REALITY SHOW FALLOUT
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM
I heard a knock at my door. "Hey, Randy, hurry, open the fucking door!" came the call right after.
Surprised, I went over to answer it. "Dak!" I exclaimed when I saw him at the door.
"Let me in, quick!" Dak scurried inside.
I was still at the door. Following him were supposed to be... "Where's the cameras?" I wanted to know.
"Ditched them. Close the fucking door!" Dak said.
I did and he sighed in relief, collapsed onto my couch in a sprawl. There was a lot to sprawl. Dak was on television because he was a big, buffed stud with a square, handsome face. His legs were huge, muscled monsters splayed out at a forty-five degree angles, his arms were ovals of biceps and triceps on the couch back to either side. He got a hell of a lot of fan mail from the show.
Oh, the show! Dak is the Dak you saw on that reality show, "Packed House." You remember it, don't you, the one where they took four families and put them all in a rather small but four-bedroom house. Each of the four families had three children between the ages of twelve and two, and they had to live together like that non-stop. Too many people, not enough room, only one telephone and one television set and one bathroom. Doesn't that sound like fun?
Yeah, a nightmare situation, and that's what they wanted, people getting pissed with each other. And they upped the ante on the poor suckers they got into that show, because the children all had to share their parents bed every night, and all day long, every room was covered by cameras.
Yeah, part of the fallout for being on the reality show was that sex for Dak must have gone flying out the window. And he was committed to that show for its entire six months of filming for the season. Poor guy! And he wasn't getting a lot of visits from his friends in the meantime, I mean, who wants to visit with a pal while being surrounded by screaming kids and with cameras mugging you in the face? You had to sign waivers to visit these guys, I had signed one to see Dak once, and once was more than enough, I patted him on the shoulder in sympathy, said good luck and I'd talk to him again when the show was over, and bid him goodbye. That had been a week ago.
And here he was, without his cameras.
I looked at him, said, "You actually ditched the camera crew?"
"Totally." Dak agreed with a grin. "I had to get out of that madhouse. God, I had no idea it'd be that bad. They can fine me, they can write me out of the show, I fucking don't care! I had to get out, just for a day, or I was going to go crazy."
"I think that's the idea." I said. "Want a beer?"
"God, yes!"
I fetched it for him and he popped the tab, turned it up to his lips and chugged deeply. "Ah, damn that's good!" he sighed. "They don't allow any alcohol in the house."
"They don't allow a lot in that house." I agreed.
"Eddie must have been out of her mind." Dak said. Eddie was Edwina, his wife. She had talked him into the show, I knew. "I knew that she wanted to be on TV, but this was just too fucking much!"
"Hey, you got a cute wife and cuter kids." I said to him. He wasn't a bad package himself, but I kept that to myself. "Reality shows don't want to show real people on their show, they want to show nice-looking people like every other show."
"Yeah. Eddie's sure having a blast anyhow. Nothing bothers her."
"Yeah." I agreed. Eddie had been a popular character on the show, the eternally nice person always ready to help the others out or help them mend fences after an argument. "So, you got the rest of the day to yourself, huh?"
"Damned right."
"So what do you want to do?" I asked him. "I could get tickets for a game."
Dak shuddered. "I don't want to go into a crowd! I've been living in one for the last three months."
"Yeah, I know." I commiserated. "Sorry. What do you want to do? Turn on the TV?"
"No, no." Dak said. "Let's just...sit and talk. You and me. About anything, as long as it's just you and me."
"Sure, Dak." I agreed. "That'll be fine."
So we talked and the beer flowed. Dak vented his frustration with all the flak and nonsense that he had to put up with, and I just sat there and let him gripe about the fallout that now dominated his life. Whenever he'd slow down, I'd trot out a joke he had usually reminded me of, and that would make him laugh. When he did, that strained look he'd developed slid off his face and the beaming benevolent giant that had made me seek him as a friend to begin with shone back through.
About the fifth beer, which I was feeling and Dak even more so (months without any alcohol, remember?), and we were both laughing at the last joke. Dak had complained about the lack of sex and I had given him the one about the old maid and the mule ("Better not to have one than to never get to use one.") and Dak was haw-hawing like mad. "That mule was right." he said.
"Yeah."
"I mean, it ain't like my willie's been getting any ever since that fucking show came along!" Dak groaned.
"Yeah, it must be rough." I agreed.
"I mean, shit, I love my kids, but hell, you got to get laid now and then."
"Sure do."
"And then there's the fan mail, I get to read it. Girls sending me photographs and letters with their fantasies. Jesus, that's just adding gasoline to the fire, you know?"
"I'm sure it does."
"And the guys, too."
"You get fan mail from guys?"
"Hell, yeah, lots of gays watch the show." Dak said. "I got caught in just my underwear in one scene they used, and I've been getting all sorts of fan letters ever since."
"I can imagine that." I said. God, to see Dak in just his underwear! I must have missed that show! That week I'd had to work late, I bet that was when they'd shown it. To see that massive love-muscle with just the cotton fabric of his briefs to cover it (a glimpse now and then had told me he favored regular Fruit of the Looms for his, uh, support), I bet that organ made a bulge like a salami shoved down inside.
"They set it up, the producers." Dak confided in me beerily, leaning in.
"Yeah?" His arm was brushing against my shoulder, we were side by side on the couch and his arm's elbow was on the couch, the hand hanging out in front like a tree branch, and when he moved, that forearm was suddenly against my shoulder. I'd spoken, and was looking at him, but all I could feel and think about was that forearm.
"Yeah, they said that we needed to give the audience a bit of beefcake, and I was drafted to provide the beef." Dak said. "So I staggered out, pretending I'd just gotten up from a nap, like I could sleep in that fucking place and the noise, and carried on like I did that all the time. They want me to do it again, soon. Something to really spice up the show, they've done all the normal stuff you can do in that situation already and are running out of material, so they have to stir it up again, and I'm the guy who gets to strip down and strut for them." Dak leaned in still closer. "I ask you, Randy, if you really think anyone wants to see more of me. Would you want to see me on your television screen wearing just a worn pair of briefs with my hair mussed up and some oil rubbed on to make me look sweaty? Would you like that?" he demanded.
"Uh...." God, yes, yes! Was all I could think. "I guess." I settled for saying, because my lips refused to shape the word "No."
"Yeah, a lot of pasty-assed couch bitches want to see me prance around for them." Dak mourned. "And me not even able to get off, I walk out in my underwear and I'll be sporting a hard-on that won't ever go down! I had a semi-stiffie the other time, you know."
"Did you?" I said, gulping hard. My eyes went down to his crotch. "Kind of like you have now?" I asked without thinking that thought through. How could I even think, with Dak right next to me? Before, I'd always had other people around me to deflect things, to interrupt and break the moment. Today, it was just me and him and the whole atmosphere was concentrated and I was losing it.
"Uh?" Dak looked down. "Yeah, like now. Hmph!" he reached down and adjusted it, and that just made it worse, now I could see it even better, a tent pointing straight up. "I got to get me some before I do it again. I just got to. But there's no privacy in that house, Randy. None at all. And if I go out in public, now, I'll be recognized. You got any ideas on how I can take care of this problem I got here?"
I was breathing hard by now, as you can imagine. I swallowed hard, tore my eyes upwards away from that hard-on, and looked at Dak right in the eyes, barely three inches away. "Sure, Dak, I know how you can take care of it."
"How is that?" Dak asked me and his lips moved seductively as he spoke, like a pair of dewy rose petals.
"With me." I said and I reached for those lips. Dak was going to hate me for this, I knew, I knew, but I couldn't stop myself. I had to try, just once, just this once.
Dak was startled and jerked away and I started stuttering, trying to form an apology, but then he lunged back in and this time, Dak kissed me.
I was startled myself by this, but there was no way I was jerking away! Hell, no! Grateful as hell, that was me! When his arms came up to go around me, I shuddered and damned near creamed my pants just from that.
Dak's lips were kissing me hard, hungrily, like he couldn't get enough of me. When he stopped kissing my lips, that was just so he could work his way onto my neck instead.
"Damn, man, you are hot." I marveled, my breath husky in my throat, just one level up from a groan.
"I need you, man." Dak moaned as his lips remained on my throat. "I need you so bad. Fuck, I'd do it with the oldest, fattest, ugliest man in the world right now if I had to."
"Lucky for you I'm here, then." I said. "And lucky for me, too."
"I knew." Dak said. "That is, I hoped. Been sitting here for the last hour and a half trying to figure out how to ask you if I could, if we could."
"The answer is yes." I said. "Yes, yes, and yes."
"God, yeah!" Dak moaned and he started pushing me back onto the couch.
Romantic enough, but the couch was too fucking small to start with. I let him lower me back, but when he was done and back to kissing me, I said, "We can do it here if you want. But the bed is more comfortable."
"Bed, yeah, the bed." Dak said and he raised up. "Come on, let's go, now, right now. I'm just fucking afraid I'll look out that window and see the cameras pointing in here. It's not just the show any more, there's paparazzi out there now, too. All trying for the shot that the show won't give them."
At that, I gave a nervous glance at my window, but hell, there was a huge bush in front of it and a tree not far from that. Nobody in sight in the narrow spot they'd have to be in to see it.
"My bedroom's in the back of the house." I said.
"I know." Dak said and he led the way in. I followed while watching those buttocks like a pair of oversized marshmallows wobbling in his sweatpants as he made it in. There, he stopped and so did I, and I saw him skin his sweatshirt over his head. God, those back muscles were a marvel of elongated triangles! And they were mine now, all mine!
I frantically tore my own clothes from my body, more substantial than his (I had shirt and pants, undershirt and undershorts, shoes and socks to tear off, Dak wore only sneakers with no socks, his sweatshirt and pants, and a pair of pure white briefs cupping the most magnificent butt in the world!), while I gawked. When he stepped out of his briefs, I saw the buns of his ass were in fact half-globes, they had a dark divide between them which was accented by a thick coating of dark hairs on his balls and legs.
Then he turned around and I was glad I had just dropped my own undershorts to my ankles, because I was staring at a thick, cleanly white pole of manhood that was calling me by name! I started forward, was hobbled, fought one foot free of them, ignored the other, and wearing my briefs like an anklet, I stepped over and knelt and Dak moaned as my lips closed upon his glans and slid it down into the dark recesses of my soul!
My hands grasped his buttocks and I had those marble-toned orbs at last, at last! They were soft as silk and firm as melons and ripe with sweat which wiped itself onto my hands as I fondled them, and I got that huge tool down to its base, and I wanted to die like that, just like that, and Dak moaned and I remembered I was here to worship him and I forced myself to move back up the length, holding on all the way up.
"Aw, shit, yeah." Dak sighed as I now held just the cockhead in my mouth. "Fuck, yeah, do it, man, do it."
I slid back down blissfully and another warm sound oozed from the man above me, I could love this stud like this all day long, I wanted to keep him with me always, never leave this room.
And Dak's hands came up and touched my head, ran the fingers through my hair and when I didn't turn loose of him, he gently clasped me tighter and pulled me off. I held on, fighting it all the way, but his hands were my masters and I could muster no strength to oppose him, I let him turn me into the servant of his desires, his hands now controlled my destiny, let me but spend eternity like this, feeling the warm, slick velvety-skinned shaft as it moved in and out of me, feeling the hot desire that bled from its tip like a wound.
"Oh, fuck, yeah, lube me up, lube it up good!" whispered Dak's dreamy baritone voice. "Get me all slicked up for you, yeah, fuck, yeah!"
I realized then that he planned to own me utterly. And would I refuse him? Not the man who had danced through my dreams, whose life had been displayed upon my television set for me to feed my fixation, I had wanted Dak even before he had earned his legion of fans, and now I had him, he had come to me, even, sought me out of all those he could have gone to, I was the one he trusted.
So I earned that trust by liberally coating his dong with a heavy jacket of saliva, and when I was done with that, I let go with a moistly sucking slapping-like noise, and said, "Okay, you're ready." and stood up to gaze into the twin cobalt pearls of his eyes.
"I hope you are, too." Dak said and he guided me backwards onto the bed.
I felt the side of the bed touch my calves and I said, "Wait."
"What?" Dak asked me.
"You get down first." I said. "Let me get on top of you."
"On top?"
"Ride you like a stallion." I said.
That grin of his would have melted the panty-girdles off of a legion of dedicated nuns if he'd turned it on them instead of me. He let go of me and got onto the bed, onto his back, his prick like a rhinoceros horn with its gentle curve towards his head. His hands he put behind the back of his head, his legs he placed close together. "Like this?" he asked me.
"Yeah." I said. "Just let me take this at my own speed. This fucking tool you got is bigger than the both of us."
"It just feels that way." Dak breathed. I was straddle his stomach now, and I reached behind, caught that whanger. There it was. Now to raise up and ease back....
"Oh, yeah!" Dak gasped when my anus contacted his glans. "Come on, get it in, I need to shoot, I got to cream, soon, I won't last long, sorry, but I got to get off, come on, come on."
While he was talking, I was squirming, damned but he had a monster here! I had to grimace and stretch myself to get the head of it in, even. And that left over nine inches to go, because I was going to get every last bit of it. I couldn't count on any repeat of this, I wanted all of it!
I almost gave up, pressing that horribly huge honker into my butt. It was so big, so thick, so hot! Dak was moaning like a man on the verge all the way through, I kept wondering if every move I made would be the one that caused him to jizz.
Finally, finally, I had the entire tower of his virility in my bunghole, and I gasped, "Okay, Dak, I got it all, every last bit. God, that's a mean one you have here."
"Come on, Randy, move for me, please, man, please!" begged Dak. "I need to come, I need to get off and get out of here, they'll find me eventually, I know they will, I don't want them to know I came here, I want them to catch me on the street or somewhere else. Help me get off and when that damned show is over, I promise I'll come get you and we'll take off for a weekend together and you can take as long as you want. But not now, please, not now, not this time."
"Okay." I cut off his pleading. He was right, I knew the paparazzi were a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention the camera crew assigned to him, they had the right to follow him anywhere at all at any time. Only the cutting room decided what footage to use or to destroy. Dak moaned they even followed him into the bathroom and filmed every time he took a dump!
So they wouldn't hesitate to cover him if they could. He had to get off quick and let the promise of another time warm me to my task.
Another time. An entire weekend. Yeah. I'd take that! I gritted my teeth and I forced my butt to take that heroic pud in and out of me, I was stuffed to the brim and I was about to burst wide open from the sheer size of it, but I moved, I moved, just the same.
And Dak keened out with noises that spoke of months of frustrated stud juice boiling up inside of him. I could feel the balls churning under me, the cock poising itself like a missile, ready to launch itself at any moment. The countdown was in the low digits, 7...6...5...
"Oh, God, oh, God!" I guttered. "I'm going to come!" And I was, the heat of Dak's subverted lust was boiling over into me, my spirit had caught fire from the furnace of his loins, and now I was ready to shoot myself!
"Yeah, yeah, uh, uh, uh!" Dak began to hunch up into me, and I was so lost that I didn't feel any pain from those convulsive motions of his hips, as he drove his dong into me over and over again.
"I'm coming, HUH, HUH, HUH, UH, GUH-UH-UH-HNNNNKKKHHHH!" And my spunk sprayed out onto his broad chest, splashed the mountains of his twin pectorals, decorated his nipples, laid out a road to the summit, like a freeway from my cock to his chest, the spunk reached out in two nearly parallel lines to the great blobs that had squirted first of all and higher of all, and they slid down to puddle in the hollow of his chest between.
Dak looked at all this wide-eyed, and then his eyes squinched shut fast, his teeth bared in a snarl, and thrust his head upwards, threw the top of it backwards, and his back arched, fell and the ripple of that arc went down to his hips, and that crammed his prick into me, and that was when Dak hit his own climax.
"HHH-HH-HH-HHH-HHNNNN!" is all he said, a single, long sound that was a low moan, like he was afraid of being heard and maybe he was. More waves of his body rippled down and I was bucked about by them, and then he slumped onto the bed, and I lowered myself down to lie atop him, his chest rising like the ocean in a storm, but a storm that was over, all but the waves that had yet to damp down again into gentle swells upon the endless sea.
"Oh, man, oh, man, oh." Dak whispered into my ear. "That was so fucking hot."
"Yeah." I agreed. "Wish we could do it again."
"Maybe I can slip away again some time." Dak said. "But for now, I just.... Shit!"
"What is it?" I looked at Dak, and then toward where he was looking.
My bedroom window. It only looked at a high wooden fence, but there was a five foot space between my house and that fence.
Filling it up were cameras and crew and everything right out of your "oh, God, I'm naked!" nightmares. Dak had been caught by both the film crew and by a couple of paparazzi who were working their cameras for all they were worth.
I got up and closed the drapes, even though that meant they got plenty of shots of my just-spent dick.
But they were knocking at my doors, both front and back.
This was not going to be pretty!
"Oh, man!" I moaned.
"I'm sorry!" Dak said. "God, Randy, I'm so sorry for getting you into this!"
Into this. Yeah. I was into this right up to my just-fucked ass! All the fallout of being a part of a reality show just applied itself to me. There'd be my pictures in the tabloids including splashed on the cover, my face on the news shows that were just tabloids for television, and maybe even my face worked into the reality show itself. They had my waiver on file, they could use any of this they wanted, including of me naked and dripping come out of my ass. And if I didn't want the tabloids making things up, I'd better talk to the show people and fast, get their help to keep it from spinning out of control. God, was I ever in this!
Then I laughed. "It's okay, Dak. It was worth it!"
Because it was.
THE END
Comments, complaints or suggestions?
E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM