Hole

I never thought I'd end up here—broke, desperate, and standing outside a gay porn studio with rent due and nothing left to sell but my pride.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing. My buddy said it was easy money, just a quick scene, and I'd walk out with enough cash to breathe again. I told myself it didn't mean anything. I wasn't that kind of guy. I wasn't even gay.

But the moment the cameras started rolling—and their hands were on me—I stopped pretending. The fear burned away, replaced by something more profound. Something I didn't know I'd been missing.

What I found in that studio wasn't shame. It was release. Connection. A peace I'd never known before. I came for the money. But I think I found myself instead.

Being used as a hole.