Spanish hadn’t come to L.A. to be an escort, a porn star, or a star-fucker, but he’d excelled at the first two and saw no reason to pass up an opportunity to complete the hat trick. After all, he was unattached, over eighteen, and this was Jason fucking Forrester—nothing sordid or low-rent about that. Flinging aside his New Year’s resolution about impulse tricks, he took Jason’s hand and went with him to the pool house.
“Whoa, look at this place.” Spanish whistled as he looked around the mini-mansion that Jason called a cabana.
“It’s comfy,” Jason said. “Drink?”
“Ginger ale,” Spanish said. He didn’t bother to add if you’ve got it. He assumed a place like this was fully-stocked as a point of pride. “Thanks.”
“Nothing stronger?”
“No thanks. Had a few shots of tequila already and I don’t want to get shit-faced.”
“You don’t have to drive. You can stay here.”
“It’s not that. If I’m going to get busy with you, I don’t want to be messed up.”
“Look, just because I’m lucky enough to make movies people like, I’m not—”
“It’s not that either. It’s just a rule I have about sex.”
“Interesting.”
“Not really. I drank a lot, did a lot of drugs, and had a lot of sex in my twenties, and then one
day I was thirty-one and realized I couldn’t remember a damned thing from the last ten years.” “I hear you. Growing up isn’t all I thought it would be when I was a kid.”
“Right?” Spanish came over to the bar to get the glass of ginger ale Jason poured for him. “I remember imagining the house I’d have one day, a farm, actually, and my wife and kids and dogs. I could picture it so clearly. Of course, that was before I got a crush on Ricky Hooper and realized I didn’t like girls the way I was supposed to.”
“It ain’t easy,” Jason said. He sipped his rum and Diet Coke and added more rum.
“It is hard sometimes,” Spanish agreed. “But I’m not sad about being gay.” He chuckled. “Sad about being gay. That was a pretty dumb thing to say.”
“I think it’s really cool that you’re cool with it.”
“Yeah, and it was so easy. All I had to do was move all the way across the country, change my name, and live among people who knew nothing about me.”
“Maybe that’s what I should do.”
“You’d make Ed Fishkel happy.”
Jason made a gagging noise at the reference to his loudest critic. “That asshole needs to get laid,” he said.
“I didn’t know I had so much in common with him.” Spanish leered at Jason. Jason immediately switched gears. “How do you feel about stripping?”
“You want me to strip for you?”
“I like watching a really well-built guy get undressed.”
“Got any music?” Jason picked up a remote and pushed a button. The sounds of Ravel’s Bolero filled the room. He glanced at Spanish, raising his eyebrows inquiringly.
Spanish grinned. “It’s fine. Take a seat, and I hope you enjoy the show.”
He set down his glass and walked to a clear space between the bar and the sunken lounge area. Flexing his leg muscles, he toed off the Vans and kicked them out of the way. He crossed his arms and took hold of the hem of his T-shirt with both hands. Slowly, he peeled the shirt up to his armpits, revealing his cobbled abs, the blade-like wedges of his lats, and the sleekly contoured plateaus of his pectorals. When Spanish plucked at his nipples and gave Jason a come-hither look, Jason came thither.
“Man, you are cut!” Jason said, running his palm down Spanish’s midline. “Fuckin’ ripped!”
“You like?” Spanish sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when Jason pinched his left nipple.
“Most definitely. Like most boys, I collected superhero comics, but it was for different reasons than the rest of them. I’d get so excited looking at Batman’s deltoids and Robin’s glutes. I can still remember the day I had the sudden mental image of them kissing. I was rubbing my wiener at the time and had the most amazing experience.”
“Yeah?”
“So anyway….” Jason bent to tongue the nipple he was toying with. “I’ve always had a thing for guys with superhero bodies.”
Spanish made an appreciative humming noise as Jason tweaked the nipple he wasn’t currently sucking on. “You’re in amazing shape,” he managed to say.
“I’m in training for my next movie, speaking of superheroes. It hasn’t been announced, but I’m doing a Resurrection Man movie with Mikhail Zaliv.”
“I don’t remember him—Resurrection Man, I mean. I know who Mikhail Zaliv is,” Spanish said as Jason moved back a bit.
“He’s this guy who takes on the power of whoever kills him. See, he’s only dead for a few seconds and comes back to life with a new power. I love how your nipple looks all shiny with my spit.”
“He sounds like a pretty creepy superhero.” “I guess. He’s one of the angsty types.” Jason licked his lips as Spanish pulled his shirt all the
way off. “Nice! I love the shape of your shoulders.” “Thanks.” Spanish tossed the shirt at the couch and slid his hands down his torso. “I’m not full-on into isolating muscle groups or anything radical like that, but I train every day.”
“You have great proportions.” Jason licked his lips again as one of Spanish’s hands disappeared under his waistband. “Does the cock match?”
Spanish squeezed his hardening shaft. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” Jason hooked his fingers in Spanish’s belt loops and pulled him into a chest-bumping embrace. His gaze brushed Spanish’s eyes in a quick check for permission as he took his mouth in a hungry kiss. Their tongues were old dance partners by the time they came up for air.
“You’re so fuckin’ hot,” Spanish said as he nibbled at Jason’s lips. Opening a little daylight between them, he unbuttoned Jason’s shirt and yanked it down his arms.
Jason flung the shirt off and grabbed a double handful of Spanish’s ass. “I want you so bad,” he breathed as he massaged the firm cheeks. “Want to go to the bedroom? The bed’s more comfortable than the leather couch, and I’ve got supplies in there.”
“Okay. I hate doing it on leather. My ass always sticks.”
The bedroom was all blond wood with a turquoise and white color scheme goosed by a few splashes of coral and lime. Spanish didn’t have long to admire it. As soon as they were through the door, Jason yanked him into another hug, giving his mouth another thorough survey.
Spanish pushed a hand under Jason’s waistband and ran it over the curves of Jason’s divine ass. With his other hand, he worked at Jason’s fly until he got the zipper down. It wasn’t easy in such close confines, but he was motivated. With the teeth of the zipper rasping against his knuckles, he ran his fingertips up the hard ridge under the softness of the cotton briefs.
“Fuck!” Jason said under his breath. Placing his palms against Spanish’s chest, he shoved him hard.
Spanish hit the bed on his back and opened his arms to catch Jason. Wrapping his legs around Jason’s thighs, he pulled him close as their mouths met in another seismic kiss. He sucked on Jason’s tongue, grazing it lightly with his teeth in a preview of coming attractions. Grinding and humping, they worked themselves up to a hardness that could shatter diamond.
“Stay,” Jason whispered as he slid down Spanish’s body to kneel beside the bed. Unbuttoning Spanish’s jeans, he worked them down the lean hips. “Nice bush,” he said as he buried his face in Spanish’s well-groomed pubic patch. He made no comment about the bleach job as he tucked in, pulling the jeans all the way off as he nuzzled.
Spanish moaned and moved restlessly against the sheets as Jason bestowed countless caresses, kisses, licks, and bites on his cock, balls, and crack. Jason’s touch varied from featherlight to just short of pain, and he handled Spanish’s anatomy with the confidence of a member of an Olympic fellatio team. He worked his way south, circling Spanish’s puckered openin
g before stabbing the tip of his tongue through the tight ring. Spanish grabbed two handfuls of Jason’s hair and yelped in delight.
“Don’t like to brag, but I am pretty good at this.” Jason’s voice was somewhat muffled with his lips pressed to Spanish’s hole. “I just love the taste of cock, and jizz, and that sweat that clings to the tiny hairs in the crack. I love it all.”
“Thank you, Saint Christopher!” Spanish moaned as Jason’s tongue pushed into him again. And again. And again until Spanish was writhing in ecstasy.
Lifting his head, Jason gazed at Spanish’s face as he replaced his tongue with his middle finger. “I want you to come,” he said. “And then I want to fuck you. How does that sound?”
“You’re the conductor,” Spanish said. “I’m just happy to be on this train.” Jason grinned. “Cool. Hand me the lube, okay?”
Spanish flung out his right hand and felt for the bottle with Jason shouting “hot” or “cold” until he found it. Both of them had the giggles as Jason popped the top and squirted some lubricant onto his fingers. With a last shout of “bull’s-eye”, he squeezed the bottle, hitting Spanish’s hole with a stream of oil. Spanish wedged a pillow under his head and lay back to enjoy what Jason was doing to him.
Slippery fingers eased in and out, thrusting lazily, stroking, and teasing as Jason took Spanish’s cock in his mouth. Bobbing his head to the beat of a song only he could hear, he sucked avidly, drinking in the tastes, sights, and smells of this incredibly attractive man
“So good,” Spanish moaned, lifting his buttocks in truncated thrusts, too aroused to be still. “So fuckin’ good. So close.”
Jason stopped fooling around and targeted the prostate, running his fingertip around and over it, pressing firmly as Spanish’s moans grew louder. Wrapping his free hand around the base of Spanish’s cock, Jason pumped his fist up and down, teasing the head of Spanish’s cock with flicks and swipes of his tongue.
“Fuh—fuck,” Spanish stammered as his ass came off the mattress, driving his dick deep down Jason’s throat.
Jason drew air through his nose as Spanish’s cock jerked several times and filled his mouth with warm fluid. He swallowed and Spanish flinched, hips snapping upward. Slowly, Jason let the sated shaft slide from between his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Sweet baby Jesus,” Spanish sighed. “You are a head master.”
“I’ve picked up a few tricks in my time.” Jason chuckled.
“No shit. I’m wrung out.”
“Righteous.” Jason dropped his pants and
briefs and climbed the pliant ladder of Spanish’s body. Spanish sighed again as Jason’s weight settled on top of him. He gazed up into Jason’s eyes as Jason kissed him, tasting the dregs of his cum mingled with Jason’s saliva. His center clenched with a hot, liquid pulse that brought tears to his eyes. He knew it was supremely foolish, but damned if he wasn’t falling for Jason after a few minutes of conversation and a blow job that rocked his world. He needed to watch his step here and not confuse a good orgasm with something else. Realistically, his “relationship” with Jason Forrester wouldn’t last much longer than the life span of a mayfly. He should just enjoy the fantastic sex and make a sweet memory.
“Mmm,” Jason purred when their lips parted. “I like the way you put your whole self into kissing.” He shifted his weight and his hard cock nudged Spanish’s belly button.
“Down and to the left.” “And I like how you have fun while you’re having sex.”
“Shut up and fuck me, Mr. Superstar.”
Jason grinned. “You don’t have to ask this country boy twice.”
“What country would that be?” Spanish said as Jason rose to his knees, and he took the opportunity to get his hands on Jason’s cock. It wasn’t particularly long or thick, but it felt just right against Spanish’s palm as he closed his fingers around it. He gave a little tug just to watch Jason’s expression change and then propped himself on his elbows to mouth at the head.
Jason groaned as Spanish licked a cool, wet stripe up the underside of his dick. “I’m the Ambassador from Iwannalayah.”
Spanish snickered at the junior high humor and blew an inadvertent raspberry on the end of Jason’s hard-on. “Sorry. It just struck me really funny.”
“Let’s see you laugh at this.” Jason grabbed Spanish by the wrists and bore him to the mattress on his back. Kneeling between Spanish’s thighs, Jason shoved them apart with his knees.
“Yeah,” Spanish breathed. “I could handle a little aggressive action.”
“Good, ’cause I want you so bad now that I’m not going to be able to go slow.”
Spanish hooked his hands behind his knees and pulled his legs back, spreading himself open for Jason. “Don’t be shy,” he said. “I want this more than you can imagine.”
Jason’s tongue made a circuit of his lips as he gazed at Spanish. Without taking his eyes off the riches that awaited him, he rolled on a condom and took himself in hand. Nuzzling the tip against the dusky pink opening, he worked it in and eased forward a couple of inches. “God,” he groaned, his breath dragging out in a ragged skein. “So tight. Feels so good.” He took a deep breath and thrust, burying half his length. “Fuck. So good. Can’t form… complete sentences.”
Spanish grunted as Jason pulled back and prepared for the next thrust. He savored the stretch that burned like a hundred reps and gloried in the feeling of being desired.
Jason replaced Spanish’s hands with his and lifted Spanish’s legs to rest against his shoulders. Leaning forward, he caressed Spanish’s chest as he began to rock in and out of the sheath that hugged his cock with such intoxicating tightness.
“Play with yourself,” Jason said hoarsely. “Get hard again for me.” Getting it up again was no problem for Spanish, but it so obviously pleased Jason that for once the porn star didn’t brag about his legendary powers of recovery. He bore down on the shaft that filled him so perfectly and flexed his sphincter rhythmically.
“Fuck, that feels good,” Spanish said breathlessly. “Can you angle just a little to the— Yeah! Oh yeah! Fuck! I’m gonna come again. Just keep doing that.”
Jason lowered Spanish’s legs from his shoulders, folding them at the knee and resting his palms on the backs of the taut thighs. He rolled his hips hard and fast, the blunt head of his shaft bumping over Spanish’s prostate on each thrust. His prominent front teeth sank into his lower lip as he held back the rising flood of his climax.
“Yeah! That’s it!” Spanish panted, his fist shuttling up and down his hard cock. His little cries of encouragement devolved into yelps of pure pleasure as the prodding shaft drove him over the edge. His abdominal muscles contracted in waves as his cock pulsed in his hand and shot out a short stream. As Jason continued to thrust, Spanish’s dick dribbled a few more drops.
“Fuck, you’re sexy,” Jason growled as he churned his hips to a faster tempo, rocking Spanish in the nest of tangled sheets.
Spanish reached up to run his hands over Jason’s chest, pinching the hard nipples and twisting, making Jason groan deep in his chest. The boyishly handsome face that Spanish had seen so many times on the screen was flushed and contorted with need: teeth clenched, eyes mere slits, floppy bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. “Come on,” Spanish chanted softly. “Come on. Come on. Come on.”
Jason’s hips stuttered in short, sharp thrusts as he climaxed. His fingertips dug into the hard muscles of Spanish’s thighs as Spanish gazed up at him in a blissful daze. Sucking in a big breath, Jason let it out slowly. “I think you cured me,” Jason said in a grainy voice, running his hands down Spanish’s legs.
“No charge,” Spanish drawled. After Jason caught his breath, he eased out of Spanish, tucking a towel under his lover’s ass. Dropping to the mattress next to Spanish, Jason lay on his back and closed his eyes. “No shit, man. That was some of the best I’ve ever had,” he said. “Same goes for me. It was really good.” “I’ve been feeling real strung ou
t lately.
Career’s going gangbusters and seems like I haven’t had five minutes’ peace in about three years now. But my people keep telling me I have to keep at it while I’m hot. I could cool off tomorrow and the offers would dry up. And I know they’re right.”
“It’s a fickle business, for sure. You can be Mr. Popular one day and Mr. Dogshit the next. Who knows what the public is going to like from one minute to the next?”
“I thought Hollywood was telling the public what to like. That’s what people like Fishkel and his Family Values Film Council keep saying.”
Spanish laughed. “Hollywood doesn’t tell people what to like. Hollywood very carefully researches what people like and does its best to give it to them.”
“That’s exactly right. Wish someone could make Fishkel and his mob understand that.”
“People like that….” Spanish paused. “This isn’t exactly pillow talk.”
“Relax. I’d like to know what you think.”
Spanish tried to stamp out the glow that warmed his chest at Jason’s words. Maybe this wasn’t just a trick to him. “I think people like Fishkel are so sure they’re right that you could never change their minds. And they always fall back on the Bible like they’re speaking for God.”
“You’re right. You can’t argue with them. Their minds are closed.”
“Sad. But you know what really pisses me off about them? It’s not enough for them to hold their beliefs; they want everyone else to think the way they do.”
“And they’re mean fuckers.” Jason rolled up onto one elbow. “You know Simon Devane? Last year when he was filming Hollow Homecoming, Fishkel’s group picketed the location because one of the characters is a gay Desert Storm vet. Not only did they stand around with signs chanting hateful garbage, they walked through shots, stole food from the crafts tables, unplugged power cables, and fed laxatives to a crew member’s dog.”
“Were the cops called?”
“Daily. Every time the cops came out, the Family Values people moved off, but unless the cops stuck around, the assholes would come back. Eventually, they were ordered to maintain a hundred-foot distance, but they snuck around and fucked with stuff anyway. Garry Weig, the actor who played the gay soldier, woke up one night with the fire alarm going off. He called 911 and got the hell out of the trailer to find a sign saying ‘burn in hell fags’.”
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