Copyright 2007 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Please note: while this story does not graphically depict any sex, it does mention oral and anal sex between male adults which is witnessed by a minor. If this offends you or is illegal to publish in your jurisdiction, or you are under the age of 18, read no further.
The characters, locations and incidents in this story are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
THE TAGALONG BROTHER
I was driving down Hollywood Boulevard heading for my five o clock client. My brother Huey was sitting shotgun. After losing my favorite radio station in favor of his own, he turned his attention to my mail which I had picked up just prior to picking him up. He ignored the bills and ads and tore open the plain brown envelope which he already knew would have my newest copy of Honcho inside, and flipped through the pages casually. "Hey, Marcos is in this one." He held up the naked fully erect frontal for me to confirm. Of course, his name in the mag isn't Marcos, but Huey knows a lot of the models by their real names. My friends are all his friends too.
We pulled into the hotel parking lot at 4:50. I pride myself on punctuality. My regular clients know I'm a professional and give them full service. However, this was my first appointment with this particular "Mr. Smith." I parked the car and waited a few more minutes. Huey spoke up, "I hope he booked a suite. Not like that guy last month." We both laughed, remembering how the poor john had to get himself fucked in bed while my brother was across the room staring out the window listening to his iPod. The john was so fucking nervous, he wasn't able to hold an erection. But it was his own fault; I'd told him to book a suite. He should have followed orders.
Huey threw the Honcho into the back seat where if fell open to a two-page spread of Marcos lying on a chaise, his ass toward the reader, his face looking over his shoulder with those "my-hole-wants-you" eyes. I chuckled to myself, for the pose brought me momentarily back to Art 101 at Indiana U. and the paper I wrote on Ingres's famous painting The Grand Odalisque. Huey grabbed his backpack and we got out of the car and went inside. I knew the room number so without stopping at the front desk, we got in the elevator and pushed number 4. When the doors opened, we stepped into the hall and I saw Manuela pushing the linen cart. I came up behind her and gave her a kiss.
"Oh, Señor Roy." That's how she knows me, by my stage name, Roy Madison the movie star, not Billy Winkler the guy from Delaware. "And look at Señor Huey. He's so big. Remind me again, which one is the older brother?" Huey giggled. "Señor Roy, if you want to leave Huey with me, I don't mind. Huey, you could help me clean the bathrooms. I'll split my tips with you." Huey told her the offer was tempting, yeah right, but he had homework to do.
I gave her another peck on the cheek. "You're a sweetie, Manuela. I'll make sure Mr. Smith leaves you a big tip. If he doesn't, you let me know, OK?"
We walked down to Mr. Smith's room and knocked. I positioned myself so he could see me through the little peephole. He opened the door wearing his boxers and a broad smile. But then he immediately saw Huey. "What the fuck? Who is this snot rag?"
Huey ignored him and pushed his ten-year old body past the nearly fifty and nearly naked man and threw his backpack on the couch. I poked my finger in Mr. Smith's gray hairy chest. "You are not going to call my brother a snot rag, you got that? In fact, that is the last time you will ever make mention of him, you understand?" I pushed him back and entered the suite. "Huey will stay out here while we conduct our business in the bedroom." Mr. Smith meekly nodded acquiescence. This take-charge attitude is part of Roy Madison's persona in all his movies. Not S&M, mind you, but simply an aura that shows everyone else in the scene who is the boss, who gives the orders. When someone hires me for escort work, he expects to get Roy Madison, so that is what I give him.
I followed the sorry-ass Mr. Smith into the bedroom, but before I shut the door I said to Huey, "We have some contracts to go over. I'll be done in about an hour." Of course, all three of us knew there were no contracts. This little line is something my agent dreamed up. Always thinking ahead, he wondered if someone down the road might find religion or something and decide to bring me to court on charges of corrupting the morals of a minor. This way, whoever the Mr. Smith is at the time would have to swear under oath that Huey heard I was there to discuss contracts, which was perfectly reasonable since I am a model after all. Clancy, my agent, is always coming up with tips like that. He wants to prove to me he earns his percentage. Actually, I have no complaints. I've done all right by Clancy, and I don't begrudge him his take of my movie deals and photo layouts. I even kick in a percent of my escort work, although by the terms of our deal, I don't have to. But I feel I wouldn't have the clients if it weren't for the films. And I like to keep the guy happy.
Inside the bedroom, I asked for my fee. With my regular clients, I never ask for that up front. I know they're good for it. Some of them even have accounts with a company Clancy set up, RMX Holding. That way they can pay by check or credit card, and write it off as a business expense. But this was Mr. Smith's first time with me. He went to the dresser and pulled five hundreds out of his billfold. I put them in my pocket.
Then I began to order him to undress me, one item at a time, nice and slow. When my shoes were off, I ordered him to kiss my feet. He dutifully followed every command, like he was one of the NUBs in the submarine flick I made, "Going Down." Shortly, he had forgotten all about my young brother in the next room. At least, evidenced by the way he screamed and hollered when I had my latex-covered cock up his hole: "Yes, Roy!... Fuck me, Roy!... Make me your bitch!... I want to be your slave Wilbert!" Ah, so Mr. Smith has a first name after all.
At the end of the fuck, slave Wilbert obeyed my commands to dress me again while he remained appropriately naked. Before I left the bedroom, I went over to his billfold and pulled out a fifty. I put it on the nightstand and said, "This is for the nice cleaning lady. She deserves it. Don't even think about stiffing her out of her tip, you understand?" Again he nodded meekly.
Huey and I left. When the elevator door closed, Huey looked at me and said, "Wilbert?" And we both cracked up.
.oOo.
I know, reader, you're now wondering how come Billy Winkler aka Roy Madison, model, porn star, male escort, brings his ten-year old brother along to his appointments? OK, a little background is in order, so sit back, kick your shoes off, and listen to our story.
Might as well start at the beginning. I was born 24 years ago in Delaware. Mom was 26 and Dad 31. They were doting parents. My childhood was filled with love and affection. As an only child, they spoiled me rotten, gave me lots of toys and took me everywhere. Not that they intended me to be an only child. They kept trying for another kid. I know. I heard them trying. They were discrete, but sex was never a reason to be ashamed or embarrassed in our house. They always answered my little-boy-growing-up questions honestly and directly. Even though I never witnessed them fucking, they made sure I understood what they were doing in bed when I heard those passionate noises.
Well, when I was 14, along came Huey. Mom was 40 and didn't think she'd ever have another kid. Huey was an oops baby. But that doesn't mean he wasn't loved. His conception was a wonderful surprise. And after nine months of waiting and planning and buying all kinds of new baby things, Huey popped out, a big healthy boy.
Mom and Dad thought I might be jealous, so they asked me what I wanted and I said a weight bench. I wasn't jealous at all. I was just as happy with Huey as they were. Maybe if he had come along when I was 3 or 5 or 7 there might have been some sibling rivalry, but I was 14. However, I couldn't pass up the chance to get the bench. I'd been studying the ads with all their before and after pictures and at 14 I thought it would be so cool to have muscles like the guys in the "after"s. I began working out religiously to develop the abs, pecs, biceps, etc. that looked so sexy to me.
In High School, I moved with a close group of friends. The girls started taking note of my developing body, but I didn't have very many one-on-one dates. When I took Becky Schneider to the prom, my father sat me down, gave me a condom and had the "talk." But I no more wanted to have sex with her than she wanted to lose her virginity. We had a nice chaste date, going as far as drinking a few beers with our friends on the beach. By then I had already started experimenting with some of the guys, jerking each other off, even sucking, but we never admitted we were doing anything gay.
All the while, with fond amazement I watched my little brother growing up. I played with him and we became best buddies. He idolized me. As a toddler, he'd come down into the basement to watch me on the weight bench. He told me I "stinked" but he always stayed and watched anyway. He learned his numbers by counting my reps for me. He even learned to count backwards. After my final set, we always went through the following litany:
Me: "I think I need a shower." Him: "You sure do." Me: "You want to take it with me?" Him: "Yippee!"
Then we'd get in the shower together and lather up and scrub. I'd wash him head to toe, and then he'd wash me navel to toe. I taught him how to wash my cock, getting inside the foreskin. I taught him how to wash my asshole, covering his tiny finger with the washcloth and poking it inside. Then we'd rinse and dry each other off. As he rubbed the terrycloth on my adolescent cock, I often sprang wood which fascinated him.
On stormy nights, or if he had a nightmare, he'd come and sleep in my bed. I'd begun sleeping nude, so when he joined me, he'd take off his pj's also and then nestle his sweet little body inside mine.
When Mom and Dad went out, I baby-sat of course. I didn't mind. Huey was great fun. Sometimes, we'd take off all our clothes and wrestle naked. He loved seeing my naked body. He would poke at each of my muscles and together we'd name them: ab, lat, glute, etc. And at the end he always poked my cock and we'd both say "cock!" and then start laughing.
Mom had one worry that she shared with me. She had this thing about getting old. She made me promise that if anything ever happened to her and Dad, I would take care of Huey. It was a stupid request, I thought. I never considered my parents old. And I certainly didn't need any encouragement to take care of my own brother. But I did promise her. Every few months, she'd remind me of my promise.
Huey was only 3 when I went away to Indiana University. I missed my folks, but I missed Huey just as much. Whenever I came home for a holiday, he'd be the first one running out to door to greet me. I'd grab him and lift him up on my shoulders and run around the yard with him screaming in my ear. At night, I'd read him his bedtime story and tuck him in before spending some quality time with my parents. Then when I went to bed, I'd go in and lay down beside him (he'd graduated to a twin by then). He'd stir a little, smile at me, wriggle out of his pj's and we'd huddle together and fall asleep to the sounds of lovemaking coming from our parents' room. I know, it sounds weird for a college kid to be going to bed with a preschooler, but it made us both feel good.
Mom and Dad weren't wealthy and college was expensive, so to help make ends meet my freshman year, I took odd jobs, washing dishes in a frat house, and working at a car wash. A couple times, I posed for the art students wearing just a jockstrap. Somehow, it didn't feel strange at all posing in front of a room of students staring at my naked muscles. And for a few bucks, it beat hanging over a hot dishwasher. In the middle of that first year, I finally admitted to myself I was indeed gay and began acting on it with a couple dorm mates. I even hustled a few times at a truck stop on the highway, even though I knew it was risky.
When I turned 18 in April that year, I answered an ad looking for gay porn models. That summer, my first layout appeared in Freshmen. That's when I was dubbed Roy Madison. I decided to come out to my parents and they supported my sexuality, and even my decision to model, but they insisted I finish college. I decided to major in Accounting, with a minor in Sociology, figuring if the modeling didn't work out, I'd have a few other career choices. My folks also asked me to send them copies of any magazine I was in.
After Freshmen, the offers came quickly. I could have accepted more than I did but I didn't want my work to interfere with my education. I'd promised my folks, but I was beginning to wonder if I could balance both school and a career in modeling. That's when Clancy came into my life. We exchanged a few eMails and then he flew from LA to Bloomington to spend an afternoon with me. We hit it off immediately. I liked his easy-going manner. We signed a contract and he became my agent. Life was a hell of a lot simpler then. Clancy knew my class schedule and knew how important my home visits were, so he scheduled my photo shoots so they wouldn't interfere with either. He took care of all the details. He'd give me a call, and I'd head to the airport where my ticket to LA or wherever would be waiting, have my photo shoot, and fly back in time for my next class. I only had to bring my toothbrush and cock. He handled all the other details. Later, a good-sized check would arrive. He managed to negotiate a much more generous price for Roy Madison's naked dick than I could have done on my own. There was even a stipulation in each contract that on publication, one copy of the magazine would be sent to Mr. and Mrs. Winkler in Delaware, and ten copies sent to me to share with my growing circle of gay friends. Clancy was worth every penny of his percentage.
My friends were always amused by the way these skinmags depicted Roy Madison. In both picture and text, he was portrayed as a tough no-nonsense take-no-prisoners hombre. None of the photos showed my smile.
In the summer before my junior year, Clancy thought I was ready for my film debut. I flew out to LA for a few weeks and made Semper Temper, about a marine with an attitude. The film was released the following February. The biker bar my college friends and I frequented agreed to hold a premiere night. The place was jammed. After the film, everyone in the crowd wanted a copy. Fortunately, Clancy had foreseen this and got me several cases wholesale which I sold at the bar for full price, and that included my autograph. Of course, Clancy made sure the Winklers got a copy. I knew my parents often watched straight porn in bed. When they got my film, Dad eMailed me that the sex was very believable. Well, Duh, Dad, of course it was. It was real! But I let him believe his son was a great actor. Mom wrote to say all those big cocks in the film really turned her on. Shit, she was on her way towards fifty and still as horny as a teenager.
In May, Clancy called to say he'd been contacted by a racing fan who had rented a suite at the Indy 500 which meant he had a fat bankroll. Mr. Fatcat wanted to hire Roy Madison for the weekend to be his escort. Clancy strongly urged me to accept. My fee would be well into the four figures, plus all expenses. It was my first escort gig. A limo picked me up at college and drove me to a hotel near the track where I met Mr. Fatcat. He was in his forties, smartly dressed, and very amiable. We got acquainted over lunch in a top restaurant, and then went back to his room to get more intimately acquainted. After a shower, we got dressed (he had rented a tux for me) and went out to make appearances at the Last Row Party and three or four other pre-race events. Some of his close buddies recognized the Semper Temper, but to most of his colleagues I was just a pretty face. I managed to hold my own in conversation without upstaging my patron. In bed that night, Mr. Fatcat showed me how pleased he was. On race day, we were there for the "Gentlemen, Start Your Engines" and watched a few laps, but nobody just stares and watches the whole thing. We fooled around a bit in the suite. He had some buddies drop by for drinks and I entertained them with my dancing talents. He had meals delivered (believe me, this was not like the pizza man delivering to our dorm on campus; these were full course affairs with china and linen.) At the end of the weekend, I had fucked Mr. Fatcat at least eight times, and he assured me he had truly enjoyed himself. When I got in the limo for my ride back to campus, I found a large bonus in my envelope. I called to tell Clancy I was willing to do more escort work.
I made plans to move to LA when college was over, and give my career my full attention while my body was still a saleable product. In the summer before my last year I made Going Down. I smiled to myself, OK, that takes care of two branches of the armed forces. Mom and Dad were just as enthused about it as Semper Temper, but perhaps they were not the most unbiased critics.
Mom, Dad, and seven-year old Huey were all on hand to see me get my degree. I went home for June, and after Independence Day, began packing for LA. Clancy had found me an apartment that I could afford, and was lining up plenty of work for me: photo shoots, a third movie deal to start filming in September, some dance appearances, and some escort work with only the best (read well-heeled) men. It was tough leaving home this time. Huey was in tears. I assured him I'd definitely be home for Thanksgiving, but that seemed so far off. Mom and Dad signed him up for summer day camp, hoping that would give him something new to think about. We were pretty quiet in the airport as we waited for my plane to board. Finally, I gave them all big kisses and went to my gate.
I called home every day and told my family all about my new digs and my new gigs. Each time, Mom told me to eat right and take care of myself. Dad told me to knock 'em dead and reminded me how proud he was. Huey always got on the phone and told me what he did in day camp. But I could tell he missed me and promised that he could visit me some time when I got settled. Then Mom would get on again and simply say, "Remember your promise."
I had only been in my new home a few weeks when I got the call from the hospital in Delaware. They asked if I were the Winklers' oldest son, then told me the news. Both my parents had been killed in an auto accident. I couldn't believe it. They spoke to me, but my mind was numb. I just slumped in my chair with the phone to my ear. As soon as I recovered, I immediately asked about Huey. They said he was in day camp at the time. Thank God.
Clancy helped me get a flight back to Delaware, and took care of postponing my bookings. Huey had been staying with neighbors, the Watsons, since the accident. I picked him up there and asked him if he was ready to set foot in our house. He said yeah, and together we bravely opened the door. We were both in tears. Our home was intact, but there were no parents there. We hugged each other and walked from room to room, looking at pictures, trying to remember all the fun times. We slept in Huey's bed that night, but heard no romantic noises down the hall. The next day we got ready for the funeral. The whole neighborhood gave us amazing support. They helped us with food, with funeral details, but mostly with comfort. The burial was tough, but Huey and I found strength in each other.
The next day, I sat with Huey in the back yard and told him I'd been thinking about my life. "I'm going to quit my career, and move back home here with you, Brother. I promised Mom I'd always take care of you, and that's what I plan to do. With my college degree, I should be able to find work as an accountant to support us."
Huey was silent a long time, then suddenly shouted, "No!" I didn't understand. I thought he'd like the idea of our living together in this house.
"Well, if you don't feel right staying in Mom and Dad's house, we could move to a new place. Maybe an apartment. How about that, Buddy?"
"No!"
"Don't you want to live with me, Huey?" I was crushed.
Huey jumped into my arms and hugged me. "Yeah, I do. I love you, Billy. I'd love to live with you. But you got your life out in California now. You can't give that up. Mom and Dad was real proud of you. They said your movies was super. They didn't let me see them, but they told me about them. Dad said you was working real hard out there. He don't want you to quit. I know he don't. You go ahead. You go out there. I'll be ok. I can live with the Watsons maybe. Please, Billy. I'd be so mad if I made you quit all that for me." Now we were both crying geysers. I knew that at seven, Huey was the absolute best brother in the whole world. I hugged him tight.
But I had to work things out. I'd promised Mom. And even if I hadn't I had to take care of my brother. My career was important though. It was something I knew I did well. "Well then..." Huey looked at my eyes. He knew what I was thinking, and he started to smile.
"You mean?..."
"If you want to..."
The decision was made. Huey would live with me in LA. I wasn't sure of all the ramifications, but I knew somehow we could make it work. In the next several days, I called our lawyers. I had been named Huey's custodian in my parents' wills. So the adoption papers should be no problem. I called the realtor about putting the house on the market. I called the school to see how to get Huey's records transferred. We started packing up what we wanted to keep from the house: family albums, some furniture including Huey's bed, the weight bench, special heirlooms, the skinmags and films. We left some furniture for the new owners. Everything else we sold in a big yard sale, or threw into a big dumpster. When we went through my parents' medicine chest I found a bottle of Viagra. Dad had renewed it just two days before the accident. I counted the pills. I wanted to believe that they had one last romantic intercourse before they died.
We rented a car and a U-haul and headed west, taking our time and seeing the country. Huey settled right into my apartment, and into my bed. I enrolled him in an elementary school just three blocks away. Then I called Clancy and explained my new arrangement. Clancy said he would make every effort to schedule my shoots during school hours. I didn't want to depend on baby sitters or make Huey a latchkey kid. For several months, there was no escorting, which made the finances quite tight. But I loved being able to play with Huey, take him places like Disneyland, cook for him, and shower with him just like when we were kids.
One Sunday in January, I had to do a shoot for my third film at an estate north of LA. That was the only day the location was available. I had no choice but to bring Huey along, and hoped we could find a nice room where I could park him for the day, while I did my nude sex scenes. When I arrived, I discovered there was no such room, so I told Huey to just wait in the car. After an hour or so, Huey had to pee so he got out of the car and went inside to find the bathroom. Then he saw the photographers, lighting men, makeup artists, sound technicians, all crowded in one of the huge bedrooms. He slipped in and saw his brother and another man naked on the bed. He'd seen me naked plenty of times before but this was the first time he saw another man sucking my cock. He was fascinated and stood quietly and watched, unbeknownst to any of us. There were many interruptions in the filming, as cameras and the two actors were repositioned. Then Huey watched me fuck the other guy doggy style. He heard me yell "Yeah, take my cock, you bitch!" He'd never heard me talk like that. My co-star was moaning and shouting, "Fuck me. Fuck me harder." The director called, "That's a wrap," and the men began striking the set. That's when one of the grips spotted Huey. "Who the hell are you?"
I had a long talk with Huey that night. We talked about acting, how it's like pretending. Huey asked lots of questions about what the different men in the room were doing. He was much more interested in the filming process than in the sex. The next day I had a talk with Clancy. I said whenever he scheduled any appointments for me that weren't during school hours, I would bring Huey along. Clancy didn't like the idea. He said the less he knew about it, the better. I didn't want to get him or anyone else in trouble with the law. But I knew my brother. I knew what he could handle.
So, Huey became the tagalong kid. He is ten now and accompanies me everywhere. I assure everyone I work with that I take full responsibility. On photo shoots and filmings, he is everyone's little pet. The ladies and TVs on the crew joke with him, even flirt with him. The cameramen let him look through the camera and zoom in on his brother's big cock. The grips find chores for him and drop him a few bucks. Even the directors have a soft spot in their hearts for Huey after he saved the day last summer when he was nine. We were filming a sex scene on the beach early one morning when no one was around. My co-star Rod and I were getting into some heavy pounding, when one of the sound technicians came back from his car and told the director some cops had just pulled into the parking lot. We stopped filming and Rod and I slipped our shorts on over our raging hardons, sat down on the beach and tried to look relaxed as the men in blue came walking over. When they got within earshot, Huey in his T and jeans came over and sat in front of Rod. As he poked his toes in the sand, he said in a clear stage voice, "I wish Mom wasn't in Europe." I looked at him strange and then realized he was acting. I picked up on the cue.
Me: "Well, Kyle, you know she'll come home as soon as she sells the villa." It was stupid, I know, but the first thing that came into my head. Huey (as Kyle): "Yeah, but she's gonna miss my birthday again." At this he started some credible crying.
The cameras were rolling, and the grips were gesturing to the cops to be quiet on the set. Then the director yelled, "Cut!... Gentlemen, is there something we can do for you?" He explained we were filming a scene for an upcoming Hallmark Hall of Fame drama.
Kyle wiped his eyes, grabbed the box of doughnuts from the crew's snack table, bit into one himself, and offered them to the cops with a cheery "Hi there." The presence of an appealing young actor convinced the officers our project was indeed legitimate and they left. Everyone congratulated Huey on his quick wits.
At my dance appearances, Huey's presence is a little trickier. He can't be seen in the bar so he waits either offstage in the wings or in the manager's office which usually has a window with a clear view. As long as the office lights are turned off no one knows he's there. Huey watches me strip and gyrate as the men stuff money in my socks. Afterwards he counts my take and critiques my performance. He tells me which moves get them most excited.
But when I do escort work, I don't want Huey watching. That's one area where I don't need his help or advice. It spooks the clients, and if they weren't spooked by a ten-year old boy watching them get fucked I'd worry that they were pedo pervs. So every client is told to book a suite. My regular johns are used to having my brother in the next room, while we go over our "contracts."
When I'm not working, I love spending my free time with Huey. There's a playground by his school where we play basketball, and I'm teaching him handball. We go to the shore and play beach volleyball. There's a clothing optional beach we often hit. We go to movies, amusement parks and zoos. At home, I'm teaching him to cook. Of course, he always beats me in his video games. And already the kid is giving me a run for my money on the air-hockey table and foosball I bought.
When my friends invite me to parties, they invite Huey also. They stock plenty of soft drinks for him. He sits and jokes and plays games with them. And when the action starts, he strips down with all the other guys and walks around handing out condoms. When the party is at our house, he greets our guests at the door in his birthday suit and makes sure they have plenty of beer and snacks. But no drugs! My friends know Huey can witness all the sex he wants but I don't want him seeing any drug use.
On most evenings though, we just sit around, watching TV or one of my movies. We relax and jerk off together. He's learned a lot of new ways to masturbate. And last month he asked if I could teach him to fellate. He's the best brother a guy could have. And he says the same about me.
.oOo.
If you want to tell me how you liked this story, or if you would like a list of my other stories, please write to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.