Monday, April 2, 2012

Jerkin' Jockeys: behind the scenes of a hand-job race

Posted By on Mon, Apr 2, 2012 at 8:00 AM

Alice Stone riding JC Simpson
  • Alice Stone riding JC Simpson
Every few months Brandon calls to tell me about his latest spurt of porno genius. This month he is pumped about his new series, "Jerky Ambush."

"What exactly is a jerky ambush” I asked, as is my natural response when he tells me the name of his latest project.

“Oh it’s great," Brandon said. "I have a performer ambush a guy at an event and give him a hand-job. We can even do a reporter scene and have you get ambushed. Give you some first-hand experience on what it's like being in a scene.”

Despite my wife's insistence that hand-jobs don't count as cheating, I had to pass on the offer. As always, Brandon had another idea for a scene I could cover. The next day he was shooting a clip for a series called, Jerkin' Jockeys.

"What exactly happens in a jerkin' jockey scene?" I asked, as I had not learned my lesson that Brandon's pornos are exactly what they sound like.

"It's awesome," Brandon said. "I dress the performs up in these sexy jockey outfits then race them to see who gives the fastest hand-job."

Obviously I could not turn down an invitation to witness such a spectacle.

Brandon's small production company, Blazed Studios, operates out of a complex with every room staged to fit a theme: a classroom, bedrooms, a strip club office, a BDSM dungeon, and a doctor’s office filled with medical equipment from at least three decades. Much to my disappointment, there was no “hand-job” themed room with mannequin limbs sticking out of the wall and neon chairs shaped like giant hands. Instead I was led to a bedroom with pink walls and green carpet.

The two female performers, JC Simpson and Alice Stone, scampered about in matching glasses and jockey outfits that flaunted their midriffs. Two unassuming guys stood around in their street clothes discussing the various glory-hole scenes they had shot in town.

To give me a handle on what I was in for, Brandon played a video on his phone of the tall blonde, JC, kneeling between two naked men on a bed and vigorously working their erections like ski-poles.

“Are you right handed JC?” I asked as I watched the video.

“Yeah, why?”

“I can tell," I said.

The magical thing about the video, as Brandon pointed out, was that the two guys, who had not previously met before getting naked and climbing atop a bed together, both climaxed at the same time. I’m not much of a believer in the supernatural, but it did seem possible that these two dudes were hand-job soul-mates.

As Brandon started taking some photos of the women, a pizza delivery boy knocked on the door. Again, despite my expectations, he was not invited to join the scene, nor did a shirtless plumber arrive to do some pipe work. Instead, the pizza was set in the kitchen as the prize for finishing the hand-job race in a timely manner.

Alice Stone and JC Simpson
  • Alice Stone and JC Simpson
“Gentlemen, strip down,” Brandon announced.

Before I knew it, the two men were completely naked, stroking dicks that made me ashamed to call myself a man. The room took on the scent of ball-flavored pizza, or maybe that's just how I imagined it.

Naked, the men stretched out side-by-side on the bed, while the jockeys mounted their legs.

“Stop cheating,” Alice said to JC, who preemptively stroked her partner before the starting bell.

Caught up in the illusion of porn, for a moment I thought this might actually be a legitimate race and that we should take bets on who would finish first.

When the scene commenced, Brandon delivered color commenter on the play-by-play action. His voice reminded me of the Santa Claus persona he employed during a Christmas porno scene involving three very stoned women who found vibrators under the Christmas tree.

“JC is using the two handed technique,” Brandon said. “It looks like Alice is having a little trouble getting her stud started.”

“I think her horse’s leg is broken,” JC said.

Had this comment been directed at me, I would have had to shoot myself to end my misery because there's no way I'd ever get an erection again. However, these males were accustomed to performing under pressure. JC reached over to take the reins from her rival. JC had handled this particular dick before and knew it responded to abuse. Her instructions to Alice sounded like she was coaching an MMA fighter: “Work the head… Tighten your grip... Switch it up… Smack his balls.”

Soon the women were galloping along at a hearty clip. A quiet fell over the set. The only sound was a repetitive squishing noise. It made me uneasy. It was exactly the same combination of silence and noise you hear when masturbating vigorously with way too much lube right before someone walks in on you.

“Did I cum?” one of the performers asked.

No one, not even the performer, seemed sure of the answer. JC shrugged and kept jerking away. Brandon pantomimed to Alice to quicken her speed. I stood against the wall, trying not to yell out instructions from my decades of perfecting hand-job maneuvers on myself.

The silence ended with a brief spurt of excitement, moans, and giggling, followed by the awkward scene of the performers trying to untangle themselves without touching each other with their various, sopping body parts.

“Damn,” one of the guys said after rolling off the bed. “I just sat in some weird shit. I really hope that was oil.”

Brandon gave out old beach towels and told the performers to join him in the other room for pizza after they cleaned up.

I was flooded with the same feeling that overwhelms me after sex: a compelling urge to flee. This sensation was reinforced by the masticating sounds of the group eating pizza, which was a bit too similar to the sounds of the hand-jobs I just witnessed.

To convince the guys that I was not intimidated by their trained elephant dicks, I shook their hands, and immediately wondered if it would be rude to ask if there was any soap or hand sanitizer in the building.

It was far more awkward saying goodbye to Alice and JC. I'm never quite sure what to say to women after I have just seen them naked. Should I ask for their numbers and promise to take them out to dinner? Should I sneak out the backdoor? Should I high-five them and say they give the best hand-jobs ever?

In the end, I did what I normally do after seeing a woman I just met naked. I waved goodbye and drove as fast as I could back to my apartment. There I would stalk these women online, regret everything I said or did in front of them, and eventually host my own jerkin' jockey competition in which I would race to finish before my wife walked in on me.

Follow @myJCSimpson, @AliceStoneXXX, @jerkysluts, and @blazedstudios, and check out the scene when it goes up at jerkysluts.com.

Follow Alfie on Twitter or Facebook and email him if interested in writing about Sex & Love

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