The following story is fictional. I made it up in my feverish, perverted mind. If any of the characters bear a resemblance to any real people, that was just luck. I did not base the characters on anyone I know now, in a past life, back in highschool, or may meet in the future... I just know- I'm psychic! If homosexual themes, bum sex, knob gobbling, and sweet, sweet lovin' among gay guys is not something you would want to read about, how the hell did you end up on this website? You have got to learn how to use that search engine efficiently.
I suppose this is a series, but please don't write asking me for more, or to hurry up and post, or to suggest a change in the plot, etc. I am a Scorpio, therefore I am a bit testy... and good in bed.
I can be a really nice guy and will write to everyone that writes me first. I take criticism like I take my coffee, I mix it with liquor until it is easier to swallow. If you flame me though, you may lose your eyebrows. Put the name of my story in the subject line and I do not accept attachments from people I don't know, haven't brunched with, or people I have only slept with once... duh!
Now, I hope you all enjoy this story. Be careful, stay healthy, use a condom, don't swallow (yeah right), don't take any wooden nickels unless that is what you're into, and have a nice day. Do you want fries with that? Yes? Ha, gotcha! They are bad for you. I said stay healthy. That was a test... now read the story.
Rising Star
By: Danny a.k.a TC
I never wanted much out of life. An education, a job, some friends, some laughs, and tons and tons of hot sex. I got my education, masters in business management, at Princeton. I got a job in a corporate office. I was a junior executive in the southeast division of a large conglomerate. My friends and I would vacation in my timeshare on Fire Island every summer and Aspen every winter. I was a member of GLAAD and one of the regular judges for most of the competitions at my local nightclub. I probably got about three to five tricks a week, but I still wasn't happy.
My name is Harold Tinker. I am pretty average. Brown hair, brown eyes, not too tall, but slim. I wear grey, blue, or black suits, and my shirts are always white. I chance a red tie now and then, but not too often. I drive a nice car, but nothing too flashy, and I don't wear much jewelry, except for my class ring, and my Rolex. One thing that is not too average is my cock. It is about ten and a quarter inches long the last time I measured, and about five and a half inches around. I wish it was a bit thicker, but what can you do... without surgery or pumps that is? I wish I was uncut, but the doc did do a good job.
One evening after I serviced a well hung young stud I dropped my pants for my turn. He was taken aback by my size. I had always received this sort of response, and got few complaints, except maybe 'ouch.'
"I work in porn. I bet you would fit right in."
"Let's see if I can fit into that ass." I figured it was a line and went about my sinful business. As we fucked, he kept saying 'oh yeah' and 'give it to me.' I started to believe he WAS a porn actor. Hours, and several orgasms later, we both got up and went for the bathroom. We decided to shower together. I couldn't help thinking about what he said.
"Were you serious, you know, about what you said," I asked as I soaped up his back.
"Yeah, you're the best."
"No, about the porn."
"Oh, yeah, I could totally get you a job where I work. You might have to start out as a fluffer."
"A fluffer?"
"Someone that sucks the actor's cock to keep him hard before and during scenes," he answered.
"You can get paid for that," I asked. He smiled as he rubbed soap on my dick.
"You would be great." I kept thinking as we slowly slipped into another session of sex. It was a ridiculous idea. I was pulling down six figures a year and was up for a promotion. I tried to fuck the idea away, but I did catch myself saying 'oh yeah.'
The next day I had lunch with my friend Stuart Jacobs. He was my age and my build. Hell, people have mistaken us for brothers. He is a bit more delicate in his mannerisms, and speaks with a pronounced boarding school accent. We had known each other since college and delighted in sharing stories of our conquests. The odd thing is that he was straight.
"He had the cutest ass. I swear, I wanted to bite it. I think I did," I related, then sipped my wine.
"So, how many times did he make you cum?" I have always marveled at how comfortable he is as a man. He was totally serious.
"I think it was four times no, wait, once more in the shower." I stabbed at my salad trying to decide if I wanted to tell him about the porn remark.
"Well, I had quite a night. I met this chick with the biggest rack I had ever seen. I got her back to my apartment and into my hot tub. The water was splashing over the edge in no time. I still can't get over how she could give head under water."
"It's no big deal if you're a good swimmer. I have done it several times. One time I did it in a dolphin tank." Stuart stared at me in disbelief. He knew I was serious, but sometimes I would catch him off guard. He just looked at me, his face showed deep thought. "With a trainer," I finally said, and put his mind at ease.
"Well, anyway, I must have gone through a whole box of condoms. On the patio, on the coffee table, on the kitchen counter," he continued.
"I am never eating at your place again." Stuart laughed then bit into his lettuce wrap. We finished our lunch and were sipping some coffee. I decided not to tell Stuart. The whole thing was silly. He'd probably laugh anyway.
"I'm thinking about doing some porn," I blurted. I had to work on making up my mind. Stuart paused in mid sip. He put down his coffee and reached into his breast pocket and removed his checkbook.
"I can front you as much as you need. I don't want you to do anything desperate." He started filling out the check before I realized what he had said.
"I'm not broke, you shit. I just want to. Just for that I am paying for lunch." He stopped and looked at me for a moment.
"Are you serious," he asked as he put his checkbook into his pocket.
"About the porn," I asked.
"No, about paying for lunch." He lifted his hand and looked over my shoulder. "Waiter, dessert." I laughed and sipped my coffee. "So, are you going to do some Rob Lowe thing, you know, just for yourself? Remember what happened to him, and worse yet, Bob Crane?"
"Actually, I am thinking of auditioning for a porn production company. There is one here in town." Stuart just looked at me. I thought perhaps he was deciding if I was crazy, but I was wrong.
"You think I could do porn," Stuart asked, surprising me.
"Well, from what I have seen in the locker room...," I said trailing off, not wanting to finish the sentence.
"It's not small. Yeah, never mind. Damn, though, you should be great."
I tracked down the card, what's his name, the porn actor had given me. I sat looking at it in my home office. I tapped my pencil and weighed the situation in my head. I was getting a little bored. Maybe this could liven things up. "What if someone recognized me," I asked myself. "Maybe I could wear a fake mustache." I think that is when I finally snapped. I grabbed the phone and dialed the number. I sat drumming my fingers as I waited. Finally on the fourth ring a woman's voice answered.
"Johnny Stark Enterprises, how may I direct your call," she said with a high nasal voice.
"I, uh I was told to call this number for an, uh audition," I stammered as my stomach began to knot.
"Oh, sure, hold on." She clicked off, her voice replaced by cheesy jazz music. I grabbed a pad and pulled my pen from my pocket. I was about to be sick, but I dare not put down the phone.
"Are you there," she asked startling me.
"Um, yes, I'm here," I said trying to control the squeak in my voice.
"Here ya go," she said.
"Hello," a deep voice purred into the phone. "I hear you are interested in auditioning"
"Uh, yes, uh, sir," I stammered.
"Please, I'm Johnny Stark. Call me Johnny. Come in tomorrow around eight in the evening. Is that okay." I sat dumbfounded. I nodded a few times before I realized he couldn't see me.
"Uh, yes, that's great. The address on the card? I mean is that where I go?"
"Yep, that's it. See you then." He hung up the phone. I sat holding the phone in my hand. The buzzer went off and I finally put down the receiver. I never even told him my name.
I sat in my office staring at the door. I was actually going to audition for porn that very evening. I tried to think of what it would be like. I had watched porn auditions on Sean Cody and sites like that, but I figured this would be different. This would not be some guy that I couldn't remember what he looked like. This would be me. I would be performing for the camera. I couldn't pretend I had never done that before, but this would be seen by a lot of people. There was a knock at my door and I nearly hid under my desk. I stood up, straightened my tie, and called for them to enter. I was just about back in my seat when I saw who it was, and bolted up again.
"Harold, my boy. How are you doing?" Mr. Farmer, the president of the company walked in, followed by Preston, his yes-man. "No, have a seat. This is your office." Mr. Farmer was a nice enough fellow, but a bit vague in the head. I was never sure if it was age or if he had slept his way to the top. Maybe his dad had been rich. He was in his late fifties, but very fit and handsome. He had dark hair that was gray at the temples, and few wrinkles in his lightly tanned skin. Preston White on the other hand was the human equivalent to a leach. He was dark, slimy, and attached himself to anyone that he could feed off of. He had slithered his way up to being Mr. Farmer's right hand. I wondered if he performed all the functions of an actual right hand. I knew what I used mine for.
"Mr. Farmer," I said as calmly as I could muster. "Have a seat. Can I get you anything. I can call Sally. Some coffee, or something stronger perhaps." I was nervous and trying to hide it with courtesy. Unfortunately it was ten AM and I had just offered my boss alcohol. I caught myself and thought quickly. "Espresso," I asked with a forced smile. Mr. Farmer smiled and refused. Preston smirked at me and sat next to his master like a good dog.
"I just thought I would drop in to say you are doing a great job. Barring anything unfortunate happening, you are high on the list for that promotion that is coming around. Preston rolled his eyes just as Mr. Farmer turned to him. "Wouldn't you say, Preston?" He snapped to attention, and nodded slowly with a practiced thoughtful expression. I sat smiling until the full force of what he said penetrated my thoughts.
"Unfortunate," I asked. Preston smirked again, but Mr. Farmer looked uncomfortable.
"We have had some... problems with one of the junior executives. He was... arrested. It was nothing too bad, but if something like that gets out, you never know what the repercussions could be. Hell, the stock could drop." Mr. Farmer looked paler the more he spoke. Preston looked amused by the whole situation.
"Well, sir. I can assure you that I am very boring. I have never been arrested and I have no plan of doing so in the near future." Preston rolled his eyes at my speech. Mr. Farmer was pleased though. He stood up and extended his hand. Both Preston and I jumped to our feet and I reached across the desk to shake hands with the boss. He looked at me and Preston until we hesitantly shook hands. We both tried to hurt the other, but I was much stronger. Mr. Farmer turned for the door and Preston pulled his hand from mine.
"Come along Preston," Mr. Farmer called back. Preston smirked at me and leaned forward to whisper.
"You may want to curb your after work dalliances. Most people know about you and all your men. It would be awful if you were picked up in some bath house, nude save for a leather harness." Preston smirked as I grit my teeth.
"I take offence at that... and your breath." Preston laughed and walked to the door. Mr. Farmer put his head through and asked Preston if he was coming.
"Sorry sir, Harold was just telling me the funniest joke. Stop me if you've heard it. There were two firemen screwing in a burning building..." They were soon out of earshot and I slammed my fist on my desk.
"I hate that little prick." I sat down and tried to calm myself. I looked in the desk drawer for my aspirin when I saw the porn company card. I froze and remembered what Mr. Farmer had just said. My mind was finally made up for me. I was not going to audition.
"You have to audition," Stuart said over his grilled tuna.
"I can't. What if I got the job. What if I ended up being cast in a movie. What if I became famous in porn and won some award or something." Stuart chewed slowly, absorbing what I said.
"What if you screwed a guy and then later found out he was your long lost brother that was put up for adoption?" My eyes widened at what he said and I took a moment to weigh it.
"That would be kind of hot."
"Ok, you totally ruined my point. You know, you are a sick bastard." I smiled and nodded my agreement. "What I would have asked if you weren't a pervert is, 'would you stop having sex with guys?'"
"Well, obviously not, even if I did think that was bad. Maybe I shouldn't pass this up. You never know. I may be the next Warren Piece."
"Hey, you know he lives down in Savannah. I hear he trains slaves."
"Where did you hear that?"
"Do you remember Kevin and Roger from college? Kevin lives down there. The guy that makes his suits is a big gossip. Name's Silverwood I think."
"Did you know any straight guys when you were in college?"
"Just the ones you slept with on the football team." I laughed at that. He had me pegged as usual. I thought about the situation and figured I had spent too long working to where I am to ruin it for a chance in the spotlight.
"Well, that is not going to happen because I am not going to audition, and I am not going to be a porn star. That is that, and well... there."
"Mr. Tinker, Johnny will see you now," the receptionist said. Her voice was just as nasal in person as on the phone. She didn't offer me coffee or anything, and I appreciated my Sally even more.
I know I said I wasn't going to do it, but the thought of never knowing if I would have made it was more than I could live with. I would just audition. I didn't have to take that job, and I wouldn't. I opened the door to Johnny Stark's office and made my way to what I suppose acted as his desk. There was an overstuffed white sofa and matching chair joined by a glass topped coffee table covered in papers. It looked like the living area of a cheap motel suite. A phone sat on a glass topped end table. There was an assortment of lubes and a box of condoms on a similar table at the other end of the sofa. I stood on the thick shag carpet and looked around for the lava lamp. I found it on the black laminate dry bar in the corner.
I started to turn and leave when I saw the camera. It was a simple digital movie camera. I walked over to the tripod to get a closer look. It looked easy to use, and I hesitantly reached out to touch it.
"Eh, eh, eh," I heard behind me, and jumped knocking the camera off balance. I reached out and grabbed it before it toppled over. "Sorry about that. You just looked so funny. You looked like a little boy about to touch his brother's cock." I smiled, thinking of what Stuart said at lunch. I could see that Johnny and I had something in common.
"Hi, I'm Harold Tinker," I said and extended my hand. The thought of where his hand may have been all day struck me, but I didn't want to be rude. I could decontaminate my hand later. He took my hand in a firm grasp and looked me over.
"Is that your real name... Harold," he asked still sizing me up.
"Yes it is, is there a problem?"
"No, but we will have to come up with something else. You can make one up, or you can use a formula." He let my hand go and walked around me looking at my ass and then ran his hand through my hair.
"Oh, like um... my pet's name, and my street, or something like that."
"Yeah, something like that." Johnny was very handsome. He was nicely dressed in khakis and a light blue button up shirt. He had a dark mustache and goatee and his head was shaved. That look doesn't work on everyone, but he wore it well.
I started thinking of a good name. The last pet I had was a cat named Clawed Monet. He stayed with my parents when I went to college and got used to being with them. As far as I know he is lazily sleeping in the sun on their porch. I guess I could spell it correctly, and be Claude. My current apartment was on 43rd street, so I think I should go with the street where my parents live.
"How about Claude Canyon?" Johnny stopped for a moment and looked at the floor.
"How about Buck Canyon," he asked as he went back to looking at my body.
"Sounds like Buchanan," I said with a smirk. "How about Roc Canyon?"
"Now that is just cheesy." He looked up and caught my eyes. He looked at me for a moment and then tilted his head the side. "Roc Canyon..." he said quietly. "We could put you in a leather vest and some blue jeans. I know where I can get some fabulous boots."
"Well, I haven't even auditioned yet," I said, and fought the urge to blush.
"Very sensible," he said, then turned to the camera. "After all, you might be shit in the sack." My eyes grew big and I stared at his turned back. He powered up the camera then turned around. Before he could get to the sofa I was almost undressed. He smiled and sat on the sofa to watch me finish stripping.
"So, what do you want me to do," I asked as I dropped my trousers and rubbed my cock through my underwear. The gauntlet was dropped and I was ready to pick it up.
"I want you to suck my dick and make it sexy. I want to see how you look on camera and if you can..." He trailed off and stared at my crotch. My cock was growing in my boxer-briefs and almost peaking out the top. I cleared my throat and he looked up at my face. "Yeah, uh, I want you to suck my..." His eyes were now back on my package and his mouth had dropped open.
"So, you want me to suck your cock," I asked, trying to keep him on track.
"Cock..." he said, and rubbed his crotch. He looked up and found my eyes. "You have a huge cock don't you," he asked. "Let it out so I can see." His eyes immediately went back to my crotch. I smiled and pulled at the elastic and released my dick. He sat up and reached out to grab it. I stepped forward so that he could reach it, and he wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He looked up at my smiling face and started stroking me. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, trying to look sexy. I felt his mouth on the head of my cock and looked down. He put almost half of it in his mouth on the first try, and I knew he was well experienced. He sucked up and down my shaft then just licked and sucked on the head. He stroked me with his hand as his mouth worked magic on the tip. His left hand slid between my legs and I spread my stance to help expose my pucker. He rubbed his finger over my hole and I tensed. He pressed his finger against the hole and I opened to let him in.
"You know what you are doing, don't you," he asked, stopping just long enough to speak.
"I have a little experience."