Gay Erotic Stories

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF JOHNNY JANEWAY, AGENT TO THE STARS A Work of Fiction Spring 2000 5:30 – 6:30 AM WORK OUT/HOME My eyes snapped open in the dim light of the master bedroom of my spread in Benedict Canyon, as they did at the same time every morning. I am a man of routine, and I don’t like changes in it, even if I was about to climb out of a very comfortable bed with David, the man of my dreams, lying naked therein. It was time for my work out. I was running on the treadmill in my home gym, checking my Palm Pilot and watching the a.m. news on my wall-mounted Sony, when The Hollywood Report came on with a blurb about Sara Michele Gellar being signed to star in Warner Bros.’ highly anticipated summer blockbuster “Gidget 2001,” with “uber-agent” Johnny Janeway as executive producer. Guess I’d gotten myself promoted. I had always considered myself merely a “super-agent” before. Funny how deals come together in this town. I’d spent the last few days facilitating an arrangement between my father, a renowned entertainment lawyer (and reliable campaign contributor) and the Los Angeles District Attorney’s office, which was interested in making an example of the aforementioned Ms. Gellar. She’d had the misfortune to be pulled over by a patrolman on the Pacific Coast Highway for erratic driving in her Beemer. Ordinarily, that in itself wouldn’t have been worthy of such scrutiny, but compounded by Sara’s enhanced blood alcohol level, the cocaine residue clinging to her cashmere twin set, and the Ugandan street hustler who had his face buried in her crotch at the time, the authorities took a dim view of her transgression. That’s when dear old Dad worked his magic and got the charges reduced to excessive vehicular noise, with a fine of $20,000 payable to the Policemen’s Benevolent Association. Thus, Warner Bros., not to mention Ms. Gellar’s own talent representation, owed me big time. And you know, I’d always wanted to get into executive producing. Ahhhh, I love the smell of power in the morning. I finished my workout and popped in my tanning bed for a few minutes to recharge my golden glow. I showered and toweled off quickly, admiring myself in the full-length mirrors in my dressing room. I have to admit I am quite a looker. Six feet tall, 180 well-sculpted pounds, humpy fur-glazed pecs. Not to mention thick, golden, wavy locks, stratospheric cheekbones and lush, sensual lips. Of course, I can’t take credit for it all. My mother was a leonine Italian starlet whose brief moment of fame occurred when she won the Golden Globe as Most Promising Newcomer in 1967 in recognition of a five-minute walk-on in an otherwise forgettable Antonioni flick. Not to mention the blowjobs she administered to 44 of the 86 voting members of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association. Unfortunately, as far as she was concerned, the only role the award won her was as the fourth wife of my father, Lawyer to the Stars Horatio I. Janeway (“Hor” to his friends), who was 48, childless, and shopping around for his next trophy bride. It was truly love at first sight. He loved the fact that she was beautiful and she loved the notion that his money and connections could launch her into stardom. My mother, Donatella d’Abbruzio (“whore” to everyone who knew her), was 24 and open to my father’s desire for a son and heir as long as said progeny didn’t interfere with her career. Well, said progeny soon arrived in the form of Giancarlo P. Janeway, alias yours truly (“Johnny” to lovers and other strangers). But Donatella never did make it beyond minor supporting roles, primarily because she was able to project only one expression on screen: haughty indifference. Which pretty much summed up her life. Anyway, mamma mia soon flew the coop, leaving my father and a well-chosen English nanny to rear me. She was on her fifth husband and as many face lifts when she made an ill-timed skiing trip to the Italian Alps and plunged to her death when the cord of the gondola car in which she was riding was severed by the tail wing of an American fighter jet on NATO maneuvers. You might have read about the incident in the papers, which is where I learned of it myself. It was a little hard for me to get worked up about it much since I hadn’t seen her since 1981. Ciao, baby. I digress. I pulled on a buttery Emporio Armani shirt and some black Canali slacks, then grabbed my new Prada loafers from my custom shoe rack. I needed to hustle over to The Muffin Factory to scrounge up some breakfast for my first meeting, which was a get-together with a new client. I raced off in my vintage Jaguar XKE, which, at considerable expense, had been lovingly restored and overhauled, as well as painted a lovely deep azure custom-mixed to complement my eyes. Knowing my new client was somewhat of a health nut, I picked out a soy-carrot-sunflower muffin for him while getting the usual double chocolate macadamia muffin for myself, plus fresh-squeezed mango-papaya juice and café mochas. 7:29 AM BREAKFAST WITH DC/THERE I hit the doorbell. Nothing. Fuck. Ding dong. Again. Again. Finally, I heard noises from within and the door swung open. Dean Cain was standing there, looking groggy, wearing nothing but black bikini briefs. Hmmmm, even with bed head, nobody does justice to black bikini briefs like Dean Cain. “Oh, shit,” he said. “Johnny.” “Oh, crap,” I said. “Dean.” “Sorry, sorry,” he said, motioning me to come in. “I just forgot you were coming over this morning. It’s okay, though. Make yourself comfortable while I throw something on.” Oh, it’s okay is it? Thanks a helluva lot. I’m only here to save your fucking career, you tights-wearing pantywaist, if that’s not being redundant. “Sure, no problem,” I replied, putting the juice, coffee and muffins on the counter of the bar. Dean sauntered back in wearing an unbelted white terry-cloth robe, his hair brushed into place. He inspected the muffins, picked up my double-chocolate macadamia number and took a big bite out of it. The fucker. “So, Dean,” I began, “We got some great press for you out of announcing that you and your quote unquote ex-girlfriend were expecting a baby together. I think that should keep you under covers for a while.” “Yeah, Johnny, great job,” he said. “What was her name again?” “Don’t worry about that now,” I responded. “At the appropriate time you can meet her and we’ll get some pics of you two devoted parents together.” “Okay, yeah, sure, Johnny,” he said. “Well, you said over the phone you had some big news for me.” “Dean, I can now reveal that I’ve got you pegged for a major role in ‘Gidget 2001’ with Sara Michelle Gellar.” “That’s fantastic,” he enthused. “Is it Moondoggy, the male lead?” “Even better. The sexy villain.” “What’s the billing?” AFTER the title, asshole. “Negotiable. Anyway, in our script, Gidget runs a combination Internet café and food pantry for the poor of Venice Beach, which lends itself to all sorts of wacky antics and zany characters. Moondoggy is a surfboard designer who has discovered a radically new design that’s sure to take top prize in the annual surfboard design competition.” “Uh-huh, sounds intriguing,” he said. “But where do I come in?” “You play the Big Kahuna, Moondoggy’s arch-rival for Gidget’s affections and winner of the surfboard design competition for the past five years.” “I’m listening.” “Well, you get wind of Moondoggy’s design and overhear that he’s given Gidget a computer disc with the plans on it.” “Now you’re talking.” “Wait, it gets even better. So you slip that date-rape drug into Gidget’s drink and you take the disc while she’s conked. Then, before you leave, you look at her lying unconscious and it’s obvious you’re struggling with yourself over whether or not you should have sex with her.” “A little moral ambiguity is good.” “So we cut to the next scene, and Gidget wakes up in your arms, and she’s confused, so she asks, ‘What happened?’ and you say you held her in your arms all night since she wasn’t feeling good.” “Cool. So I’m not all bad.” “Then she asks, ‘Then why are we naked?’ and you just give her this innocent look.” “Perfect. We can squeeze in a butt shot, too. How does it end?” “Well, good triumphs over evil, and Moondoggy gets his disc back and wins the competition after the Big Kahuna is disqualified. But that’s not the real end.” “No?” “The last shot is Gidget looking at the results of a home pregnancy test and a confused look crosses her face. Of course, that’s not much of a stretch for her. Cut to the credits.” “Wow, heavy stuff, Johnny.” “I can smell a hit all over it. And the sequel’s all but assured, with the return of the Big Kahuna, of course.” Dean leaned forward in his chair toward me. His robe fell open, and let me tell you, EVERY muscle on that body was bulging. He grinned. “Johnny,” he said huskily, “I don’t know how to begin to thank you…” Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Actors! If they didn’t have writers to put words in their mouths, they wouldn’t even be able to stand up at their Narcotics Anonymous meetings and say “My name is Keanu and I’m a heroin addict.” “You know, I’ve been aching to do this since I met you,” he said, moving in to kiss me. What was there to do but close my eyes and pucker up? Mmmmm, great lips. He took my head in his hands, gently, and pulled me to him. I pulled the robe off his shoulders and he let it fall back on his chair. His skin was so smooth, his pecs so big, his nipples so engorged. Yes, I know, I’m supposed to be in love with David. But y’know, it’s not as if I had ASKED for this. The way I look at things, there’s love, and then there’s work. Though this might be pleasant in a purely physical sense, it was a necessary part of agent/client relations. Right? “C’mere,” he said, standing and lifting me up with him. He pulled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside. “You are so fucking hot.” He gave me another one of those kisses and our hands roamed each other’s bodies. I reached down and slipped my fingers under the waistband of his briefs, pulling them away, and I marveled at the beauty of his cock. Released from its confinement, it was extended to at least nine inches, with a thick darkish head and a large, low-hanging scrotum. I took it in my hand and stroked it and it quivered. I looked into Dean’s eyes and grinned and he smiled back. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the benefit of your largesse,” I said. “No,” he responded. “I don’t believe you have.” The next thing I knew, we were lying together between the soft, silky white sheets of his bed, flesh to flesh, kissing, licking, fondling each other. I was underneath him, enjoying the feeling of his weight on me, but I decided I had to have that beautiful cock in my mouth. I rolled him over and worked my way down his chest, circling his grape-sized nipples with my tongue, leaving a trail of saliva across his taut abdomen, teasing the thin tuft of hair below his naval, before taking his thick shaft in my hands and stroking it as I descended on his cockhead with my mouth. I tongued his slit, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum, then worked my way down the shaft, kissing and kneading it with my lips. He groaned appreciatively, but as I began to rub my lips in the thicket of black curls at the base, he reached down and pulled me up to him, kissing me, and he rolled on top of me again. “Is anything wrong?” I asked. “Not at all,” he replied. “It’s just that for years I’ve been hearing how you’ve got the best fucking ass in Hollywood, and now I want it for myself.” He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a tube of lubricating gel, sitting up so that he could spread some on his fingers. Then he reached down between my legs and began to probe me with one hand, slipping first one then two digits inside my rectum, while he stroked my own blazing nine-incher with the other. It felt incredible and I began to moan and writhe under his touch. “You like that, huh?” he asked. I was rapidly losing control. “Give me that stuff,” I demanded, and grabbed the gel to give his cock a thorough coating. It was alive and vibrant between my hands and I wanted nothing more than to have it in me. Dean positioned himself between my legs and lifted them to his brawny shoulders, and leaned forward and kissed my cock. I looked up at him, his dark eyes shining, his muscles taut, and I opened myself up to him. He reached down and planted the bulbous head of his cock at my tight, puckered opening and slowly but steadily eased his way in. As my warmth engulfed him, he sighed and leaned down to kiss me, his mouth cutting off the groan in my throat as, with a final thrust, he entered me to the hilt. He remained motionless for a moment, letting me adjust to his size and thickness and then, with a delicious slowness, he began to rotate his hips, feeling his way around inside me. He pushed himself up on his arms and began a series of gentle prods, which rapidly escalated into powerful thrusts. I could feel him hitting my prostate stroke after stroke and my hands groped him wildly, squeezing his biceps, scratching his back, clutching his surprisingly furry ass cheeks, as his assault continued. He was a master blaster. I was going to have to add him to my Fucking Hall of Fame. He grunted and broke into a sweat, and I reached up to wipe his brow and trace his features with my fingertips. He took several fingers in his mouth and sucked on them, continuing his steady rhythm, plundering my insides with his magnificent tool. I pulled my fingers from his mouth and wiped them on his chest, then started pulling on his nipples. His response was to rear back on his haunches, grasping me under the shoulders and pulling me up with him, and we were both sitting upright. I spread my legs wider so that we were in close concert and my cock bobbed up against him again and again with delicious friction. He reached down and grabbed it, pulling on it roughly, and it was only a short time before I felt myself become light-headed and the incredible rush began and Dean was holding my cock, shaking it, spraying thin ropes of cum between us. I slumped back and Dean pushed me down onto the bed again. I pulled him close to me and opened my mouth to him and I felt my cum slippery between us as we grasped each other, holding on for dear lust. He thrust hard six times and then sagged against me, emitting a low, guttural groan. I stroked his wet hair as our breathing slowly returned to normal, our bodies bathed in sweat. He leaned up and kissed me before slowly withdrawing and rolling over on his back. “Wow,” he said. “Wow,” I replied, suddenly bereft at losing his cock. I felt powerless to move my legs. I had no idea of how much time had passed, but didn’t want to be obvious about looking at my watch, so I put my arm across my face to steal a glance at my Piaget. Oh, fuck. It was already 8:45. I had a shitload of work to do. I forced myself up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Dean reached over and stroked my bare thigh. “Hey, where’re you going?” he asked. “Much as I hate to, I gotta take off,” I said. Looking down at him, I was tempted to stay for another round, but duty called. I got up and stumbled into the shower to wash the sweat and cum off me, and then hastily gathered my clothes. Dean was still lying on top of the bed, hands behind his head, relaxing, his dick halfway hard. With an awesome act of will, I leaned over and kissed him good-bye, cupping one oversized pec in my hand, letting my fingertips brush his armpit. “I’ll look forward to our next client meeting,” I said. 9:30 AM OFFICE OF JOHNNY JANEWAY I strode through the front door of my office and was greeted by my assistant, Rhiannon McCloskey, a cheerfully promiscuous bisexual who was not above using her spectacular surgically-augmented figure to promote the highest levels of customer satisfaction for clients so inclined. For this she was rewarded with a hefty portion of my profit-sharing plan in addition to generous dental benefits, which had fixed a nasty overbite problem. After the work had been completed, I got no less than eight thank you notes from clients attesting to the handiwork of her oral surgeon. Rhiannon buzzed me. “Spike Covitz on two.” Spike Covitz? Why the fuck was the chairman of Acme Talent Representation calling me? His agency had more dinosaurs than Jurassic Park. “Spike, baby, what can I do you for?” “No, Sweetie, it’s what I can do for you,” he oozed. Isn’t it always? “I’m listening,” I lied. “Well, let me get right to the point,” he said. “I hear you’re executive producing ‘Gidget 2001’ and boy, do I have some good news for you.” “Oh, really,” I replied, noncommittally. Like what? You’ve lost 100 pounds and given up the caftans? “Stallone’s interested.” I stabbed the mute button on my phone so he wouldn’t hear my snort of derision. When I recovered enough, I managed to mutter, “Really! Well, you know, the part of Gidget’s father is only a two pager, and I don’t think…” “No, no, not the father. Goondoggy, or whatever the hell it is. The boyfriend!” he broke in. “Just think about it for a minute. Sly would add a ton of star power and built-in box office appeal overseas.” “But there is somewhat of an age difference,” I countered. “Sly’s just had some more work done and he looks 35, tops, I swear,” he pleaded. “Plus, look at Michael Douglas and Gwyneth Paltrow in ‘Perfect Murder.’ They made a very realistic couple.” No, don’t make me look at them again. One kissing scene between them had been more than enough to make me gag. “Well, let me chew on this one a little,” I said. “Speaking of chewing, should I send Sly over to see you?” Spike asked. I could hear him winking over the phone. Uuuuuuggggghhhhhh. Like I wanted that over-veined, penile-implanted, shriveled-balled steroid queen to be anywhere near me. “Spike, I’ll have to get back to you,” I said. “Call me,” he said. 10:00 AM MEETING w GK/OFFICE Ever hear of Nike’s Air Jordan brand? Of course you have. Goddamn line is the bane of my existence, because now every athlete who’s ever gotten a two-graph blurb in ‘Sports Illustrated’ thinks he should get his own athletic shoe. Of course, it is my job to make them think I can get that for them, but let’s take a friggin’ reality test here. If you’re John Rocker, about the best I can do for you is an endorsement of Ralph Lauren’s sheets for upscale Klansmen. If, however, you are the luscious Gabriel Kapler, right fielder for the Texas Rangers and poster boy for the benefits of the bench press, your options are a little more open. It was just too bad Palmer had gotten hit with that morals charge involving that 16-year old boy back in his Jockey days, which had made the Jockey people swear off hired dick. Gabe would have been perfect for them: tall, taut, tanned and a ten-incher. As it was, he was a sure bet for Copper Tone, Rawlings, Wheaties and, hear me out, Vaseline Intensive Care Lotion. Think about it. Big pic of Gabe’s splendiferous bare pecs in “Vanity Fair,’ ‘GQ’ and ‘Architectural Digest.’ It would have ME reaching for some nice lubricant. Too bad advertisers were so unimaginative. “Gaby,” I cried, ushering him in. “You look fucking great!” “Johnny, it’s great to see you,” he yodeled, pumping my hand ferociously. He really was a charmer. Great smile, great eyes and built like a brick shithouse…wait, scratch that. That’s one of my old man’s expressions. Why the fuck would comparing someone to a brick shithouse be considered a compliment? Let’s just say that Gabe’s body was enough to make you, well, wish you had a few minutes alone and some Vaseline Intensive Care Lotion. See what I mean? After the pleasantries were observed, it was time to get down to business. I’d worked out a deal with him for the Met-Rx people similar to the one I’d cooked up for Jason Sehorn, who had been one of my big success stories. I’d also gotten Jason contracts with Nike and Charles Schwab and his perfect pecs in spreads from ‘People’ to ‘Popular Mechanics’ and I wasn’t done with him yet. If I had anything to do with it, Jason was going to be the biggest sports sex symbol since Joe Namath. And Gabe would rank right there with him. “There’s just one thing, Gaby,” I began. Actually, there were more, but this was a good place to start. “Typically, with guys in your situation, I would recommend that you wait until you’re at least 30 to do the wife and kid thing, and you’re what, 24?” “Yeah,” he answered, looking confused. “I was just doing what McGwire told me.” “Well, Mac’s in a totally different league than you. The problem is, we want to position you as the kind of guy both straight women and gay men think they might score with, and if you’re married, that puts a big crimp in our plans.” “I’m sorry,” he said, head in his hands. “I guess I fucked up big time.” “Not so fast, Gaby,” I said. “Here’s my suggestion. Announce a separation from your wife. Say you love each other very much and want to work things out but you’re going through some quote unquote life changes and the pressures of the road make it difficult, blah, blah, blah. We’ll work out a script for you.” “Okay,” he said, looking more hopeful. “I can do that.” “Then we’re going to get your picture taken at different parties, around men at some and women at others, with your shirt off, and we’ll sell ‘em to the tabloids,” I explained. “That way, we’ll get both chicks and dicks with a hard-on for you, and it’ll be that much easier to get you into ‘People’ and ‘Us.’” “Johnny, you are an absolute genius,” he said, moving closer to me on the couch. “How can I show my appreciation?” Our legs were touching, and he put his hand on my knee and starting sliding it toward my crotch. Wait. Stop. Don’t. Oooops, too late. Well it’s not my fault that this guy wants to thank me for changing his life. Wouldn’t it be churlish to refuse? He began fondling my cock through my pants, then undid my belt and opened my slacks, sliding his hand under the waistband of my briefs, grazing the top of my pubic patch. I moaned in encouragement, and felt his other hand slide under my shirt, squeezing my nipples, playing with my chest hair between his fingers. I looked up at him and pulled him over on top of me, and we both swung our legs over so we could recline on the sofa. He slipped my shirt off and I returned the favor, reveling in the feel of his warm flesh joined to mine, and we kissed, lingeringly, our tongues playing, as I moved my hands over his muscular torso. He smelled of sage, and leather, and Old Spice. I reached down and slipped my hands into his jeans, grabbing hold of his smooth ass cheeks and squeezing them as we continued kissing. Then, after several minutes, he lifted himself up and quickly stripped the rest of his clothes off, revealing a red thong. “Oooo, oooo,” I cried. “Flex for me!” He laughed and began to pose for me, flexing his mighty biceps, his incredible pecs and abs standing out in rigid relief, his ass carved from stone. He was tanned and smooth, and the golden fluff of his armpits glinted in the light. Finally, I could take no more. “Come to Papa,” I motioned. He reached down and slipped the rest of my clothes off and straddled my upper chest so that his cock, still imprisoned within his thong, was pushed against my mouth. I rubbed it with my face vigorously and managed to get my tongue up one side, tasting the muskiness of his skin. I reached one finely-haired nut and began lavishing attention on it with my tongue. He groaned and reached down to pull the thong away and his big, golden 10-incher sprang out and thumped me across the face. I took it in my hands and guided it in my mouth, teasing the tan head with my tongue, lapping at the pearl-sized drop of pre-cum oozing from his slit. I opened my throat to accommodate him, and deeper and deeper it advanced, until I felt the tickle of his bush against my lips and he was all the way in. Slowly, he withdrew until his head brushed my tongue, and then thrust back in, continuing his movements gingerly at first, and then with greater intensity as my mouth grew more accustomed to the size of his cock. My lips tightened around the slab of flesh in me and I grabbed the base of it with an iron grip, simultaneously sucking him and jacking him off. I could hear his breathing and cries of oh, oh, oh, as I continued, loving the feel of his weight on me, the taste of his cock. His head thrown back, his muscles bulging, he was lost to the pleasure of the moment. We continued this way for a number of minutes until he suddenly pulled out and spun himself around so that he could reciprocate. I reached up and guided him back into my mouth as he began to kiss and lick my shaft. He’d had a good head start on me, and it wasn’t long before his hips began bucking and he thrust deeper and deeper down my throat. Then, with a yell, he shot his milky load down my throat and I held his cock in my mouth and licked it, wanting every drop of his juices, even though it was a tad more bitter than most. After a moment, he resumed his efforts on my behalf, engulfing my cock, loving it, his pressure becoming unbearable, until I couldn’t hold back anymore and shot three jets of jism into his waiting mouth. He struggled to swallow it all, licking at my shaft to lap up the rest, before rotating again so that we were face to face. We kissed, our tongues dueling, and we tasted each other’s essence. I made a mental note to tell him not to eat any more asparagus. 11:13 AM OFFICE “Sara Michelle Gellar on three.” “Sammy,” I said. “So glad to hear from you.” “Johnny,” she simpered. “We’ve got to get a few things straight, if you’ll pardon the expression.” I had saved her ass and now she hated my guts for it. Go figure. “Yes, we do,” I said. “Lots.” “First, the good news. I’ve picked the perfect actor for Moondoggy,” she said, with an air of finality in her tone. “Edward Norton. I think he could do a lot with the part, you know, like, really elevate the film.” “Are you fucking serious?” Did I say that out loud? “He’s booked up for the next 20 months, that’s the problem,” I said, recovering nicely. “But listen to this. Brendan Fraser is interested.” “Oh, and he can really open a film,” she sneered. “And just when was it that ‘Dudley Do-right’ was number one at the box office?” Right after ‘Simply Irresistible,’ you fucking twat. “Hey, ‘George of the Jungle’ did over a hundred mil,” I said. “And do you know why? Because he paraded around in a leather jockstrap for the whole damn movie. And what does Moondoggy wear in this movie? Nothing but surfer shorts!” I could envision several billion of her long-dormant brain cells sluggishly being called into service. “Hmmmmm,” she said. “You might have a point. I’ll have to think about it. In the meantime, I had a thought about Gidget’s parents.” “Oh?” “Anthony Hopkins and Meryl Streep.” 11:24 AM OFFICE “Brendan Fraser on two.” “Brenda!” “Joanna!” “How’s the head?” I asked. He had recently undergone his fourth series of hair transplants, trying to beat his rapidly receding hairline to the punch. “Great,” he enthused. “”You can finally see the forest for the trees.” “Glad to hear it,” I replied, “especially when you hear this. I want you for ‘Gidget 2001’ as Moondoggy.” “What’s the deal on the table?” he asked. Actors! No ‘thank you for arranging that for me’, of course. Just ‘show me the money!’ “I’m thinking fifteen mil up front, with two points on the back end, including merchandising,” I said, which I knew was more scratch than he’d ever made. “Well, I’ll have to think about it,” he said. “You know, we had to push ‘The Mummy 2’ back a few months because the first test shots were showing too much skin on the top of my head, and those digital cover up jobs are a bitch. But we’re gearing up now that the plugs have come in and I’m not sure that my schedule would allow me to…” “Stop right there,” I said. “We’ll work around your schedule. I really think you’re perfect for this role. It’s got just the right combination of he-man studliness and charming insouciance for you.” Not to mention those surfer shorts, which were getting briefer in my imagination all the time. “We can probably work something out,” he said. “But let me ask you this. What’s Tuc Watkins doing these days?” Not enough. “I’ve got him pretty booked up,” I said. “Why?” “Well, I was just thinking about the great time we all had on ‘The Mummy,’ and I was thinking maybe that we could get him back.” B-o-i-n-n-n-g! My dick sprang up at the memory of my visit to the ‘Mummy’ set. With Brendan, Tuc, Arnold Vosloo and Oded Fehr, it was one of the biggest fuck-fests of all time. “The only problem is, he died in the original,” I said. “And rather horribly, if you recall.” “I’ve got that all figured out,” he replied. “The mummy comes back and seeks vengeance on the families of the men who disturbed him, and it turns out that Tuc’s character has a twin brother.” I must be slipping. As Tuc’s agent, I should have thought of that. “It’s got real possibilities,” I said. “I’ll have to see if I can clear his calendar. By the way, have you mentioned this to him at all?” “No, it just came to me,” Brendan said. “You want me to call him?” NO! “No, I’ll take care of that,” I said. “So, whaddya say? Do we have a deal on ‘Gidget’?” “Cowabunga, dude!” Actors! And I use the term loosely. 11:37 AM IN TRANSIT I hopped in my car for my lunch appointment and flipped my Star Tac open. I had a voice mail message. “Just wanted to say Hi,” the voice said, “and that I miss you.” How sweet! It was David. “I can’t wait until you get home tonight. Love, me.” We had been together for more than two weeks now, so at fifteen days, every day after this was a record in terms of length of relationship for me. And the best thing about it was that David wasn’t an actor. At least not anymore. Once ‘Baywatch’ had left for Hawaii and put David Chokachi out of a job, he had wisely decided that the movie business was too competitive for ex-beach boys and had decided to go back to law school. I was elated, and not just because the sex was fantastic. I could use an attorney in my office and had been having visions of the two of us working together as partners. I decided to call the house to tell him how much I loved him, but the machine picked up. Well, he’s probably at the law library, studying, I thought. 12:15 PM LUNCH w BT/LA CIENEGA LOFTS Who ever heard of a loft building in LA? First of all, if there were any industrial buildings old enough to have genuine lofts, they would have been torn down long ago. But some developer had built a new ‘old’ loft building, and it had proven to be wildly popular with expatriate New Yorkers who’d been transplanted to our fair city. You know the type, the ones who decry the lack of cultural life in LA, when what they really mean is they can’t find corned beef with enough fat on it for them. Anyway, I was going up in the freight-style elevator of this loft building to check on a photo shoot involving some clients of mine, the Brewer Twins. I’d cooked up a deal for them to be the Doublemint Twins of the new millennium. No more of that dopey shit like two blonde chicks riding on a merry-go-round. Did that ever make you want to chew gum? No! This campaign was going to be in black and white and shot by Bruce Weber, emphasizing the sensual aspects of chewing gum. The heavy metal entrance door was partly opened, so I pushed my way in. The twins were sitting cross-legged on the bed facing each other, naked, a piece of gum suspended between their puckered lips, looking longingly into each other’s eyes. See what I mean? Tasteful. “That’s great everybody,” Bruce shouted. “Let’s take lunch.” “Johnny!” yelled one of the twins, whom I’ll call B1, since I couldn’t tell them apart (and couldn’t remember their names anyway). “Yo, dude!” He leaped up and hugged me and I felt his 7-incher bouncing against me. “How’s it going, dude?” I asked, slipping into the vernacular. “Just wanted to check and see how it’s hangin’.” He looked down at himself, “Well, now that you’re here, don’t look like it’s hangin’ at all he said, waving his hard-on at me. His brother joined us. “Yo, dude!” he yelled. “Hey, bros, thought I’d fuckin’ treat you to some lunch,” I said, trying without success to keep my eyes off their humpy young bodies. “You dudes up for it?” B1 looked at B2. “Oh, yeah, dude, we’re up all right.” B2 looked at B1. “S’matter of fact, I was just thinking about a sandwich.” Okay, I know what you’re thinking. I am a shameless slut, but let me see YOU turn this opportunity down. We were lying on the bed in spoon fashion, three in a row, back to front, with yours truly in the middle. The ‘filling’ of the sandwich, so to speak. I rubbed my hands over B1’s (or was it B2’s?) sinewy body as he lay against me and I nuzzled his bright blond hair. He smelled of sun and sand and cocoa butter. Or maybe it was just my imagination, I couldn’t tell. I pulled him to me more tightly, the rounded globes of his smooth, white, hairless ass rubbing against my cock. I took his prick in my hand and started to stroke it as I guided my dick in between those luscious cheeks. I rubbed the head against his puckered little opening and he lifted his leg to offer access. He came pre-lubed, but he was still young and tight and it felt just like velvet around my throbbing cock as I entered him. “Oh, fuck, Dude, that feels fuckin’ incredible,” he yelled. I worked Willy in slowly but steadily as I nibbled on his neck and he began to groan and writhe as my fucking got in full gear. “Hey, Dudes, wait for me” cried B2, pulling me tighter to himself. “You know, you are so fucking hairy, Dude, like grrrrrrrrrrrr.” He reached around me and fondled my hairy chest, cupping my pecs in his hands, squeezing my nipples. Then he slid his cock up my ass, his passage eased considerably by my earlier encounter with Dean, and began rapid-fire thrusting. Whoa. Fucking and being fucked by these guys was like riding a bucking bronco, only not quite as subtle. We were going at it for quite some time when, suddenly, B1 yelled “Switch!” and we quickly disengaged and swapped sides, so that B2 was on the receiving end, and B1 got his crack at my crack. We assumed our positions and I was a little surprised the bed didn’t collapse, so wild were our gyrations. Since I’d already seen action that morning, I was able to hold out for quite some time, and I became aware that B1 was beginning to groan and tremble and shake more violently, if such a thing was possible. “Fuck, Dude, oh fuck, oh yeah, fuck, Dude,” he gasped, his voice rising and falling. I felt him thrust deep into me, his arms reaching around both myself and his brother, and he pulled us tight as the spasms began and he shot a big load of his hot cum up my ass. “Hey, uh, Bro, uh, like, uh, how, uh, was, it?” B2 asked, his words punctuated by my thrusts. “Dude, it was excellent, a totally cosmic fuck,” B1 replied. “Let’s switch again so you can get off.” “Yeah, Dude!” I was game. I was a veritable fuck machine now, so I rotated and plunged in B2’s ass again as B1 poked it in me. They were good, and it wasn’t long before B1 got the shakes. By now I knew the drill, so I grabbed B2 tightly and rammed it in as hard as I could once, twice, three times and felt the tingling in my balls begin as I started to shoot my load deep up his ass. B1 came at the same time so the three of us whooped and hung on tight until the bed stopped its spinning. We disengaged, and as one, all rolled over on our backs. “Wow, dudes, that was so hot,” I said. I looked over at B1, his hands behind his head, exposing the white cotton candy of his armpit. I had to lick it, so I rolled over on my side toward him and started lapping up his fresh young scent, rubbing my hand over his perky pecs. “Like, Dude?” his brother said. “Like, I’m here, too.” I switched sides and began in on his armpit, becoming aware of movement behind me when I felt a warm wetness lavishing attention on my asshole. “Bro!” B1 said, pulling his tongue out of my cream-filled rectum. “Get down here. You gotta try this!” With that, I rolled over on my stomach and rested my head in my arms as the two lapped up their juices from my asshole. I heard one of them say to the other, “Dude, it’s like two, two cums in one.” I was glad to hear they were taking their role as the Doublemint Twins seriously. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a camera shooting. “Marvelous!” Bruce Weber cried. “This is simply marvelous. You, Brewers, look up at the camera. Wait, we need to get some gum in the picture. Here, pretend you’re sticking some gum up his ass, like this. Perfect.” “Hold on, Bruce,” I stammered, my face buried in a pillow so it wouldn’t be visible to the camera. “I don’t want my ass out there for all of America to see.” Not without compensation, at least. “Not to worry, Johnny,” he replied. “We’ll have you sign the standard model release and you can negotiate a fee with the client. Won’t be the first time you cut a deal for a real ass, will it, Johnny?” He chortled at his joke. “Besides, Johnny, we could never use these shots for our campaign here,” Bruce added. “These are strictly for the European market.” Well, that’s better, then. I mean, when it comes to business, I like to get fucked, but I don’t like to get FUCKED. 2:30 PM MEETING w EC/THERE There was voice mail message for me as I drove over to my next appointment. “Johnny, I’m trying to get a run in. I’ll leave the glass slider to the deck open in case I’m not back when you get there.” Well, no sweat. I had a videocassette of Eddie Cibrian’s screen test for the big screen remake of ‘My Mother the Car’ and we were going to review it together. I got to his place, but he must have been still out, so I went in and decided to queue up the tape. I tried to push the tape into his VCR, but there was another tape already in there. All the fucking buttons were so tiny! Where’s eject? I tried to hit it, but wound up pushing play instead. The first thing I saw was Ingo Rademacher lying naked on a bed, laughing, his torso and legs deeply tanned but his crotch area a pristine white. What a big floppy dick he had! Just then, an equally unclothed Eddie Cibrian walked toward him, obviously having just turned the camera on. What a cute bubble ass Eddie had! He joined Ingo in bed and they rolled around together, kissing and fondling each other. Wow, hot stuff! I sat down on the floor and leaned against the sofa, watching as Eddie bent over Ingo and took his cock in his mouth. Unconsciously, I began to stroke my cock through my pants. “You like that, I take it,” Eddie said. I jumped up, startled. I hadn’t even heard him come in. He was standing there, chest heaving, wearing a loose white tank top and gray running shorts. He pulled his tank over his head and I could see rivulets of sweat streaming down his smooth, muscular pecs. “I’d give it two thumbs up,” I replied. He walked over to me, standing inches away. Onscreen, he was flipping Ingo over on his stomach and spreading his snowy asscheeks as he leaned forward with his tongue. He grinned that devilish grin. “That’s all that’s up?” There’s a time for action, and a time for words. There was nothing to do but lean over and lick a drop of sweat that was clinging to one erect brown nipple. He pulled me closer to him and stripped my shirt off to keep it from getting his sweat all over it. I grasped him around the waist and ran my tongue over his muscular shoulders and upper chest, then lifted his arm over his head so I could nuzzle his armpit, licking the thick, dark hairs. He had a strong, clean taste. I continued licking him, following a trail which ran down to his navel and lapped up the drops of sweat pooling up in there. I pulled his shorts down and his cock sprang out, insistent, demanding. It was big and thick, the head purplish and engorged. We slid down on the floor together and I reached over and stroked the curly trail of hair winding its way down from his naval to his crotch. I began to stroke his cock, then leaned down to kiss it. He sighed and settled back as I continued at my task, licking up and down the thick shaft. “Hold on a sec,” he said, and he brought my face up to meet his and we kissed, our tongues dueling playfully. He broke it off and reached over to an end table, where there was a tub of Pond’s cold cream. “Here, take some.” I grabbed a handful and he did the same, reaching over to engulf my cock in his fist. I snaked my arm under his and we both began to fondle the other as we watched his onscreen alter ego fucking Ingo, his balls slapping the ivory asscheeks as he thrust hard and fast into him. He stopped for a moment and rolled Ingo over on his back, the both of them slick with sweat, and he pulled Ingo’s legs apart and plunged in again. Ingo pulled him tight and they wrestled together, their groans becoming more intense, until finally Eddie pulled away and began to really slam it home. He continued for several minutes and then stiffened, suddenly pulling out to let his effulgence shower down on the exhilarated Ingo, who tried to catch some in his mouth. He let Ingo’s legs slide down and then he collapsed on top of him and they kissed, smearing his cum between their faces. Whew! We had begun stroking each other harder and harder as the action on the screen progressed, and we were both breathing heavily as we grasped each other’s cocks, putting pressure on the sensitive flesh, our bodies pressed together. I don’t know who started to cum first, but I do know that he erupted before me, shooting a thin geyser of cum at least two feet in the air. My supply was more depleted, but I was still able to acquit myself admirably, and he brought me off with a clear stream flowing from my cockhead. I leaned back against the couch, hands behind my head. On the screen, Ingo and Eddie had switched places and Ingo was giving Eddie a vigorous and thorough fucking. B-o-o-o-i-i-n-n-g! There I went again. Eddie noticed my condition and leaned over to nibble on one hairy nipple, his tongue and hands exploring my torso. I groaned and sunk down further, pulling him onto me. He hoisted himself over my mid-section, grabbing my tumescent cock in one hand and guiding it toward his waiting pink bud. Funny, I could have sworn the damn thing winked at me. “I forget,” he said, lowering himself onto me. “Why are you here?” “Damned if I know,” I replied as, grinning that dimpled grin, he took all of me in, his heat radiating from my cock to my balls. It was like buttah. 4:50 PM OFFICE “Your father on four.” This was the call I’d been dreading. Not because I didn’t love and respect my father, but because I’d been waiting to hear the price he was going to exact for his work on the Gellar case. Quid pro quo, you know. “Hi, Pop!” “Giancarlo, you rascal, how are you, my boy?” “Fine, Sir, thank you. And you?” That was his tolerance for pleasantries. “Let me tell you why I’m calling,” he said. “I’m thinking that maybe you could do a little something to advance Bebe’s career.” Gggrrrooooooaannnnn. Bebe was Dad’s latest mistress, an over-ripe, fortyish sexpot whose career had peaked with a one-time guest shot as Daisy’s backwoods cousin on ‘The Dukes of Hazzard.’ It would take more than a defibrillator to resuscitate that career. “Do you think that’s realistic?“ I asked cautiously. “Well, she says it’s either that, or she wants us to get married and have a baby,” he said craftily, knowing the effect those words would have on me. “Do you realize that, God willing, you’d hit the century mark before that kid graduated from high school?” Not to mention how much of your multi-million dollar estate that would cost me? “Well, every man likes to see his family name continue,” he said. What a joke! The name Janeway had only been in the family since 1948, when Horowitz Januszy, a 31-year old Hungarian émigré rode the rails out to California, the new land of milk and honey, after six years of part time law school at Brooklyn College. He took and passed the state bar exam, and forever left behind his life as a Hungarian Jew to become Horatio Ignatius Janeway, Esq., WASP wannabe. He’d made a name for himself in ‘50s Hollywood by fixing things with the authorities after two cops went up to a Cadillac convertible on a deserted canyon road and discovered Robert Mitchum fucking William Holden in the ass. What, you didn’t know that Robert Mitchum and William Holden were gay? See what a good fixer my dad was! He soon had a veritable fleet of star clients with secrets to keep, including John Wayne, Kirk Douglas and Clark Gable. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do for Bebe,” I promised. “Is there anything else?” “Well, since we’re talking about future issue, have you given any thought to my idea of finding a suitable woman and having her artificially inseminated with your sperm? I would like to have a grandchild and you’re not getting any younger, you know.” This from an 83-year old. “Pop, I’m only 29.” “You might be able to bullshit everybody else, but if you recall, I was present at your birth, which was 32 years ago.” “Okay, okay, I give in,” I said. “I promise to give the idea serious consideration.” “That’s my good boy.” 5:07 PM OFFICE “Mr. Janeway, Tuc Watkins is here,” Rhiannon buzzed. “He doesn’t have an appointment but would like to see you.” Perfect timing. I went to the doorway and ushered him in. “Tuc buddy!” “Johnny.” He looked despondent. Uh-oh. “Let me get right to the point. I haven’t been on an audition for one single film role since I started ‘Beggars and Choosers’ last year,” he whined. “I’m beginning to think maybe I should be making a change in my representation. I mean, what the fuck have you done for me lately?” “Tuc, Buddy, it is so fortuitous that you should be here today,” I announced, “because I was just cooking up a deal for you to be in ‘The Mummy 2.’” The change in his attitude was palpable. “Really?” he asked. “But how?” I quickly filled him in on the details. “Now, we haven’t done the financials yet,” I concluded, “but trust me, I’ll make sure you get taken care of.” “Oh, Johnny,” Tuc said, contrite, “I’m so sorry I doubted you.” “Tuc, don’t worry about it, Babe,” I said magnanimously. “I should have talked to you about some new projects before, but I wanted to wait until they were more firmed up,” I lied. “We’re also looking at a role for you in ‘Gidget 2001’ with Sara Michelle Gellar.” The change in his crotch was also palpable. He moved a little closer to me on the sofa. When he spoke, his voice was much softer, the look in his eyes much more seductive. “Johnny, I don’t know how to thank you,” he began. I was struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Actors! He leaned in to kiss me while one of his hands found the zipper on my pants, and he pulled it down, slipping his fingers inside. His tongue was in my mouth, probing and teasing, and hey, I’m only human. It’s not as if I had set out to get blown this afternoon. I hadn’t even known he was coming over! And besides, you all know that oral sex isn’t really sex, so leave me alone on this one. Tuc slipped off the sofa and knelt between my legs, pulling my slacks down. He stroked my thighs, then lifted my shirt up and over my head so he could fondle my hairy pecs and squeeze my nipples. My dick was straining against my Armani briefs, just begging for attention. Deciding that Tuc had way too many clothes on, I reached down and pulled his black pullover off and rubbed his smooth, powerful shoulders. He leaned in to kiss me again and then he started to rub his face against the front of my briefs. Just when I thought I would lose it, he pulled my shorts away, revealing my solid boner surrounded by a cloud of golden curls, and he bent over to his task. What a great cocksucker he was! He started by licking the precum out of my piss slit, his tongue teasing my bulging cockhead, as he grasped the base of my cock and started to pump it. Then he began to lick my shaft, paying special attention to the delicate flesh on the underside, and worked his way down to my balls. He tongued them, taking first one, then the other into his mouth as his fingers probed my asshole. Finally, he looked up at me and grinned, and put his mouth over my cock, and swallowed it deep into his throat. He covered his teeth with his lips and began to slowly slide his mouth up and down on my cock, gradually building intensity, the warmth and wetness and pressure around my flesh building up to a delightful crescendo, until the incredible sensations began, and I felt my seed shooting down his welcoming throat. He let my cock slip from his mouth and laid his head on my abdomen, nuzzling his face into my blond fur, and I stroked his dark hair. It was hard for me to ever stay mad at my clients for being such fucking ungrateful pricks, especially when they give head as good as Tuc does. 5:52 PM OFFICE “Anne Heche on two.” “Anne, Sweetie!” “Johnny-Bear! Kiss-kiss!” “I am so glad you called. The phone’s been ringing off the hook about you.” For once, I wasn’t lying. It had been. “Really! Well, I wanted to touch base with you, too,” she said. “I hear you’re producing Sara Michelle’s new film.” “Well, yeah, but I don’t think there’s much in it for you. There’s really not another strong female character except for the best friend. And that part’s more Selma Blair than Anne Heche.” “Hear me out,” she said. “I want the male lead.” Sorry, Honey, but it’s going to take a bigger dick than yours. “You know, Babe, they finally got a script they could all agree on. They’re not wanting to make any changes at this point.” Not to mention that any association with a lesbo would knock SMG out of detox for sure. “That’s the beauty of it,” she said. “They wouldn’t have to. I could play it as written. It would make a great gender-bending statement.” “I’ll throw it around a little at the studio,” I lied. “But let me tell you, I’ve got some serious offers on the table for you.” Notice the crafty segue? “What?” “Well, everyone knows your contract with Ellen is up in six months,” I started. “So a whole bunch of my guys want to be the one to bring you back to heterosexuality. Publicly, I mean, not physically.” “I’m listening.” “We’re talking high six figures for a two-year commitment. Two personal appearances together per month, plus the usual story placements about how the lucky fella is so overwhelmingly straight and oozing testosterone that you found yourself ripped from Ellen’s arms and drawn into his hunky hetero embrace.” “That could work, but we’d be talking in the seven-figure range. And if they want to use my ovaries for public procreation, that would entail a bonus plus profit participation in all commercial endorsements.” “I think we can work something out,” I said. “Matt Dillon’s been expressing some heavy interest. But hey, gotta ring off, Luv. My next appointment’s here.” 6:20 PM EN ROUTE F-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-p. I picked up the cell phone in my car, thinking it was Rhiannon. “Make it fast, Babe, I’m almost there.” “I bet you say that to all the girls,” a familiar masculine voice replied. “George!” “Johnny!” “How the Hell are you, buddy?” I asked. George Clooney was one of my favorite people, for a client. “Well, that depends on you, Sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve got a little thing planned up in Malibu this weekend and really wanted you to come.” “Is that c-o-m-e or c-u-m?” I asked, knowing that there was nothing little about George’s “thing.” “Both!” he laughed. “George, I hate to break the news to you, Bro,” I said, “but I’m in love. I think this is the real thing.” “With Chokachi?” he asked, and I thought I detected a note of skepticism in his voice. “I guess I don’t have to even ask if this love is reciprocated.” Hmmmm. That could actually go either way. “Of course it is, “ I assured him. “ Wait ‘til you get to know him. You’ll love him as much as I do.” I thought I heard George say “So has everybody in town,” but it was probably just a bad connection. I promised to call him soon 6:37 PM DRINKS/CM/WHISKEY BAR Because it was so early, the bar was mostly filled with mid-level suits and the kind of over-accessorized women attracted to them. This would not be a good place to meet, but it had been Cam’s idea, so here I was. I had changed into a white Bijan shirt and black and gold check Hugo Boss jacket, and was definitely the hottest number in the room. I ordered and received a Sidecar from one of the bartenders, a swarthy type who gave me the once, twice and third-over, but tonight was not going to be his night. I scanned the room, noticing a big crowd of big-haired women in one corner and made my way over there. Something was definitely capturing their attention, and sure enough, standing in the middle of the group, basking in the adulation, was Cameron Mathison. I watched for several moments, admiring those eyes, that hair and that body, encased in an electric blue shirt and tight black leather jeans, and marveled at his ability to convincingly portray a heterosexual. He looked up and spotted me and then whispered something conspiratorially to the group, who leaned in to catch his words. They erupted in peals of laughter and looked my way as Cameron disengaged himself and walked over to greet me. “What was that about, funny boy?” I asked. “I just told them you were my parole officer on that morals charge,” he explained. “Little do they know how close to the truth that is,” I rejoindered. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. It looks like Kiwanis night at the Elks Lodge.” Cam flashed me that dazzling grin and waved a room key in front of me. “Let’s hit it!” Two Tanqueray and tonics later, we were in the Jacuzzi, laughing and catching up on old times. “Remember the time Leo DiCraprio tried to get you to suck his limp little noodle in that club on South Beach?” he asked. “I’ll never forget what you said to him when he waved his dick in front of you: ‘Leo, I can’t make it sing if you ain’t got that schwing.’” “Well, I think he’s got to be the doofiest-looking, most unsexy movie idol since Jerry Lewis,” I replied. “Besides, I had him pegged. I knew he was going to be a big nothing once ‘Titanic’ blew over, which the spectacular failure of ‘The Beach’ has now confirmed for me.” Besides which he had turned down my offer to represent him. I scooted closer to Cameron and he put his arm around me. With his other hand he started to stroke my hairy pecs, playing with my nipples between his fingers as he nuzzled my neck. I know what you’re thinking, but this one doesn’t count since Cam and I were fuck buddies from way back. I turned to him and we kissed, our hands groping each other, and with the same thought in both of our heads, we stepped out of the tub. I grabbed a towel and started to rub him down, but he stopped me and gave me a deep kiss before wrapping a bath sheet around us and leading me into the bedroom. I don’t mean to gloat, but I do have to feel sorry for anybody who never has the opportunity to get Cameron Mathison in bed. I’ve slept with some of the most gorgeous hunks of men in the world, but I don’t think anybody has ever topped him. Poor choice of words. I don’t think anybody has ever been better than he is. I don’t know if it was the sparkle in his eyes, his sense of humor, his imagination, or maybe just the 11 inches he was packing between his legs, but trust me on this, Cam is really something special. Unfortunately, this was going to have to be a quickie because of our hectic schedules, so I didn’t feel like wasting any time. I pushed him down on the bed and pushed his arms up so I could nuzzle his armpits. Yes, you have probably noticed that I have somewhat of an armpit fetish. To me, there’s just something incredibly sexy about how a nice, muscular arm and shoulder connect to a nice, muscular pec, and the armpit hair is sort of like a Cracker Jack toy, the surprise inside. I alternated between his pits, licking my way across his chest and detouring to his firm brown nipples. He tasted spicy and warm, and I could smell the faint scent of Calvin Klein’s Obsession. His eyes were closed and I gazed at that handsome face. We could have had such beautiful children together. He opened his eyes and grinned at me. “Fuck me,” he ordered. I needed no further instructions. I quickly worked my way down to his crotch, pausing to lick the Whopper for a few moments, and proceeded to stick my tongue into the pink folds of his asshole. He obligingly raised his legs up and bent his knees to give me better access. I delved and explored, tasting his flesh, enjoying his maleness, until his hands sought me out and he pulled me up to him. “Now,” he said, his voice husky. I reached over and grabbed the lubricant I’d brought in from the bathroom, but he took it from me and started applying it to my cock, which was clearly enjoying the attention. He finished and lay back against the pillows, but I had other ideas. “Get up,” I instructed. “Turn around and get on all fours.” He quickly obliged and I had his smooth, broad back in front of me. I rubbed my hands over it, letting my fingers tickle his sides as I leaned forward and licked his flesh. I reached down and began stroking his thighs, my fingers drawing ever tighter circles on his skin as I neared his crotch, and I grabbed his cock, almost impossibly big, and began pumping it. He moaned and rubbed his ass against me, so I sat up and aimed my cock at its target. You know, in all sports, form and delivery are everything, and to me, fucking is no different. I assumed the position and began my entrance, his tight flesh beckoning me inward. I paused as I reached his inner ring, but he pushed himself against me and I was in. Bullseye! I grasped him tightly and began to pull out a little, moving back and forth a little more each time until he was feeling the full benefit of my thrusting. My cock was doing a dance with his prostate, and it was definitely not a waltz. More like the cha-cha. We abandoned ourselves to the heat of the moment. I was surprised by the guttural noises escaping from my throat and he moaned over and over, “Oh, fuck, man, yeah, you fuck so good.” I was uncontrollable, grasping and biting his flesh, pounding away at him, his moans further exciting me. Sweat poured off our bodies as we continued, our rutting primal and fierce. I knew that I couldn’t hold out much longer, and surrendered myself to the heat of his wonderful ass, my orgasm coming quickly now, thunderous, unleashing a torrent of passion deep within him, until, spent, I fell over on my side, pulling him down with me. We lay against each other, hearts pounding, and I reached around and grabbed his cock, stroking its hardness, extending it to its full length. “Now, now,” he said. “No cheating. It’s the big guy’s turn and he won’t wait another minute.” I groaned in both tiredness and anticipation. “How do you want it?” I asked. In response, he pushed me over on my back and knelt between my legs. God, he was awesome, his erection imposing, his muscles bulging. I returned the favor with the lubricant, making sure that his long, thick shaft was fully coated, and he took it from me, spreading some up my ass to ease his passage in me. I couldn’t help squirming, and he laughed. Without further ado, he hoisted my legs up against the sides of his torso, spreading them wide, and pushed in against them. I was utterly and completely exposed to him, my ass cheeks yawning open, and he inserted himself into my waiting crevice. Mmmmm, every inch produced a new sensation as he expertly plundered my treasure box, rotating his hips, grunting his appreciation. “You’ve got the best fuck hole,” he panted. “It’s like it’s got a mind of its own, grabbing my cock so tight.” “It does have a mind of its own,” I gasped, “and it knows what it likes.” Cam was getting up to speed now, his cock fully inside, and he began to thrust more forcefully, his balls slapping my ass, his weight settling on me. I moaned, feeling as if I was being split in two, thankful that I’d already been primed today prior to this assault on my guts. He fucked on relentlessly, a glazed look in his eyes, and I reached up and stroked his face, letting my hands explore his powerful torso. I could feel his orgasm building probably ten minutes before it happened, his body trembling as he endeavored to control it, but there was no turning back, and he threw his head back and yelled, pulling his cock out so that his copious white jism spurted across my chest, frosting the forest of chest hairs, warm to the touch. I reached down and scooped up some of his cum on my fingers and stuck them in my mouth, sucking it off, trying to claim it all, as my legs slipped down his sides. He collapsed on me and our mouths met and we grasped each other tightly and I tried not to think about the fact that I just had 26 minutes until my next appointment. 9:08 PM DINNER w WS/LeDOME I finished the last of my calls as the limousine pulled in front of W, where Wally was staying. The doorman greeted me by name as I walked into the lobby, and I was astonished to find Wally Sczerbiak, rookie forward for the Minnesota Timberwolves, actually sitting in a chair waiting for me. Having a client or potential client waiting in the lobby is unheard of in the annals of agentdom! We had never met, but I had seen plenty of pictures of him in the newspapers and ‘Sports Illustrated.’ My God, this kid was so fresh and unspoiled. I had to have him. As a client, I mean. “You are Wally and I am Johnny,” I said reaching out my hand. He rose, and rose, and rose, at 6’7’ towering over me, and everyone else in the room, too. His eyes lit up and he grabbed my hand in both of his. “It’s so nice to meet you, Johnny,” he enthused. “I was really glad to get your call.” I looked at him appraisingly. Dark, thick hair, white teeth, clean cut All-American features and a killer body. I could work with this kid. As a client, I mean. “Well, let’s grab some dinner, shall we?” I said. “I’ve got a car waiting.” I was glad I’d sprung for the limo to impress this kid. We made small talk as we headed to LeDome, and the words Pert, Pepsodent and Pepsi Cola kept floating in my head. I learned he had a home town honey named Lurleen back in Ohio. Fuck. Suffice it to say that it was a very successful dinner. He agreed to sign with me to represent him for commercial work, and we toasted with a little Dom to seal the deal. We were headed back to his hotel when he said that he felt a little light-headed as a result of the wine and champagne we’d had at dinner. “Are you okay?” I asked, hoping he wasn’t going to get sick inside the rented limo. “Sure, it just means that I want to do this,” he said, grabbing hold of me and planting a big kiss on my lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that all evening.” I was surprised, but probably not as surprised as Lurleen would be. “Have you ever seen ‘No Way Out,’ you know, that Kevin Costner movie?” he asked. “Oh yes,” I said. “Many times actually. I’m assuming you’re thinking about the limo love scene?” “Well, this is my first time in one, so maybe you could break me in,” he said. “Gladly.” Taking command of the situation, I instructed the driver to give my friend a rolling tour of L.A.’s various attractions for the next hour or so and then closed the glass panel between him and us. No sooner had I turned back then Wally grabbed me in his big, long arms and his mouth found mine. His youthful ardor left me breathless. I tried to surface for air. “Hold on,” I stammered, but it got muffled by a tongue down my throat. He was getting a little too rough. Wally rolled over on top of me, pushing me down against the seat, and held me down with one hand while he unbuttoned my shirt with the other. “Wally, really, let me help,” I began, but he put his hand over my mouth and shushed me, and started to undo my pants. I tried to push him off of me, but he was just too big and strong, and besides, he seemed to be enjoying the struggle. “Johnny Janeway, agent to the stars, right?” he said, his voice tight. “That should really be assfuck to the stars, shouldn’t it? That’s what I’ve heard about you. Well, here’s one star who’s going to fuck you until your ears bleed. I’m going to ream your tight little ass and make it mine forever, because you won’t want anybody else after you’ve had my big cock up your beautiful butt.” Wow, talk about your youthful enthusiasm! Well, you heard him. What else could I do? He started to pull his own clothes off and I gazed admiringly at his strong physique, set off by his prodigious pectorals. I have to admit that basketball players were not my favorite jocks because they were usually too thin and gawky, but Wally did not have that problem. He let go of me so he could get his pants off, but I didn’t move except to stroke the smooth, brown skin of his chest. “How do you like it?” he asked as he pulled his boxers down to reveal a thick eight-incher. “Think you can handle the big guy?” I was into my ‘perfect fuck’ role now, building up his now not-quite-so-fragile ego. “Oooo, Wally, take it easy on me,” I pleaded, even though I’d spit bigger cocks than that out before breakfast. “You’re so big and my ass isn’t used to anything like that.” He laughed and pushed me down on the seat, raising my legs over his shoulders. “Let me see that little man-pussy of yours,” he said, exploring me with his fingers. “I’ll get that cunt ready for me.” I groaned as he roughly slipped a couple of fingers up my ass. He obviously wasn’t one for much finesse -- I had many things to teach him. “Wally, we need to use a little lubrication,” I said, knowing that I’d cleaned the previous application off in the shower and thinking that my poor ass was going to be ragged after today. “Good idea,” he said, and pulled me up higher on the seat. “Go ahead, suck on it.” I was still pinned beneath him, so I had no choice but to open my mouth and let him slide it in. I tried to slow his entry, but he was lust-crazed now and he thrust it hard down my throat. I choked momentarily until I could get used to it, and then I used my tongue and my spit to give it a good going-over. I could feel his thick, dark bush brushing up against my nose as he fucked my mouth. Suddenly, he withdrew and once again grabbed my legs and hoisted them in the air. He guided his dick into my rectum without preamble, and I strained against it, trying to slow him down. This was getting a little out of hand. But he was not to be denied. He pushed his legs against the seat behind us for leverage and plunged in me to the hilt. An involuntary groan escaped my throat. “You like that, huh?” he asked. “Let’s hear some more. C’mon, tell me how much you love my cock in you.” “Wally,” I gasped, “You are fucking unbelievable. Your huge cock feels so fucking good inside me.” He grinned and continued his thrusting, occasionally leaning over to stick his tongue in my mouth. I decided to hurry things up a little, so I tightened my sphincter muscle every time he started to pull back to increase the pressure on him, and pretty soon, he began to moan and shake. His sweat was pouring off of him onto me and I duplicated his breathing pattern, until before long he let out a yell and thrashed against me, his cock convulsing as he shot his load deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me and I was able to free my hands so I could stroke his hair and back, whispering in his ear, “Oh, Wally, that was the best!” He started to move off of me and I could feel his cock withdraw. He rolled over on the seat and put his hands behind his head, looking smug. For now. I rolled over on top of him and smiled, rubbing my hands over his taut torso, teasing his armpit hair and fondling his brown nipples. Then I started to pinch them tightly and he yelped in pain. I slapped him, hard, once-twice, across the face. “You prick,” I seethed. “Try that again with me and I’ll make sure that the only endorsement deal you’ll be good for is Depends, you fucking bumpkin asshole.” Tears had sprung to his eyes from the blows and he looked at me in mute surprise. “I don’t know if this sort of thing worked for you with the male cheerleaders back at Miami of Ohio, you bone-headed dildo, but it ain’t going to cut it in the big city,” I hissed. “So listen up, asshole, from now on, you don’t make a fucking move without my say-so and that means no more of this fucking frat house rape shit, you got me?” He nodded his assent, his eyes wide. “Now open wide,” I said, thrusting my stiff dick between his parted lips. “I’m going to show you how to really fuck somebody in the face.” 12:41 AM HOME It was past midnight by the time the limo had dropped a very sheepish Wally Sczerbiak back at the hotel and I had retrieved my car to begin the drive home. Waves of…something washed over me. Could it be guilt? Shame? I thought of Wally’s words. “Assfuck to the stars.” Was that what people thought I was? An asshole for hire like some common street hustler? Worse yet, is that what I thought of myself? That I had to have sex with people so that they’d let me be their agent? Then a sudden, horrible thought struck me. I had become my mother! And worst of all, I had somebody at home who loved me, who wanted nothing from me but my love, and I had betrayed him. Again and again. When will I ever grow up? I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to tell David how much I loved him and how much he meant to me. From now on, I pledged to be faithful, to show some self control, to stop thinking with my cock first and foremost. I pulled into my garage and ran through the house. I rushed into the bedroom and saw my darling Davey propped up against the headboard, naked save for some tortoise shell reading glasses, earnestly studying a law school entrance exam manual. His muscular, golden body gleamed in the glow from the bedside lamp. He looked adorable. B-o-o-i-i-n-n-n-g! I looked down. I guess my dick thought so, too. Well, maybe I could stop using it to think tomorrow. “I never thought I would say this to anyone,” I said, “but I really want to suck your bookmark.” He laughed. “Tough going today, huh?” “It was hard all day,” I replied, thinking that I had better wash up to remove the day’s evidence, uh, I mean relieve its tensions, before we had our little discussion. “I think I’ll jump in the shower for a minute.” “Poor baby,” he said, getting up and kissing me, and I hugged him tight, copping a feel of his firm, round ass. He slapped my hand away, laughing. “Here, I’ll go turn it on for you while you get undressed.” “Thanks, Sweetie.” See how he takes care of me? I sat down on the bed to take my shoes off and picked up his law book, only to have something slip out of it. It was the script for ‘Gidget 2001.’ Uh-oh! “All set,” he yelled from the bathroom. “Coming,” I yelled back, stashing the script back in his book. I quickly stripped and padded into the bathroom. Dave was inside the shower, holding the door open for me, a big grin on his face, his gorgeous eight-inch cock slapping against his belly. I joined him and took him in my arms and we melted together, lost in the warmth and wetness. God, he felt so good, his silky skin alive under my touch, his muscles taut. He took the bar of soap and began to lather me up, raising my arms over my head one by one to wash my armpits, fondling my hairy pecs, rubbing it over my washboard abs before scrubbing my crotch. He took my stiff cock in his hands and rubbed it between them, and a very lascivious look crossed his face. He pushed me down on the peach marble bench and lowered himself in front of me, and I leaned back and closed my eyes. This was Heaven, I was sure of it. I felt his lips on my inner thighs, kissing his way to my crotch. Then things came to a screeching halt. “Johnny,” he began, “I’ve been thinking.” Double uh-oh. “Yes?” He rested his chin on my thigh as my cock went wanting for attention. “Well, maybe I didn’t give my acting enough of a shot,” he said. “Maybe it would only take one decent role to make a real breakthrough for me. Maybe, oh, I don’t know, something like a beach movie.” I remember the only words of advice my mother ever telling me: “A man is soft when he’s hard and hard when he’s soft.” I wondered who had been the first to teach David that lesson. “Well, if that’s what you really want to do, we could probably think of something for you,” I said, remembering that when I’d met David two weeks ago, he HAD seemed to be a little too interested in ‘Gidget 2001’ for someone professing to be looking at law schools. I wondered if it was too late to call George and tell him I’d changed my mind. “D’ya really think so?” he asked, resuming his previous activity with vigor. “That’d be so great, Johnny!” I leaned back against the marble backsplash, my mind clearing, the wheels turning. I remembered hearing someplace that ‘Hard Bodies 4’ was on a low-budget shoot in South Carolina and still needed to fill the part of an over-the-hill beach bum. This could take care of several problems. “First thing tomorrow, I mean, this morning, I’ll make a few calls,” I said. “I think I have just the part for you.” “Oh, Johnny,” he cried, “I don’t know how to begin to thank you.” Well, I’m sure you’ll think of something. Actors! The End