This story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives.
All rights to the character Charlie St. Cloud belong to Universal Pictures, Relativity Media and Mark Platt Productions
As should go without saying, safer sex is always best. Don't let what you read about influence how you feel about that. Please remember, you can't go wrong if you shield your dong.
Charlie St. Cloud, Part 2
Staci died when I told her about Zac. Okay, so not quite died, but she went completely pale and I actually had to help her guide her car off the road into a strange, backstage, Disney maintenance parking lot. I moved the shifter to park for her as she sat open mouthed staring at me unblinkingly. We sat in the dark in the well-worn seats of her late-nineties Pontiac Grand Prix named Chico. The engine chugged along at idle and the air vents poured cool air onto us. The faint smell of gas that never quite went away hung in the air with the vanilla of the air freshener and some punk cover artist version of "I want it that way" by the Backstreet Boys drifted from the radio. I stared back at her, a slight smile on my face, not quite able to anticipate whether or not she was going to explode. I reached across the car and closed her mouth with one finger. It fell back open again but this action seemed to snap her out of her surprised trance.
"Bull. Stinkin'. Shit." She said to me, slowly and deliberately. The color began to return to her face. "No, that's it. You're just trying to kill me. There is no way in hell you slept with Zac Efron. It's not possible. You can't prove it." She slid the shifter back into drive and navigated back onto the road, headlights shining down the dark path to our apartment complex – well, one headlight shone down the road. The other pointed off into the trees somewhere.
"Okay, I guess you're right. I can't really prove it." I responded. "And to be honest, that might be the reason why I didn't tell you for like 3 months. Buuuuuut..." I stalled. "I kinda need to ask you a favor."
"Oh, yeah, sure. I guess you want me to drop you off at his hotel room. Sorry, but we already passed the Grand Floridian." she said, voice dripping with sarcasm sticking her thumb over her shoulder showing that it was behind us. I couldn't tell if she found humor in not believing me or if she was genuinely offended.
"No, that's not it. And besides, he stayed at the Beach Club when he was here—"
"Oh, the Beach Club, excuuuuse me." She interjected.
"Again," I said, steering the conversation back to me, "that's not the favor I was going to ask. Tuesday you and I get off work around the same time and I have the next two days off. I was wondering if you could take me to the airport right after work. He asked me to come visit him in California. I'm taking the last flight out.
She drove along silently for the better part of a minute. The time was reasonably short, but I could definitely see that she was deep in thought. "You're not kidding?" she said. I shook my head in response, looking at her with pleading eyes. We turned into our apartment complex, showed the guard our ID's and she made the turn to head toward my building.
"Come inside." I told her. "I'll show you the proof. Well, what there is of it." If I were her, I wouldn't have believed me either.
Once inside, I showed her the sweatshirt he had given me to wear that I had never given back and the note he had taped to the door after deserting me in the morning. She was clearly thinking about asking for details, but probably decided that some things were better left unknown.
"Fine," she said, a little gruffly, but obviously not finding insult or humor in the situation any longer. "I guess I'll take you to the airport, but here's the deal: I want a picture of him."
"Yeah?" I said, thinking that it was a pretty lame request, and easy to fake, if I had been planning on doing so.
She was searching around my apartment. "Wiiiiiiith..." she dragged out the word as she fumbled in a basket on my kitchen counter. "this." She said, finally finding something and holding it up for me to see. It was a broken PA system microphone from one of the boats that we drove at the Kingdom. I had swiped it a couple weeks ago when I found it lying on the dashboard.
"Good, not incriminating, but easily identifiable," I agreed, not knowing if Zac would actually do it. I would sort that mess out later. "Can we eat our taco bell now?" I asked her, holding up the heavy plastic bag full of greasy goodness.
That wasn't the end of our discussions on the matter. Not by a long shot. I did, however, get her to take me to the airport.
Now here I sat in row 18, seat A, staring out the window at the lights of cities and towns moving swiftly past below the wing of a 737. I was very near to the end of my flight. The child in front of me who was much too young to be up at this hour was watching a Barney DVD on a portable player. One more version of `I love you, you love me' would probably make my head explode. My book, "The Art of Racing in the Rain," about two of my favorite things – dogs and cars – sat finished on my lap.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" the adorable male flight attendant asked me, voice dripping with double entendre. He had walked down most of the aisle of the sparsely populated plane. I had a whole row to myself, in fact.
"No, thank you," I smiled and shook my head. Had I been in a better state and not on the edge of my seat thinking about my visit to Zac, I probably would have set my sights on the flight attendant. A quick fantasy of joining the mile high club flashed through my mind and I wondered what he was packing under his nondescript blue dress pants. My mind wandered as to how good sex could have actually been possible in a space roughly the size of the inside of a refrigerator. I watched him walk away checking on the few people in the rows behind me before disappearing into the rear galley.
"From the flight deck," the scratchy voice came from the plane's speaker system. "Uhhhhhhhh, we're beginning our approach to – uhhhhhhhhh – Los Angeles International and we should be on the ground in – uhhhhhhhhhh – around twenty minutes or so..."
I tuned out the captain, sat back in my seat, adjusted the glasses on my face and closed my eyes. I was at least 3 blocks past exhausted. I hoped to sleep on the plane, but was wide awake with anticipation. It was for the same reason that I hadn't gotten more than two or three hours sleep the night before, plus, after working a long day in the unlivable heat and since the clock was nearing 3am Florida time, I figured I had every right to be exhausted.
The thump of landing gear hitting the ground jolted me awake. Evidently, I had somehow achieved a power nap of around 20 minutes. Just a few minutes later, I was standing and retrieving my carry on – a rolling duffel bag with "Walt Disney World Est. 1971" written on the side – from the overhead storage thing. I dragged it off the plane, probably hitting every seat on the way out.
As I came down the escalator, an old, white haired man wearing a chauffer's cap held a sign with my last name. I knew from Zac's texts that a professional service would be picking me up at the airport but it still gave me a little thrill to see. I wondered briefly if the man – he looked like his name would be George or Henry – would let me keep the sign.
"That's me," I said to him, pointing to the sign. I didn't know the exact protocol for this situation and was reaching for my Calvin Klien wallet, trying to pull out my identification in case he demanded proof.
"Right this way sir," he said to me, taking off through the unfamiliar building with surprising swiftness for an old man. "I'm Donald," he called to me over his shoulder. So I wasn't right about the name. But I figured it was close.
After a confusing walk that left me completely turned around, we emerged into a parking lot where there were many black, white and silver nondescript luxury cars parked. I saw the trunk of a Lincoln Towncar spring open and the lights turned on.
"May I take your bag?" he asked me, holding out his hand toward the handle of my duffel. I passed it off, he tossed it in the trunk with a little less care than I might have, and then walked around to open the rear door of the car for me.
I practically fell into the soft leather seat and took a deep breath. The car smelled faintly of coffee and old man. It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea where I was going.
"I don't really know where I'm going" I sheepishly said to Donald as he opened the drivers door and slid quietly into the car. I typed frantically on my phone, trying to get directions from Zac.
"I've been informed already," he said matter-of-factly. "Care for a bottle of water?"
"No thanks," I told him, trying to muster a smile. Maybe it was my lack of energy, but this trip seemed to be a little of a disappointment to me. I guess I was expecting too much. It wasn't a first class plane trip, it wasn't Zac meeting me with open arms, waiting to lead me to a stretch Lamborghini limo. The driver didn't even seem to have any customer service skills at all. Maybe Disney had trained me to expect too much.
In spite of the fact that I was beside myself with excitement for what I was doing, I was still downtrodden. I leaned my head on my hand and eventually drifted off to sleep.
"Ahem!" Donald loudly cleared his throat. I looked out the window to see an ornate black iron gate next to the car. The trunk popped open, Donald opened his door and stepped out into the cool night. I heard my suitcase removed from the trunk and slammed roughly on the ground. My door was opened and Donald stood next to the car. "Have a lovely night, sir," he said. It clearly meant `get the fuck out of my car so I can go to bed.'
I stepped out, phone in hand, having just sent an `I'm here, I think' text to Zac. The street was reasonably well lit but also loaded with trees and shrubs and had a decent curve. I couldn't see very far in either direction but I could see another gate across the street, very similar to the one I was now standing at. My phone rang at the exact moment that Donald slammed the door behind me. I took the handle of my duffel bag from where he held it at arm's length next to me, acting as though the handle contained some sort of communicable disease.
"Hello?" I spoke into the phone, it was Zac. I told him I was outside the gate as Donald's car sped off behind me. At this point, my whole trip was starting to seem like a terrible idea. I desperately thought about calling a cab back to the airport, though I had very little money to my name. The gate started to swing open in front of me. I could see a large house with several illuminated windows not far up the drive and the silhouette of a figure standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame.
"I'm so glad you're here," he said to me over the phone. He did sound genuinely glad and that warmed me a little. Talk about a mood swing.
When I approached him at the door he gave me a warm hug, holding me very tightly. The damn duffel bag fell over and I jumped, but he didn't let go for several seconds.
"It's late," he told me. Thank you Captain Obvious. "Let's get you inside."
He took my suitcase in one hand, ignoring the fact that it rolled and took my hand with his other to lead me inside. He wore very average jeans and a very average brown Hollister t-shirt. I found it to be very refreshingly normal. I took a look around the house, it wasn't embarrassingly large by Hollywood standards but it would definitely best any of the houses I had ever been in. I chuckled as I thought about George Banks in `Father of the Bride,' saying "You could have fit our whole house in the foyer," when he went to the McKenzie's for the first time. It was probably true about this place.
The house was very nicely decorated from what I could see, but he led me directly to the staircase and up to the second floor. We passed through double doors into a bedroom that was roughly twice the size of my apartment in Orlando. He placed my bag gently on the floor and then pulled me toward the bed. Not wasting any time, he pushed me by the shoulders and fell on top of me, squarely planting a very passionate kiss on my mouth.
Despite my intense exhaustion, a certain part of me sprang to life. This felt different, though. He didn't feel hungry, the moment didn't feel animalistic, his body felt warm on top of mine in the cool air of the bedroom and the fluffy sheets and duvet engulfed me. I wrapped my arms around his strong back and closed my eyes. He stopped kissing me and raised himself up just a bit, still definitely within my clutches. He had stopped kissing me, stopped moving, I didn't know if he was breathing. I fought my sleepiness and opened my eyes. He was looking at me, eyes smoldering, an intensely perfect half smile twisted in his lips, his head cocked just slightly to the side. I whimpered.
"What's wrong, babe?" he asked me. I said nothing but pulled him down on top of me. His little bit of stubble scratched at my face, which badly needed to be washed. The little bit of stubble on a man's face even after he's shaved has always been one of those things that drove me wild. I felt a small chill run down my spine. I could have fallen asleep right then and there if I didn't have to pee so badly. I weighed whether or not I could hold my bladder. I could probably hold it forever if it meant he'd never get off of me.
"mmmph," I groaned, barely able to form that noise, much less a complete sentence. I struggled to gain my composure. "I gotta pee, and I smell like plane. Can I shower? I'm so tired."
"Of course," he said as he tried to roll off of me. I held him tightly. He chuckled, "hun, you gotta let me go if you wanna move." He kissed me on the forehead and then tried to roll away again. This time I let him go. I heaved myself out of the fluff of the bed and headed toward the bathroom on the far side of the room. I lifted the seat, undid my belt and button fly, pulled down the front of my bright pink American Eagle boxer briefs and let fly a steady stream.
I had just finished shaking the last drops from myself when I felt his hands slide around my waist. It startled me a little in my half-awake state and I flinched. He pulled me in close to him from behind and kissed my neck, just under my ear.
"Hi," I said breathlessly. I turned around to kiss him but he was already lowering himself down into a crouch, hooking his thumbs into my underwear and pulling it down to my ankles along with my jeans. My cock, which had been just hanging there since I never got to put it away, started to fill with blood and grow. He kissed my happy trail which tickled a little bit causing me to smile broadly as I looked down and into his bright blue eyes. He gave me a devilish grin before kissing the shaft of my hardening cock and standing up, pulling off my shirt as he stood. He kissed me quickly, then, with a giant, bright smile, turned around and turned on the shower.
I flushed the toilet, and turned back around just in time to watch him pull off his shirt, having already removed his jeans and underwear. It was only the second time I had seen his body but I began to wonder if I would ever get tired of it, even if I saw it every day. Probably not.
I lunged for him, pushing him into the shower and up against the tile wall. It probably wasn't the safest move, but no harm done. The water was shockingly cold having not had enough time to warm up. We huddled together. I could feel the warmth from his hard body against mine and I could feel something else getting hard, too, as a result of the contact. Only a few quick seconds later the water warmed up and we were holding each other under the spray. Maybe it was my sheer exhaustion, but I was enjoying this embrace more than the animalistic attack I was prepared for.
He reached behind me and grabbed a bottle, then squirted some into his hand, rubbing his hands together before reaching up to massage my hair. The shampoo tingled and smelled great, it was tea tree. I closed my eyes and turned around, tilting my head back so that he could wash my hair properly. I felt his fingers move deftly through my hair, giving me a head massage as well. I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation. I didn't open my eyes when he stopped. I stood, leaning against him, maybe too tired to move and maybe just enjoying our closeness and the moment.
There were several showerheads spraying on us. I heard the rustling of a hose behind me and soon felt water rushing over my head. I flinched a little.
"Sorry," he said softly, then kissed me on the cheek, his lips cool compared to the water flowing down my face. I felt him moving the showerhead with one hand and massaging the soap out of my hair with his other, then I heard him put the showerhead back into the holster. Keeping my eyes closed, I heard him open another bottle. Body wash, perhaps? "Keep your eyes closed, hun," he said to me. I felt his fingers gently begin to rub my forehead and my temples, moving down, all over my face. It was Clean & Clear; the exact same face wash I used at home. He did my ears and the back of my neck as well. I wondered briefly if Zac Efron had ever had to worry about bacne.
"Turn this way," he said, using my shoulders to guide me into the spray of one of the showerheads. The water cascaded down my face and washed away the soap. He gently gripped me around the waist, then, and had me take a couple steps out of the spray. I felt him start to rub my shoulders and back with a bar of soap, he used a circular motion and worked his way all the way down to my lower back. Before he reached my ass he stopped and slid his arms around my front, pulling us into an embrace and no doubt getting soap from my back all over his rock hard chest and stomach.
I felt him start to rub the soap on my chest while he kissed my neck. His fingertips played with my neatly trimmed chest hair and he moved slowly down. When he got to my bellybutton he swirled his finger around it a few times before sticking it inside, tickling me.
"mmmmrrrrh." I half grunted, half whined at him.
"Okay, okay," he said. He moved the soap all around my pubic area, being careful not to touch my rock-hard and throbbing cock before moving lower and doing first my right leg, then left. Grabbing me by the waist again, he turned me around. I kept my eyes closed. Once I had turned to face him, he very gently slid about half of my dick in his mouth, then pulled it out and lightly kissed just the head. He reached up and rubbed his soapy hands all over my cock, giving special concentration to the head and the area just underneath the mushroom. I wasn't sure but I thought I might be shaking. Still with my eyes closed, I felt one of his hands leave my cock and I heard him standing up.
"Don't freak out, it's gonna be cold," he said as he pushed me by the shoulders against the tile wall. I jumped as it touched my back but quickly got used to it. Keeping my eyes closed, I heard him rustling around then felt his firm ass against my hard cock. He pushed without ceremony and slid me inside of him, the soap acting as lube. I felt the warmth of his insides engulf me. He sucked air between clenched teeth as it must have hurt him to take it all in so fast, but he kept pushing, and after only a second or two I felt his firm, round cheeks meet up with my neatly trimmed pubic hair. He stood up, I felt his back rise up to meet my chest, then reached behind him and took my arms, wrapping them around his waist. I moaned and opened my eyes before kissing him softly on the neck. He bent down again and my hands slid to his hips. He put his hands on the opposite wall of the shower and started ferociously impaling himself on my dick over and over and over again. I alternated watching his muscular arms flex and watching my cock slide and out of his ass. I was mesmerized by the movement of his slightly furry crack and cheeks sliding back and forth on my hardness.
After only a couple minutes of his powerful assault while standing in the spray of the shower, I was gripping his hips tighter and started to moan. He stopped without warning, stood up, and turned around, pulling me out of his ass as he did so. "I think it's time for bed," he said, with the most ridiculous mischievous smile I had ever seen.
"You've gotta be shitting me," was my only response.
"Nope. It's late," he said, punching in the handle to turn off the water and reaching out of the glass door to pass me a towel. He grabbed another and began to dry himself off. I didn't argue. This may have been the first time in my life that I was ever tired enough to choose bed over sex. Especially sex with him. I began to dry myself with the giant fluffy towel. When he was satisfied that we were both dry enough, he grabbed my hand and led me to his bed. We laid down and fell asleep quickly, his head on my chest. I probably had a smile on my face the whole night as I thought about who was in bed with me and what we were going to do when we got out of bed (if we got out of bed) the next day.
I awoke to the sound of the weather woman on TV. "73 and sunny pretty much all day," she said, pointing to the live cam behind her showing the beach under perfect blue skies.
I blinked several times, trying to clear the fog of sleep from my eyes. I was lying in Zac's lap. He was sitting up watching the news. I had no idea how he finagled me into this position, but I loved it. Without moving my head, I clutched my arms tighter around him, roughly at his waist and closed my eyes again. He sighed happily. I left one arm wrapped around his back and started exploring his lower body with my other hand. I ran it down his muscular leg, enjoying the feeling of the soft hair running through my fingers, when I got to his calf I squeezed the muscle there and moved to the other leg, running my hand back up his inner thigh. When I reached his naked crotch, I stopped, cupping his entire package in my one hand. I used my fingertips to gently massage his sac and felt the blood start to rush to his tool. It became slowly hard under the palm of my hand. When he was completely hard, I stopped and rested my hand on his thigh, staring at the one eyed monster as it throbbed dangerously close to my face. It began to soften slower than it had gotten hard.
I admired the veins and the slight upward curve of his beautiful dick as it moved slowly with his breathing and his heartbeat. I inhaled deeply the slightly musty smell that all men have down there after sleeping. The smell alone caused a slight tingle in my own crotch where it pressed against his leg. I let out my deep breath, blowing from my nose onto his cock in its half flaccid state. It began to grow again. I slid my hand from his thigh to his inner thigh to just below his balls. His legs were together and the area was hot and a little sweaty. As I moved my hand lower toward his asshole, he spread his legs and I pushed hard against his sweaty skin as I moved lower and lower. The soft hairs there tickled the back of my hand. I found his hole with my middle finger and began to push. He flinched and inhaled sharply, letting out his breath with a gentle whimper as I pushed harder and gained entry. I slowly moved my finger in a circular motion to loosen him up for a moment as I plotted my next move. He relaxed and started to rub his fingers through my hair. His cock was now rock hard and pointing directly toward my face. At the same time, I shoved my entire finger in his ass up to the knuckle and shoved his entire penis into my mouth. He moaned loudly, bordering on a scream, his sound was dripping with both pleasure and pain. I still hadn't looked at his face, or even opened my eyes other than to check quickly on what was on TV when I first woke up.
I deliberately slobbered all over his tool. I had decided that he was going to have me this morning and I was trying to get him slick enough that I wouldn't be in intense pain. After just a few moments of fingering him while giving sloppy head, I slowly withdrew my finger and slid on top of him. I nuzzled my face into his neck and began pushing myself down on his rod. After only a few seconds of gentle, but steady, pressure, he began to slide into me. It hurt like hell, I'm not going to lie, but I so rarely get the craving to be a bottom that I had to take advantage of it. I was absolutely silent except for my heavy breathing and every so often, he would sigh or moan very softly. I turned my head as his dick slid all the way into me and he turned to meet my lips. I gently rocked my ass up and down his length and made out with him.
A few minutes later, I sat up and opened my eyes. I blinked to adjust myself to the brightness in the room. It was definitely a scene out of a soap opera. Well, a very dirty soap... okay, a porn. He lay in the middle of a huge mass of fluffy white bed linens with me riding on top of him, hands on his chest, supporting myself since I was still not fully awake. Toward his left, sheer white curtains blew in the breeze in front of floor-to-ceiling windows facing a crystal clear sky, a few trees and the ocean gently lapping at the shore. I took a moment to notice the scene, not knowing whether to admire its beauty or laugh at the cliché.
"Sightseeing later," I said quietly to myself as I skillfully rolled him on top of me, my legs wrapped around his waist.
"Well good morning," he said to me, smiling brightly. Once again, I turned into a puddle. He began to slowly slide himself in and out of me, looking to me with questioning eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked. I responded by tightening my legs around his waist, drawing him deeper into me. He didn't attack me as he had in the shower several hours ago. I admired the way he moved his hips and the way his abs were flexing under the soft fur of his stomach. He slowly rocked in and out of me, running his hand down my cheek and his thumb across my lips. Precum was leaking copiously from my dick. He was hitting my spot. I began to use my legs to drive him faster and deeper into me. I wanted him to leave his seed in me. I slid my hands up his sides and into his armpit, feeling the heat and using that to further control him. The term `power bottom' came to my mind as I forced him to fuck me the way I wanted it.
I could see him starting to tense up and feel him trying to slow down. He must have been getting close. "Don't stop, I want it." I said to him. It wasn't the most articulate thing I could have said, but I got my point across. He began to speed up again, going faster than before, and he began to breathe heavily. He had his hands on my chest now, and I could feel him start to dig his nails in. I let out a soft moan and started to pump my own cock. I wanted to let go at the same time he did.
I jerked furiously as it looked like he was very close. Thanks to the movement of his body, I was already close and was ready to cum in only a few seconds. I began to moan quietly and then more loudly. My orgasm hit me like a freight train. I shuddered under its power. My first stream of cum sailed over my head. Zac began to growl and drove his shaft as deep into me as he could. My second stream of cum landed on my nose and forehead. I felt his dick start to pump into me. He was cumming too. I shot onto my neck, then my chest, and two more shots on my stomach before the last few drops began to ooze out. Zac shuddered, still inside me, finishing his massive orgasm. He leaned down, kissed me gently on the lips, then licked the cum off my nose and smiled at me.
Very slowly he pulled out of me and lay down next to me, wrapping me tightly in his delicious arms. Cum was rolling down my body as I rolled onto my side to snuggle closer to him. It felt a little like a dream; bright light streaming in the window, fluffy covers thrown all over the bed, and the arms of an Adonis wrapped around me.
"How about a shower?" he said softly a few minutes later, his breath tickling my ear.
"You're ready again?" I asked, shocked.
"No, not just yet. Just a regular shower," he trailed he fingers through the cum on my chest and stomach.
"Oh, one of those," I tried to roll out of the bed without messing it up any further and struggled with rubbery legs to walk to the bathroom. He walked up behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder as he turned on the water.
Thank you for reading. I really hope you enjoyed yourself. Please, if you have any comments on my writing, tell me about it. You can reach me at djd1216@gmail.com
Also, in the first chapter of this story, I have a different (yahoo.com) email listed. My apologies if you have tried to send email there. It was hacked or spammed or some other nasty thing and had to be deleted.