Dreamspinner Press Year Six Greatest Hits

by JD Ruskin

  “Oh, no,” whispered Donnelly.

  Brandt turned. “What, you got an issue with jockstraps?”

  “Ugh. I wrestled in high school, and this is all too weird.”

  “You mean you never spent an afternoon rubbing up against your teammates?” Brandt was chuckling now, enjoying his partner’s discomfort.

  “Remind me to never tell you about wrestling-team initiation.” Donnelly shivered.

  On the screen, the second round began. Nick was in the first pairing, as he had been in round one, and Brandt immediately noticed his skill at positioning himself and his opponent for maximum camera coverage. Suddenly, he flipped his opponent in the air, causing his legs to spread wide, exposing his ass to the camera.

  “Oh! Whoa there!” Donnelly covered his eyes with his hands.

  “God, you are such a pussy!” Brandt scolded him.

  “Since when is it being a pussy not to want to look at some guy’s hairy asshole? That’s not something I need to see.”

  “Someone once told me I should consider that there are people who are as attracted to men as I am to women, and that it takes different strokes, and kumbaya, or some shit like that. Actually, come to think about it, that someone is sitting next to me right now, hiding his pussy eyes because the sight of a guy’s rear pucker might actually kill him.”

  “Look, that part is not meant to see the light of day. Or any other light, for that matter. It’s the one part of your body you don’t show, no matter what.”

  Brandt smirked. “You mean you’ve never seen an asshole close up? That means you haven’t ever gone down on a woman with the lights on. I mean, it’s right there.”

  “Yeah, it is, and on a woman it’s okay. But a guy’s asshole—ugh.”

  Brandt remembered their conversation about flirting earlier in the day.

  “Why is it different?”

  Donnelly looked at Brandt, evidently taken aback by the question. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I just want to know why you think it’s different.”

  “Because it’s all shitty and stuff.” Donnelly looked like he had just sucked a lemon.

  “What do you think women use theirs for? Shooting out doves at weddings?”

  “Oh my God, you are an idiot. Now, can we get this over with? Unpause, please, and let the parade of assholes continue.”

  Brandt hit the button, and the wrestling began again. The third round was soon underway, and this one was completely naked. Once again, sportsmanship was not a high priority, as the guys grabbed each other’s junk as often as possible to gain advantage (and to show off for the camera).

  Brandt suddenly hit the pause button again.

  “Oh, what is it this time?” Donnelly demanded. “Are we going to have another philosophical debate on the pooper?”

  “No. Look at the guys. Take a good look.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “You are a state police officer, Donnelly, and this is an investigation. Yes, you have to.”

  Donnelly straightened up.

  On the frozen screen, four guys stood naked at the edge of the mat while Nick and one other man wrestled for the top spot.

  “What am I looking for?” asked Donnelly.

  “Their dicks. Look at their dicks.”

  Donnelly slowly turned his head to look at his partner. The expression on his face was pure bafflement. “You want me to look at their dicks? Seriously?”

  Brandt nodded.

  “What am I looking for, beauty marks?”

  “Just look. Tell me what you see.”

  Donnelly’s head turned with obvious reluctance back to the screen. “Well,” he said, swallowing hard. “Let’s see. The darker-skinned guy is uncircumcised. That taller guy over there—well, his is really red. And your buddy Nick is hung like a fucking racehorse.” He turned back to Brandt. “Did I get it right?”

  “No, you didn’t. What do all of them have in common?”

  “They’re all men, okay? I don’t want to think about it more than that.”

  “They’re all soft.”

  Donnelly’s mouth dropped open. “You mean, like, to the touch?” he asked in a shocked whisper.

  Brandt closed his eyes, shook his head slowly side to side.

  “You know, as dim sidekicks go, you should be up for an Oscar. No, what I mean is that none of the guys has an erection. They’re not getting boned up at all.”

  Donnelly quickly scanned the collected cocks once more, and nodded. “Yep, not a stiffie in the bunch. Now, why does that seem odd to you?”

  “Put yourself in their place for a moment.”

  Donnelly shuddered.

  “I mean, think about you, wrestling, but with hot women. Wouldn’t that get you boned?”

  Donnelly turned back to the screen and squinted. “But they’re on camera. Maybe they’re nervous about it, or something?”

  “Again, think about being in their place. You’re wrestling a super-hot chick, and she’s grabbing at your junk every chance she gets. Could anything keep you from getting it up?”

  Donnelly shot Brandt a somewhat surprised glance as he muttered, “I’m actually chubbing up a bit just thinking about it.”

  Brandt stared at him for a moment. “I did not need to know that. At all.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Anyway, six limp dicks means that these guys might be straight after all, just like their profiles say.”

  “But what kind of straight guy does—that?” Donnelly pointed at the screen.

  “The kind that needs money?”

  “Dude, is there enough money in the world to make you grab a guy’s junk like that?” Donnelly pointed to the screen where, locked in freeze-frame, Nick’s fist tightly gripped his opponent’s balls, squeezing them hard while with his other hand he tugged on the guy’s dick.

  “Enough money in the world? Come on. Everyone has their price, for everything.”

  “I don’t see it. No straight guy would do that.”

  “Limp dicks don’t lie, buddy. They are just not into each other that way.”

  “I’ll reserve judgment until the end, thank you very much. Now, can we just finish this freak show?”

  Brandt clicked the pause button, and once again Nick and his foe thrashed around the mat. Nick made short work of it.

  “Nick was totally a wrestler in school,” Donnelly opined. “Those are classic moves.”

  “You mean the move where he straddled his opponent and rubbed his ball sac on the guy’s forehead? Yeah, if that counts as classic, I’m really glad I didn’t go out for wrestling.”

  “Shut up. I just mean that he seems to know what he’s doing.”

  “No argument there.” Brandt was glad Nick had been his first contact. He was clearly an alpha male in the house.

  “So, why is it important for you that they seem to be straight?”

  “Goes to motivation. I figure a frat house—even a fake one like this—is pretty much a gay man’s candy store—especially one that has guys like that in it. But if they’re not gay, then they’re not there for personal enjoyment.”

  “A candy store? Are you fucking crazy? Frat houses are not friendly places when you’re gay. My brother learned that one the hard way.”

  Brandt turned to him. “What happened?”

  “Well, he pledged and joined, and this was just about the time he was figuring out he was gay. So one night he makes a pass at a frat brother who he was sure was gay too, and the guy goes berserk. The whole house came down on him, and he ended up leaving school entirely. It was pretty awful for him—he didn’t even tell me about it until years later. Turns out the guy he hit on really was gay too, just not able to deal with it yet.”

  “So your brother drops out and joins the Army? Glutton for punishment, wasn’t he?”

  Donnelly turned very serious.

  “My brother joined up because he loved this country, and he wanted to defend it. It was always what he wanted. But just before he went on active duty,
he met a great guy, and he suddenly didn’t want to go so much. But he went, because he had committed to it. They were together ten years—though they weren’t together all that time, of course—and he was just a few weeks from coming home for good when he got killed. It was awful for all of us, but I think it was worst for his partner. All those years of waiting, waiting to have a husband at home, and then it’s all gone. They were never even able to get married.”

  “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know all of that.”

  “Anyway,” Donnelly said, wiping his eyes, “I guess that’s what’s hard for me with this assignment. I see these guys, and I think, young gay guys have the deck stacked against them already. Why are we going to go in and make it harder for them? But then you’re not sure they’re gay, which makes the thing just so weird.”

  Brandt bumped his shoulder up against Donnelly’s in a show of unspoken support and said, “Dude, we’re doing a job. They said they’re not going to go after the guys in the house, so that’s going to have to be good enough for us.”

  “Yeah, I know. I just need to get some rest, I guess.”

  “Me too. Pick me up tomorrow?”

  “Wear that stuff Bryce picked out and I won’t have a choice! Rowrrr!”

  Brandt punched his partner—perhaps harder than was necessary to make his point.

  “Night, pardner.”

  “Night.”

  Donnelly walked out into the evening, and Brandt returned to his computer to do more research.

  THE NEXT morning Brandt concentrated on his job—he had been so focused on looking like someone who might want to wank on camera that he had almost forgotten to act like someone who knew how to swing a hammer. Eleven thirty came sooner than he was expecting it to.

  “Lunch!” Willy announced, and instantly the bathroom was empty. Brandt puttered a bit, putting his tools back in order to kill time, and about five minutes later the door to the hallway opened and Nick stepped in.

  “Hey, you free for lunch?” he asked, flashing a brilliant grin.

  “Absolutely!” Brandt walked over to Nick.

  Nick looked down quickly at the front of his pants, grossly distended by the enhancing power of his new briefs, and then smiled at him.

  “Nice… pants,” he said, cocking one eyebrow up.

  Brandt could feel his cheeks burning. “Um, thanks. They’re new.”

  “Well, they’re sure getting a workout. Come on,” Nick called as he turned back to the hallway.

  Brandt didn’t know what to make of Nick’s comment. Is he flirting with me? Does he think I’m gay? Calm down there, big guy. Just play it cool and let him take the lead. Breathe.

  They walked down the hallway and soon were in the kitchen of the house. It was, in keeping with the rest of the structure, large and luxuriously appointed. Nick motioned for Brandt to sit at the counter, and he turned to the commercial range to tend several pots that steamed and simmered with the promise of a hearty lunch.

  “I hope you like pasta,” Nick said, stirring. “It’s kind of my specialty.”

  “Pasta’s great, thanks. Hey, this is really nice of you, by the way.”

  “For the crew that’s turning our bathroom into a playground, I’m happy to serve.”

  “Oh, so you invite all the guys in for lunch?”

  Nick looked at him with a crooked grin. He laughed. “Nah, just you. The other guys are so old and sweaty. But you, well….” He let that sentence drift while he drained the noodles.

  Nick set two enormous, steaming plates of pasta with red sauce on the counter and sat next to Brandt.

  “So, Jason, you in school?”

  The name jolted Brandt a bit, but he recovered quickly. “Yeah, I am. You?”

  “Just finished my first year at the U.”

  Brandt looked around the kitchen. “This is a pretty amazing place you got here. Your family must be loaded.”

  Nick laughed so hard he had to put his fork down and take a drink of water. “My parents? Hah! Good one. No, this ain’t my parents’ house.”

  “Then whose is it?”

  Nick looked at Brandt, seeming to consider how to answer this question. It was a more direct approach than Brandt had been planning to take, but Nick’s easy manner had convinced him that moving quickly would work.

  “Well,” Nick began, then stopped and looked at Brandt again. “Hey, are you a pretty open-minded guy?”

  “I like to think so,” Brandt replied, delighted that this was going so easily.

  Nick nodded, took another bite of pasta. “Okay. So this house isn’t really a house.”

  “You could have fooled me. It sure looks like a house.”

  Nick laughed again. “No, what I mean is that it’s more of a place of business than a house. Have you noticed all of the cameras around?”

  “Yeah, but I thought that was because your family was security conscious or something.”

  Nick shook his head. “Look, I saw you watching me yesterday. There’s a mirror opposite the door, and I could see your reflection.”

  Brandt paled. “I, uh, I don’t know—”

  “Dude, chill. It’s okay. I’m fine with it. I just thought that since you liked to watch, you might understand what we’re doing here. Did you notice that there was a camera on the laptop I had on the bed?”

  Brandt nodded.

  “Well, that’s what we do here. I live here with a bunch of guys, and we mostly go around naked all the time, and sometimes we jerk off for the camera. It’s kind of a sex show thing.”

  Brandt was silent. He had no idea that things would develop this quickly. Where should he go from here?

  At that moment, though, the kitchen door opened and three guys walked in, completely naked. Brandt tried to figure out how his alter-ego Jason would react to this, but he had no fucking clue.

  Nick greeted the new arrivals. “Hey, guys, this is Jason, the one I told you about.”

  What now?

  The three men seemed to understand immediately what Nick was saying, and that worried Brandt. They knew Nick had met him? What had Nick told them?

  “Hey, good to meet you,” the closest of the three said as he held out his hand.

  Brandt recognized him immediately as Trent, from the website. All he could think of as he shook his hand was that he had seen this guy’s asshole. Not exactly the kind of conversation starter he was looking for.

  “Likewise,” said Brandt, and then Trent turned to Nick.

  “We’re going out to the pool. Old Moneybags wants another water video, so we’re going to make him one. Let me know how it goes with—” he tossed his head in Brandt’s direction. Nick nodded.

  The three naked men walked through the kitchen and out the french doors to the backyard.

  “Sorry, was that a little weird?” Nick asked.

  “Um, no. I mean, yeah, a little. This is all kind of strange.”

  “I guess I’m just used to it. But they are pretty hot, right?”

  “Nick, I’m not gay.”

  Nick laughed. “Heh—that’s what my boyfriend always says.”

  “No, really. I mean it’s fine that you are, I’m just not.”

  “Me? What makes you think I’m gay?” Nick’s tone was one of amusement, not offense.

  Brandt looked at him, confused. “Well, you called those guys hot. And you stared pretty hard at my crotch a few minutes ago. Oh, and you just said you have a boyfriend.”

  Nick laughed again. “Oh, that. Well. I could explain that part, but it would take a while. Let’s save that for another time. But the other stuff… let’s just say I appreciate beauty wherever I find it. You, my straight friend, are beautiful. And you liked watching me jack off, which makes you maybe a little less straight. Hmm?” Nick took another huge bite of pasta, his eyes on Brandt’s paling face.

  “I guess I… uh, I’d never really seen anyone doing that, so I kind of, you know….”

  Nick smiled—sweetly, not mockingly—and shook his head. “You never
saw anyone jerk off before? That seems”—his eyes flicked up and down Brandt’s body—“unlikely.”

  Brandt had lost control of this conversation. He needed time to think.

  “How long have you been working here?” he asked Nick, stalling for time.

  If the abrupt change of subject troubled Nick, there was no outward sign. With a sideward nod he took a sip of water before answering. “I started last fall. Needed to make tuition.”

  “Does it pay well?”

  “Oh, yeah. Especially for the live shows, and even more for the private gigs—that’s where the real money is.”

  Brandt pushed further. “So, do they take a big cut?”

  “They who?”

  “Whoever runs this place. Do they take a lot of the money?” Brandt knew from his web research that the Str8 Frat Dudes site sold monthly subscriptions to the live shows for thirty dollars a month, but there were no prices listed for what Nick referred to as “private gigs.”

  “I don’t know. All I know is that I can work for three hours here and take home a thousand dollars. There’s nothing else I could do that would make me that kind of money.”

  Before he even knew what he was saying, Brandt blurted, “Well, have you tried modeling? I mean with clothes on?”

  Nick chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve done some. But this works better for me—and the less clothes the better, far as I’m concerned.”

  Brandt’s brain was sparking, trying to come up with ways to keep the conversation on Nick. “So, what’s your boyfriend like?”

  Brandt was shocked to hear himself ask this question. Completely flustered, he took another huge bite of pasta, mainly to keep more stupid questions from spilling out.

  “Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Nick replied gently. “I don’t sleep with men. I mean, I sleep with one man, Pete, but other than that I’m strictly heterosexual.”