTay and would only discuss business with him.

Things became surprisingly less tense between them when Evan and Kayo (birth name Tracy Armond Murrell) fell in love. EJ “discovered” Kayo dancing as a go-go boy at Escuelita. He was one of those cornbread-fed boys (“from the 'ham”) who ventured to the Big Apple to make it big. Tall, thick and torn (not ripped). Rich brown skin. Doe-eyed. Bushy eyebrows. Square jaw. A smile brighter than a neon sign.

Yup, one look and he K.O.'s you (EJ gave him the perfect stage name). As the artist once again known as Prince sang:
You sex-y motherfucker
.

When Kayo cruised (he didn't have a bop, strut or swagger, yet it was just as masculine but much more regal) into the office, and his and BuTay's eyes met…
WHAM!!!
It was a first-sight thing. As they were introduced, they shook hands and neither wanted to let go. As they made small talk on the love seat, Kayo pulled BuTay onto his left thigh; BuTay ran his fingers through his dark brown locks. They rehearsed their kissing scene at least a dozen times—and that was the
only
scene they rehearsed. When the cameras rolled and Kayo placed his arms around BuTay's waist, they
gazed
into each other's eyes and
kissed
. And when BuTay eased his azz down on Kayo's dick and they became
one
…everyone—the cameraman, the grip guy, the lighting director, the script guy and the fluff boy (whose services weren't needed at all)—could clearly see they were
not
acting. And when they, as Kayo would later describe it, “caught some heaven”…yes, the earth tilted off its axis for a second or two, it was that seismic and powerful. But everyone, including BuTay, was shocked when EJ didn't yell cut. He just let them do their thing. EJ was still love struck, but he wasn't stupid. He'd filmed several hundred scenes over a decade and had never seen such
chemistry. This wasn't something you could cajole, coerce or create; it just
was
. He was witnessing magic; they were a perfect match. He saw the bottom line: the dollar sign.