LitShark
Predator
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2002
- Posts
- 3,515
Jack tried not to let his face show his disappointment with what Jerry his agent and sometimes producer was telling him—but he couldn’t help the slight curl of disgust that crept into his upper lip. It was the same old shit he’d been hearing for the last five years—the game had changed—the ladies had all the juice since Only Fans—his reputation among directors was not great. Blah, blah blah…
“The big cumshot is a nineties thing, Jack. You had your big moment, you know? But the glory days of ‘Jack Frosted’ are behind you. These days, most girls work with a sex toy and fake cum—or their boyfriends as their costar. They use buckets and buckets of this fake cum and nobody really cares…”
“So you’re saying there’s no work for me? Nothing?”
“Look, you’ve still got a name. You should capitalize on it while you can—”
“I don’t want to cast my cock into a dildo! I’m a porn star, I want a porn to star in.”
Jerry sighed and took his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Jack, you gotta be realistic and accept that that part of your life may be over. People aren’t looking for a thirty-something male lead. Plus that one time…”
“It was one time! I don’t have a problem getting it up, I swear! I’ll get it up right now without touching it! Watch!” Jack closed his eyes and clenched his fists, trying to will his cock into erectness.
“Jack, stop it! You’re breaking my heart. It’s not about you, really. Your cock is great, you can cum buckets, but it’s a youth driven industry. Unless you can bring in some fresh, female costar who only wants to work with you… it’s going to be a struggle to get you cast as anything other than the dismayed cuck or the horrified father.”
“Father? You think I should be playing father roles?”
Jerry sighed again. He slid a card across his desk.
“I’m sorry Jack, I really am. Give the dildo thing a second thought. It may be your last shot at a decent payday.”
Jack snatched the card off Jerry’s desk spitefully as he stormed out of the back office.
*-*-*
Jack lit a cigarette and turned his collar up against the falling snow as he waded through the brown slush of the sidewalk. There was a cruel disparity to New York at Christmas time. Glittering storefronts and twinkling lights strung through treetops, with shivering homeless pressed up against those same storefront windows, trying to leech some warmth through the glass. The disparity between the obscenely rich and cripplingly impoverished not reflected in their physical proximity.
Everyone and everything mashed together without any regard, all suffering and pretending to be okay.
Jack wanted to get out of the weather for a while, so he made a stop on the way to his tiny, apartment. The bus station wasn’t the swankiest place, but he knew they wouldn’t kick him out. And sometimes he could come across a freshly arrived, hard luck case who he could convince to fuck on camera for a few bucks and sell the footage to one of the compilation, gonzo sites like “Bus Station Skanks,” or “Crackheads Give Head.”
Jack wasn’t optimistic about his prospects as he looked around.
“The big cumshot is a nineties thing, Jack. You had your big moment, you know? But the glory days of ‘Jack Frosted’ are behind you. These days, most girls work with a sex toy and fake cum—or their boyfriends as their costar. They use buckets and buckets of this fake cum and nobody really cares…”
“So you’re saying there’s no work for me? Nothing?”
“Look, you’ve still got a name. You should capitalize on it while you can—”
“I don’t want to cast my cock into a dildo! I’m a porn star, I want a porn to star in.”
Jerry sighed and took his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Jack, you gotta be realistic and accept that that part of your life may be over. People aren’t looking for a thirty-something male lead. Plus that one time…”
“It was one time! I don’t have a problem getting it up, I swear! I’ll get it up right now without touching it! Watch!” Jack closed his eyes and clenched his fists, trying to will his cock into erectness.
“Jack, stop it! You’re breaking my heart. It’s not about you, really. Your cock is great, you can cum buckets, but it’s a youth driven industry. Unless you can bring in some fresh, female costar who only wants to work with you… it’s going to be a struggle to get you cast as anything other than the dismayed cuck or the horrified father.”
“Father? You think I should be playing father roles?”
Jerry sighed again. He slid a card across his desk.
“I’m sorry Jack, I really am. Give the dildo thing a second thought. It may be your last shot at a decent payday.”
Jack snatched the card off Jerry’s desk spitefully as he stormed out of the back office.
*-*-*
Jack lit a cigarette and turned his collar up against the falling snow as he waded through the brown slush of the sidewalk. There was a cruel disparity to New York at Christmas time. Glittering storefronts and twinkling lights strung through treetops, with shivering homeless pressed up against those same storefront windows, trying to leech some warmth through the glass. The disparity between the obscenely rich and cripplingly impoverished not reflected in their physical proximity.
Everyone and everything mashed together without any regard, all suffering and pretending to be okay.
Jack wanted to get out of the weather for a while, so he made a stop on the way to his tiny, apartment. The bus station wasn’t the swankiest place, but he knew they wouldn’t kick him out. And sometimes he could come across a freshly arrived, hard luck case who he could convince to fuck on camera for a few bucks and sell the footage to one of the compilation, gonzo sites like “Bus Station Skanks,” or “Crackheads Give Head.”
Jack wasn’t optimistic about his prospects as he looked around.
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