Evan Howell had made a lot of questionable decisions in his life.

  But agreeing to co-star in a group se—with five other men and oress—defiook the .

  "Rex, hermano," álvaro had said that m, handing him a bck duffle bag filled with a ge of clothes and some industry essentials. "It’s just like sports. Team effort. You follow the rhythm, read the py, and don’t fumble the ball."

  Evan wasn’t sure how the hell this was like sports, but at this point, it was too te to back out.

  The studio was not what Evan expected.

  He had pictured something… seedier. Some low-lit, cramped space with dodgy equipment and a faint stench ret.

  Instead, the studio was housed in a verted factory oskirts of Bara, its industrial past still etched into its steel beams, high ceilings, and massive factory windows that flooded the space with light.

  Inside? Modern. Sleek. Meticulously designed. Professional-grade cameras, -built sets, soundproofed rooms, and high-eing suites occupied the upper levels. It was nothing like the shaky, handheld amateur porn Evan had assumed made up most of the industry.

  álvaro led him through the main hall and stopped in front of a frosted-gss door.

  "First stop—the ging room," álvaro said, pushing it open.

  The ging room was huge, lined with wooden lockers, floor-length mirrors, racks of ly folded es, and couches that looked way too fortable for a pce like this.

  Unlike a gym locker room, there were no separate ses for men and women.

  And no one seemed to care.

  Several male performers were already there—pletely naked—chatting, stretg, adjusting themselves in the mirror, or casually applying lotion.

  It was like walking into a high-performahlete’s prep room, except everyone had their dicks out.

  Evan froze.

  A lean, toned Asian man gnced up from a nearby bench, smirking.

  He had a unique physique—not bulky, but seemed to be built fility and explosiveness. pact, banced, and sculpted for movement.

  His left arm was covered in a full-sleeve tattoo of a phoenix, the inked wings spreading from his wrist to his shoulder, shifting subtly with every movement.

  "You must be the new guy," the man said, tossing his gym bag aside.

  Evan blinked. "...Uh, what gave it away?"

  The guy chuckled, nodding toward Evan’s fully clothed state.

  "You still have your pants on."

  Evan looked around—

  Yep. He was the only one overdressed.

  "...Well. Shit."

  The guy cpped him on the shoulder. "Don’t worry, bro. You’ll get used to it."

  "Yeah, sure. Totally normal," Evan told himself, f his hands to his belt.

  Stripping down in a room full of naked men? New life experienlocked.

  His movements were awkward as hell, like some dude ging in a public gym for the first time.

  The guy smirked. "I’m Sakda, by the way. From Thaind."

  "Evan, from Britain."

  Sakda gave him a once-over. "Huh. Thought you’d be smaller."

  Evan huffed. "Yeah, well, I get that a lot."

  Before Sakda could ent further, the door creaked open.

  A woman stepped inside.

  She etite but toned, her physique sleek and defined without being overly muscur.

  The way she moved—fluid, deliberate, effit—immediately set her apart from the average woman.

  Her long, wavy brown hair framed sharp, strikiures—high cheekbones, full lips, and dark eyes that held a quiet, knowing iy.

  She moved with fluid fidence, like someone pletely in trol of her space.

  Simply put, she was just geous.

  Her gaze nded on Evan. A slow smirk pyed across her lips.

  "You’re Evan, right?" Her voice was smooth, fident, her Spanish at curling softly around the words. "You’re actually cuter than I expected."

  Evan blinked. "...Uh, what?"

  She stepped closer, shutting the door behind her without looking.

  "I heard about you from álvaro," she tinued, amusement flickering in her gaze. "British engiotal rookie, never dohis before…"

  She smirked. "I had this whole image of some stiff, awkward nerd."

  Then—she reached out.

  Her fingers brushed against his cheek, slow and deliberate.

  "But you?" Her head tilted, eyes sing him. "I like the blond hair."

  Evans_brain.exe pletely stopped responding.

  "Uh. Thanks?" he managed, his voiot nearly as steady as he wanted.

  She chuckled, stepping past him toward the mirror, adjusting the straps of her lingerie.

  "Rex," she said, watg him through the refle. "First time’s always weird. But you’ll be fine."

  She finally turned, her hand.

  "I’m Isabel, by the way."

  Evan shook it automatically, his grip firm despite the nerves buzzing in his chest.

  "o meet you, Isabel."

  Her lips curled into a pyful smirk. "Likewise, rookie."

  Before Evan could gather his thoughts, the door opened again—

  álvaro stepped in.

  "Alright, listen up."álvaro cpped his hands together, anding attention.

  "We’re doing ematic, high-energy, and keeping it —position flow matters, angles matter, and no one rushes. Got it?"

  The room murmured agreement.

  Evan blinked, processing.

  Wait, álvaro is direg this?

  He turo Isabel, but she just smirked, clearly enjoying his deyed realisation.

  Before he could ask questions, álvaro was already breaking down the shot list.

  ***

  The set glowed uhe soft, dimmed studio lighting.

  Evan stood at the edge, his bare skin prig uhe heat of the lights, his breath steady but tense.

  The other men were already in position, standing naked and fident, waiting for their cues.

  And at the tre of it all, Isabel stepped forward.

  Her lingerie g to her toned frame, barely c her curves. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, the soft waves moving as she shifted her weight.

  Then—she began to dance.

  Not just a simple sway.

  A performance.

  trolled. Sensual. Every movement deliberate, every hip roll precise.

  She owhe space, her hands trag along her own body, her dark eyes log onto each of them.

  Evan swallowed hard.

  She turned, arg her back slightly as she ran her hands dowhighs, making a show of bending forward. The straps of her lingerie slid slightly off her shoulder, revealing just enough skin to tease.

  His pulse quied.

  And then—

  The other actors began to move in.

  They didn’t just rush forward. Everything was calcuted.

  Isabel locked eyes with each of them, inviting them into her performaheir hands glided over her body, slow, teasing, grazing her waist, her arms, her thighs—never lingering too long, never breaking the spell of the moment.

  Evan moved in with them, hesitantly at first, but the chraphy guided him.

  One man uhe final strap of her lingerie.

  Araced fiips along her colrboilting her up as if worshipping her.

  Isabel exhaled—a breathy, trolled sound, her lips slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with deliberate pace.

  And then—she k down.

  Her hands roamed, gripping one dick, while her agile tongue flicked against another.

  She teased them first, her lips brushing along the tip of each cock, her moans barely audible. She let the weight of each shaft rest against her tongue before she pulled back, fshing a mischievous smirk.

  Evan’s turn was .

  She turo him, log eyes, her expression ced with amusement and anticipation.

  Her fingers ed around his hardened cock, her nails lightly grazing the skin.

  And then, she took him in.

  A wet warmth enveloped him, her lips and tongue flig along his shaft, pressing against the sensitive meat.

  Evan nearly fot how to breathe.

  She set a steady rhythm, sug lightly, her cheeks hollowing just enough before pulling back, her torag along his tip.

  His thighs tensed.

  Her eyes flicked up, meeting his again—and then she winked.

  Jesus.

  The sequences blurred together, but Evan followed instinctively, letting the flow of the se carry him.

  Isabel switched effortlessly betweeending to each man in turn, moaning softly, as if sav every touch.

  She arched her body, positioning herself between them, letting them caress her skin, explore her curves, tilt her head back as their hands roamed.

  Each shift in position was fluid, eaent desigo look effortless.

  It was orchestrated sedu, framed perfectly for the angles of the camera.

  “Evan, keep your posture steady. Slow your thrusts—more trol.”

  álvaro’s voice cut through the set, calm and precise.

  “Isabel, tilt your head back slightly. Good. That’s the shot.”

  “Transition to position three. Slow and deep, don’t rush.”

  Evan followed the cues, adjusting his movements, keeping his breathing trolled.

  There was nency, only the rhythm, the performahe se unfolding as it was meant to.

  Evan’s cue came.

  Isabel positioned herself beh him, her back arched, her breath warm against his skin.

  His hands gripped her waist, guiding her as he positioned himself between her parted thighs.

  The tip of his dick pressed against her entrance.

  Her wetness slicked against him, heat radiating from between her legs.

  He hesitated.

  Just for a fra of a sed.

  Am I actually doing this?

  His mind screamed at him, a chaotic mix of panic, disbelief, and raw, unfiltered reality.

  A thousand thoughts crashed through his brain:

  "I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing—"

  "I’ve never even had sex before—"

  "What if I ’t keep it up—"

  "What if I fuck up—"

  "Is my dick even big enough for this—"

  The years of self-doubt cwed at him.

  But then—his body moved.

  On pure autopilot, guided by nothing but all the porn he had ever watched.

  His hips pushed forward.

  His shaft slid inside her, enveloped by her tight, wet warmth.

  A sharp inhale escaped Isabel’s lips, her hands gripping his arms.

  Evan’s breath caught in his throat.

  Holy fug shit.

  The heat of her ed around his cock, the sensation veg through every inch of his body.

  It was nothing like his fantasies.

  It was real.

  He thrust slowly at first, trolling his movemeing the rhythm take over.

  His body responded instinctively, falling into the ce of the se.

  He wasn’t thinking anymore.

  He was just doing.

  He had officially stepped into the deep end.

  The air was thick with heat, sweat, and the musky stink of bodies w uhe stage lights. Every breath carried a mix of perfume, tex, and something raw—something undeniably human.

  A voice started to whisper in Evan’s mind.

  "I just lost my virginity."

  Not in a bedroom.

  Not with a girlfriend.

  Not in some deeply personal, romantic experience.

  But here, o, in front of state lights, surrounded by five other men and a director calling out angles.

  The sheer pressure of the cameras, the weight of the moment, the surrealism of it all—his focus faltered.

  And his ere wavered.

  álvaro’s voice rang out.

  “Evan—pace yourself.”

  Evan swallowed, f himself to breathe through it.

  “Slow, deep breaths,” álvaro instructed. “Stay in the moment. Feel her, not the pressure.”

  Evan nodded, resetting his focus.

  His hips rolled fain, trolled, iional.

  Isabel moaned softly, responding in turn.

  He was ba it.

  The se stretched for hours—multiple position ges, staged angles, close-ups—until álvaro called for the final sequence.

  “Finale. Guys, external.”

  The money shot.

  Eva a fresh wave of nerves, but he knew what he had to do.

  He withdrew, the heat of the moment surging through his body.

  He felt it build—the sensation tightening in his core.

  And then—

  He let go.

  Thick, turbules of cum spshed onto Isabel’s face, mixing with the others, her expression perfectly captured by the cameras.

  She let out a soft, satisfied hum, lig her lips as she looked up at them.

  "CUT"Evan exhaled, his body drained.

  His chest heaved, his legs shaky, his mind still catg up to reality.

  álvaro cpped his hands. “That’s a eople.”

  The crew rexed, cameras l, tensioing away.

  Isabel wiped some of the fluid from her cheek, grinning up at him.

  “Not bad, rookie,” she teased, lig a stray drop off her lip. “And you taste oo.”

  Evan’s brain was pletely dead.

  He had survived.