OK, guys, you know the drill: This is a story containing sexual acts between consenting males.If you are underage, or if this sort of material is in any way illegal where you live, then turn back now! This story is, in its entirety, a work of FICTION. While the characters do exist, this FICTICIOUS work is in no way meant to imply anything about the actual sexual orientation of the characters. All members of Hanson and those people in their immediate universe and any mentioned celebrity for that matter are, unless we are told otherwise, real-life heterosexuals. Sorry, guys! :) Also, words in this story that could be considered derogatory are said in the heat of passion. Take them for what they're worth: nothing at all. Enjoy the story!
Zac Hanson, Boy Slut - Part 2 -
Give a Little, Take a Little
The delicious grunts of a sexually deprived black man finally receiving release rang out from behind the locked door of his tiny office on Wilshire Boulevard. Here he was, 28 years old, at his physical peak, reduced to being a doorman/valet in this ritzy but unfriendly apartment complex. All day long he catered to the whims of the building's tenants, some of whom were the hottest pieces of man-ass the Pacific time zone had to offer, others not as hot, but movie stars nonetheless and therefore equally fuckable. None of them, however, stepped out of their pampered routines long enough to ask this servant hunk about the weather, let alone how hard it would be to fit his gargantuan chocolate love wand up their Hollywood holes. And so, whenever the odd moment arose when there wasn't a car to park, guest to grant access to, or limo to arrange, Ty the doorman would sit back in his sealed cubicle, woefully whip it out of his fly, and sigh at the thought that the hotties on the floors above would never taste the sweet African seed that now oozed over his strong, flailing hand.
But that was certainly NOT how things had gone down on this particular morning in La-La Land. A limo pulled up to the building's doors shortly before 11 a.m., a limo both unexpected and unfamiliar to Ty, who rushed to rezip his freshly-opened fly, exit his office and step into the corridor to cordially but warily greet whomever might step out of the vehicle.
Fifteen minutes and one utterly shocking verbal agreement later, here was Ty, standing against his desk, slacks down around his ankles, dark dreadlocks swaying from his pleasure-filled head, enjoying his first celebrity suck job. Only thing was, this wasn't one of his often-fantasized about tenants doing the sucking. This was even better. Ty was serving up nine inches of fat, juicy Negro dick down the throat of a corn-fed pubescent twink whore from Tulsa by way of the Billboard charts.
In the prior three monumental weeks of Zac Hanson's life, he'd fucked, been fucked, or just plain got his rocks off with his horndog brother Taylor appproximately 57 1/2 times (one bathroom slam session was tragically cut short by the inquisitive knock of their brother Ike). Now, with his band in L.A. for a promotional gig and Tay gone for the day to the headquarters of an entertainment website for an in-depth interview, Zac saw his window of opportunity. He commanded the band's limo to the Wilshire complex, giving the driver a steamy eyeful as he changed clothes en route to something fetching and downright asking for trouble: blue-jean overalls with absolutely nothing on underneath them. Don't misunderstand Zac's motives: he could go on tasting no one but Taylor's yummy meat for the rest of his life and die a satisfied little nympho. This city, though, and this BUILDING, he had recently discovered, housed the object of his wickedest fantasies and nastiest desires. Zac knew he was hot enough to have his dream stud now. He was also fully aware that he'd have to offer himself up to SOMEONE in order to gain access to his idol's inner sanctum. He knew the person would be much older than him, perhaps ugly enough to break a mirror, and, though it was a longshot, could be one of that rare breed of men, a pure heterosexual, who would totally resist his advances and discuss Zac's sexuality for lucrative tabloid bucks. Zac COULD buy his way out of this dilemma with some of his own bountiful cash, but most of it was tied up in trust funds and there'd be too many questions in his immediate future if a large sum disappeared from the Hanson camp. Besides, for some reason the thought of being a stranger's fucktoy in order to get to the real prize excited Zac, and he forged ahead with his plan.
Upon stepping out of his limo and eyeing Ty, Zac knew he'd be in for a thoroughly pleasurable afternoon. He explained to Ty that he was a good friend of this resident. Ty responded that the resident was not at home. He had seen him leave for the gym an hour ago. Couldn't the kind doorman let Zac wait in his buddy's apartment? Pretty please? Ty wisely refused, dumbstruck by the in-person beauty of this musician kid he'd seen so often on TV, but still smart enough to play his cards right. He was the one with the power in this building. This young hunk may have it all: flowing blond hair (ponytailed today), full teasing lips, a toned, tan and twitching upper body, and, my god, a more-than-respectable bulge down below, but Ty knew that on this day, he held the key to Zac's desired destination. He played hard-to-get, not knowing that Zac was kind of glad that he did. Zac proceeded to ask if the stance might change if Ty could park his big black bronco down his tight white throat, and moments later, that's exactly where it was, engine pistoning, oil leaking, and completely unwilling to shift into reverse.
"Mmmm, yeah Hanson," Ty uttered as he felt inch after inch of his prick slide between Zac's wet lips. "You suckin' me good, boy. You gonna swallow alla my jizz, motha fucka. Suck me dry and maybe Ty'll give you dat key so you can fuck that prick's brains out too."
"That's MISTER Hanson to you," Zac snapped, coming up for some clean air to mix with the strong taste of exotic cock. He took a tight hold at the base of Ty's flaring shaft and spat at the rock hard cockhead, all the while giving Ty a stare so angry and kinky, he almost busted his nut without feeling a single lick.
"Hey Mandingo," Zac taunted, "what's up with that bullshit about black guys having horse dicks? Christ, my brother's whiter than White Out and half of America thinks he's a girl, but he puts this little sissy dick of yours to shame. When he fucks my mouth, he owns my mouth. Now THAT's a cock. This thing you've got couldn't rock the vote, never mind me!"
If there was fly on the office wall, it probably thought that kid down there on his knees was nuts for provoking the muscle-bound doorman. For all Zac knew, Ty could be the kind of person who did not enjoy the give and take of dirty talk, so much so that he suffocates those who attempt it with his massive manstick. Ty knew his cock was big enough to do just that, and Zac did too, but thankfully the black hunk was into the teen's love of raunchy sex, and decided to seek revenge orgasmically rather than violently.
"You fuck your brother, huh?"
"All the time, bitch! In fact, his load is still up my ass from this morning! But that was breakfast. I'm hungry for a really creamy lunch."
"So you want me to take control, right?" Ty asked as he slapped his dripping prick onto Zac's moist chin. "Want me to ROCK you, huh? Fuckin' honky slut. Once you swallow black, you ain't never gonna go back!"
"Well then, you show me!" Zac urged, slipping off the straps of his overalls to let Ty feast his hungry eyes on the drummer's nubile young bod and jutting bubble butt. "You show me how they'd fuck my face in South Central. Own my mouth, baby."
"I will own it babe. Ummmmmm, fuck yeah!" Ty felt so relieved having his prick back down Zac's throat. The first few minutes of sucking had been incredible, and as much as he liked looking down on the sweaty boy as he uttered phrase after nasty phrase, he preferred the feel of Zac's tireless lips on his raging boner. Now he could see every movement of Zac's nude body, each muscle thrusting in and out, all attached to the pretty face that was stuck like glue to the thick slab of dark candy.
Zac loved to give sloppy blowjobs. Ty's tasty cock was making his mouth water far more than Tay's comparitively ordinary dick did. Zac loved going all the way down on the tool, feeling the tip slide past his tonsils, tasting the essence of this black god, before winking at Ty and pulling off him quickly, leaving a trail of saliva behind that made Ty's cock glisten in the darkened room and tempted Zac to taste it all over again.
"You little blond ho," Ty shouted to praise his sucker. "How does it feel, little boy? HUH? Tell me! I make five dollars an hour. You make five dollars a minute. How does it feel to have a real man plowin' your rich pansy face? TELL ME!"
"Mmmmmmmm, you black bastard! It tastes so good. Feels....so.... fuckin....good! Ummmmmgh!" Zac loved to talk almost as much as sex itself, but he loved this cock. He knew he had Ty so close to the edge. He needed to swallow some tangy ebony seed ASAP. He let Ty take a tight hold of both sides of his sweaty face and started focusing his suck action on the big cockhead, left hand jacking off the rest of Ty's big shaft, right hand fisting away on his own overheated dick. At that moment, hand and mouth on an unknown black hunk's cock, coaxing it into feeding him all the spunk it had, Zac realized that he would stop at nothing to get total satisfaction. He was nothing but a spoiled little blond boy turned dirty sleazy cockslut and he loved it. The thought made him moan happily and squeeze Ty's big balls, needing that seed, wanting the force of Ty's pleasure to blow his head off. Screw music. He wanted to fuck for a living.
This was way too intense for Ty. He couldn't believe that a little kid was controlling him like this, and so he held Zac's head firmly in place and switched the action from sucking to thrusting. He jammed it further and further into the music boy's mouth with each slam, making the desk he leaned against creak. Zac was thrilled by Ty's rough pumping. Whenever he'd feel the oozing head of Ty's prick slam against the inside of his cheek, he'd reach around and take hold of Ty's firm asscheeks, desperately trying to get the cock on track for deep throat action.
"This hard enough for ya, Zacky? Fuckin' hot drummer ho'!."
"Mmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm!! More!" Zac gurgled, not letting the slightest bit of cock slip out.
"Oh shit, baby," Ty screamed, "I can't give ya more! I'm 'bout to nut!"
"Oooooooo, shoot it in my mouth" Zac pleaded, pulling his mouth off while jerking Ty hard. "Gimme that sweet sweet load."
"No, don't think so," Ty said, feeling the waves of climax commence. "I'm gonna paint yo' face, cocksucker! Make it look as white as your brother's! You can eat it all up after I'm through."
"Go head and do it, then," Zac cooed. "Spray me with that hot blackboy cream. Make me your bitch. Shoot it. C'mon!"
"Oh you my bitch, boy!" Ty's knees buckled as Zac jerked him into heaven. "Take this, Hanson! UHH! FUCK!"
Zac had aimed Ty's pulsing stick right at his own eye level in order to get the ultimate sensory experience of his life thus far: a hot lily white rope of jizz launching from a midnight black cock right into his eye. Zac moaned as he felt the gooey warmth that covered half of his view slowly start to ooze down his cheek. He pointed Ty's spazming prick to each point on his face that he wanted cum, and he was rewarded with a healthy dose at each stop: both cheeks, the bridge of his nose, between his nostrils to savor the aroma, his glistening chin, and finally right smack dab on his full pink lips. Zac's face, that pretty mug that adorned so many teen mags over the years, was now absolutely drenched in Negro spunk, and all the kid could do was smile and moan out his contentedness. He had shot his own load at almost the same time as Ty did, his shorter but thicker cock hurling several volleys of boycum onto Ty's desk drawers and shoes. He ran Ty's softening spear over his lips a few times, smearing cum in every direction, so that when he whipped his tongue around from corner to corner to devour the mess, the taste sensation of the hunk's baby batter never diminished.
"Mmmmmmm, god," Zac chuckled, strands of cum stringing across his mouth as he attempted to talk. "Now I know the jungle your ancestors came from must've been a rainforest." Ty felt a fleeting objection to Zac's kinky remark, and so he slapped the teen as hard as he could across the nose with his sperm-covered dick, but it simply made Zac sneeze, any deposited cum in the area slithering down to his upper lip, where Zac waited to lick it up, moaning again from the unexpected sensation.
Ty could do nothing from that point on but smile at the twist of fate that put this teenage vacuum cleaner in the path of his dong. He used his fingers to help Zac slurp up every drop of cum that plastered his face, and watched in awe as the perpetually horny teen bent over to lick his own wad off the man's shoe. After offering a few more profane praises to Zac, Ty regretfully knew it was time to pull up his pants and follow through on his part of the bargain.
He found his master key to the building's apartments in his desk drawer. Ty was unsure why the details of his job required him to possess one. After all, he wasn't the landlord or maintenance man. He guessed it had to do with celebrities and affluent folks in general being both impatient and naive. If they're impatient enough for something they left behind, they'll appreciate the fact that they can call the building's front desk so the doorman could, if needed, retrieve the item and deliver it to the absent resident however fast as he could. They're also naive enough to believe that that would be the ONLY instance a worker on bare-bones wages would think to enter a stranger's well-furnished apartment. Up until this moment, their trust had been honored by Ty, but Zac wanted that key, and he had given Ty the hottest afternoon of his life to get at it. Ty knew that if Zac gave the same kind of attention to the apartment's owner, only more so, there wouldn't be any complaints being launched his way in the near future. Zac wiped away any sweat that Ty's tongue didn't lick up during a sloppy kiss and momentary necking as he got to his feet, matted down his hair, straightened his ponytail, pulled up his overalls and emerged from the office to follow Ty to the complex's elevator.
The pair got off on the third floor, Ty turning left down a long corridor of apartments, walls painted in an overbearing neon green and pink pattern. They walked casually, perhaps unable to speed up if they had to, being that every muscle in their bodies relaxed from the explosive release of sexual tension. The thought of where he was being led, however, stirred Zac's "second shift" of desire within an instant.
"Here it is," Ty said as he turned to a door on the right, forest green with "313" in gold lettering. The doors on either side were certainly more spaced out than the doors earlier in the hallway were. Zac logically concluded that his target stud had purchased the largest digs on the floor. Ty took one more quick glance up and down the corridor to verify that it was empty and unlocked the door with a quick turn of the key. He placed the key in his pants pocket, tipped his gold-brimmed doorman's cap to Zac's grinning face, and began to walk back to the elevator. Mission accomplished. But just before he vanished from Zac's life forever, Ty brought his left hand down to take a grasp of Zac's cock through his overalls.
"If he doesn't give this the satisfaction it deserves," he whispered in the boy's ear, "my door and both of my holes are always wide open to any deposit you might have." Zac's cock jumped at the undeniably hot thought of humping Ty's sculpted ass, but he kept his focus on the mind-blowing sex that was surely waiting behind door number 313.
"Get outta here, you welfare case," he whispered in reply, another wicked grin escaping from his lips. Ty smiled in wonder, shook his head, and started his long walk back to reality. Only 14, he thought, and already a world-class heartbreaker.
"Ring if you need anything, Mr. Hanson," he called back in farewell.
"Whatever," Zac muttered as he grabbed hold of the doorknob. He took a deep breath. No going back now, he thought, and so why not go forward with speed? He opened the door with a forceful swing and was greeted by a light blue doorway area. A marble-tiled bathroom was off to Zac's immediate left, glass-encased shower and hot tub present as expected. Off to his right, a den, curiously painted a deep yellow and furnished with black leather chairs and couch. The couch had three white pillows and was placed directly in front of a gigantic TV, not quite as big as the one in Zac's family room in Tulsa, but big enough. Oddly, the pattern struck Zac as a sort of room-sized ABC logo.
Locking the door behind him and walking past the bathroom, Zac encountered many photos adorning the wall, cast pictures from a sitcom he knew all too well and some god-awful movies he wished he didn't know at all. A small nook of gym equipment lay past the den - exercise bike and rowing machine - but Zac presumed the guy liked the more complete workout and social atmosphere of a health club. Finally the hallway deposited Zac to the left, ceased to exist, and introduced the bedroom. It was simple: beige wallpaper, oak dresser and nightstand, small TV, and a comfy white chair. Zac guessed his prey REALLY enjoyed the hotel look.
However, the bed was decidedly not available your typical Holiday Inn: a waterbed, king-sized. Sky blue spread, jet black sheets and pillows, like Zac's, only larger and with a chance of high tide besides the occasional wet dream. It made Zac long for his own place and drool over the fantasy of sharing this bed with it's usual occupant.
What will he look like buck naked? How aggressive will he be when we fuck? These were the thoughts swirling through the mind of Zac Hanson as he sprawled out on his fellow celebrity's bed and waited to seduce a total stranger for the second time in one day. Only difference is, Zac had been with this guy so many times in the intense fantasies of his animalistic jack off sessions that he felt he'd done this dozens of times before. He looked perfect, he felt perfect, and he knew there was no conceivable situation in which his soon-to-be-lover would appear any differently. He lay there, cock hard and begging to be jerked, but remaining untouched in a rigid outline underneath the overalls. He hadn't even taken off his shoes. Zac simply wanted to be a flawless surprise whenever "he" got there. And so he lay, eyes locked on the hallway with the same lustful focus they had as Taylor opened the door to Zac's carnival of whoopee weeks earlier. Minutes passed, then an hour, nearly two, and finally, the turn of a key and the opening of a door. Zac allowed himself a triumphant smirk.
JTT was home.