American Hunks

by Adam Carpenter

  Freddie eased in next to his sexy lover, stroking the dark fur of the man’s thick chest.

  “You put on cologne,” he said, sniffing his neck.

  “Just a splash. I felt dirty.”

  “From what we did?”

  He shook his head. “Never from that. No, from the day.”

  “Are you going to talk to me about it?”

  “Hollywood, I continue to wonder if it’s really for me. I turned my back on it as a child actor, but now it has me in its clutches again”

  Santo Mancusi had been the breakout star of a sitcom years ago. He knew from fame, and he remembered what he didn’t enjoy about it.

  “Tell me your concerns,” Freddie said, even though he knew some of them.

  “Soon, let us just lie here, enjoy our warmth.”

  Freddie was happy to do just that, and he snuggled in closer, resting his cheek against Santo’s chest, the dense hair like a soft pillow. He could feel his heart beat beneath. Hell, he could sense his own beating heart, that’s how much he loved this man. It was these precious moments when it was just the two of them when he knew they were perfect for each other. It wasn’t just sex after all, despite his earlier fears. There was a connection here that stretched down to their souls, one found over a year ago on the streets of Rome.

  His mind drifted back. They’d been introduced by their mutual friend, Patsy Abbott. They had been sitting at an outdoor hotel bar along the Via Veneto when Freddie spotted them from across the street. He’d immediately noticed Santo, and on close inspection he’d nearly fainted from the combination of accent, looks, and the teasing triangle of exposed chest hair for which he’d originally thought was a dark T-shirt. Santo turned out to be a passionate lover, but noncommittal in every other aspect of his life. His time as a child actor had quickly vanished, as soon as puberty hit. He’d matured quickly, the show was eventually canceled, and he returned to Italy to be with his family, among them his doting mother, who ran a restaurant near the Coliseum in Rome. All that had changed when Patsy—Santo’s one-time co-star and now an entertainment manager and rich widow—convinced him to return to the States to star in a new Broadway play. It would mark Santo’s return to acting, and with Freddie at his side, he agreed to it.

  The play, Desire’s Company, had been a huge hit for the six month run it enjoyed at the Calloway Theatre, and it had turned Santo into the toast of Manhattan. Not that the play itself was so great, but the poster of a shirtless Santo being seduced by his two co-stars ramped up the sexual appeal. Women and gays flocked to the Calloway—Jake had seen the show six times from the front row—to get a chance to see that poster brought to urgent life, and in that regard Santo didn’t disappoint. It was because of the play, or more likely, Santo’s role in it—that had led to the attentions of Hollywood, and with Patsy operating behind the scenes, their move to the West Coast was inevitable. And here they were, living a dream so many others desired. Except the dream was not as perfect as many might suspect. It was hard, grueling work, and the ever-sensitive Santo was feeling the pressure daily.

  “I feel they are changing Santo,” he finally said. “The producers, the so-called handlers.”

  Freddie stirred, breaking from his reverie. He saw Santo staring at the ceiling.

  “How so?” he asked.

  “This movie, it is very big budget. Lots of expectations and money involved. The leading lady, she has many demands. And since she is box office gold, as well as an executive producer, I keep hearing that what she wants, she gets.”

  “Does she not like you? Are they releasing you from the movie?”

  “No, even the great Rebecca Sanders knows I am, how do you say…”

  “Hot?”

  “No. Um…an ‘it’ boy?”

  “Ah. You’re a hot property, you’ll sell tickets all on your own.”

  “Tomorrow, we film our first sex scene,” he said. “She has, like I said, demands.”

  Freddie rose up, resting up on his elbow. A free hand continued to stroke Santo’s chest.

  “What sort of demands? What, is she afraid you’re going to get hard or something?”

  “No, she knows I like…well, that I like you. That I prefer men. No, she insists that before we film the scene, I am to have a procedure. I’m to be waxed.”

  Freddie blinked. “I’m sorry, what? Waxed, as in…your chest?”

  Santo nodded. “I have no objection, I mean, it is only hair, and it will grow back. But deep down, like I said, I feel they are changing me. Altering who I am, on the inside. The waxing of my chest is just a symptom of me no longer being in control of my own career.”

  “Aside from that, don’t they realize…I mean, your chest sold that play!”

  “That was New York. Hollywood executives don’t care what works there. They want the heartland audiences and I am told I am considered too exotic. Rebecca’s appeal in Middle America and so what she says goes.”

  “So why did they hire you?”

  “My accent is what they want, my face.”

  “You have no choice?”

  He shook his head.

  Freddie didn’t know what to say. Sure, on the surface it seemed an insignificant issue. But Santo was quiet, he didn’t like to stir the pot. He would do as they asked. But he wouldn’t be happy and that was something Freddie would have to deal with. How to make him feel better, at least temporarily? He leaned down, kissed Santo’s chest, licked at hard nipples that weren’t easy to find beneath the dark fur. Then he began to lick his chest, to brush it, and he followed the thick twirling trail down his belly, his tongue in heaven, erotic messages being transmitted all over his hot body. Santo responded as well, and he suddenly took charge, as though he realized that it was only in this bed and with this man that he could be himself. So he turned Freddie onto his back, and he opened him up, and soon, so very soon, his thick long cock was entering him.

  Freddie cried out from the impact, grabbed at Santo’s chest hair to deflect the pain.

  “Oh baby, you feel so good,” Freddie said.

  “For now,” he said, and then Santo began to thrust his hips at him with growing intensity.

  Freddie lost himself in the moment, enjoying his time with the Santo he knew. But inside him, he knew things were changing, life was changing. He had to hope that they could survive all the crap Hollywood threw at them. For now, his for-now furry lover was his, only his, and he indulged in their coupling as morning won the fight to claim darkness from the night.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jake

  So much for sharing your life with one man. Jake Westbury was on the verge of giving up on such a notion. So he did what he always did when he directed by this defeatist attitude—he’d gone out, grabbed a couple drinks, and was nursing a third when a hot guy approached him. The hunt was on. The guy was good-looking, with a nice package, and he was just the kind of sexy treat to chase away Jake’s unwanted blues. Problem was, it wouldn’t resolve anything other than a momentary horniness. He could fuck him, he’d come, and he’d fall back on whichever bed they decided upon, satisfied and unfulfilled, a combo that usually made him regret his actions. He would be asked to leave, or ask him to leave.

  But hell, the guy was cute. Shaggy blond hair, a winning smile. He had thick biceps which bulged when he drank from his beer. The tight T-shirt showed off well-defined pecs. Jake tried to imagine what he looked like with his shirt off. Probably a smooth gym bunny, which wasn’t awful by any stretch, but Jake tended to be drawn to the burlier, hairy type. This guy just didn’t have that masculine quality. Still, he was probably as energetic as a bunny in bed, a willing bottom with an ass that loved being on the receiving end of a good pounding. Jake felt his balls tighten at such a thought.

  It was a Wednesday night in February, Valentine’s Day over thankfully, but still this was not his usual night out and he didn’t recognize a lot of the men inside Gaslight, one of his usual gay hangouts. The lighting was dim, intentionally, so maybe he knew one o
r two of them—heck, maybe he’d even slept with one or two. But none of the men had really paid him any mind when he’d entered. There were no seats at the bar, so Jake just ordered a draft and leaned against the far edge, staring up at the large screen TV which was playing an old porno. Two men were jacking off, both twinks who barely looked of legal age. Jake himself was 39, and he had to wonder if he was getting too old for this routine of sex with random strangers? Still, what else was he supposed to do? He’d been in a relationship last fall, but it had crashed, burned, and been buried just after the holidays. He hadn’t had sex in two months. He thought that was a record for him. He wasn’t drop dead gorgeous, but he was easy on the eyes, with dark hair, and after the break-up, and with it being winter and fucking cold out, he’d let his beard fill in. He liked how it looked; it had been almost ten years since he’d allowed a full beard on his face.

  All around him guys talked, the music blared, and Jake leaned in for a fresh drink. When he turned back around, the shaggy blond guy had sidled up right next to him. Jake guessed he was no more than 25. What the hell did age mean?

  “Hey,” the guy said.

  “Hey,” Jake said, offering up a smile. Mostly because of the inanity of their conversation. Not exactly the hottest pick-up line he’d ever heard. Surfer-dude lingo.

  “You’re hot.”

  Jake nodded. Getting better. “So are you. Nice body, great smile.”

  “Love the beard, it’s dark and sexy.”

  Jake rubbed it, the hair thick to his touch. “Thanks. New for the winter.”

  “Couldn’t even if wanted,” he said, rubbing his face. “I’m Noah.”

  “Jake.”

  “Look at that, biblical,” he said.

  Maybe this guy wasn’t so dumb. It was a clever approach. “I feel like I should have a twin.”

  Now the guy grew confused. “Huh?”

  “You’re Noah. The ark…two by two…never mind.”

  “Oh, hey, I see what you did there. Took my comment and…”

  Jake reached out and took hold of the guy’s hand, squeezed it. The action got him to stop talking. Which was a good thing. Instead they exchanged smiles and the kind of look that said the night was going to end well. Jake leaned in, pressed his lips against Noah’s. He didn’t meet with any resistance, so when he pulled away he saw Noah seductively lick his lips. Jake felt his cock thicken.

  “Want to get out of here?” Noah asked.

  Jake could accuse the guy of being forward, but hadn’t he made the first physical move? “Where we going?”

  “I have an apartment nearby. All mine, but I like to share. You know…”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  Jake leaned in again, pulling Noah’s body in tight against his. He made sure the guy could feel the outline of his growing cock. “Tell me what you like,” he whispered into his ear.

  “To have someone fuck my brains out and make me shoot my load.” Then he paused and said, “To have you fuck me, fuzzy boy.”

  Well, you can’t fault the guy for his honesty. Jake drank down the last of his beer, Noah doing the same. They were already on the same page together. They left together, walking out into a cold Manhattan night. It was actually almost the next day, midnight only minutes away. If all went well, they’d be rolling around on the bed before the clock struck. Turned out, that was indeed the case, as Noah lived a block away on 48th Street, between Ninth and Tenth Avenues, a walk-up that had five floors. Except they went down, since Noah said he lived in the basement apartment. He turned the lock on a gate, then unlocked a door. Tight security should keep them safe inside.

  The place was sparsely furnished, the style used-Ikea. Jake figured the guy was a wannabe actor. Lots of them around this Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood. Jake was a writer, a freelancer with his own hours, so he was able to do things like get picked up in the middle of the week and stay up as late as he wanted. Freedom, from the nine-to-five life, as well as not being tied down by a boyfriend came with its adventurous advantages. Tonight’s advantage, and it was a sexy one, was currently stripping, tossing his T-shirt up over his head, shaking out his shaggy blonde locks with a sense of playful fun. Yeah, this was going to be a good night.

  “Want a drink?” Noah asked, trying to be the host.

  Jake came over to him, ran a hand across his package. “I’ll drink you down.”

  The host did as was asked of him, and he slid his jeans down along muscular legs that had a dusting of hair on them. His cock sprung up, thick but stubby. He barely had any pubes. Just as Jake had suspected, the guy was naturally smooth, but for tonight that was okay. He dropped to his knees and opened his mouth, wide, to accommodate the thickness of the guy’s cock. He slurped at the shaft, ran his tongue around the tip. Then he swallowed it whole, again, again. He sucked at it, heard Noah’s moans of pleasure. Felt him grab at his head, pushing him deeper against his groin. Jake took the cock as deep as he could, digging his nails into the hard bubble-like cheeks of Noah’s ass. He felt Noah buck his hips, thrusting himself into Jake’s mouth. He felt the heat rise around him, then he heard the shortened cries coming from Noah. The guy was going to blast already, and Jake did as he’d promised. He stayed locked on the cock, sucking, licking.

  “Shit, shit…I’m coming…” Noah said, his words loud in the small space.

  Then he cried out, and Jake felt a hot spurt hit the back of his mouth. Another. Another. He sucked again, taking in each drop. At last he pulled away, a drop of come seeping out of the corner of his mouth. Noah saw it, smiled before asking to be kissed. Jake stood up, did so, and felt Noah’s tongue take command of the wayward drop. It was a sexy gesture, for sure, and Jake’s cock begged to be released; it too wanted to shoot a mouthful.

  “I love how your beard feels when you kiss me, Jake.”

  “Good. Glad you like a hairy guy. The beard is just for starters. Let’s go to the bed and get naked and you’ll see.”

  Jake had been wearing a blue sweater that highlighted the color of eyes, and it came off as they approached the edge of a queen size bed, the mattress covered with an array of pillows. Noah smiled at what he saw, a chest with a nice coating of dark hair. Not quite a mat of fur, but generous enough to run your hands through, and it trailed down his flat stomach in an enticing swath.

  “Fuck you’re hot,” Noah said.

  “Lay down, now,” Jake said. “Get ready to be fucked. Hard.”

  He did as instructed, waiting for Jake’s to finish undressing. He stroked his hard cock while he waited. Jake tossed his jeans, socks, underwear to the hardwood floor, his decent-sized cock hard and ready. He found a box of condoms on a side table, along with a bottle of lube. Like Noah, had been looking for sex tonight. Expecting sex. He was going to get what he’d planned for.

  “Oh, man, Jake, I can’t wait to feel that big cock inside me.”

  As Jake climbed onto the bed, Noah changed his position, his hands grasping the headboard and his knees sinking into the mattress. His turned back, he nodded and told Jake to fuck him. A condom rolled down over Jake’s cock, he grabbed the lube and swiped at Noah’s ass. Noah reacted with a bounce, a wide smile on his face.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on you furry beast, slide it in.”

  Jake positioned himself, the tip of his cock pushing against Noah’s smooth ass. He pushed, watching as his cock began to disappear, the tip, the shaft, doing so until he was fully inside. His thick bush of dark pubes pressed against Noah. He pushed again, then he pulled back. God, it felt so good, so good, that ass tight against his cock. But he was going to open him up, now, fast, hard, and with desire flooding his body, he hungrily thrust his hips at Noah. His entire cock was shoved deep, and Noah cried out with surprise, with delight.

  “More, more, yeah, Jake. Fuck me, Fuck me.”

  Jake took hold of Noah’s ass, holding it in place while he thrust again, again, again. It was heat rising toward a boiling motion. The bed squeaked, and Noah’s dirty talk continued, his voice loud
against the walls. If there were neighbors, they would have little doubt as to what was going on in the apartment below, but if they had lived here a while, perhaps they were used to it. Noah seemed like he had sex often. Jake continued to fuck him, his cock so hard, his body on fire, sweat on his brow. He looked down, watching his body in motion. His chest was heaving, and he ran his hand through his hair, matted from his sweater, now plusher from his touch. He grunted loudly with a fresh round of thrusts.

  “Oh man oh man oh man, bring it. Fuck me hard.”

  Jake was banging him with hard thrusts, the headboard banging against the wall.

  “Tell me what you want,” Jake said.

  “I want to watch you shoot, man, all over me.”

  Jake pulled out and he spun Noah onto his back. He lifted his legs, spread him wide. Then he pushed himself back inside, and he began to pound at him again, again. He felt Noah plant his hands on his chest, grabbing at his hair. He took each thrust with a cry of pleasure. He asked for more, more, every inch, and Jake continued to thrust his hips with eager abandon. Noah squirmed, his actions sending fresh waves of heat through Jake’s cock. He knew he was going to blow, and Noah seemed beyond ready for it. Jake grabbed at Noah’s ankles, spreading him wide. He pushed at him, his hard cock ramming him. He felt a rush of heat hit him.

  “Oh…oh,” Jake said, “I’m gonna come…”

  “Blast me with it, man, soak me.”

  Jake pulled out and slid the condom off, stroking his cock to bring about the final moment.

  Heat hit him, his balls tightened, and he drew in his breath as orgasm wracked his body.

  The tip of his cock expanded, and he pointed it at Noah’s smooth, muscular chest. Just then a stream of white come burst from him, then another, and another, streaks hitting Noah’s chest with a sizzle. Jake pumped his cock until the last drop slipped out, rubbing his cock against Noah’s belly.

  Jake stared down at a happy Noah, who reached up and ran a hand over Jake’s hairy chest.

  “Hot, man, totally hot. Kiss me.”