Covered

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, right, baby,” the count answered in heavily accented English, as he drove harder and faster.

“Fuck, yeah, fuck yeah. Give it to me,” Jon answered in English, involuntarily, not knowing or carrying if the count understood him. Just wanting him to continue pounding away with his cock.

And then, as he settled down into a rhythm, the count whispered, “Relax, baby. Daddy will take good care of you.” Having given the Italian aristocrat the arousal that got him hard and saddled, Jon relaxed and went limp, his arms dangling off the sides of the chaise lounge on the balcony of the count’s lakeside villa, and arching his head over the end of the divan for his mouth to receive the cock of the count’s son, Guido, as the young man moved into place and his hands slid down to the American rent-boy’s nipples.

“That’s me,” I said, now in deeper shock. “Not just the cover image but the text as well. And whereas Luigi’s name was changed, mine wasn’t. Anyone I know reading this will know it’s me.”

“Precisely,” Anton said, with a smile on his face. “I thought using your real name was a nice touch. I think I forgot to tell you that, in addition to fashion photographs and private porn clients, Luigi runs a gay male image photo service. Your image is going to be plastered over quite a few erotica and porn books, I’ll bet—a lot of them with gay content. This one is as connected to you personally as it can get.”