Buck Goes Pro

1.

At half past ten am Buck emerged from the bathroom into the set, an airy atrium, where natural light centered on a king-size bed. He'd increased his training and it showed -- his warm ivory skin, unmarked by tan lines, stretched taut over testosterone-laden muscle. His thick cock, too noble for any measure as crude as inches, swayed rhythmically over his heavy balls with each step, his posture that of a young gamecock.

All eyes turned to Jack for his response. Kyu and the two-man crew, and the two bottoms. None were new to the business, and with any other first-timer they'd get right to business. But the unique dynamic on this particular shoot -- Jack's return and his proprietary interest -- called for some deference.

Buck was a stunning physical specimen. No question. And if anyone knew, it was Jack.

"Looking good, sport," he said, mustering a cool affect. "You don't have to get hard yet."

"S'okay," Buck replied with a shrug.

"You got a long time to go," Jack added.

"I'm good," Buck answered.

Jack sighed, glancing down at Buck's stiff prick. "Yeah, I'll bet you are."

It had been nearly two decades since Jack had been on a set, and the new technology fascinated him. It was hard to keep from putting his hands on Matthew and Eduardo's cameras. He'd always had a keen mind for such things, despite lacking formal education in this or any other subject. As he took in the changes, it set his blood pumping.

The atrium was in a Pacific Heights home, discreetly loaned for the filming. Kyu had a knack for finding such locations, properties of well-off gay fans who were thrilled to have their homes featured in his scenes. He chose his sets with the eye of a painter, seeking natural light which he augmented with his own sleek lamps. Lush foliage and carefully placed furniture created clean, composed color blocks.

The high-end look of the setting wasn't lost on Jack. It was a sight better than anything they'd used in the '90s, where cheap hotel rooms were the order of the day. Even when Jack took control and made his own improvements, their sets never reached this level. Honestly, it felt a little much, missing the raw quality that defined his style.

Back then, Kyu had captured every golden hair on Jack's tawny hide in ways no other cameraman could. His camera loved Jack, how he moved with a predatory grace, the barely contained power of his body. Jack had known, even then, that Kyu was different.

Now, Jack wanted that same magic for Buck. To capture his unblemished marble skin, the perfect swell of his tits, the tension in his heavy cock. To let the light catch the subtle curves of his body.

Kyu was the only man he trusted with this job.

He grinned, watching his old friend work with quiet focus, placing his cameras and gauging the shifting sunlight by eye, shifting from one perspective to another until satisfied. Kyu had come a long fucking way from being the skinny immigrant art student kid with a video camera on his shoulder.

"Looking good to you?" Jack asked, working hard to not hover.

Kyu had volunteered to supervise the camera team as a favor, and Jack wanted to show appropriate respect and gratitude. Now a big name director himself, it was no small thing for Kyu to take a back seat.

He'd be the first to say he owed his career to Jack, after all, and the techniques Jack pioneered. But they were both gentlemen after a fashion and had an understanding. They didn't need to discuss these things.

Kyu nodded, approving. "What name's he using?"

"Not sure," Jack answered. He'd wondered himself. "Just Buck so far."

"Ah," said Kyu, in one of his inscrutable sounds that Jack understood to have a deeper meaning, though he never knew quite what. "Okay then."

Kyu silently nodded to the crew to assume their places. Jack considered one last check-in with Buck, to see if he was sure he wanted to do this. But they'd talked enough over the last few weeks. The boy was set on it.

"Alright you guys." Jack pushed his blond cock's comb of hair back and pulled his blue cap tight over it, visor forward.

He'd doubled up his own workout in the last few weeks and could feel the sleeves of his black polo shirt tighten on his thick biceps as they flexed. A big grin spread over his still-handsome face.

He was really on the set again. "Let's make porn!"

"Aright Dad," said Buck with a cocky smirk.

2.

Jack had hoped Buck would become a lawyer. No one in the family had gone to college before, and though Jack did well for himself without it, he assumed Buck would be the first. He'd socked away enough for a princely education, but he felt a surprising swell of pride when Buck told him he wanted to follow in his footsteps. And facts were facts; Buck had the body, the face, the dick. And Buck loved to fuck.

Maybe I shouldn't have named him Buck, Jack mused, as if the rhyme had predetermined the boy's fate.

He'd never been the kind of father who wanted his son to be a junior version of himself. Not in name or career. He hated guys who wouldn't let a son have their own identity. As a name, Buck sounded enough like Jack to link them without being a copy. It seemed like a no-nonsense name for a standup guy, which Jack hoped his son would be -- what he was shaping up to be, discounting ordinary youthful fuck-ups.

There was no reason the kid couldn't become a lawyer later. Everybody had a past nowadays, what with the internet and all. And the kid really did have the aptitude for fucking professionally, and more importantly he had the attitude for it: curious, up for anything, a strong will to perform well. And maybe a little more desire for appreciation than ordinary people.

Knowing Buck, once he made the decision he'd take the most impetuous route, set up one of those OnlyFans accounts. Why not let Jack's production company make it for him? A little investment to have it done professionally, own the product -- a gift from Jack -- and keep all the profits himself?

It was enough to pull Jack out of retirement to direct.

He could still recall his own first scenes, before he was star enough to call the shots. It was a high-risk line of work if you weren't smart about it, and he'd be damned if he'd let some random sleazoid take advantage of his boy. The way he saw it he'd help out until the kid knew the ropes. Just this one scene and a couple more, or maybe a few more after that.

The kid was already more sophisticated than Jack had been at that age, but also more naive. His privileged life was in its own way more sheltered too. Jack reflected he'd maybe been too much Buck's buddy and not enough his father. It had always been hard to know where to draw the line.

He wished he could have slowed things down at the end there to help get Buck ready to be a man. Not forever, just a little longer.

But Buck was 18 now, his birthday just a few weeks ago, New Year's Day. It was a miracle he still wanted to spend time with his dad. God knows Jack had no time for his own bastard father at that age. From here on he'd have to decide for himself what kind of man he wanted to be.

And strangely enough, at 44 and change, with a soon-to-be-empty nest, Jack would have to do the same.

3.

The bottoms, Tyler and Griff, were experienced but so much to intimidate Buck. Jack saw to that. He screened them both, but let Buck make the final choices. He'd had to fuck enough guys with no chemistry when he started out. He wanted better than that for Buck, as a father and as a director.

Same as in real life, there was nothing better than chemistry in a fuck scene. It could manifest in a lot of different ways, but it couldn't be faked for any amount of money.

Tyler was a good looking black guy, dark and muscular. Not with Buck's mass, but cut like a diamond. Good attitude too, easy to smile. Griff was -- maybe middle eastern, maybe Latino, Jack couldn't tell. Handsome with plush lips, his olive skin stretched tight over an athletic frame that would stop traffic in any other context, here eclipsed only by Buck. They were both vers, so the trio could be used in any configuration.

Jack had them start standing beside a console table that could double as a seat if needed. As they stripped and began to kiss, Jack could feel in his crotch the planning coming together. As their clothes fell to the floor, tongues lapped and fingers spread over each other's firm young flesh. Buck's creamy skin flushed a soft rose, his pecs rounded and firm as Griff's hands traced their contours. His mouth was at turns receptive, eager and aggressive. And with two darker guys on either side, Buck, with his pale, luminous skin, looked like a snowy white young bull.

Not to say it wasn't weird for Jack, of course. He was no stranger to the idea of Buck being sexual. He'd witnessed the parade of his son's fuck partners through the house, and the near-constant sound of his headboard banging the wall.

On top of that, the kid still jacked off every day from the sound of things, not counting the times he was probably doing it at school or wherever. But he'd never seen Buck in action, with his full-lipped mouth opening for alternating tongues diving into it, and his own wet tongue firmly thrusting back.

Griff latched onto a dusky rose nipple on Buck's beefy pec while Tyler dropped down low to get a hand on Buck's big staff of a cock. The boy groaned and his body surrendered to the worship, as if he was born to the work -- which in a way, he was. It was almost as if Jack and Kyu and the camera guys weren't there at all.

Tyler and Griff expertly maneuvered around Buck, his creamy skin with just the faintest blush of exertion, the swell of his pecs catching the light as Griff cupped them from behind. Tyler opened his pretty mouth to take in Buck's cockhead, and then to go down further, inch by inch, swallowing him.

Holy fuck, thought Jack, watching Buck's thick cock be engulfed by those chocolatey lips. Seeing Tyler's throat flex to take it in. He shifted his weight in his folding chairs, flipped his cap to face backward and leaned in for a better view. That boy has a gift.

The camera guys did their jobs, silently gliding around the trio, getting their various standard shots, being sure not to get each other on camera. With nods and gestures, Kyu urged them to additional angles: the release when Tyler came up for air, a thick strand of saliva hanging from his bottom lip to Buck's cock, Griff's hands on Buck's muscles rolling under his marble skin. The faraway look on Buck's face as his cheeks and lips flushed like cherry blossoms.

The Boy cupped his own pec, running a finger over one nipple and then the other and turned to kiss Griff as Tyler returned to his cock, gulping down all he could.

"Fuck," Buck groaned against Griff's lips, shuddering as Tyler swallowed him again. "I want you both to suck me off at the same time."

Jack froze. Off-script already? A knot of surprise and dread of conflict so soon tightened in his chest. He'd always plotted loosely, letting the chemistry of the performers take over, keeping things unpredictable. But for Buck he'd been more determined to get it right. And now it was already derailing.

Kyu was also motionless, but observant. Waiting to see what would come next.

Griff weaved around Buck and came to his knees, mirroring Tyler, their two mouths working his length and girth. Buck took their heads in his big hands, guiding them as he slowly thrust forward with his hips, fucking both mouths together. "Fuck yeah," he groaned and his top lip trembled.

Then with his cock gleaming and dripping with spit and precum, he turned to face the wall, running hands over his rounded ass cheeks, prying them apart to expose his hole.

Kyu slowly nodded yes, and with a graceful wave of his fingers indicated to the camera guys where to position themselves to focus in on Buck's virgin hole.

Jack didn't take it as well.

Goddamnit, he thought, vexed at the boy's improvisation. He was the director. He'd blocked this out. His frustration was tempered only by how both guys hungrily worshiping Buck's straight-up cock made for a good show. The kid had the instincts all right. If he could show some self control he might just be the total package.

"Oh yeah, that's so good," Buck grunted as they took turns tongue fucking him.

Tyler stood up to kiss Buck, the taste of his own ass on his mouth. His own hard cock slid up along the crack of Buck's ass, just gliding between the full cheeks. A stream of precum gushed from his cockhead.

Jack lurched forward and then caught himself. He pulled his cap off, rubbed his face and put it on again, visor forward.

It was some protective instinct. Stupid and unnecessary. He knew how these scenes went, and the swell in his own pants told him this was right on the money. Keep your director pants on and your dad pants off, he thought. But that didn't sound quite right either. He shifted in his chair, unable to find a comfortable position.

He reminded himself he was there for a job, and Buck, despite the off-script moment, was a pro, in the making.

4.

Jack got his start in the late 1990s.

Leaving the backwoods with a high school diploma he knew only one thing: Your head will lead you astray from time to time, and the heart's a deceiver. But your boner will never lie. A hard dick is the one true compass a man has in this world. And he trusted it to serve him well.

When he landed in the big city he could see the better option between the choice of breaking his back on construction jobs or getting his cock sucked for cash. He'd never had trouble throwing hard on command or going back-to-back with loads. Never had a problem fucking dudes, either. Even back in Oklahoma there were guys hungry for a guy with his looks and his dick.

The money in gay porn was better too. Or it could be, if he played his card right.

The studio wanted to give him a stupid hardon-reference name like they did in those days -- Steel, Girth, Rod. But Jack insisted on his own first name and added Chance.

He liked the sound of that. He had no weight to throw around other than his cock, but he was hot as fuck -- dirty blond chest hair just filling in, shoulders that looked carved from some working-class marble, muscles real and earned, not gym-manufactured. And no sleazy director cared enough to fight him on it. He could see right off how "Jack Chance" could be a pun goldmine in video titles. He didn't mention that to the directors, banking the idea for his own future use.

He'd never had a problem playing dumb and spent most of a year of asking questions during shoots and in post-production to figure out the business. If they could do it he could learn it, he reasoned. And if some jackoff was going to make a buck off the literal sweat off his back, no one was better suited or more deserving than Jack himself.

He used a loophole he'd spotted and saved, back when he signed their clumsily drafted contract, to get out of the studio so he could start his own company. Of course the studio was shocked that the dummy with the big pecs and the power dick could read after all. Jack liked that almost more than freeing himself. Blessed by nature with a bewildered face and a wily mind, he'd always enjoyed being underestimated.

Even in those days with shit production values, it took some money to start up a company, and Jack was only just getting to be popular, not a bankable name yet. But he leveraged that into "loans" from some older, moneyed fans. He could have just kept the cash. They wouldn't have cared much. But he wasn't inclined to owe anyone anything. So he worked hard to pay down the debt with interest.

But what a way to do it. Every thrust in every ass he topped, he could hear the cash register's ka-ching. Every trail of sweat that ran down the small of his back while he humped some pretty boy mapped the path of independence. The cumshots were -- well yeah, those were fun.

Jack had no training, so he made videos the way his gut said to. No processed looks, no poofy hair or shaved-bare crotches like the studios shelled out. His look was more natural, with dark-blond body hair and real muscles from real work. His videos had balls.

Some scoffed at his first releases as amateurish or unsophisticated. A few praised them as revivals of old Bijou and Bullet productions. Jack didn't opine. He thought of his vids as just guys doing shit guys do. If people wanted to pay to see them, so much the better. And pay they did, more and more with each release.

He pulled out of his back pocket his old ideas for plugging his name in video titles. He never could resist a pun. He produced Chance of a Lifetime, Snowball's Chance, Last Chance (the first of several profitable "final" vids), Second Chance (the first of the even more profitable comeback vids), and so on. He insured his dick for a million dollars as a publicity stunt. He released One In A Million Chance, and when sales dipped issued a special collector's edition that came with a copy of the insurance certificate.

There was just one kink in the plan, so to speak.

It came in the form of his co-star Savannah Smiles in his bi video, Fifty-Fifty Chance. He'd never lost control like that in a shoot before, not even in the first ones. But he fucked his load right into her, and in a fluke it took hold. He could tell even before she knew, when she showed up on the set the next day and her tits looked bigger and higher than the day before: she was knocked up.

Buck's birth wasn't documented on video, but his conception was, captured by a young film student named Kyu, shooting porn to make rent money. He didn't just have porn star parents, he was literally made in and of porn.

Once Jack knew he was going to be a father he got even more serious about making money. Having only the example of his own shitty father, he wanted to do it right, and on his own terms. He'd need to pay off Savannah for full custody, and then he'd have a kid to be responsible for. More than ever, he had an incentive to control who made the real bank off his broad back and his big baby-making balls.

He produced a record number of videos in the months before Buck was born, putting them in the vault to release over time. Jack had no shame about his actual work, but now that he was going to be a father he intended to keep his porn life at arm's length -- or in his case, dick's. He wants Buck to have as ordinary a childhood as possible, especially since he wouldn't have a mom around.

He wished there was another way around that, but Jack knew Savannah had no interest and no business in being a mother. She had her own fucked-up childhood shit to work through, worse than Jack's. But if things had been different -- if things had only been different -- what a woman she was. The only person to ever make Jack lose it in a video, with that yielding open mouth of hers and her own powerful gift for pleasure.

Fatherhood aside, Jack could see the business was changing. The internet allowed for new amateur sites to provide porn directly to the customer, bypassing the studio system. The performers were cleancut-looking jocks, not as built as Jack or the big studio stars. But for $15 a month, subscribers could get unlimited access to new videos every week, downloaded straight to their computer, rather than the $65 to buy a Jack Chance movie on VHS or DVD. Guys would subscribe to these sites directly, Jack knew, at least until they figured out a way to pirate them.

It was the democratization of porn, Jack said at the time. And just like the other kind of democracy, the upside was anyone could do, and the downside was anyone could do it.

But there was still a buck to be made. Jack developed a new amateur site with no connection to his name. He had a good feeling about Kyu, the young cameraman, and invited him to manage it, 50/50 partners: Jack's capital and Kyu's work.

Kyu pumped out videos weekly of "young college studs" experimenting with their sexuality, and the money flowed. This on top of his nest egg set Jack up for retirement before he was 30, to work out, travel surfing and -- of course -- parent. Jack had no intention of ever being poor again.

He knew he'd miss the work. But even with a full head of hair and fit body would serve him well for years to come, he couldn't make porn forever. No one ever heard of a gay porn star older than 40, after all. He was set for life and had a son to raise. It was time to grow up.

On December 31st, while the world braced for a Y2K catastrophe that never happened, Buck was born at the stroke of midnight. The '90s were done, and Jack Chance vanished. It was a new millennium.

5.

Two hours in, Buck's erection was holding up well. He clearly got off on being worshiped by Tyler and Griff. He knew how to give some back too, to Jack's mixed surprise and relief. He was a complete natural. And, Jack noted, still a little too eager.

Movie fucking isn't like real fucking. And not just because there's a crew crawling around you. There's a pace to keep, to allow for the shots at different angles. There are the angles you fuck at that don't often feel right but look good on camera. You have to master your body and remember what you're doing is for the benefit of the viewer, not your own pleasure, but you need that pleasure to keep going.

Buck, with his raw enthusiasm, seemed to be missing that crucial distinction, though Jack had intuited it right from the start. Why didn't his son?

Buck had gotten himself on top of Tyler, straddling his face. The arch of his back revealed itself with each thrust, muscles rolling beneath that pale skin as he plowed that hungry throat with the length of his cock as he worked Griff's dick with his own mouth and fist. It was shocking for Jack to see his boy suck cock so well, pretty much confirming it wasn't his first. Jack had surmised as much, but seeing it was something else. What alarmed Jack was the arc of his son's back as he picked up the humping pace of his throatfucking.

There was a certain increasingly doggy franticness to Buck's thrusts, more primal and less performance. Although Buck grunted that Tyler's mouth on his cock was lubing him for Griff's ass, Jack was unsure he'd make it. He kept a close eye on the sweat pooling in the small of Buck's back, the rising arc of his humping and the guttural sounds he made, and felt certain the kid was perilously near to blowing his load.

"Buck, slow down," Jack said softly but firmly.

Buck shot a pissed-off glance over his shoulder. He shook it off and thrust his hips hard into Tyler's mouth, making him choke out loud as Buck's erection penetrated to a new depth in his throat.

"That's enough," Jack said, walking into the frame. "Take a break."

"I'm good," barked Buck, his knob still in Tyler's hot mouth. "Keep shooting."

Jack paused, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles of his neck corded. "Take. A. Break." He locked eyes with Buck. "Now."

The crew stepped back, creating a wide berth. Even the sound equipment seemed to retreat. The performers broke away from each other, even Buck, drawing his throbbing cock from Tyler's raw throat.

Jack looked around the set, the cutting-edge cameras and lights, the foliage and elegant furniture in the space. He paced, eyes darting, scanning for something cheap enough to throw.

He spun around. "And all this -- this CRAP--" he waved a hand around in the air and swatted at one elephant ear-sized leaf on a potted plant, leaving it quivering. "This is just artifice."

He fixed his gaze on Kyu, a low growl underlying his words. "I thought we were making porn. Not one of your tableaux of boys who look like flat chested girls scissoring each other."

He kicked at the air, the movement so sudden and violent that Tyler flinched.

Kyu sat silent and still. Whatever he thought of Jack's comment was known only to him.

Jack turned away, chest heaving. "There's snacks and drinks. Bottoms, liquids only. You know the drill." He turned to Buck. "Come with me."

Jack stepped to the room just off the atrium and Buck swaggered after him, his thick cock still slick with Tyler's throat juices. Jack knew the look on his face well enough to know this wasn't going to be fun.

"What the fuck was that about?" Jack asked in harsh but hushed tones.

"I was doing fine," Buck answered. "I know myself."

"You were going to shoot down that kid's throat," Jack replied with an exasperated eye-roll. "And you have a long way to go."

"I can knock out another load, no problem," Buck sneered.

"And you're going to waste your big load, the one you've been saving, in his throat?" Jack rested his palm against his forehead where his head ached. "Buck, it may have eluded you, but we're not filming an endoscopy here. We want that load where we can see it."

Buck rolled his eyes, grumbling, "Yeah, whatever." He stroked his cock absentmindedly. "You just -- Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Say it. Get it out, Buck."

"You can't even let me fuck without telling me how," Buck spat.

"Yeah, I'm the director. That's my job here." They stared at each other, identical jaws thrust forward stubbornly. "Damn it Buck, I'm trying to help!"

"You're supposed to be retired!" Buck grunted. "Why can't you let me do this on my own?"

The boy turned away, running a hand over his big pecs. There was sparse hair at the center of his chest, not grown in as much as his father's at the same age. It might never be quite the same as Jack's.

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this together." Jack was surprised at his own words.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't my idea," Buck muttered and walked away.

It hit Jack like a hammer that what Buck said was true. It had never been his idea to begin with.

6.

Jack told Buck about his own career when the boy turned 18. He wasn't one for secrets between himself and his son, and he had no shame about it. But it was hard to find the right balance between being a father and being a buddy, especially since it was just the two of them, with no other parent to ally with. In the end, Jack figured if he was old enough to be in porn at 18, Buck was old enough to know at the same age.

He pulled out the CDs of his old movies -- transferred from VHS -- and a box of magazine clippings and promotional materials from when he was a star. Buck took the box back to his bedroom and stayed there for about five hours.

Jack never knew how much the kid nutted during that marathon, but at the end he emerged from his room dewy and flushed and said, "That was cool. I want to make one."

Jack could have argued, but Buck was Buck. But what could he say? And Buck was going to do what he was going to do. He was always willful that way, and now he had the legal status to back it up. He said he'd use his own first name, like Jack had done, though he couldn't settle on a last name.

Maybe it was just Buck's nature. Put two porn stars' genes together in the laboratory of a porn shoot, they're going to make a porn star. Maybe it was nurture, Jack raising him to be his most fit self, to take no shame in anything he did well. Maybe it was just a matter of time. Whatever it was, Buck -- as demonstrated by the boxes of condoms Jack replenished regularly -- liked to fuck. He started with girls and expanded to his bros, and that was when things got really loud.

Jack reached out to Kyu who had his own porn company, Q BOYS. Jack appreciated the play on his name. He had a stable of young performers of every ethnicity whose careers he shepherded with the same attention he lavished on filming. He was famous now for the production of his videos that were half-smut, half-high art. People praised his use of lighting, calling him the Vermeer of gay porn. It wasn't Jack's style, but Kyu was the best. Of course he'd help.

Jack then facetimed his old co-star, Savannah Smiles. He'd had full custody of Buck since birth, so he'd never needed her permission for anything, but he checked in with her from time to time. Sometimes he just liked to see her.

When Jack left the business, fans speculated about what happened to him. His favorite What-Ever-Happened-To-Jack-Chance? rumor was that he was a kept man, the gem in the harem of a Saudi billionaire. This particular speculation tickled Jack, because although it was totally off the mark about him, it was pretty on the nose about Savannah. She lived the life of a pampered pet in Denmark, the prize concubine of an expatriate Middle Eastern prince.

She was the most beautiful woman Jack had ever seen, onscreen or off. Fuck, that's why he'd nutted in her during a shoot like a damn high school kid. Her Lebanese/Scots heritage blended in her in an ideal form that drew him in and left him helpless. Not only could he still remember the feel of her lips and tits, her round ass and smooth belly, Jack still jerked off to their videotaped scene years later.

In another world in which he'd someone not knocked her up, a world without Buck, they could have really been something together.

She laughed on hearing the news. "Well, he is his father's son," she said.

It took Jack aback, briefly "He is." It made his hardon surge to hear her liken him to their handsome boy.

As he often did, it struck Jack how much she resembled their son. Buck had Jack's jaw and brow, but his mouth, eyebrows and dark hair were all his mother's. Even his build, masculine as it was, owed as much to Savannah as Jack. His pecs and glutes were more rounded and abundant than Jack's squared muscles. He even had her same dusky rose coloring in his lips and nipples.

"You're looking good, Sav," Jack said, feeling strangely shy about his attraction.

"You too, Jack," she said, watching him reach his fist into his pants.

She reclined in her posh bedroom in her negligee, looking every part the pampered courtesan. She pulled out her tits for Jack as he stroked himself and spread her own legs. She still had him by the balls, he thought. Hell, she must have arranged herself to look just this way for the call. And he had her too. He could see it in her eyes as he jerked down his pants and let his towering cock stand free. If there was one thing Jack knew, it was sexual chemistry, and theirs was undeniable and unfakeable.

Jerking his cock, he bit his bottom lip at the sight of her plush curves, the smoky coloring of her lips and every opening into her silky body that was so irresistible to him. The thing that really got him most was her smooth belly. He felt a strong desire to pump another baby into it, to see her again with something of his in there, mixing with her.

Being a father was his life's calling, but Buck would be moving on. The thought of filling her up with another son was like a hand around his balls. Without warning he spewed a hot load onto his own furry belly while she built to her own climax.

When she came, he was still slow-pumping the last of his cum out, letting it run over his knuckles. His chest rose and fell in sync with hers. Afterwards they both laughed breathlessly, like two kids. He ran a finger through the lava blast of cum and then ran it over the screen, pressing it to her perfect lips.

"The Sheikh's not going to declare a fatwa on me?" he joked afterwards, wiping his belly with his tank top.

"Haddad's not like that," she smirked. "He'd be more likely to fly you out so he could watch."

"Hey, I could take a trip. I haven't been to Denmark yet," Jack offered eagerly.

"Ah Jack," Savannah dismissed the notion with a soft sigh. "Maybe we should let the past be the past."

"Yeah," Jack shrugged. "I just -- Did you ever think we should have done it again? Made another Buck?"

"No, Jack," she chuckled. "Never. No regrets, but I like my life as it is. I like it very much."

He could see she'd found her place. God knows she deserved it. Like a lot of women in the business, she had a rough start in life, and many ended up worse than they started. Not Savannah. She parlayed her brief stardom into a life she never even knew existed, but one that gave her everything she wanted. She was taken care of the way she needed to be. Deserved to be. She was happy.

"We could have really been something, though," he replied wistfully. "Made movies together. Got married."

He pictured their life together, even now in their forties, still in love and fucking and having adventures. He would never say it to anyone, could barely articulate it to himself, but maybe it was a mistake to invest so much of himself in a son who would grow up and go off on his own, just as he once had.

"Jack, nostalgia's a liar. A charming liar, but a liar. Besides, you're already married," she teased. "To Buck."

"What? Sav, you don't think --" he exclaimed.

"I don't mean that way," she laughed. "There are a lot of ways to be married. Who would ever want to come between the two of you?"

It hit him like a mallet to the chest how much you can long for someone you could never be with.

He laughed to think how he'd made a fortune off that very concept, inspiring so much longing in his fans, but it was something he was still learning about himself.

7.

Jack wandered into a bathroom away from the atrium to regroup. In the mirror, he looked all of his 44 years. His strong jaw, still square despite middle-aged softening, had creases that spoke of countless expressions. He lifted his cap. The wheat and gold hair rich gay men once paid just to touch was thinning at the crown.

He slowly lifted his shirt to see what it covered. His dirty blond chest hair caught the light, a map of gray threading through it. He was more fit than 90 percent of guys his age -- more fit than most guys half his age for that matter. But he was thicker -- softer -- in his belly than he used to be.

There were creases around his eyes, and he looked more tired than he felt

Face it, Jack. You're not peak, he thought to his reflection. And you never will be again. So grow up.

He'd really thought it had been Buck's idea for him to direct. But looking back on it, they were only talking, and Jack's brainstorming maybe got a little out of control. He knew so much about making porn, and that had gone untapped for so very long. The idea of filming again triggered things in him -- storylines, angles, marketing. Calling the shots, literally and figuratively.

He'd forgotten more than almost anyone ever knew about making porn. And even the things he thought forgotten were still there, dormant, waiting for a purpose. He thought he could share that with Buck, that they could make something together. And Buck wouldn't -- no.

But it had all been him. He couldn't pinpoint any time that Buck said he wanted Jack to direct, or wanted Jack involved at all. In his zeal Jack had assumed. Or maybe was so enticed by the idea that he could hold onto his boy just a little longer.

You fucked up royally this time, buddy. Jack glowered in the mirror. You put everything you were ever any good at on hold to be a dad. Now the boy is moving on. And you've got nothing.

Savannah was right, sitting there in her boudoir like some odalisque oracle. Nostalgia is a liar. She was the smart one. She had her sheik and her life of Nordic luxury. Kyu had his business and his reputation and his boys. Buck had the world by the balls and his whole life ahead of him. And what did Jack have? A pathetic ploy to stretch out his glory days with his son.

What the hell was he thinking? Were they supposed to be, porn bros? Make movies together?

Fat Chance. There's your title, he derided himself, cursing Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Even by porn standards not an eloquent monologue, but it was the best he had at the moment. He'd fucked it all up, and unlike Buck, he didn't have the excuse of youth.

He decided to quit the shoot. He'd go home, or to a bar, hopefully find someone to bang and leave Buck's scene for Kyu to direct. Hell, Kyu was running the show anyway, humoring Jack. This was Buck's time, his millennium, and he was his own man. The man Jack made, for better or worse.

Jack splashed water on his face and dried off with a hand towel. As he did, he heard snickering and instinctively pulled back into the shadows and went silent.

"Did you see him checking out my camera?" asked one voice. "I was like, Yeah, sure Grandpa. It's amazing. What a dinosaur."

"Who the hell is he anyway?" asked the other.

"Pfft, used to be some big deal," answered the first.

Jack knew the voices. Matthew and Eduardo. Kyu's camera guys.

"The son is hot," said the second voice, Eduardo. "But can you imagine? Having your dad watch you get a blow job?"

"Or give one!" squealed Matthew.

"I've seen some shit, but that's kinda fucked up, right?" asked Eduardo.

"Yeah," answered Matthew, "but kinda hot too."

The two laughed. Jack prepared to man up Walk out and let them know he was there. No point in being coy. He'd already fooled himself enough for one day, and it was time to face the truth.

"Hey," said a third voice. One Jack knew well. Buck. "You guys talking about my dad?"

"Oh... Buck," answered the first voice, Matthew. "Sorry man, didn't know you were there."

"Yeah," Buck replied. "I am."

"Buck, no offense -- " interrupted Eduardo.

"Hold up," Buck went on, talking over Eduardo. "Cause there's a fuck lot you don't know.

"Like I guess you didn't know my dad was the only porn star to ever sweep the Grabby Awards. Best Actor, Best Movie, Best Cumshot, Best Director. He won in every category but Best Bottom, but that's not something he aspired to. Later that year he swept the AVNs for Take A Chance At Sugarbakers, his bi movie. I can go on if you want."

"Buck..." Matthew tried to interject.

"You probably didn't know," Buck continued, "that when he walked onto the set of Pure Chance in his packed Speedo, Mike Branson and Tom Chase quit on the spot. Or that by the time he retired, there were almost a dozen knockoff performers named Chance, because his name was gold.

"He gave your boss his start. But pretty sure you didn't know that either. He invented techniques you guys are still aping today, just not as well. You wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

Matthew and Eduardo were finally silent, and Buck took a breath.

"And you probably don't know that in Fifty-Fifty Chance after he did an internal cum shot in Savannah Smiles, he pulled his dick out for the camera to see, then fucked the loads out of two guys and finished again on Savannah. In one take. His scene was so hot the cameramen nutted watching it."

Jack bit into his knuckle to keep from laughing. The mouth on that kid.

"And I assume you didn't know," Buck went on, his voice rising, "my dad was not A gay porn star. He was THE gay porn star. His dildo wasn't just a dildo. It was made from a mold of his hardon as is, no increase in size like every other porn star dildo, because he didn't need it. And when it went on the market, it sold faster and better than any porn star dildo before or since. They ran out in one weekend, across the country.

"He literally destroyed the mold and never made or sold another after that. The last one was auctioned off in London, and the winning bid was Madonna's, for a million dollars. And when she made the winning bid, the auctioneer threw it to her, right there on the spot. And that dildo didn't just get thrown. It FLEW, over the heads of every losing bidder. And when it came down Madonna. Caught it. In. Her. Hand."

Jack muffled his laughter into his hands, tears streaming over his knuckles. The boy would have made a great lawyer after all.

Buck cleared his throat, and when he spoke again it was in a calm but firm voice. "My dad is walking around here with that million-dollar cock in his pants right now. You owe your careers to him, and Kyu does too. That's why -- just so you and your two-dollar dicks will know -- THIS. Is the house. That Jack. Built."

"We didn't know," said Matthew.

"Well now you do," Buck chided.

"Sorry Buck," added Eduardo.

"That's Buck Chance, by the way," Buck declared with a note of swagger. "Now get back to work."

Buck Chance? Jack mused. He liked the sound of that.

Jack assessed his reflection. His eyes were clear. He was thicker, yeah, but what other guy half his age looked half as good? Even at 44, Jack moved with the kind of controlled power that made younger men look childish. Inept. He flexed his big square pecs, rolled his shoulders, pulled on his cap, visor forward, and jutted out his handsome jaw. He looked hot as fuck, to be honest. Second peak, even. And Buck was right; it was time to get to work.

8.

By nearly 5PM, Buck had sucked and been sucked, rimmed and been rimmed, and fucked both Tyler and Griff in nearly every position conceivable. Outside of breaks, he'd maintained a hardon and a good attitude. All that was left to do was deliver his final. The money shot.

As he took his place standing behind Griff, positioned on the edge of the bed on all fours, Buck hesitated. He didn't say a word, but his chest heaved with deeper and deeper breaths. His eyes darted to meet Jack's.

Observant as always, Kyu nudged Jack. "Talk to him."

Jack was unsure. He'd stayed on set but tried to lay low, letting Buck manage himself and deferring to Kyu on the filming. But he had to admit Buck looked like he was in trouble.

"You guys are all doing great," Jack announced with feigned cheer, stepping up to the bed under the set lights. "Almost home. Just want a word with my... top."

He clapped a hand on his son's sweaty shoulder. The touch felt charged and Jack let go. He said in a hush no one else could hear, "Talk to me."

"Dad," Buck whispered, "what if I can't?"

"Buddy, no problem," Jack whispered in response. "We can stop right now. You don't even have to."

"Yeah right," Buck smirked. "No money shot? Come on."

The boy had a point.

"Buck, you've got this," Jack told him. "You're hard, you've been fucking for hours. You're gonna blow like a volcano. You'll see."

"My dick is kind of numb," Buck whispered. "Just the head. What if it, like... just dribbles out or something. Or if I nut inside him?"

"Buck, it's all good," Jack answered. He'd seen this before with young guys who managed to fight off cumming for a long time. The sense they wouldn't be able to let go. "Even if you nut in him, dribble, what the fuck ever. You're a stud. Fuck man, you're 18, you probably always cum like a pornstar." Jack pressed in closer. "I know you cum like a pornstar. I do the laundry. You'll see."

As Jack trailed his fingers from Buck's shoulder and turned to step away, Buck's head spun back and his breath caught sharply, drawing everyone's attention. "Dad," he said quietly, "stay."

He looked to Kyu, who nodded yes.

Jack smiled at Buck and settled in by his side. Without thinking, he reached up and reversed his blue cap, the visor now facing backward.

Buck sunk his near painfully swollen cock into Griff's well-lubed hole, and Griff groaned as his ass filled with Buck's meat. Jack stood back just enough to give the camera room. He asked Buck how that felt, and even anxious as he was, Buck had to admit it was good. The arch of his back was a perfect curve, muscles rolling with each controlled thrust.

"That's my boy," said Jack. "You've got this."

Buck immediately rammed Griff hard, knocking the bottom off his hands. He reeled back and slammed in again and then started a fast jackrabbit fuck. That was a bad sign.

Jack and Kyu glanced at each other. They both could see how far things had gone off the rails.

All the elements were there -- Buck looked incredible, and the fading sunlight gave them all a golden glow. But the fucking was forced, killing whatever chemistry they'd had before. For most studios this would be enough, but this was Jack's production. And it was his son. He'd need better.

"Let me help you," Jack said, pulling close behind and sliding his hand between Buck's hip and Griff's ass. "I know you want to go full-on dog-pound because you're kind of numb down there and trying to shoot. But let's take this slow and build you back up."

He managed Buck's pace with one hand on his hip and other on the sweaty small of his back, just over the mounds of his firm white ass. Jack slowed him almost to a stop. and then let him build up to a more natural thrusting motion. While Buck eased into it, Jack helped angle him best for the camera, and held onto the boy's shoulders, as he enjoyed a good grind.

"There you go," Jack said, his hands still in place. "That feel good?"

Buck nodded, gliding his fat cock in and nearly out of Griff's ass, playing for the camera and his own pleasure. Jack turned to the camera crew. "Matthew, you're good right there. I want another minute of those nuts hitting Griff's ass. Eduardo, come in a little closer and be ready for the money shot. Kyu, can you get a cam on Buck's face?"

Kyu picked up a camera himself, entering the scene. Wow.

"Thanks, big guy," Buck whispered, giving his dad a wink as his thrusts sandwiched Jack's hand deeper into the crevice between his own flesh and the musclebottom's ass.

"Tricks of the trade," Jack shrugged, acting as if he weren't acutely aware of the sound of Griff's hole sucking in Buck's meat.

He worked to look carefree, breezy. But under the lights and in the hot stew of sweat and sex, it was getting harder to stay a dad, with all his porn star instincts telling him to get into the scene, and how. His one hand ought to slide further down into Buck's trimmed pubes, the other should rise up to twist one of his dusky rose nipples. His hips told him they should be grinding his stiff cock into that plush ass, and his tongue should be finding its mate in Buck's mouth, between his parted lips.

"You're good," Jack whispered, suddenly pulling his hand from Buck's hip. His lips grazed Buck's ear as he whispered, "You're a fucking champ," squeezing his shoulder a little tighter.

Fuck, shouldn't have done that, Jack thought, feeling a thick surge of precum fill his briefs.

The proximity, the heat, the way Buck's body moved. It was all too close for comfort.

He stepped back to let Kyu's cameramen do their work, letting his hand slip free from Buck's vigorous thrusts. But with each step away, Buck's eyes followed him. The further Jack moved, the more anxious Buck looked, his pace faltering once more.

"Jack," Kyu whispered to him, "get back in there. We can edit around you later."

Jack yanked the blue cap from his head and ran his fingers through his hair in pure frustration. Then, deliberately, repositioned the cap - visor forward. Director mode engaged. He'd salvaged a lot of situations, but this was a new one, even for him. It would take a special touch.

He analyzed the scene and the actors. He didn't know the bottoms well, but he knew Buck. He knew him better than anyone. After a moment he approached Tyler, standing opposite Buck, his hard dick in Griff's mouth. He tapped the twink on the shoulder and said, "Take five, buddy. Griff and Buck, stay where you are." As Tyler stepped aside, Jack gave him a grin and a wink so he'd know he wasn't the problem.

Jack took Tyler's place standing opposite Buck. He crouched down so his face was near Griff's. That was to give the bottom an encouraging wink, but also to clear the view of Buck for the cameras. He locked eyes with his boy as he pounded ass, and with supreme confidence and pride, Jack said, "Give it to me, Buck."

Buck's lips turned up into a smile. He fucked Griff beautifully, his hips rolling and the sweat filling the inlets between the muscles of his tits and abs. There was tension building in his eyes, just like it should, and pleasure too. "Dad," he gasped, "I need a target."

Jack looked down at Griff's tan muscular back bridging the space between them, but Buck shook his head. No. "Take off your shirt?"

He felt another hot surge in his briefs, but simply nodded. Sure.

He pulled the black polo up over his head, his damn cap with it, and threw them down on the floor in one smooth motion, the way he'd learned when he stripped in a couple of videos. He stayed crouched down and ran a hand over his furry chest, feeling how thick and strong his pecs were, maybe even bigger than in his heyday. More than peak.

He smiled at Buck, tapped the center of his chest, right over his heart. "Come on slugger. Knock it out of the park."

"Aw yeah," Buck grunted.

The kid's hips pulled back and drove home with renewed vigor, and Griff groaned as his ass filled with Buck's meat. Buck picked up his pace and pounded his bottom, all motion and muscle. Jack could see just how good it would look on screen, with the tension cresting and Buck's mouth opening in a way that looked so achingly familiar.

"Give it to me," Jack said, slapping his chest again. The kid's load would never make it that far, but if he aimed for it they'd get a good shot on camera of Buck's load on Griff's tan back. "Give me that load. Just us here. Just you and me."

Buck quaked and his eyebrows knit as he looked pleadingly into Jack's eyes. You're there boy, you're there, Jack said with his smile.

Buck's lips parted in a soft O, and Jack could see it clearly -- the same expression in Savannah's face as when Jack fucked her, when they made Buck together. His mouth the same shape and shade as his mother's, and Jack's briefs contorted around his throbbing erection.

"I'm cumming, I'm..." Buck groaned as he pulled out of Griff and held his cock up in one fist. He didn't pump, just held it straight up as his balls pulled tight. Jack could see it in slow motion as Buck's big handsome cock swelled more than seemed possible, a pearl of cum beading on his piss slit, wet and white.

A milky spurt dribbled from Buck's taut cockhead and hit Griff's lower back directly beneath it. Everything went still, as if that was it.

Then Buck's cock triggered again and spewed a magnificent comet of cum that arced up, cresting over Griff and landing with a hot splat on the dark blond thatch of hair at the center of Jack's chest. By the time the first glob of cum hit Jack, the next volleys were already spewing, smacking Jack's pecs and shoulders. The last of it streaked Griff's tan back. The camera guys and even Kyu gasped, and Jack had to fight to keep his own cock from spurting in response.

Still reeling, Buck looked down to Griff's slick hole, still gaping for him. He plunged his full length deep in again, easing the rest of his load into the soft insides of his bottom. Jack had never seen any top pull off a shot like that, and knowing it was Buck was more than he could take.

He bounced up on his heels, rounded the bed and sidled up next to Buck. He nudged the boy aside, Buck's spent semi sliding out of Griff with a pop.

Jack ran a hand over Griff's tan ass cheeks, smooth and plush, inspecting his used and throbbing hole, still gaping from the absence of Buck's cock, slick with his boy's breeding.

"Griff," Jack asked, unbuckling his belt, "you mind if I take a dip?"

Griff hiked his ass up and growled as Jack's button fly burst open in a series of pops.

Jack jerked his now-saturated briefs down, letting his own erection stand free like a solitary tower. Necks craned and jaws dropped at the sight of it. Jack Chance's million-dollar cock, and even Buck looked on in awe.

"Keep filming, boys," Jack told the crew. "We're making porn."

He sighed out loud as he plunged his erection into Griff in one swift move, making the bottom groan and quiver as Jack pushed deeper into him than Buck had touched. He'd have gone slower, but it was so lubed and so well plowed by the only cock that could stand up to Jack's powerhouse: his boy's. Buck's.

He clapped his hands around Griff's hips, drawing him back to meet his thrusts. "Oh my God," Griff whimpered, his chest melting into the bed. Jack rode his ass chest full and high and his hips driving hard and smooth. His haunches rolled back and in again to get the deepest penetration. He could deliver a payload any second he chose, with a thick flood straight through his manmeat.

This was what Jack was made for. Fucking and breeding, on camera. Plowing pussy and ass. He was a fool to ever stop. With the cameras, the cameramen and the performers all turned to him, his skin golden under the lights and the sound of his cock smacking into a hole so hungry for him, Jack was home.

Buck leaned in and Jack, and so did Tyler. He could feel their presence on either side. He dropped his thick arms around their shoulders to pull them in close, sandwiched between their warm bodies as he power fucked Griff, his mammoth cock gliding in and so very nearly out.

He couldn't resist turning to catch sight of Buck's face, the mouth so like Savannah's. He licked his lips and Buck nodded, smiling slyly, Yeah Dad, do it. Fucking do it.

Jack turned to plunge his tongue into Tyler's mouth, kissing him deeply. His eyes were closed, so he could imagine the other mouth he yearned for while Tyler's would make do. But then he felt a hand on the hairy thatch at the small of his back, and he knew it was Buck's. It was more than he could take.

"Oh fuck yes," Jack groaned against Tyler's lips, equal parts Dad and Jack Chance and both losing control. He pulled his erection out of Griff's soft warm ass.

The first jet of Jack's load arced up higher even than Buck's had, and landed with an audible smack on Griff. The next shots rained down, crossing the streaks of Buck's load, and mixing with them on Griff's beautiful tan back.

Jack's chest heaved and his shoulders rolled as his monster load pumped out of him, to the awe of the performers and crew, even Kyu who'd seen it all before, and his boy, Buck.

As Jack stabilized, he ran a hand over his brow to wipe away the sweat. He was so giddy he nearly laughed.

He turned to Buck and said, "Okay, let's get these bottoms off."

"Yes sir," answered Buck, his hand still on Jack's sweat streaked back.

"What do we do?" Eduardo asked.

"You heard the man." Kyu chuckled, sinking back into his seat. "Keep filming. Jack's back. Jack's back."

9.

Jack and Kyu got everyone squared away after the shoot. Buck ate like a wolf, standing there naked, the remnants of the shoot flaking on his skin. Jack told him to hit the shower, and as he walked away Jack and Kyu watched his high round ass cheeks slowly sway with every step.

"About the things I said," Jack offered to Kyu. "I just..."

"I know," Kyu replied, nodding, to Jack's relief. They had a history that couldn't be upset by a few rash words.

"What a crazy fucking road it's been," Jack sighed, shaking his head.

"But it's the road that got us here," Kyu replied.

Jack turned to his old friend. "You always say things like that. Like you know something deep."

Kyu shrugged and replied in his monotone, "Just shooting the shit, Jack."

Matthew and Eduardo put on some Madonna and danced to "Express Yourself", a song much older than either of them, as they mopped the floor of the atrium. And when you're gone, he might regret it.

Jesus, thought Jack. There's more DNA around here than a murder scene.

By the time they were finishing, Buck emerged from the shower. His milky skin was flushed from the hot water and he looked fresh and clean, but his yawn conveyed that the long day was catching up with him.

"'m hungry," he said, rubbing his eyes.

Buck stretched, and Jack caught the fluid movement of his shoulders spreading, back arching. So much physical potential that was still unfolding.

"You want to go to a steakhouse?" Jack asked. He liked steak after filming a good fuck.

"Sure," answered Buck with a drowsy smirk. "If you're paying."

"Okay, big spender," Jack laughed. "I'm not going to make you blow your first paycheck on my meal."

The February air was bracing as they made their way to Jack's car. It was chilly even for San Francisco. Buck dropped into the passenger seat and Jack turned the ignition, and rolled the car onto the road, facing the setting sun.

"I was thinking maybe Double Your Chances," Buck mumbled after a brief silence. "For a title."

"Oh yeah?" asked Jack. "For today? I like that." He glanced at Buck's handsome profile, careful not to draw the boy's attention. The car was always where they had their best talks, side by side, facing forward together. "You and me, huh?"

Buck shrugged. "Yeah. Sorry I had a thing this morning." His drowsy eyes rested on the road ahead.

"It's cool," Jack replied. "I messed up too."

"We'll do better next time."

"Next time?" Jack asked.

"Duh. I still have to bottom," Buck said.

The car lurched hard as Jack's foot suddenly gunned the gas pedal. He let it ease back into a smooth cruise, and said, "Oh?"

"I talked with Tyler about it," Buck offered.

"Oh yeah? Nice guy. Big... dick."

Buck nodded yeah, and Jack immediately envisioned the scene. He could see the composition of the shots and the lighting. He could see the soft gasp of Buck's mouth as Tyler entered him. Filled him. The same way Savannah's face looked when Jack slid into her to fill her with their son. What a sight that would be.

"So you're gonna bottom?" Jack asked, adjusting himself in his seat.

"Sure," Buck chuckled. "It's not the Nineties."

"No, it's not." Jack grinned. "No, it's not."

As he drove, Jack's mind raced with possibilities. He thought of all the things Buck could do. All the things he could do. He'd never worked with a trans performer before. He'd like to a fuck a transguy. That would be fucking cool.

He could pull together an old timers all-star movie. A round-up of the guys from the Nineties. See what Mike Branson and Max Grand were up to. He'd always wanted to fuck Max Grand, but somehow the time had gotten away from him, as it tends to do.

"How much longer till we get there?" Buck asked, impatiently bouncing his leg.

"Just a little longer, partner," Jack answered, taking a glance at his boy in the full swell of all his pride and admiration and love. There was so much potential to be realized. "Just a little longer."

Jack set his eyes on the road ahead and drove on.

END