SAMSON: Curious Boys #3 (Boys of Porn)

SEVEN

Standing before the twins, the butterflies were flapping. The sensation was so foreign that it took Samson a moment to realize what was happening—he was nervous.

Samson couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced that nervous "flutter". It had to have been as far back as his teen years. Even then, very little unnerved him. From there, he'd grown into a confident, calm-minded adult who took life in stride and rarely stressed about things. He approached everything with a curious, observant mentality. It wasn't his way to succumb to nerves.

Yet here he stood—as nervous as a teenager about to go on his first date.

This isn't a date. These boys are porn stars. They don't want to be your "boyfriends."

They way they looked at him . . . one might think otherwise. But this is what they did—perform. They were "actors" playing a role on screen. It surely titillated the viewers to see passion and even romance displayed in a scene. Samson wasn't a porn buff, but the times he had indulged, it was the scenes that incorporated a sense passion that he enjoyed the most.

Mickey moved to the edge of the bed and flattened his palms on Samson's chest. "Do you want to roleplay?"

"Uh . . . okay." He smiled. "What are our roles?"

Marcus eagerly joined Mickey and clutched the boy, resting his head on Mickey's shoulder as he gazed up at Samson—the very picture of innocence, despite the fact that not twenty minutes ago, the boy had administered the most toe-curling blowjob Samson had ever experienced.

"We're go-go dancers," Mickey murmured with a smile. "And you picked us up from the club where we dance and brought us back to your place."

"And you just came with me?" Samson's lips twitched. "I didn't have to coax you?"

Marcus pursed his lips, eyes sparkling. "Nope. We wanted to come with you."

"Wanted to, um . . ." Samson cleared his throat. ". . . come with me?"

The two boys squinted impishly and replied in unison – "Yes."

"Are we ready?" Rich asked.

"Yes," Mickey said as he and Marcus crawled off the bed.

Samson remained where he was, unsure how the boys intended to proceed with the scene.

"Action," Rich called, and the cameras began rolling.

The twins immediately fell into their roles. Mickey strolled casually around the bed. "Your place is nice."

Samson watched them and tuned out the camera crew. "Thank you."

Marcus ran his palm across the thick, soft comforter and cast Samson a sidelong glance. "Do you live in this big place all by yourself?"

Taking his cue, Samson nodded. "Yes."

"Doesn't it get . . ." Marcus slid his hands across the bed, stretching his lean, sensuous body over the mattress, ". . . lonely?"

Samson's pulse stuttered as his gaze glided along the gentle curve of Marcus' slender waist and slid over his tight petite ass that he hiked in the air a fraction, purposely tempting the large man. Samson was tempted. "I suppose," Samson murmured with a genuine rasp in his voice.

Stepping behind Marcus, Mickey squeezed the other boy's slim hips and gently pushed against his backside. "But not tonight." Mickey bent forward and pressed his lips between Marcus' shoulder blades, his eyes holding on Samson. "Because we're here."

"True." Samson moved around the end of the bed, his robe open, displaying his muscular body—every hard inch.

The boys straightened and huddled together, absently caressing one another's bare skin. Though quite lean, they possessed much more muscle tone than one would imagine while gazing upon them fully clothed. They were undoubtedly petite, but nowhere near scrawny. Mickey's ink set off Marcus' flawless form, creating an incredibly beautiful duo.