Yes (13 page)

“Did he ever get fucked on film?” Ryan asked.

“No,” Mark said. “I remember when I first saw
Stryker Force
. At the end, he fucks Steve Hammond, another total top. One of the hottest scenes I’ve ever seen, because nothing beats the moment when a top flips. Except later I found out Steve Hammond used a stunt butt. You can only imagine my disappointment.”

“If you ask me,” Matthew said, “the ’90s were a terrible decade. All the fun got sucked out of porn. The guys were buffed and waxed and bore no resemblance to men in real life. It was like the Disney version of gay sex.”

“Until 1998,” Mark said.

“What happened in 1998?” Ryan asked.

Matthew and Mark answered together: “Treasure Island Media.”

“Paul Morris threw away the condoms and brought real sex back to porn,” Matthew said.

Mark took another sip of his cappuccino. “He broke all the rules, and men who enjoyed recreational sex devoured his stuff. For years, you couldn’t go to a sex party in this town without seeing
Dawson’s 20 Load Weekend
in the background.”

“Morris is a real interesting character, though. The dude’s got a lot to say about representing male sexuality.”

Mark nodded. “There are very few porn directors who have a distinctive visual style. The minute you see one of his movies, you know it’s Treasure Island. Joe Gage is the same way.”

“And William Higgins,” Matthew said.

“You know your vintage?” Mark asked.

“You bet. It’s all available online now. Colt’s stuff was very distinctive too. And Bel Ami. Even Fratmen, with its glossy trademark look and no soundtrack.”

Ryan sat down on a stool next to Matthew. “What about the Internet? That changed everything.”

“Of course,” Mark said. “Nothing has done more to reshape sex and porn than streaming video. It’s created a demand that gay performers can’t possibly fill. A lot of guys criticize the gay-for-pay industry, but they don’t realize that if a site posts just one update a week, they literally run out of gay guys after six months. Our demand for new content created the Corbin Fisher/Sean Cody/Randy Blue triumvirate, and its sameness is mind-numbing.”

“Maybe,” Matthew said. “But there’s a massive amount of porn produced on this planet every day, and you have to admit, it’s pretty diverse. I watched a video last week—Superman getting fucked by a purple kryptonite dildo. I kid you not. There’s Asian porn, black porn, black on white porn, Latino, blatino, you name it. There’s a whole category just for Brazil.”

“That may be true, but the popular performers, all the household names, are still white.”

“Like who?”

Mark rattled off a list: “Colby Keller, Johnny Rapid, Zeb Atlas, Phenix Saint, Marcus Mojo, Kris Evans, Jake Bass, Paddy O’Brian, Christian Wilde, Spencer Reed, Brent Corrigan, Connor Maguire, Ricky Sinz, Tommy Defendi.”

“That’s a good list,” Matthew said. “Though Spencer Reed looks bored with it all lately. And Matthew Rush is a household name who’s not white.”

“Okay, I’ll concede that Matthew Rush is an exception.”

“Colby Keller is arguably the greatest porn star of his generation, but truth be told, I don’t watch his stuff anymore.”

Ryan nodded. “Me neither.”

“Why not?” Mark asked.

“I’m over him,” Matthew said. “I’m pretty much the same way with Johnny Rapid and Christian Wilde. I can only jack off to the same guy so many times, no matter how hot he is.”

Mark raised his eyebrows. “Did you see Christian Wilde bottom for Austin Wilde?”

“Okay,” Matthew admitted. “I did watch that. But the volume of available porn has trained me to seek out constant variety. My argument in the paper is that my generation is going to have a big problem with monogamy because of that.”

Mark laughed. “Blame it on the porn.”

“I didn’t say I personally have a problem with monogamy.”

“What class is this paper for?” Mark asked.

“Performance Studies.”

“Oh. Well then, I’d question the whole premise of your paper. What if all sex is performed, and there’s no such thing as ‘real sex’?”

Matthew looked confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Mark explained himself. “You’ve created an artificial division between porn and the real sex lives of gay men. But what if real sex is as much a performance as porn? Don’t you feel it when you start having sex? We throw a switch in our brains. Our partner expects something from us. We’re called upon to perform. When our dicks go soft, we call it ‘performance anxiety.’ We go to a theater to see a play, and at the same time we refer to sex as ‘playing.’ Some people create elaborate scenes, with props and costumes and special lighting effects. Sex parties are basically improvisational performances. Even when you’re just having sex with your boyfriend, there’s a button you turn on and off. You still play a character who’s slightly different from your authentic self. I would argue that all sex is performed.”

Matthew shook his head. “Shit. That’s a great idea, but now I have to start all over.”

“No, you don’t. Just reframe your observations and use the word ‘postmodern’ a lot. And quote Marx when you discuss the effects of capitalism. I guarantee it’ll get you an A. Do you have a favorite porn movie?”

“Wow,” Matthew said. “Of all time? That’s tough. There’s a guy on GayForIt from Vienna. His name is Andy. He’s posted about 500 vintage films. The one that always sticks in my head is
My Man Mickey
.”

Mark snapped his fingers. “That’s a great flick.”

“What’s it about?” Ryan said.

“One pair of friends meets another pair of friends. Couple A drugs couple B and then basically date rapes them once they pass out.”

“And you liked this movie?” Ryan asked.

“Let him finish,” Mark said.

“It’s a classic revenge story with an almost Tarantino-esque flair. Couple B wakes up and finds the half-empty bottle that A used to drug them, because they left it behind by mistake. Then slowly couple B remembers what happened. One of them says, and I kid you not, ‘They done raped us.’ So they decide to turn the tables. They track down the other two guys and slip the leftover drug into their beer. Not only do they fuck them when they pass out, but they call a couple of their friends over to help.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. “I have to see this. But why is it called
My Man Mickey
?”

“A Mickey Finn is slang for a drugged drink,” Matthew said. “You know, like slipping someone a mickey. Now, what’s your favorite vintage?”

Ryan thought it over. “Probably
Crossroads
. Danny Sommers and… I don’t remember the other guy’s name.”

“Chuck Barron,” Mark said.

“The whole movie is just the two of them. Danny is a closeted military guy, and Chuck is married to Danny’s high school sweetheart. It’s a friends-to-lovers story, lots of dialogue, more like a one-act play with sex than your typical porno. I’ll never forget the last scene, when Danny says, ‘Careful there, lover boy, you almost bit my lip.’ And Chuck says, ‘I’m not a boy, but I am your lover.’ They’re really sweet together. What about you, Mark?”

Ian, of course, already knew the answer.

“
Fratrimony
. Another two-person movie. Tim Lowe and Butch Taylor play brothers who fall in love. Unbelievably hot.”

Matthew slapped his hand onto the bar. “Why is porn at its most awesome when it deals with taboo subjects like date rape and incest?”

“Because it’s an outlet,” Mark said. “Like Mardi Gras or Vegas. It’s the place where we release our id so that we don’t rape people or sleep with our brothers in real life. There’s a sick bastard in all of us, and sometimes he needs a little room to breathe. Think about everything you see in porn that we consider despicable in real life—sexual harassment in the workplace, guys molesting their sleeping roommates, priests fucking altar boys, guards fucking prisoners, doctors fucking patients, teachers fucking students, coaches fucking players. If you took the Jerry Sandusky story and cast it with eighteen-year-olds, gay guys would watch that as porn. And I’ve barely scratched the surface. Have you ever seen the movie where the father takes his son to the XXX arcade and teaches him how to use a glory hole? Good God, who thought that up? There are gay guys recruiting straight guys, soldiers kidnapping men to use them as sex slaves, frat boys hazing pledges by fucking them, massage therapists seducing their clients—”

“Tyler Saint,” Ryan said.

Matthew nodded. “The hardest working man in show business.”

“All those things make for hot porn,” Mark said.

“But what does that say about us?” Ryan asked.

Mark shook his head. “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“I think I care,” Matthew said.

“And that’s why you’re writing the paper,” Mark said. “Who are your nominees for greatest porn star of all time?”

“Wait,” Ryan said. “First, I want to hear who turns you off. What we don’t like is as interesting as what we do.”

Mark finished his cappuccino and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Fair point. Personally, I’m not a Brett Everett fan. I know people love the lips, but not me. I can’t watch Bel Ami anymore, and I’m almost there with the whole Sean Cody genre. Always the same couch. Always the same bed.”

“Dean Monroe,” Matthew said.

“What?” Ryan asked. “Dean Monroe is totally hot.”

“I know. It’s a completely random and unjustified loathing, but I can’t watch anything with Dean Monroe in it. The voice and that accent don’t match the rest of the package. What about you, Ryan?”

“Nothing with Zeb Atlas. Or Trystan Bull. I never watch twink porn, and I hate Bel Ami—the way Czech guys kiss freaks me out. It’s like they’re sword fighting with their tongues. I’m completely over Treasure Island and their meth-head aesthetic. And I want to stab my eyes out every time I see Jake Cruise molesting another hot guy on PornHub.”

Matthew laughed. “You’re funny, Parker. So can we move on to greatest porn star of all time?”

“Why don’t we do vintage and present day?” Ryan suggested.

“Good idea,” Matthew said as he tapped his hands together in thought. “Okay. Jeff Stryker for vintage and Colby Keller for present day, even though I don’t watch him fuck anymore. And I hope someone else is going to say Al Parker for vintage.”

“Parker is my second choice too,” Mark said. “But my first is Joey Stefano. It’s hard to argue with Stryker, but I could make a strong case for Stefano. He was really the first bottom to become a superstar. As for present day, I’m going with Johnny Rapid. I can’t stand that a straight man is the face of gay porn, but Johnny Rapid defines ubiquitous.”

“For present day,” Ryan said, “I think you’re both right—it’s a tossup between Keller and Rapid. Although Brent Corrigan does have more Twitter followers than any other gay porn star. But I’m going off the grid with a personal favorite—Kodi from Broke Straight Boys.”

Matthew and Mark both laughed. “He’s dreamy in a nasty way,” Matthew said. “I like Bobby Owen too. Did Kodi and Bobby ever do a scene together?”

“Never,” Ryan said. “And for vintage, I pick my namesake, Ryan Idol.”

Matthew made a sour face. “Ugh. He represents everything that’s bad about gay porn.”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t let him fuck you in his prime?” Ryan asked.

“Of course I would. Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t stand Cody Cummings either, but I’d still let him fuck me.”

“At least you’re honest,” Mark said. “That’s one of the differences between men of your age and men of my age.”

“You wouldn’t have sex with Cody Cummings?”

Mark shook his head. “No. At a certain point, you lose the ability to have sex with men who make your skin crawl. It’s called maturity.”

“Ouch,” Matthew said.

“I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But don’t take it personally.”

A group of students entered through the east door. “Time to wrap this discussion up,” Ryan said. “I don’t think Uncle Ian would want us subjecting his customers to our ramblings about gay pornography.”

Mark got off his stool. “I need to run anyway.”

Matthew stopped him. “Wait a minute. I’m putting together a team for Jeopardy Pursuit Night next month. Would you like to join?”

Mark looked at Ryan and smiled. “I would be delighted. You can get my number from your coworker, here. Ryan, call me if you need anything.”

“I will, Uncle Mark.”

Matthew laughed. “Can I call you Uncle Mark too?”

Mark paused, almost said something, but then turned around and exited through the west door.

R
YAN
AND
Matthew served a steady stream of customers through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Around two o’clock, Ryan took advantage of a lull in business and stepped onto the patio to take a break. He pulled out his phone and dialed Bartley’s number.

“Hi, Ryan.”

“Hey, Bartley. I was calling about dinner next week. Did you talk to my uncle?”

“He said it was fine. I’d be happy to show you around.”

“Great. How about Friday night? I was thinking dinner at Bess Bistro, and then maybe you could give me a walking tour of downtown, if you’re up for it.”

“Bess Bistro? You know that’s Sandra Bullock’s restaurant, right?”

“Actually I had no idea. Mark suggested it.”

“Who’s Mark?”

“Uncle Ian’s best friend. He’s kind of like my second uncle in Austin.”

“He’s Ian’s boyfriend?”

“No, Ian doesn’t have a boyfriend. He and Mark have known each other since college. I got to know Mark when I stayed here three summers ago.”

“You’ve lived in Austin before?”

“Right after I graduated from high school. Mark’s a funny guy. I’m surprised you haven’t met him.”

“Does he come into La Tazza a lot?”

“No, he actually avoids it as much as possible, but he stopped by this morning to say hi. I asked him for a restaurant rec, and he said Bess Bistro.”

“It sounds like a nice evening,” Bartley said. “But why do you need a tour of downtown if you’ve lived in Austin before?”

“I was hoping for some architectural insight. I figured you must know a few facts about the buildings down there, right?”