Scott Capurro
GT
August, 2007
Prague is a beautiful city, but that’s not the reason lots of gay porn is produced there. The men are inexpensive and slightly desperate.
More importantly, they’re incredibly hot. They’re the sweet side of Slavic, some with blond hair and tan lines, others with pale 8-packs and shiny black pubes, but all with soft, wide features and plump, hungry lips. Czechs are the master race, which might be why they’ve been invaded so often. Everyone wants a piece.
Just don’t call these porn stars gay. Unlike Paris Hilton, they go limp over labels. The country is 70% atheist, and they’ve never had any laws against homosex. Without a common enemy, no queer ghetto developed, and anyway everyone loves cock. The world is cock-centric, and for several hours, I hovered over ground zero.
An American friend named Kevin who runs a porn company’s publicity department invited me to a shoot. I happened to be in town for a festival, and I had seen enough kitsch buildings. Kevin is gay, but almost all of the actors on the set that morning were straight. 30 young men had been hired from a local ‘modeling’ agency, hand picked for their beauty and stamina. There was no booze on the stage where they’d be screwing, although the ‘extras’ – another 40 models who’d been brought in to cheer on the greased-up performers from cabaret tables dotted about – were drinking beer and posturing. I asked Kevin why the extras were all wearing brown wristbands.
“So they can play. You can only join in if you have a wristband.” Kevin smiled at an actor. “Or if you’re me. God I love my job.”
Bowls of Viagra were everywhere, and I wondered, at first, how they knew it was my drug of choice. I felt like an honored guest, until I was reminded that straight guys need artificial stimulation to poke boy butt.
Setting up took hours. A few young women wandered in and out. They were waiting patiently for their boyfriends to fuck each other so they could all drive home together. Wherever home was. Most of these folks can’t afford to live in the city. I saw one actor fastidiously polishing his belt buckle. It was Gucci. He was obviously very proud of it.
I sat quietly, on a folding chair, legs crossed, away from the action. I felt like a chaperone, trying to appear slightly aloof as I read an English newspaper. I wasn’t sure how I was meant to behave. I’ve never been a porn fan, because I can’t suspend my disbelief enough to imagine the people I’m watching are enjoying themselves. When I looked up, I saw a very muscle-y brute smiling at the camera while banging away at one of only two gay-identified actors, barely 18, lying back on a black sofa, almost like he’d fainted, his lithe body being rocked by the pounding. He appeared, I dunno, lonely. I watched his distracted gaze slowly wander around the room, as his small hands reached for the bronzed thighs of his oppressor, hoping, I imagined, for something tactile, something real, to remind him why he was throwing away his youth. When I noticed the Tag Heuer watch on his thin wrist, I remembered why.
He made eye contact with me, and winked. I sincerely did one of those double takes you only see comedies, looking behind, not sure whom he was trying to lure. Then I realized it was me. Like a nurse I bolted to his side, grabbing his hard, hot cock as if it had been sprained and needed a splint. In broken English he said, ‘No band. No. No.’ He pushed my hand away. I fell back off the stage, heading for the exit door, my tail between my shaved legs.
Before leaving, I turned and noticed, really for the first time, a sea of men practically eating each other. There was so much activity that I couldn’t, initially, identify who was penetrating whom. Then I saw my friend Kevin handing a coke bottle to one of the actors, indicating to him to shove it up the ass of another. I thought, Look who ran out and got their directorial degree between cum shots.
Several guys were laughing, and then I heard one actor yell out, “Can we stop using condoms now please?” Safe sex makes a good impression, but once the close-ups are over, these boys like to lighten up. After all, condoms are for queers. And westerners. And anyone with a future.