Disclaimer: This story is about men having sex with men. If that's not your thing or you're too young to read it, please leave now. The author has no knowledge of Ryan Phillippe's sexuality, nor that of any other famous personality mentioned here, and has written this purely as a work of erotic fantasy fiction. Enjoy!
RYAN'S HOLE
by Backlash29
backlash29@hotmail.com
Epilogue: Bachelor Pad
Ryan woke, craving dick.
When he had dozed off, his bedroom still had two other men in it--a hot blond guy who was sitting on his face, and a hairy-chested surfer dude with a close-cropped head shave who was pushing his meat in and out of Ryan's butt-pussy. He didn't recognize them, but he'd been getting fucked all evening by some local community college kids, and all of them had been phoning their friends, telling them to stop on over.
The last thing he remembered was crying happily as his tongue continued swabbing the blond hunk's spongey ass button, and the surfer loudly unleashing his pent-up cumload into Ryan's goopy, yawning cooze. Then Ryan had lain there like a used cum rag, waiting for more, but there wasn't any...at least, not that he could remember. He felt horny as always but also very tired, so he must have passed out.
Now it was a few hours later. His ass tingled with the moist deposits of many sperm loads. As he breathed the cool nighttime air of the empty house, he pondered the best way to get more cock. He was still tired--indeed, still half-asleep--but his ass knew what it wanted, and there was no quenching that thirst. Groggily, he pulled on a pair of old jeans, grabbed his cell phone, and got a cab to arrive at his home and take him to his favorite seedy underground place in downtown Los Angeles. In the rare times when he found himself without a cock to take up his ass, he went to this place, and it never disappointed him.
The cab dropped him off in front of a dark, unassuming warehouse structure, settled among mid-rise office towers and streetside retail shops that had closed hours earlier. He walked to the back, knocked twice on a windowless door, smiled for the security camera, and went inside.
Two steps inside the door, guys were fucking. Another well-known slut like Ryan was on his knees taking dick, and a crowd of goodlooking men had fallen on him. They all pounded him, one at a time, and in the mean time, sucked and fucked each other. Ryan made his way around the pile and started into the maze of corridors, each lined with dim shadows of couples and triples and larger groups of men making out and having sex. Finally he arrived at his favorite place, a narrow stall with glory holes on either side. Several regulars noticed him there and hurried over. Ryan didn't even bother stripping, just yanked his pants down and aimed his ass for the first dick, already hard and dripping as it protruded through the hole.
He sighed with satisfaction as he felt the first cock in nearly three hours make its way into his well-oiled chute. That cock lasted ten whole strokes before blasting its load into Ryan's nympho fuck hole. As soon as it pulled out, another fat dick went in, this one even bigger and dark black. At the same time, a new cock appeared at the other glory hole, right next to Ryan's face. As he devoured the tasty cock meal in front of him, Ryan rocked frantically on the ebony rod behind him, coaxing that black baby sauce into his love tunnel, milking the jet black cock until it blew its contents way up into his superstar ass.
On and on it went. Within a few minutes the long line of men waiting to fuck him had stretched from one end of the club to the other. And so Ryan was fucked continuously, all night long, by and endless parade of hot men and hard cocks. One anonymous stud after another took Ryan's ass for a ride, pounded him hard and then shot his cum gun into the young man's hot dripping ass, filling his slutty fuck-passage with their tangy seed. Eventually the glory hole booth was dispensed with and Ryan relocated to a nearby bench, where he hoisted his legs up, his greased fuck hole open and ready, and immediately his ass was stuffed full by the next dick in line.
Ryan was beside himself with happiness, feeling all of these men fucking him and getting his pretty ass flooded with their warm, sticky loads of cum. He was a little cum-craving ass puppy, a fuck-glutton beyond abandon, a ferocious cum dump who just wanted cock all night. He served every man in the club, sucking their cocks and then giving up his boy-butt to them, yielding his hot cunt, crying and begging and sobbing and slurping the whole time that this building full of total strangers was breeding his hole. He felt their energy, the force of their cum as they pissed it inside of him, shooting it into his guts and belly.
And that's what he got it. By the time he showed his face in the downtown alley once again, his stained jeans barely clasped around his sweat-soaked, desirable body, dawn had broken on the city, and the first dark-suited businessmen were just starting to arrive for work.
Across town, that same morning, a laptop screen displayed the following message draft:
"House for sale. Three bedroom suites, plus guest room, and new casita over garage. Secluded hills location. Call for showing."
Brady clicked Send on the mail. Remaining in his Drafts folder was his carefully worded resignation letter, where he explained his reasons (well, a few of them) for leaving his job at the talent management agency.
In a separate mail to Ryan's realtor, he reiterated the terms Ryan had agreed to: The house could only be shown in the late afternoons, and only by appointment. If any realtor--or, much worse, anyone from the press--were to stop by at any other time, god only knows what they'd end up seeing going on inside. And, equally importantly, the maid's room and casita can NOT be shown in their present condition. They are currently furnished in a way that would require too much explanation, after all...
October 2005. It had been nearly a year since Reese moved out, although it wouldn't be reported widely until later. During the Reese years, the playroom over the garage had sufficed for Ryan's non-stop sexual play. Contractors had added a kitchen and full bath, making it a functioning apartment unit, allowing Ryan and Reese to live entirely separately. Ryan slept and showered there, and in the late afternoons, he wandered up to the main house to play with his two beautiful kids. The rest of the time--roughly fourteen hours per day, evening included, for over three straight years of his career hiatus--he was in the playroom, naked, getting fucked.
They came in droves. They never left him alone. They were always fucking him. Men, beautiful men, from every part of the city, even men who flew in to Los Angeles regularly for the experience. And he could deny them nothing. His ass was theirs for the taking. Ryan bought the house next door, the casita's closest neighbor, because it had a four-car garage and a huge driveway, giving his top guests a place to park and hang out while they were waiting for their turn to go into the playpen and fuck him, or where they could take meals and relax during a break in between shooting their loads into his luscious ass.
For over three years, a non-stop parade of men. All hot, all hung. Ages 16 to 45. Celebrities and non-celebs alike. Regulars or first-timers, all were welcome. Reese never questioned him about it. Their kids and neighbors never noticed or thought to ask about the cars. It was a perfect arrangement. He had money in the bank, an understanding wife, a beautiful and practical home, and a supple, insatiable ass that required constant filling with cocks and cum. His career still mattered, but he knew it could wait. Reese was earning just fine for both of them now, the same way he had earned for both of them at the beginning of their marriage. She met her own social and sexual needs through a series of boyfriends, just like he did.
So, it was too bad it had to come to an end. The last days of Ryan's Hollywood playpen were a simple matter of a well-placed paparazzo with a zoom lens and an appetite for success. When Brady first showed the blackmail letter to Ryan, he didn't even seem that fazed.
"I recognize the guy's name," Ryan said. "I'm pretty sure he fucked me."
"Well, now he's REALLY fucked you, Ryan," Brady told him. "He wants a lot of money. You'll have to either get it from Reese, or sell your half of the house."
"Or what?"
"Or these pictures end up in Us Weekly, I guess," Brady said, fishing through the contents of the large, plain envelope. He produced one. "Pictures like this one." It was a shot of superstar ex-Laker Rick Fox drilling his gigantic black bone into Ryan's grateful hole, while some miscellaneous studs gathered around the sling and looked on. Ryan's face was clearly visible, writhing and sobbing with pleasure. (Ryan writhed and sobbed so much in a typical day that he had to stretch and do vocal exercises before bedtime each night to avoid feeling sore.)
"Right." Ryan still wasn't impressed. But he gradually realized the seriousness of the situation. "Well, Reese isn't going to give me the money. Maybe she'll buy out my half. She's been wanting to move on, anyway. And I think the kids would be better off in a neighborhood that had more stuff they like to do."
Brady shook his head. "Even if she buys you out, and you sell the house next door, you're going to owe some money. Unless you want to start working again."
Ryan laughed. "Whaddya mean? I did 'Crash'."
"Oh please. 'Crash' sucked, Ryan. It was this overblown white guilt fairy tale with the most condescending, pandering script this side of an after-school special. You did it for the money, so you could crawl back into that sling. I'm talking some real, quality projects. You know, I haven't been managing you too well lately. There's really not much on your radar these days, acting-wise."
"Aww-w-w...baby..." Ryan cooed, and immediately unzipped Brady's pants and started pulling on his fat hard cock. "You manage me just fine. I need you out there, getting cock for me, so I can get it up my ass. The more you work on that, the more time I get to spend with my legs in the air, doing what I do best."
Brady swatted Ryan's hand away and rebuckled himself, even though he was clearly hard. "That's not what you do best, Ryan. You're an actor. At some point, you're going to have to start acting again, and slow down a little on getting fucked!"
Ryan thought about his for a moment. "I will," he promised. "But you're right, it really sucks about this photographer guy. Let me check in with Reese about some things. I'm sure we can work it all out."
Some years had passed since Brady and Ryan had first met, and things had gradually mellowed somewhat. They both clearly benefited from their business and social relationship, and the attraction between them was still strong--in addition to all the endless cock both hot men got in their mouths and up their asses, Brady himself still plowed Ryan's asshole and filled it with his cum every chance he got. Still, for a short while after the birth of his second child, Ryan really had slowed down, no longer requiring quite the same number of men around him all the time, yet he still had more sex than anyone he knew. With Brady's help, he had finally settled on a "short list" of a couple dozen hunks who would be in regular service to fuck his hole. All were paid for their services, and each was required to be available for several shifts every week.
By this schedule, Ryan's ass got serviced by a regular and diverse group of well-hung player studs: Abe and Monte on Mon-Wed-Fri mornings; Jack, Jamie and Lonny over the lunch hour; Garcia and Zeb mid-afternoon; and so on. On Tue-Thu he had an alternate schedule, with a different roster of players. By staggering days like this, he realized, his players had more stamina, not to mention more cum to shoot up into his hole. And of course, week-ends were fair game--apart from the time he spent with his family, Ryan's hot ass was wide-open and available for any of the hired studs who wanted to pick up extra cash.
But eventually his full appetite came back. And so, in addition to the steady stream of hot player cock he was getting (and the never-ending supply of luscious player cum getting shot up inside his ass), Ryan resumed pursuing sex with his celebrity friends. However, that too had changed somewhat. Many of his old Hollywood posse had moved on to other social and sexual circles. Ryan suspected it was because of the current slump in his career. Even though his ass was just as fine and tight and fuckable as ever, Ryan was yesterday's news. These days, it seemed, everyone wanted to fuck Chris Klein's sweet hole, or Matt Dallas, or Drew Fuller, or Chris Evans, or that sluttiest slab of new meat on the Hollywood market--Adam Brody.
Even an also-ran like Freddie Prinze was getting more dick than he could handle, thanks to the endless marketing of his lame "Scooby Doo" franchise, and his stunt marriage that went with it. Freddie still stopped by sometimes to screw Ryan's ass, and he'd tell Ryan and Brady all about how some hockey team had gang-banged his ass, or how he spent a whole night getting used by Tom Welling and David Boreanaz, getting filled by their hot prime-time sperm over and over at both ends, or how he snuck onto a Blink 182 music video and got the cocks and loads of the whole band in his sticky boy-twat. Ryan was jealous, even though his ass was getting plenty of attention from the round-the-clock list of players who used his holes.
So, for the last few months at least, Ryan made as much use of Brady as he could. After Brady's six-month affair with studly Aaron (the charter pilot), which had ended badly, Ryan got a lot more regular sex from his assistant. And he had no complaints: Brady was as buff and sexy as ever. The only problem was that Brady was much more of a bottom than a top, and so when he was at Ryan's house, it was usually to take advantage of all the available player cock. As one or two players were power-fucking Ryan's hole, Brady would suck off the one that was re-charging his batteries and then take that stud's cock in and out of his sweet little ass until Ryan was ready to be fucked by it again. Brady still fucked Ryan, but usually only on week-ends, or during the week when all of the players had left for the day.
The "short list" of players eventually proved to be inadequate. Before long, Ryan and Brady were both going to the sex clubs fairly frequently, at least once per week. Ryan loved these visits... he could park his cute butt on a bench or in a sling, and take on up to twenty guys in a matter of a few hours. That was almost as many players as he had on his "short list" in the first place. In fact, he usually took some players with him to the sex club (whoever was on their shift already) who would help round up tops from around the club, and take turns filling Ryan's hole with dick and sperm when there was a break in the ongoing anonymous action. Brady usually wandered off to get fucked on his own, but he always stopped by for Ryan's big finale, where he took as many cocks and loads as he could get in the last hour before they had to go. And when all of the tops had spent their loads in and onto Ryan, Brady knelt before Ryan's splayed, wet legs and slurp the fresh cum out of his well-fucked pucker, and then the two of them would hit the showers.
One recent occasion proved to be a pleasant exception. At a recent charity event at a downtown LA hotel, Ryan was seated at a table with Scott Caan and Cameron Douglas, two hot young sons of Hollywood legends (James and Michael, respectively). The two men obviously knew of Ryan's reputation, and just after the ceremony the three of them rented a room and went upstairs to fuck. Both young men were strapping hunks with broad shoulders, beautiful muscles, and nice, fat slabs of meat. They porked Ryan's hungry asshole repeatedly, fucking him over and over and machine-gunning their cum loads into his happy butt-hole until it was leaking out of him and all over the hotel bed. Scott was an especially energetic fuck, using his whole body to do Ryan missionary-style, his hard, furry thighs wedged inside Ryan's, pressing against him, holding him open for his fuck. Ryan relaxed and moaned as both studs did him right. And when Cameron fucked him in the same position, the Zeta-Jones stepson's ass felt like two footballs i n Ryan's hands as he pulled the sexy top into him deeper and harder with every stroke.
Another time, Ryan was at a popular T-room on the UCLA campus, taking his fourth cock of the afternoon anally through his favorite gloryhole, when his stall door opened and he saw a familiar, pretty face: Jensen Ackles, the buff, pretty actor whom Ryan had lusted for ever since first watching him play supporting parts in "Dawson's Creek" and "Smallville" and who now had his own new series "Supernatural" co-starring his best friend and fuck buddy, Jared Padalecki. The hot TV actor looked surprised at first, and started to apologize for intruding. "No problem, man," Ryan said enthusiastically, grimacing slightly as he spoke to accept the huge anonymous black dick that was pummeling his ass from the other side of the wall.
Jensen peeked into the adjacent stall, and saw that the top was a handsome young black athlete. Then he returned to Ryan, seeing the blond star expertly take the hot black student's excellent hard fuck. As he watched admiringly, he blushed a little. "You know, when I'm here, I like to do what you're doing," he said. "This stud over here fucking you is just exactly my type. Young, black, hot, and--looks like--really hung."
"Yeah, you got that right," Ryan replied, breathless. His elbows were bent, his hands pressed into his bent knees, and his cute little biceps jumped and flexed as he bounced his hungry ass against the glory hole wall. "So...no kidding? You like big black dicks in your asshole, Jensen?"
"Fuck yeah, I love 'em," Jensen replied. "Black men's cum shooting in my ass is the best thing I ever felt."
"Well..." Ryan panted, "...then you should come over to my place after this. I got a whole stable of guys who'd drool at the chance to bang your sweet butt. And there's some really hot brothers among them."
"Cool!" Jensen had heard about Ryan's setup, and was dying for an invitation. He rubbed his crotch through his jeans, feeling the lube he'd used to pre-moisten his own hole start to get warm underneath the denim.
There was a short break in their conversation as the jet black cock picked up its pace through the glory hole, and Ryan braced himself against the coming, familiar onslaught of total pleasure. Soon the fucking was so hard and intense that the whole wall started shaking between them, and loud whoops could be heard from the opposite side. Ryan smiled and groaned happily as the unseen campus jock unloaded into his hole.
As he came back down to earth, and the spent dick slipped from his cummy butt, Ryan added: "There's just one catch, though."
"What's that, man?" Jensen asked, casually wanking himself to the hot scene he had just witnessed.
"You gotta fuck me at least once. You're so fuckin' hot, man. I wanna feel you spray all your gooey load way up into my guts. I've wanted your dick and your load inside me since the first time I ever saw you."
"No problem, Ryan! I've been wanting to cream your sweet butthole for years!"
Ryan lit up, excited. "Really? Awesome! I was afraid you might be bottom-boy all the way."
"Nah, I fuck Jared sometimes," Jensen told him, referring to his "Supernatural" co-star. "I mean, there's nothing better than his dick up my ass, and he throws a mean fuck--one of the few white boys I let cum inside me, believe it or not. But once in a while, I'm licking out his hole, and he just makes me go for it."
Nearby, Jensen noticed a stall opening up with a glory hole similar to the one Ryan was using. He entered, lowered his jeans, backed up, and soon felt another big black dick go inside him. It fucked him in deep, long strokes until he felt a nice warm gooey sperm load shoot up into his insides.
On and on it went. Then, after each of them took a few more cum loads in their asses at the T-room (from the hunky black athlete and a few of his teammates), Jensen followed Ryan to his house. On the way, Ryan called Brady and told him that, in addition to the regularly scheduled fucks for that afternoon, he should call up some others and then show up himself to have a sex party with their cutest and hottest new friend.
The rest of the afternoon and into the evening was spent in Ryan's playpen, with Jensen and Ryan both on their backs, legs hanging off opposite sides of the bed. Ryan loved using this position whenever he brought home bottoms, as it allowed him to see their facial expressions as his fellow slut got fucked by his players and friends. Also, in the case of someone as dreamy as Jensen, it was the perfect position for making out.
Brady started things off, since he was the first to arrive. He was immediately turned on by Jensen, whom he found in Ryan's bedroom, sixty-nining with Ryan on the bed. Instead of sharing blowjobs, however, the two boys had their handsome faces solidly buried in each other's well-fucked ass pies, slurping out the fresh jizz they had collected from the studs at the club.
"Mmm, Brady, you gotta try this," Ryan said as soon as he saw his friend. He was peeking through Jensen's sweet, muscular legs, over at Brady standing in the bedroom doorway. Brady chuckled at seeing the cum goatee that had formed on Ryan's smooth facial features. "We took a bunch of black dude's loads at the club just now. And Jensen's ass here makes a really good cup to drink them out of..."
Fully dressed, Brady knelt by the bed, and Jensen swung himself around until his thighs landed on Brady's strong shoulders. Brady licked all around the young hunk's wet brown hole, his spit joining Ryan's as he dug his tongue in deep, eating out all those creampies from his slutty, perfect ass.
"Oh yeah, eat him, eat all those black loads..." Ryan purred, beating off as he watched. "Lick all that nasty spunk right outa his cummy little chute...eat him deeper...get him ready for all those guys coming over... he's a slut like me, man...he just wants to get fucked and fucked and fucked..."
Sure enough, after a few blissful minutes of devouring all that yummy jock sauce out of his new friend's hole, Brady couldn't stand it any more. He stood, unzipped, and plunged his engorged cock into Jensen's asshole. With his first stroke inside, he came, and Jensen felt it, wailing like a banshee as he accepted Brady's fiery jism. Brady stayed hard and continued fucking him, pushing the load in nice and deep.
Turned on even more, Ryan leaned in over Jensen's body, and they tenderly kissed. Then the first few tops appeared, and while Ryan instinctively did the splits on the bed to allow the next cock inside of him, he never opened his eyes or removed himself from Jensen's embrace. Brady stepped aside, allowing one of the new arrivals a shot at plugging Jensen's leaking hole, and although the black stud entered Jensen with an enormous dick, Jensen didn't flinch, and didn't look up from kissing Ryan. His hole simply embraced the huge intrusion, and he used his expert muscle control to hold and squeeze the plunging ebony rod in his ass.
And so, as the two power bottom boys kissed, the long line of tops that Brady had assembled took their turns lifting each cute stud's legs and power-fucking his warm, tight, cum-filled hole. Both Jensen and Ryan took cock like pros, even exchanging dirty talk as they did so: "Yeah, fuck his sweet hole..." Ryan would groan to Jensen's tops, as a different stud also fucked Ryan's hole. "Use that horny bitch...fuck his tight, wet little pussy..." At a few points, they even compared notes. Ryan would say, "Oh man, Jensen, you're gonna love this guy I've got in me right now...his dick is so big I can feel it coming up my throat..." And Jensen would say: "Fuck, this dude is so big...I can't believe he fucks you like this so many times in a week..."
Other celebrities, too, still stayed in Ryan's close circle. Three of Ryan's regular week-end fucks were Paul Walker, Seann William Scott, and Ashton Kutcher. Even during the busy heyday of Ashton's TV shows, he still made time on Saturdays to meet the others at Ryan's place for some good, old-fashioned man sex. All three sexy studs were getting plenty of hot versatile sex elsewhere (Seann alone boasted of having gotten over a thousand different loads up his ass in the few years since first taking Ashton's on the set of "Dude! Where's My Car?") but they all craved Ryan's sweet butt, so they always showed up to take advantage of it.
Ryan would always have fond memories of those Saturday encounters. Someday, long after his two kids were grown and gone, he would happily recall the afternoons he spent on all fours on the floor of the playpen, sucking Ashton's big cock as Paul eased his gigantic fourteen inches in and out of Ryan's back door, and Seann took on a player or two on his back on the bed, wrapping his sexy legs around each hunk's back and pulling the player's big, pounding dick deeper inside his insatiable, hot, muscular little ass.
Ryan was lost in his thoughts, mulling over his situation. He'd talked to Reese, and she agreed it was probably a good time for them to move on without each other. Her realtor had found a new house for her and the kids a few days later, and since it was already furnished, they moved into it a few days after that. Her stuff was still in the place they shared together, and she'd made no plans to stop back and pick it up.
So, he had the house to himself for now. But he couldn't afford to keep it. He hadn't told Reese about the photos.
Right now, he was on his knees on Reese's bed, getting fucked and sucking cock. The playpen was getting its weekly cleaning (by a VERY discreet team of maids) so, as he did every Monday afternoon for a few hours, Ryan had relocated indoors, bringing his sexy top players, Zeb and Garcia, with him. Zeb was a tall, mid-20's, strapping former university lacrosse player with an endless supply of cum. Garcia was a shorter, softer, prettier Mexican boy with dreamy eyes and a fat cock. Ryan was drinking cum out of Garcia's brown rod as Zeb pounded his third jock load up Ryan's ass, when the cell phone rang on the nightstand.
"Hey, it's Nick," came the voice at the other end. "I need your help, man. Jessica kicked me out."
"Yeah?" Ryan struggled to maintain his balance while wiping the cum from his chin with one hand and holding the phone with the other. Zeb started pulling out of his ass, but Ryan spun his neck around and glared, mouthing the words: Keep going! To Nick, he said: "Sorry to hear that. Trouble in paradise?"
Nick sighed. "She walked in on me getting tag-team fucked by Reichen and Lance." Nick's fellow boy-bander, Lance Bass, and his boyfriend Reichen Lehmkuhl, had just become an item. "They fucked me last week-end, too, and came in my ass five times each, so when Jess walked in they were working on beating their old record. They would have made it, too...goddammit, I wish she'd call before she just shows up."
"Yeah, but so what? She's walked in on you before. I thought she didn't care if you got fucked by guys."
"Yeah, she cares. When it's in our bed. On our anniversary."
Ryan let out a slow whistle. "Oh man, that sucks. Yeah, I get it. You need a place to stay for a while?"
"I do, man. Is that cool? I mean, your place is so secluded, and with all this shit going on with me and Jess...who knows who's following me, or what the papers would print if they found out we're on the outs..."
Ryan laughed. "You're so fucking transparent, man. You just want to be here to get your share of all this good dick I've got swinging around this place." He heard a pause, and then a chuckle from Nick. He said, "Sure, come on over. Reese already moved out, anyway, with the kids. I'll fill you in when you get here."
"You sure, man? I don't wanna put you out, or nothing..."
"Oh please. I'm taking a load up my ass right now. I definitely know about needing a place to hang out and get your sex on. Pack a bag and stop on over. I'll meet you at the front door and we'll get you some dick."
And so it was, that same evening, that Nick took up "temporary" residence in the house once shared by Ryan and Reese. Ryan took a quick break from sex to pull on a pair of shorts, run down to the linen closet, grab some clean sheets and drop them on the guest room bed. He also put a lube pump on the nightstand.
As soon as Nick arrived, Ryan greeted him by unzipping his jeans and sucking his cock. Nick still had his duffle bag in one hand and his overnight bag in the other. Ryan blew that nice babymaker for a little while, then stood up again, saying: "OK, here's the rules. If you're gonna live here, you gotta fuck me with this big thing whenever I say. And when you're getting your own sweet ass fucked, you just gotta make sure my players have had their fill with me before you start wagging this hot little tail over in their direction. Got it?" Nick nodded, smiling sweetly. "Other than that, you can do whatever you want."
By way of responding, Nick smiled, dropped the bags where he was standing, and roughly pushed Ryan backward toward the stairs. "Turn around and drop 'em," he growled.
Ryan didn't need to be told twice. His shorts went south, and he sprawled forward on the curved front stairs, clutching the stairway carpeting in his strong hands and moaning as Nick's cock first found its mark, then plunged up into his jizz-soaked rectum. Nick's big dick pounded Ryan's hole unrelentingly, not letting up for a single thrust until he had unloaded his big batch of boy band cock syrup into Ryan's famous ass.
"Shit," Ryan said, breathless, after the attack had stopped. "You didn't even stop once. That's fuckin' great."
"Yeah." Nick, panting himself, withdrew his fat cock and spanked the still-dripping head against Ryan's lower back. "That's the way Jess used to like it, after we'd spent a few days on the road apart."
Nick sounded a bit glum as he said this, but Ryan had no time for pity parties. "So, grab your shit."
Nick tucked his semi-hardon (it never really went soft, ever) into his underwear, tugged up his jeans, and walked back to where he'd set his bags. "Cool. Just show me where I'm going to be staying. I wanna take a quick shower and then stay naked and get in bed. Dude, I'm a free man now!" His steely eyes shone atop that movie-star handsome smile. As he followed his new host through the house, he continued: "Hey, I'm really glad to stay here, man. I already told a few guys to stop over. Hope that's cool. I wanna start getting fucked in the next twenty minutes, and I don't wanna stop until sometime in the middle of next week!"
And that's pretty much what happened. Nick played by Ryan's rules, only taking sloppy seconds from tops who had already used the host's holes to his content, and stopping by Ryan's bedroom to drill his fat rod into his buddy's fine cum-sloppy ass whenever he was requested to do so (or, even more often, whenever Nick himself felt the urge to cum). Other than that, Nick stayed in his own room, on the bed, taking on a steady slew of tops, all aching to take their turns fucking and filling the superstar's newly single male ass.
Ryan helped out as much as he could, reminding the players that his and Brady's weren't the only talented asses available under this roof any more. "Go fuck Nick with this," he'd tell a player he was jerking off, while another player was plowing his asshole. "After you cum in him, bring it back to me, so I can suck off your fresh sperm, and get a taste of Nick's man-funk. Make sure you shoot your load in him nice and deep!"
After the fifth or sixth day of non-stop sex, Nick finally took a shower and pulled on some clothes. He had a meeting on the lot of a film set that was courting him to make a cameo. While meeting with the writer and producer--hot gentlemen in their mid-thirties and early forties respectively--he detected the smell of cum, and realized he hadn't fully washed it off himself. In fact, cum was leaking out of his asshole and making a wet spot in his underwear. Soon enough, the writer and producer noticed the smell, too, and Nick blushed.
To sweeten the deal for his film role, he agreed to pull his pants and underwear down and let both men fuck him, which they happily did. Sadly, he didn't get the role, but at least he got two extra loads of fresh cum. Following the meeting, he returned to the house he now shared with Ryan, stripped naked, and got fucked by the four guys who had shown up there during his absence. He didn't get dressed again for over a week.
When Brady called Ryan a few days later, after returning from a trip to Phoenix, he was surprised to learn about the newest living arrangements.
"Nick? Living at your place?"
"Yeah," Ryan panted, while taking a deep fuck from a tall muscular guy named Tom, who was an ex-army buddy of Jamie and Lonny, two of his regular players who were also a couple, and who had met and fell in love while serving in the military. Tom had Ryan on his side, and was straddling one of Ryan's legs while he hoisted the other one high up and pistoned his fat, dripping dick in and out of the slut's well-used pussy.
"How long does he plan to stay?"
"I dunno...probably a while..." Ryan said, still distracted. "We put some cameras in..." His words collapsed into a fit of loud groans as he felt Tom's cum-tube expand inside him sooner than expected, and a quart of prime US Army baby batter pulsed deep into his slutty hole.
"Cameras?"
Brady didn't get a response, so he hung up the phone. Conversations with Ryan during sex were impossible.
Looking around his office at the Coswell & Sons talent agency, his eyes fell on the wall of framed headshot photos, displaying all of the actors Brady now represented. A few of them were relatively famous, though none as much so as Ryan. Most of them were still unknown. Most of them were also very goodlooking, and most of those had regular sex with both Ryan and himself. With a sigh, Brady wondered what exactly he'd become. Was he really an agent, or a raging sex addict who also functioned as Ryan's well-paid pimp?
Now, Ryan had a new partner in sleaze, and it was none other than the delicious Nick Lachey. Just the thought of it made Brady's dick jump. He reached into his pants, pulled out his nine inches, and started stroking himself to a recent memory...
One night a few months back, Brady had stopped to get some food at a diner off the freeway in North Hollywood. Nearby, he knew of a good adult bookstore whose backroom had a regular clientele of black and hispanic "down low" gangbangers. So he finished his sandwich and wandered over. Who does he find in the last buddy booth but Nick himself, gorging himself on one stud's gigantic black pole while getting an equally impressive Puerto Rican bone banged up his slutty ass at the other end. Brady watched the scene and beat off, timing his cum to fly against Nick's shoulder at the precise moment these hot thugs pounded their own loads into the superstar singer's tandem pussies.
After the encounter, Nick and Brady went for a beer at another place nearby. Nick described how he was getting sick of his marriage, and that he needed to be fucked at both ends as often as possible. On this night, he was craving black dick, which was what sent him to this neighborhood, but the truth was he needed as much cock as he could possibly find, every day and every night of the week.
"That's the kind of sex I like," Nick told him. "Totally repetitive on my hole. Non-stop fucking. Load after load after load, right up my ass. I think about it all the time...it's driving me nuts!"
"Yeah? Do get a lot of hot tops to help you out?"
"Yeah, I do. I'll let pretty much any guy fuck me, as long as he's uninhibited and knows how to treat me like his personal cum dump. The best ones are the ones who aren't into bullshit, they just stop by, fuck my face, then breed my ass, and go. Sometimes I'll get a whole group of dudes to just gang fuck me until I'm dripping with cum everywhere. But the rule is, no pulling out. If you're gonna fuck my sweet jock ass, you're gonna breed it. Just squirt it right in there, man. God, I love feeling a big warm load inside me."
Brady nodded in agreement, sipping his beer. "Do you still get it on with your wife at all?"
"Sometimes," Nick said. "But usually it's in a group. My brother Drew stops by--the three of us have always done it together, for years now--she still likes that a lot. Once in a while, she brings home some guys for a gangbang, and she and I both take cock the whole time. But I don't fuck her myself that often."
Brady arched his brow. "Really? I guess I forgot that you and Drew did brother sex."
"Oh hell yeah. It's some of the best sex there is. He's a lot straighter than me, but I still dig taking his bone inside me. He's got a nice big one and it shoots a hell of a load. He takes my fuck sometimes, too. He gets off on reaching around and holding his cheeks open while I plaster his cute hole with my load of jizz. Then I use my fingers to push it way down inside, and I feed him the rest of what's left over."
"And he's straighter than you," Brady said, laughing.
Nick rolled his eyes and hoisted his glass. "Yeah. I know."
After their beer, they retreated to the men's room so that Brady could fuck Nick's cum-lubed butthole full of one last load for the evening. Nick's ass was plenty sticky as the remnants streamed out of him of the many men who'd been there already that night. As always, Brady admired the obsessive zest and natural ease with which Nick took his breeding. Nick was a true power cum dump, rocking his whole muscular body forward and backward to coax the load out of Brady's cock, then squeezing his sphincter to get every drop.
Following this brief encounter, Nick said he was returning to the bookstore for more loads, while Brady was headed home. Before parting ways, Nick casually mentioned Ryan's situation.
"He gets so much cock, man, all the fuckin' time...he's lucky to have a guy like you working for him."
Brady smiled shyly. "I guess so. I wish I represented singers...maybe I could lure you over to Coswell." He followed this with a laugh. Both men knew this wasn't possible. "Still, you're welcome at Ryan's anytime, I'm sure. Come on by tomorrow, if you want. There's always plenty of hot guys around who love to fuck a sweet tight ass like yours."
Nick thanked Brady. He had been to Ryan's plenty of times before, but he appreciated the invitation.
So maybe that's how it all got started, this whole business of Nick moving in, Brady considered, still sitting at his office desk and pulling on his throbbing, fat rod. He was close to cumming when he noticed a figure standing in his doorway. It was Eric Balfour, one of his longtime clients, wearing a look of surprise.
"Uh...am I interrupting here?" Eric asked. "I wanted to talk to you about 24..."
Brady spun slightly in his chair and spread his legs wide open, showing Eric his dick. "Get in here and shut the door," he commanded. "I haven't felt your mouth on this thing in over a month. You wanna suck me?"
"Only if I get to fuck your ass." Eric smiled playfully, closing the office door.
"Deal." Brady moaned a little, and felt his butt twitch with anticipation. His deep hole was built for loads from studs like Eric. He couldn't wait for this hunk to start plowing him, riding his ass good and hard.
Hanging up the phone with Brady, Ryan returned to the excellent fucking he was getting from army stud Tom. After his last orgasm, Tom had stayed hard and just kept fucking Ryan with gusto. Ryan already knew from his regular tricks Lonny and Jamie that army boys made for great tops, but this guy was simply amazing. Every thrust seemed to pry deeper into Ryan's ass cavern, stretching his gooey ring and rubbing his prostate in all the best ways. Positioned on his side, Ryan had a perfect view of the flat panel monitor that one of his other players, a hot electronics geek, had set up for him. It displayed the action in Nick's bedroom across the house. Next to it was a camera pointed at Ryan's bed, sending a feed to an identical flat panel monitor in Nick's room, allowing the studs to watch each other take cock all the time.
Just now, he noticed, Nick was getting supremely plowed by Ryan's hot young black neighbor Duane, who was now a strapping bundle of muscles at 22 years old. Just out of the frame was Duane's brother Jaron, three years older, who had fucked Nick's greedy ass-twat full to the brim with his black babies only moments before. Ryan knew how Nick got off on both black dick and brother sex, so he was more than happy to make this introduction. The brothers enjoyed Nick, too, and needless to say, Nick was in constant heaven whenever they got together. They stopped by at least every other day to give Ryan a quick pounding and then go over to Nick's room and spend an hour or two breeding his superstar ass but good.
Soon Army boy Tom was cumming again up into Ryan's hole. Ryan shut his eyes and smiled, sighing deeply as his ass was filled with the strapping young hairy-chested blond lad's hot military cream.
"Can I fuck you again sometime?" Tom asked politely, pulling out his cock and pulling up his khakis.
"Anytime," Ryan promised. "You know how to find the place. We're open 24/7. No loads refused!"
Tom took a step toward the door, then saw the action on the flat panel monitor. "Holy shit. Is that..."
Ryan smiled. "My housemate, Nick." At this moment, Nick's face was grimacing wildly at the camera while Duane emptied his ball sac into the singer's greedy butt hole. "You like what you see?"
"Fuckin' A..." Tom was speechless, and his just-spent cock was already tenting his trousers once again.
"Go fuck him, if you want," Ryan said. "I'm sure he'd love it. And it looks like he has an opening now."
Sure enough, when Duane withdrew his fat black rod, Nick turned his hole toward the camera, and Ryan and Tom could see all of the fresh cum leaking out. There didn't seem to be another top waiting at the moment, so Tom rushed through the house to find the "sloppy seconds" hunk. Moments later, Ryan was watching Tom, the army stud who had just bred his hole, lowering his khakis once again and pushing his magnificent dick into Nick's well-used rectum, just as another top appeared in Ryan's bedroom doorway.
Later that night, Ryan got fucked by Brady Quinn, the newly hot-shit Notre Dame quarterback, who (like his fellow QBs Jason Seahorn and Matt Leinart) always came by to breed Ryan's hole whenever he was in town. Quinn was something of an old-school romantic, always bringing flowers and candles, and so Ryan took him the way he always took him: missionary-style, on his back, so that he could wrap his legs around the jock hunk's fabulous torso and pull him to him while they passionately made out.
Quinn squirted one big load into Ryan's pussy, then rolled off. Outside, the sun was setting on a gorgeous Los Angeles day. No other tops were waiting, and Ryan had switched off the monitor on Nick's bedroom an hour or so before, so the two men were able to relax in relative peace and silence post-fuck.
"You rushing off anywhere?" Ryan wondered. "You wanna fuck me again?"
"Nah, I'm good," Quinn whispered, tenderly kissing Ryan's soft chest.
After a moment, Ryan said: "Nick Lachey's staying here. He's down in the guest room, if you want to give him another load."
Quinn laughed. "No really, I'm fine. Actually I went to a party at Chad Michael Murray's this morning, so I'm still kind of recovering from that."
Ha! So, behind the romance, Quinn was slutty like him, as well. "Party? In the morning?" Ryan teased.
"Yeah," Jason said. "He was doing some crystal. He got partied up last night and had a whole bunch of guys over to fuck him, and then this morning he called and said he wanted more. We all fucked his ass, over and over. There were dozens of guys. He really was loving it, but I gotta worry about the drug thing."
"Yeah..." Ryan agreed. For all the risks he took, Ryan was drug-free, and required his tops to be the same.
Later that night, Ryan called Chad. The prime time studboy was just coming down from his high. Ryan expressed his concern, and so Chad invited him over to talk.
Of course, the first thing Ryan noticed when he got to Chad's house was that the young man was totally naked and rock hard. "Sorry, man," Chad laughed. "I haven't had any clothes on for about 35 hours now."
"Are you still high?" Ryan asked.
"Nope, I'm down now," Chad said. "But I do need to get off."
Without a word, Chad sat in a chair in his living room, and allowed Ryan to climb on top of him and sink his sweet ass down on Chad's ten-inch pole. They had done this before--fucked while also having a casual conversation. Both boys were such insatiable bottoms that it came naturally to do so. Ryan also did this with Brady all of the time: took his agent's cock up his ass (usually in a bent-over position) while they discussed business or planned their schedule together for the next few days.
"So, what with the drugs, man," Ryan asked, chugging his whole lithe body up and down on Chad's monster cock at a slow, easy rate. Ryan had just showered before stopping over, but plenty of cum lube remained for the day's activities. It pulsed out of his well-fucked hole, coating Chad's cock like syrup.
Chad sighed. "I know, I know..." His big hands clutched Ryan's biceps to steady his friend as his big cock impaled him, nice and deep. "I've just had so many cravings lately. I'm like you, I just can't get enough."
"Yeah man, but I do it all sober..."
"I know. That's cool. That's how I should do it, too. But the drugs make it pretty wild. Lately I just feel like partying up and then getting fucked over and over until I'm unconscious with cum leaking out of me at both ends. It's a pretty good high..."
Ryan contemplated this. He enjoyed the same thing, only without chemical help. "You do this a lot?"
"Yeah," Chad admitted. "At least four of five nights a week, for several months. Since Sophie left."
"Ah!" It made sense now. Chad was just lonely. "Dude, you don't need that shit. We're your friends. Just talk to us when you need some company. Or, if you really need to take dick so bad, come on by my place. God knows we've got it over there in great supply. Nick's moved in now, you know."
"Yeah, I heard. So, you mean it? I can come by your place and use your tops?"
"Well, house rules are, you can only get fucked by the guys who've already fucked me first. But, sure."
"Awesome. Does Nick play by those rules, too? And there's still plenty to go around?"
Ryan laughed. "He did, at first. But now he's got his own regular posse coming over. Why?"
"Well..." Chad went shy for a moment, and began thrusting more urgently into Ryan's ass. "Uh...it's just that, well... I've been kind of jealous of him living over there, to tell ya the truth. All that cock, all the time. I was kinda wondering... if..."
Ryan looked at him, wide-eyed, but the thought went unfinished, because a few seconds later, Chad let a huge torrent of stored-up cum loose in Ryan's hungry bowels. Ryan's ass sucked up the load, and in the course of taking it, he felt Chad pick him up and throw him back on the nearby sofa, with that monster dick still deep inside him and pumping cum into his guts. Ryan moaned loudly, savoring the breeding with total abandon. He started to pass out, and when he came to, Chad had disappeared to another part of the house.
Before leaving, Ryan left a note: "Let me talk to Nick."
The next morning, new roommates Nick and Ryan were in Ryan's kitchen, discussing developments.
"You wanna do, what now?" Nick was partly incredulous, partly annoyed.
"I want to let Chad move in here. I think it would be good for him. He's a little out of control."
Nick pouted, but he knew he couldn't win. This was Ryan's house, after all. "Well, okay, I guess..."
"Listen, I know there's a bit of a supply/demand situation here. If Chad starts taking on too many cocks, we can tell him to play by the old rules: No one fucks him unless they've fucked you or me first, and bred us."
Snorting, Nick replied: "Yeah. How long do you think that will last? You and I are fine fucks, my friend, but that Chad has got one beautiful ass. Every guy who comes here is going to want a crack at it."
"Listen, we'll figure something out," Ryan promised. "But I already called him and told him to pack a bag. He's coming over this afternoon."
Chad arrived later that day, and in addition to the suitcases he'd packed, he also brought a large object wrapped in plastic. Two assistants were helping to move it off the truck.
At the moment, Ryan was in his bedroom, getting fucked by Gael Garcia Bernal and three of his hot Mexican stud friends. Nick stood on the front step, eating a bowl of cereal, watching the assistants unload the mystery object from the rear portion of Chad's Hummer.
"The fuck is that?" Nick growled, his mouth full of Cheerios. Chad saw him, smiled, and walked over.
"It's a surprise for both of you," he said. "Now, where am I supposed to go?"
Nick led Chad inside the house, then waved his free hand up the stairs. "Up there on the right, there's two bedrooms. They used to be for Ryan's kids but they're empty now. Pick one."
"Perfect," Chad said. "I'll put my bags in one, and set up the machine in the other."
Machine?
An hour later, Ryan was interrupted from taking his third Gael Garcia Bernal load of the day by Nick's voice. He looked toward the bedroom door, but didn't see him. Then he looked at the monitor.
"Hey Ryan? Ryan? You there?" Nick was hunching down, his face directly in the camera. "Dude, you gotta fuckin' see this thing. It's amazing."
What thing? Ryan finished taking Gael's load, then excused himself from the fantastic fuck team of brown-skinned studs and ventured across the house to see what Nick was talking about. Finding no one in Nick's room any longer, he returned to the front hall, then followed upstairs to the former kids' wing, where he heard curious noises.
Rounding the corner to the room that was previously his son's, Ryan wasn't quite prepared for what he saw. Chad Michael Murray, the most recent arrival at Ryan's home for wayward bottoms, was on all fours on the twin-sized bed. He was positioned all the way to the foot of the bed, so that his ankles were directly above the mattress' lower edge. His ass was pointed straight up and out, in a perfect position to get fucked, and getting fucked is exactly what it was doing. Only, the "top" that was fucking him wasn't human.
Parked at the foot of the bed was an unusual machine. It stood on an adjustable rolling table, whose casters locked at the bottom. On the table was a two-piece gearset, terminating in a long piston that pushed straight out at a horizontal, directly over the bed. The last fifteen inches or so of the piston were fitted with a fat, rubbery cylinder--obviously an artificial cock. As the gears turned (thanks to a motor that was plugged into the wall), the dildo pushed out and pulled back at a strong, steady rate.
It was a fucking machine. An automatic top. It was currently pistoning in and out of Chad's ass, exactly as if he were taking a giant cock doggy-style. And, from the look on Chad's face and the volume of his moans, it seemed to be doing the trick just fine.
Nick looked at Ryan with a wild grin. "Isn't this fuckin' great? Dude! We'll never leave the house!"
Ryan smiled. "Wow. I've heard about these things, but I've never actually seen one."
"Chad here had it custom made," Nick beamed proudly. Ryan did a double-take, amused by how quickly Nick's position had changed on their latest roommate addition.
Next to the gears was a plastic jar with a hose leading out of it, and into the shaft of the rubbery cock. Midway along the length of the tube was a much smaller device with a digital readout that seemed to be counting down in minutes and seconds. "What's this?"
"Oh man, that's the best part," Nick enthused. "Tell him."
Chad struggled to stop moaning long enough to reply. "It's cum..." Chad panted. "Every five minutes... it shoots another load... in me..."
Ryan noticed the counter was under the ten-second mark.
"Watch..." Chad squealed, and seconds later, his gorgeous ass was filled with fluid from the hose--spunk, evidently. Ryan could see it move along. After taking the load, Chad reached for a previously unnoticed remote control that was wired back to the machine, and it gradually rolled to a stop.
"Nick's right, the cum shooter is the best part," he said, still catching his breath. "I had it upgraded recently. It's like jet propulsion now. Shoots like a motherfucker. Feels just like a hot stud throwing his load inside your ass. You won't believe how deep that thing can shoot!"
"Where the hell do you get the cum from?" Ryan asked.
"Sperm banks, the internet, wherever," Chad responded. "Sometimes I'll jerk off and save my own cum to put in there. I've paid a lot of my straight friends to save their cum for me, as well. You wouldn't believe all the studs who get off on selling it to me. I get most of it from college campuses. Those boys need cash."
Ryan was still taking it all in. "Well, this is pretty amazing, I gotta say."
Nick was beside himself. "Please Ryan, can we keep it? Can we keep it? Can we?"
Ryan laughed. "Well, I gotta take it for a test ride here. But sure." He started to get in position on the bed. "Just one thing, though. Can we move it down to the maid's room or something? It's weird enough that Chad here's gonna be powerbottoming all day and night in my daughter's old double bed. I don't think I can handle all of us getting robo-fucked by a thing that's parked in the former location of my son's toybox...!"
Brady sat in his car, parked in the VISITOR space outside the 3-story, nondescript office building. It was a humid day, and he'd switched off the engine ten minutes before, so his milky, muscular chest was starting to form beads of sweat underneath his fitted, starched shirt. His meeting started in two minutes, and he was nervous about what lay in store. He took a final look at the business card on his dashboard: Jake Simon, financial advisor. The office was called Foster and Brookline, attorneys at law. The address on the card matched the building he was parked in front of right now. On the back of the card was written:
BRADY: WE KNOW ABOUT THE RYAN SITUATION. COME TO US IF YOU NEED ADVICE.
Brady had no idea who gave him the card, or when. He discovered it in his jeans pocket one evening, roughly one week before. Who could know about his situation? And how much did they know?
A few days before finding the card, Brady had been issued an ultimatum by his new boss, Cheryl: Fix Ryan's worsening financial situation, or else be prepared to drop him as a client. Implicit in Cheryl's message was another threat: Brady was in danger of losing his job. Jerry Cosgrove, Brady's former boss, had recently sold the business, and although they kept the Cosgrove name, their style of management was very different--more old school. Suffice to say, they had little patience for the "open secret" around Ryan's rampant sexual predilections...even though, as Brady had pointed out more than once, Ryan's wide network of "friends" (ahem) had done more than any other client to expand Cosgrove's business and drive new talent to their ranks.
And then the card appeared, as if by magic. Who was this Jake Simon? What did he want from Brady? Who was "us"? And why were they meeting at a lawyer's office on the outskirts of Los Angeles?
With a deep breath, he gathered his briefcase and his composure, and entered the building.
"Brady Jones, to see Jake Simon," he announced to the young, hunky receptionist, his voice almost a croak.
Before the stud could respond, Brady was accosted by a tall, handsome man who emerged from a nearby swinging glass door. He was muscular and fortyish, with a broad chest and a thick goatee.
"Mr. Brady Jones," the man greeted him warmly, shaking Brady's hand with a fist so strong it made Brady feel instantly submissive...not a feeling he was used to, at least not in public social situations.
"Mr. Simon?"
"Call me Jake. Follow me."
They passed back through the glass door, went to the end of a long hallway, and turned into a trendy conference room with a view out to the San Gabriel mountains. Waiting in the room was one other person, a boyish, cleancut man in his mid-forties wearing the nicest suit Brady had seen in months.
"Gregory Foster," the new man introduced himself, standing to shake Brady's hand. Brady smiled pleasantly, but was distracted by the notion that he had met this man before. Where could it be?
As soon as all three sat down, Jake began.
"We're here to discuss your current management of Ryan Phillippe," Jake said. "It's come to our attention that Ryan is running into some cashflow difficulties, possibly resulting from his upcoming divorce, or possibly for other reasons..."
Jake's voice trailed off there, leaving Brady to wonder how much these men knew about the "other reasons". Did they know Ryan had sex dozens of times per day, and that was what made him miss out on regular film roles and other opportunities? Did they know he was being blackmailed for it?
Jake continued. "I've worked as a financial advisor to many high-profile celebrities in the past fifteen years. My associate, Mr. Foster, is a lawyer specializing in documents that, among other advantages, keep all association with our clients perfectly discreet."
Foster broke in then. "We're gunning for the Ryan Phillippe account, you see. We see real potential in him. We think he can turn his situation around, and we believe that our resources are what's needed to improve the situation--not only for Ryan, but for yourself."
"Me?" Brady was wide-eyed, taking it all in.
"We know you're on the outs with Cosgrove's new management," Jake said, in a low, candid voice. "We're, ah, aware of some of the indelicate requirements that Ryan brings to his talent management situation, and we believe these requirements are in keeping with other services that we can provide."
Brady knew they were talking about the sex, but so what, half of Los Angeles knew about that by know. He'd long since made peace with the unconventional methods he employed to keep Ryan satisfied. But he didn't understand what these men were offering.
"I don't quite follow. You want to take on Ryan as...a financial client?"
"More than that," Foster said, smiling widely. "Much more."
Jake explained. "Mr. Foster also runs a talent management agency, called Foster and Associates, located in downtown Hollywood."
"I've never heard of it."
"And there's a good reason for that," Jake went on. "We don't advertise, you see. No one ever knows our name. But our talent, though very exclusive, remains extremely loyal, and we make sure they remain gainfully employed. And all of the clients that we represent share...the same management needs as Ryan."
So it's a whorehouse, and a ritzy talent agency combined, Brady thought. Intriguing. What's the catch?
"I think I get it. But, you're not...some kind of cult, or something?"
Jake and Foster exchanged glances, then both laughed.
"Well we're not the fucking Scientologists, if that's what you're worried about," Foster said.
"Then how do you stay in business?"
Jake's sexy eyes narrowed slightly, and he focused them directly on their guest. "We charge a shocking amount of money," he said evenly, matter-of-fact.
Brady nodded, smiling slowly. "Of course you do. And your clients pay it, because..."
"Because they know that absolute discretion is assured." Foster said this plainly and matter-of-fact. "Look, the sign outside this office building is much as anyone knows about our operation. Foster and Associates is a holding company for a variety of wildly successful service offerings in the celebrity community. Everything is legal--I can show you all of the documentation you'll need to prove this--but it's run in strict secrecy. Much the same as rehab clinics, or other top-dollar private services of which the celebrity elite avail themselves in this town when they don't want anyone ever finding out."
After a pause, Jake explained further: "It's much like the type of service that you have been improvising for Ryan over the past few years, but we do it a couple levels further below ground..."
"Yeah, about that. How much do you know about my relationship with my client?" Brady looked at one man, then the other. Again, the two men across the table from him shared a knowing smile. Brady focused on Foster. "You know, Mr. Foster, you looked familiar when I first walked in. Have we met?"
"Call me Greg," Foster said graciously. "Yes, we've met, sort of. I fucked you at Ryan's house last week."
Brady blinked. "Um, oh. Uh...really?"
"Yep," Jake said. "We both did. You probably just recognize Greg here because he did you from the front. After he came in you, I showed up and fucked you from behind, while you were sucking the last bit of cum off his dick. You have a marvelous, sweet little ass, you know. One of the best I've sampled recently."
Greg Foster reached down, pushed his chair back from the conference table, and unzipped his dark suit pants, withdrawing a nicely curved nine-inch hard pole. "Look familiar yet?"
"Oh yeah..." Brady said, the memory coming back. "In the living room, with those three other guys in suits... Jesus, that thing was delicious. Actually, all those cocks were good that day. Ryan and I agreed."
"Other associates of ours," Greg said, stroking his cock. "They all work here, in this office. We were on a field trip that day, sort of a reconnaissance mission if you will, checking out the prospects to see if we liked who we were proposing to represent. Jake here slipped the card in your pants when you weren't looking."
Brady laughed. "It was hot. I didn't ask to think where you were from...Ryan likes hot guys in suits, so I figured he'd just picked you up somewhere along the way."
"Naturally," Gregory added, still stroking, "we are open to working with some of Ryan's regular, uh, talent. I'm sure that over the years he's grown fond of, well, several dozen of those studs who regularly fuck him. And rest assured, if we can hire them, he won't have to run up all those accounts with them. Unlimited free fucking is the cornerstone of our retainer. Sort of like getting free checking at a good bank."
Well, that sweetened the deal right there. They were right, Ryan ran up an astounding monthly bill, paying all those players. Here, he'd get unlimited sex, and it would all be covered by the steep annual fees. Brady quickly calculated the dollar figure these men would need to quote him to make this deal worthwhile.
"All our men got to fuck Ryan that day...needless to say, we all enjoyed it," Jake said. "And right now, we'd like to fuck you again, if you're interested." He began undoing his own suit pants, revealing a long thick uncut hose that emerged from a forest of dark pubic hair, and stood out against the hot man's stark white dress shirt. Brady licked his lips.
"Uh, yeah, by all means." He lowered his own slacks and assumed the position over the conference table. As Jake pressed his huge cock into Brady and started fucking him, Foster got on the phone to the front reception desk. "Dustin, can you bring us some refreshments?"
A moment later, the studly receptionist appeared--an alluring lad of 30 years with shaggy brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. He stripped in front of the others, revealing a tight young body and a lightly hairy chest. His cock was a gorgeous, ripe nine inches, and Foster set about sucking it for a while. Then Foster announced: "Brady, come over here and suck Dustin off, while Jake and I take turns fucking your ass."
Brady obeyed, inhaling the younger man's bone and suckling it lovingly, while continuing to accept the firm pounding that Jake was giving his ass from behind. Like Ryan, Brady could be a real cock junkie at a moment's notice, a true sex glutton, and for some reason he wanted to prove this ability to these men he'd just met. When Jake came up his ass, he abruptly shifted his upturned butt around to where Foster stood, the whole while keeping Dustin's cock in his mouth. He hummed happily through his blowjob delivery while taking Foster's cock, and soon after that Foster's load, up into his hole.
Then, for good measure, Brady stood up, pushed hunky Dustin into a nearby chair, and hopped on the boy's thick nine inches to take one more quick load before their meeting was officially adjourned. As he did so, he held his dress shirt up with one hand and used the other to beat his cock, while tipping his handsome face backward in ecstasy at the spontaneous bouncing fuck he was enjoying on Dustin's prick. Jake and Foster both leaned back against the conference table and jerked off, timing their second loads to spray Brady's sexy exposed chest just as Brady unloaded onto himself, and Dustin sprayed a big cumwad high up into Brady's hungry asshole. Two hot men in suits, and two studly young pups, all getting off together.
As all of them were coming back down to earth, Brady thought of one last question. "I hate to ask this, but since I'm in the business, I think I've got to. Other than possibly not losing my job, what's in this for me?"
"Oh, you'll lose your job, alright," Jake said, his eyes twinkling as he tucked in his shirt. "You'll resign."
"Huh?"
"We like your moves," Foster said, leering playfully at Brady's sexy body. "All of them. Including the way you've managed Ryan. So we're ready to double your salary. We want you to come and work for us."
Brady was about to express his surprise when Dustin took a step toward him and gently grabbed his arm.
"I gotta get back up front," Dustin said. "But when you see Ryan, tell him thanks. From Dustin." The lad seemed to blush a bit as he said this. "And maybe I'll be seeing him again real soon."
"You know Ryan?" Brady asked.
"You could say that. We met about, uh, thirteen years ago know, when I was living on the street. Hustling." Dustin licked his lips, obviously fond of the memory. "He let me fuck him. It was his first time."
"You...what? You were his first?" Brady was aghast. It never occurred to him there WAS a first. This was like discovering "patient zero" of the Ryan sex life phenomenon, the celebrity sex equivalent to the dead sea scrolls.
"Yep, you got it. This--" Dustin patted his package, now safely tucked back inside his work pants "--was the first one ever to go inside his hot, famous ass. The nine inches that started it all."
As Jake showed Brady back to the door, he handed his new recruit a piece of paper. Listed on it were three dozen or so names, male and female. All were A-list Hollywood celebrities of every stripe.
"These are some of the clients we represent," Jake explained.
"Women too?"
"Oh yes. Both genders, all...proclivities." Jake dropped his voice slightly. "I personally oversee most of the gay clients and their managers. Mr. Foster and his ravishing wife are both, ah, voraciously bisexual, so between them both we manage to land a lot of business, across the spectrum. And there are many others you'll meet, as well."
Brady noticed that one name on the alphabetized list was circled. An entry in the E's. "What's this mean?"
Holding the door now for Brady to exit the building, Jake told him: "That's the name of the person who's eager to give Brady his next role."
Once again, Brady was wide-eyed. In a day of shocking news, this was the most shocking--and the best.
"No shit?"
"No shit. All you need to do is resign from Cosgrove, and sign the paperwork to join us over here."
They shook hands, and as Brady headed toward his car, he heard Jake call after him:
"Oh, and don't worry about that trouble you were having with the photographer. Once we've got our new client, that won't be an issue any more!"
Brady stopped in his tracks, thinking about the implications of this. It unnerved him a little. He turned back to ask Jake to explain himself, but his new boss-to-be had already disappeared again inside the building.
Creepy? A little. Intriguing? You bet. And the money sounded fantastic.
Brady got back in his car, taking one last look at the building. Much had happened in the past hour, and he didn't mean just the three fresh, amazing loads of cum that had been expertly deposited into his rear end.
Pulling out of the parking lot, he pointed his car to the freeway, and headed north back to his office, toward Hollywood and Ryan, toward home. He was a new man. He'd trusted his instincts these past few years, and now it got him exactly where he wanted to be. See, good people really could make it in this town.
His phone had eight message waiting from various clients, but he shut it off. He had a resignation letter to write. But first, he had to stop by Ryan's house and let him know the good news.
"See, man? I told you not to worry," Ryan said, after Brady described the meeting. "And, now that Chad's all moved in, I've got one other thing to tell you. Justin called. Cameron threw him out over the week-end. So we want to put him up here, because with that huge dick he's got he can fuck any of us whenever he wants. He'll even pay rent, but the thing is, if we're all living together and pooling our expenses, I think I should sell this place and look for a bigger house."
"Sounds good to me," Brady said. "Wait until the cashflow gets better, but I don't see why not."
They were chatting in Ryan's kitchen for some privacy, but Brady had interrupted his client in mid-fuck, and Ryan was itching to get back to the bedroom. "Now, let me get my naked ass back in there. I'm getting some really good fucking today. My pussy is stretched to the maximum!"
"Yeah? Who's here?"
"Well in my room, right now, it's Jesse Bradford, Paul Walker, and some cute, megahung kid I never heard of named Jamie Bell. They're going on about some movie we might all do together, but they won't tell me what it is. I hope I get it, 'cos I'd love having access to these beautiful dicks for a few months at a time!"
Brady thought back to the name that was circled on the list, and smiled. His new bosses were already a step ahead of him, sweetening the deal.
Ryan started down the hall, but called behind him: "The real news is in the maid's room, though. Chad moved in upstairs yesterday, and he brought the world's best toy with him. Check it out!"
The maid's room was empty of people, but Brady took one look at the giant contraption parked there and let out a laugh. So this was what a fuck machine looked like, he thought. He had believed it was just a myth.
"Here, I'll show you how to use it," offered a friendly voice behind him. Brady turned to see Bryce, Ryan's techie player, a sturdy hairy boy, fully clothed at the moment with a socket wrench in one hand. "Just let me finish setting up the monitor."
Ryan had indeed hired Bryce to add not one but two additional closed-circuit monitors in the house: one in the maid's room, and one in Chad's new digs upstairs. Each one now showed a split screen, Brady Bunch-style, where the four quadrants each displayed the activity in the four sex playrooms throughout the house.
He stripped and got on the bed. The machine was currently in a low position, just right for a missionary fucking. Bryce finished hooking up the monitor, then approach Brady, showing him the stirrups where he could rest his legs, then positioning the giant rubber cock to press directly into Brady's cum-lubed hole.
When all was ready, Bryce fired up the machine. With the first push in, Brady gasped. Even with all the cum that he had in him from the meeting with Jake, Foster, and Dustin, the fifteen-inch dildo intrusion was a bit of a surprise. But, after a half-dozen slow strokes, it felt pretty wonderful, and he smiled over at Bryce, who then turned the speed up to mid-throttle and left the remote control in Brady's hand.
At the doorway, a familiar face appeared. It was Nick, smiling at Brady's enjoyment of the new toy.
"Feels pretty fuckin' good, don't it?" he laughed. "I figure it's good having this down here as a safeguard. Any time one of us is hungry for it, and we can't get any dick off our guests or off each other, then we just come in here and let the Top Machine do the fucking for us."
"Top Machine," Brady laughed, still breathless from the hard fucking the machine was giving him.
"Hey Bryce," Nick added. "Ryan says to tell you we need two more monitors again. He wants one in the playpen over the garage, and another one in the bedroom next to Chad's where Justin's going to be staying."
Both studs left then, and Brady was alone with the machine, loving the feeling of getting stuffed repeatedly by the giant pistoning dildo-arm. After a few minutes, he heard a beep and a whir, and then a burst of warm sticky liquid was fired into his ass. The thrill of sensing this surprise, and not knowing whose load it was (probably, he learned later, one of several cash-strapped UCLA boys with whom Chad had regular contact) made Brady close to cumming himself. But he held off for now--he wanted to simply enjoy the sensation.
On the monitor next to the bed, he casually watched the other action around the house. In Nick's room, the singer hunk was getting on his knees on the bed to take Bryce the techie's oversized dick. Chad, lying on his back, had his hands full with what seemed to be a 90210 reunion: Jason Priestley, Ian Ziering, and Brian Austin Greene were busily taking turns hunched between the newest roommate's sexy legs and front-loading his cute, insatiable ass with their pretty-boy cream. And Ryan, getting fucked by his future costars, had one cock in his mouth and another up his ass, but the angle was too close to see whose was which.
Then he saw Ryan smiling over at him, the cock he was sucking temporarily displaced from his bee-stung lips to his jerking hand. That was when Brady realized he had a camera pointed on himself as well, and each of these studs could also, if they chose, be watching him. Now self-aware, Brady playfully started acting like a porn star, writhing on the skinny bed, taking the machine's fuck as if it were a voracious lover.
Looking back he saw Ryan laughing, then blowing him a kiss and resuming his cocksucking bottom duties.
Life wasn't so bad. He was pretty sure his career had taken up a whole new trajectory today. He'd soon have enough money in the bank to trade his condo for a decent house, lease a new car, and who knows, maybe take some vacation time and travel for a little while. He didn't have a boyfriend any more, and after the ordeal with Aaron the pilot, he really didn't want one anytime soon. Besides, it's not like he was lonely. Not any more. In Ryan's house, in Ryan's life, he was never truly alone, not even when he was all by himself getting fucked by an absurdly kinky machine. He loved his friendships, and life was looking up.
OK, he told himself. I'll let this thing cum in me one more time, and then I've gotta get back to the office.
THE END
Thanks to all who patiently awaited this long-overdue wrap-up of my fans' all-time favorite series.
Comments? Questions? Feedback and suggestions? backlash29@hotmail.com
Check out my other stories under Backlash29 in the Authors section. Recent gay stories/series include "Jesse's Load Party," "Chronicles of Roddick," "Slutty Matt," "Road Trip Slut," and "Girlfriend's Bitch Boy." If you want the full list of stories and links, write to me and let me know.