DISCLAIMER: This is the fifth installment of a work of fiction based on a popular daytime drama. The original characters of the actual programs are the property of CPT Holdings. As such, the images portrayed suggest nothing about the sexual orientation of the actors portraying the characters. Characters not under the domain of CPT Holdings are products of the author's imagination. If this suits your fancy and you are of legal age, sit back and turn on the television of your imagination. The author retains copyright of this material. The material cannot be posted without the author's permission.
© 2001 by W. Foster
BOLD AND BEAUTIFUL MEN: CHAPTER V
Clarke Garrison Jr. (better known as C.J.) navigated the road up to Big Bear in his 1973 Camaro, mulling over in his head the possible things he could say to Rick. Now that the truth was out about Amber and Little Eric, not to mention Becky, Rick had been in a strange space lately. He wasn't seeing Kimberly, and he said he wasn't angry about Amber, but he was distant. Several days ago, Amber had begged C.J. to find out what was going on with his friend, desperate to keep him from going through with the divorce. As the headlights of his car guided him through the blackness of that clear night, C.J. wondered just what he was doing this for, questioning how much good would be accomplished by his intercession.
It wasn't as though he didn't have a full plate of concerns already, dealing with Adam Alexander coming back into his mother Sally's life and his sister Macy still hung up on Thorne. He didn't fully trust the man not to hurt his mother, and inwardly he was also leery of Thorne and Macy getting back together again with all the history between them, plus Brooke's presence in the mix. His own loyalties to Amber and Rick, which put him in the center of the mess, had the nineteen-year-old muttering to himself, even as he continued further up the road.
His brooding dark eyes made out the dirt road that led to the Forrester cabin, and he slowed down to steer his car onto it. Rick hadn't been seen at home or at any of his usual haunts that day. On a hunch, C.J. had called Big Bear, only to get no answer. Even with the phone just ringing away, the thought of Rick at the Forrester hideaway wouldn't leave his mind. He had to check it out, if only because he finally promised Amber he would find Rick and talk to him.
Just before he reached the end of the road Rick's car appeared in his headlights, parked in front of the cabin. So, my guess was right, he thought. But wait a minute....he stopped his Camaro just as the headlights revealed another car parked there. He'd never seen the late model Mustang convertible sitting behind Rick's car, and he knew all the Forrester and Spectra vehicles, including Kimberly's. What was going on there? Shutting off the engine and the lights, he ease his slim 5'9" body out of the car, feeling a slight breeze blow through his dark brown hair.
Nearly all of the lights were out in the cabin as C.J. approached it. He walked up to the front door and started to knock, yet something stopped him from doing so. That unfamiliar car played with his mind, enough for him to exercise caution in his mission. He crept around to the rear of the Forrester retreat, surprised and yet not surprised when he saw soft lights on in one the bedrooms. So he's got another hottie up here, he thought. I wonder who she could be? Of course, since he's a Forrester he can get anyone he wants.
With the stealth of a panther, C.J. slowly made his way to the window, the curiosity almost killing him. The lights, as he drew closer, really weren't lights, but sets of candelabras strategically placed around the room---what he could see of the bedroom. He couldn't see the bed, but now he could hear someone in the throes of passion. At that point, C.J. didn't know whether to be angry or to cheer, but he would not rest until he knew the identity of the mysterious woman who was obviously enjoying some hot, steamy sex with his friend and sometime in-law. Still trying to remain unseen, C.J. kept low against the window, moving just enough until he could see the bed and satisfy his prurient interest. Instead, he got the surprise of his life.
Although Rick was on the queen-sized bed crying out in rapturous joy, it was Raymond who was fueling those cries by plowing the very happy Forrester jock with his huge tobacco brown member. C.J. couldn't believe it. His best friend was a pussy boy? Getting fucked by Raymond, no less? Although common sense told him to leave, the Spectra cutie felt mesmerized as he watched Rick eagerly bouncing up and down on Raymond's pole. He didn't even notice he was breathing faster as he watched the couple change position, with Raymond throwing Rick back onto the bed, thrusting his monumental equipment effortlessly into Rick's welcoming tunnel. Rick was actually lying there in total ecstasy, holding his legs up while Raymond leaned over and covered his mouth with a passionate kiss. They couldn't seem to get enough of each other.
As for the handsome young Black entertainer, he fucked like a pro. C.J. had always figured him for a ladies' man, but the way he was putting it to Rick couldn't be ignored any more than the delight on his face. Amber won't believe this, he thought. That cock that went up in her is screwing her husband. Man, what a horsecock! No, Amber will go on a denial trip bigger than the one she went on when she found out it was possible that Raymond could have been the father of Little Eric. Look at Rick. He's hard as a rock. I knew Rick was big, but I didn't know he was that big. I don't believe it. Rick's pulling him in deeper. How long have those two been at it?
While his best friend was being delightfully drilled to distraction, C.J. remained superglued to his spot in the bushes outside the bedroom window. He couldn't get over the change in Rick. He should have left long ago, but he just couldn't tear himself away from the spicy erotic dancers surrounded by the romantic candlelight. Rick and Raymond. Rick and Raymond. How can this be, he thought, swallowing hard as Raymond's strokes into Rick's ever-inviting manpussy grew longer and deeper. How can this be happening?
It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before C.J.'s feverish eyes saw Rick coil up like a spring and then yell at the top of his lungs as he was pushed over the edge. His shaft spurted cum like a geyser, covering himself and his African-American paramour, who joined him in the throes of climax mere seconds later. The dark-haired young man could have sworn that Raymond was fucking every last drop of juice out of Rick's spouting rod. Semen flew everywhere; where did it all come from? Just when C.J. was almost convinced that their orgasm wouldn't end, the lovers collapsed together into a satiated heap with Rick still impaled to the hilt on Raymond's earthmover.
In his haste to leave without the couple becoming aware of his presence he hadn't even noticed how tight his jeans were, nor how wet they were in his crotch. All he wanted to do was get out of there as quietly as possible and head back to the city. He had parked far enough away from the cabin so that his departure wouldn't be so noticeable, but even as he drove back down the dark winding road, the images of Rick and Raymond were seared into his memory.
Back at the Insomnia, C.J. sat at one of the tables near the back, watching the singers perform for karaoke night and wondering how he was going to handle Amber. There was no way he could see himself telling her the truth. He was having enough of a time himself in dealing with what he had seen in the cabin and the feelings it stirred up in him. The whole thing just messed with his mind. By all accounts, Rick shouldn't have wanted anything to do with Raymond because of his tryst with Amber. What in the world happened? And why was his cock aching at the thought of it?
When Rick came by the Insomnia the following afternoon he looked positively radiant. Though he sat at a relatively secluded table in the coffeehouse, C.J. found it hard to look at him, knowing as he did who was responsible for that glow. He never would have pegged Rick for wanting another man, not after all the talks they had about hot babes in the past. And yet, from the way Rick was beaming, C.J. could have sworn he had just climbed off Raymond's.....
A shiver went down C.J.'s back as a mental picture of that formidable instrument flashed across his mind. Sure, guys checked each other out in the gym showers at school. Other than his own, though, he'd never seen another man's erection live, and certainly not one in a league with Raymond's. As the unbidden thoughts weaved their way into his mind, the Spectra heir apparent felt his baggy jeans tighten and his mouth began to water. The way Rick took Raymond....and he loved it. I probably could barely get my mouth around that.....what's happening to me, he thought at he shook his head vigorously to snap back to reality. That's queer. I can't be a queer, too.
He barely tasted his cappuccino as he sat at his table and glowered at Rick, who was sitting at another table nearer to the front with a dreamy expression on his face. Here he was, going to all this trouble to help get Amber back together with him, tired of being stuck in the middle and Rick didn't even want Amber....or any woman. Not with that look. It was enough to make a person scream in frustration. All those times he had run interference for Amber to talk to Raymond when it was suspected she may have been pregnant with his baby, and for what? To have him wind up with Rick? But they were so hot up there at Big Bear.....no, I can't be thinking like this, C.J. thought even as he put his hand under the table to squeeze the tightness in his jeans that refused to go away. It's just been too long. I haven't gotten off in weeks worrying about Amber's problems. But that dick was so big.....
Just then he saw his older sister Macy come out of her office and walk by Rick's table. Because of the overall noise level and the music he couldn't hear what they were saying, but they appeared to exchange pleasantries. Apparently she said something about his mood, for Rick seemed to blush and act coy. I've got to get out of here, he thought as he managed to slip out the back way without being noticed.
That night in his room C.J. laid on his bed naked, hopelessly worked up, feverishly stroking his eight-and-a-half inch cock in an effort to relieve the tension that had been dogging him all day long. He would start off fantasizing about the beautiful, unattainable Kimberly and the way he would fuck her brains out, and then his mind would switch to himself down on his knees making oral love to Raymond's fantastic dick. His mind would switch back to the tantalizing girl, but hot, studly Raymond would always take over. No! No! he silently screamed, but his throbbing tool would not be denied. Thrashing about on the the bed, soaked in sweat, his damp hair clinging to his brow, working his steadily leaking rod, C.J. found himself in a heated fantasy of taking all of Raymond's manmeat into his mouth and Rick's torpedo into his ass, and he took the plunge. At the moment he saw himself filled at both ends with cream, C.J. literally soaked himself and his sheets with torrents of sex juice, panting as though he had just run five miles.
Something felt strange in the air when he stopped by Spectra Fashions after classes the next day---or maybe he just noticed things he hadn't noticed before. His father, Clarke Garrison Sr., hardly said a word about the gorgeous models that were previewing his latest designs, and he could always be counted on to make some slightly off-color remark about women at least in private. Also, though Adam and his mother had a good working relationship, he didn't seem as interested in pursuing remarriage lately; he was content with her position of accepting him only as a business partner. His pulling back on the reins, though puzzling, was something C.J. didn't really mind, since above all else he didn't want to see his mother hurt again. As for himself, he had spent most of the day in classes telling himself that his fantasy about Rick and Raymond meant nothing, that he'd only been horny and in need of getting his rocks off. So why was it that he found himself furtively eyeing different guys on campus instead of the coeds? Darla, Spectra executive secretary and a walking inspiration for "blonde jokes," had asked him what was wrong with him, but his lips remained in a tight pout. Even when Mom got on her soap box about how Amber was just a junior Brooke he stayed silent, offering no words in her defense.
During the next five weeks, C.J. did his best to avoid both Rick and Amber. She had been served with divorce papers in the interim, and on those occasions when he did encounter her he remained quiet and just let her vent. As for Rick, he was a continual reminder of C.J.'s inner turmoil and the now almost nightly jackoff sessions he was having with visions of Rick, Raymond and a few other studs dancing in his head, courtesy of some gay porn tapes and magazines he'd secretly purchased. He'd had the odd notion that looking at them would turn him off, only to discover that it achieved the opposite effect, and with a vengeance.
One of the studs that had been dancing in his head recently was Giovanni Lorenzano, the photographer over at Forrester Creations. He had seen him at the Insomnia frequently, taking a break in the afternoon for cappuccino and croissants. He possessed a sleek, feline, 6'0" swimmer's body, moussed brown hair, prominent rakish eyebrows and green eyes that an emerald hoped to aspire to. His facial features weren't model perfect, but that very quality made him that much more of a turn-on. His very sexy accent worried C.J.'s nerves; sometimes he'd sprouted a woody just hearing the man talk, and it added quite a bit of high-octane fuel to the fire of his fantasies. Seeing this regular at his sister's coffeehouse was, to his secret delight and dismay, a peculiar kind of torture, like a huge feast that was placed just out of reach of a starving man.
On one day near the end of this time, Mom burst into the office with a news flash---Thorne Forrester had come out to his family. Between the generous doses of sympathy she had for a stunned Macy, Mom tossed her trademark big red hair, gloating as she relayed the news of "Queen Stephanie" hitting the deck in a dead faint as a result of the disclosure.
C.J.'s ears had perked up at this revelation while his mother was comforting his sister, telling her how much better off she was and to be glad she hadn't married Thorne again. Adam also offered words of comfort and support to his daughter, but he wasn't as forceful at reviling the Forresters the way his ex-wife was. While the bombastic Sally went on about the "high and mighty" Forresters---including a dig at how Brooke nearly went catatonic---C.J. also gave Macy a hug, but remained quietly observant. At least Macy knows that Thorne's a lost cause, he thought. If that's how Stephanie and Brooke handled Thorne's news, wait'll they find out about Rick. Then again, Brooke may not care as long as it keeps him away from Amber. But what's with Adam? He's usually right behind Mom in wanting to hang the Forresters out to dry. Why's he been so laid back?
He wasn't sure what possessed him---curiosity, his latest wet dream about Giovanni or the feeling that he was climbing the walls---but the bewildered freshman found himself seeking Rick out at the Insomnia the next day after classes. Spotting the pensive Forrester jock seated alone at one of the tables nursing some amaretto, C.J. approached him.
"Hi Rick," C.J. said.
"C.J.," Rick replied, his reverie interrupted. "Where've you been? I've hardly seen you around."
"Just going through some stuff," the slim young man said, forcing himself to look his friend in the eye as he sat down.
"I know what you mean," Rick sighed.
"I, uh, heard about Thorne," C.J. said tentatively.
"That he......well, that he digs guys."
"Oh, that. Yeah, he came out yesterday. How did you hear about it?"
"My mom found out. I don't know how, but she did. Macy's over at the office with her right now."
"Yeah, I guess she would be. Is Macy gonna be OK?"
"Yeah, eventually. So.......how did your family take it?"
"Well, my mom didn't take it too well; she went blank for a minute and then she kept saying 'This can't be happening.' As for Stephanie, she passed out cold and we had to get the smelling salts."
"Sounds like a heavy scene. What about the others?"
"Budge was OK with it 'cause it meant he wouldn't be marrying Mom. Dad and Ridge seemed to handle it pretty good, too."
"They didn't go off or anything?"
"No. They spent more time getting Stephanie and Mom to calm down than anything else."
"Hmmmmmm. So what do you think about Thorne?"
"Nothing to think about. He's my brother and he's happy. That's all that counts."
Worried that he may be sounding too curious, C.J. countered with, "You don't feel weird about him and another dude?"
"No, not really." Rick paused for a moment. "Actually, Thorne told me before everybody else. I met his boyfriend. He's a cool dude."
"Yeah. He's this hot-shot lawyer that has enough rich and famous clients to fill a vault."
Rick's expression became pensive again. "I hope Mom can get over this and find someone else she can be happy with." He took a few sips from his cup and got up. At that moment, C.J. noticed the curiously designed ring on his left hand.
"Nice ring, Rick. Where'd you get it?"
"This? Oh---it's a long story. I'll tell you about it some other time. Gotta run. Catch you later."
You don't have to tell me a thing; I already know who gave you that ring, C.J. thought as he watched Rick leave. I just wonder how long "some other time" is going to be. And I bet you're going off to find Raymond. You Forresters have all the luck.
Giovanni Lorenzano found himself in the middle of a busy Friday morning of photo shoots at Forrester Creations, feeling a familiar itch in his body that needed scratching. With a smile, he thought of that night he and Thorne Forrester got together a while back with such wild abandon. The man could drill him the way he loved to be drilled, and he also had a manhole that knew how to pamper a cock. He would have loved to pursue the Forrester love machine further, but after he came across him and his new wet dream of a boyfriend, Giovanni knew it was a lost cause. Even so, it didn't stop his manhood from swelling nor his pucker from twitching. If he couldn't get any from that blond tribute to Apollo, there had to be someone else who could appreciate what he had to offer.
Sitting at his usual table at the Insomnia for his mid-afternoon break, the twenty-eight-year-old photographer observed the crowd thoughtfully while sipping his favorite brand of cappuccino, his relaxed air belying the horniness that was keeping his cock semi-erect and his hole continually winking from the need to be filled. Rick and Raymond had been in earlier, laughing and talking over expresso and cookies; anyone with eyes could see that they were lovers. Kimberly had dropped in after they left, looking like a modern-day fairy tale princess that had escaped from the palace for a few stolen hours of fun. This was not to be, for Amber soon stormed inside and accosted her. Although he couldn't hear what they were saying, it was apparent that the conversation was anything but pleasant. He had heard the rumors that Rick was divorcing Amber, and given what he had witnessed earlier he mentally applauded the junior Forrester for cutting himself loose from the trashy little bitch. I wonder what Kimberly's role in that little drama was, he thought as the argument became more animated. Before it could break out into a full-fledged catfight, Kimberly abruptly got up and left, leaving Amber to stew in her own juices.
So engrossed was Giovanni in the scene that had played out before him, he hadn't noticed the shadow that passed over him. He looked up to see C.J. standing nearby, also drawn into Amber and Kimberly's altercation. The hot Neapolitan had always considered C.J. a cutie, but he hadn't given thought to pursuing him. At the moment, though, all he saw were brooding eyes, a tense body and lips set into a serious pout, which were now turning in his direction.
"Hi, C.J.," Giovanni said congenially.
"Hi, uh, Giovanni," C.J. said, giving him an intense look.
"How's it going?"
"OK, I guess. Well, uh, catch you later," C.J. said as he reluctantly turned to make an exit, careful to give Amber a wide berth as he headed to the back of the coffeehouse.
What is it with C.J., he thought. He sure is moody these days. I could swear those lips of his have been in a perpetual pout for weeks. Makes you wonder if it's because he isn't getting any. Could be---I haven't seen him sniffing behind any women lately. But that look he gave me........Giovanni looked at the retreating form of the Spectra heir, and a smile came across his face. C.J. may have been pouting, but he had been looking at the sensuous Italian's crotch with eyes that showed major interest. He felt his manhood stir at the image of those pouty lips melting into a sexy sigh from the exquisite blowjob he'd give the dick sausage that was further down. Maybe it's time to make that little stud an offer he can't refuse, he thought as his Cheshire-cat smile grew broader. I bet he can throw a mean fuck.
Purposefully, Giovanni got up from his seat and went to the storage room/loading area he had seen C.J. enter. The Spectra heir was alone, pacing the floor restlessly and grabbing at his crotch, unaware of his presence. This stud is ripe, the photographer thought as he cleared his throat enough to catch C.J.'s attention.
"C.J.," Giovanni said as he approached him.
"Oh...hi. What are you doing in here?"
Giovanni lowered his voice to seduction level. "You know, I can help you out with that."
"C.J., I know when a guy needs to get his rocks off. It's written all over your face."
Games at this point would do nothing to help his present state; it was best to cut to the chase. "I bet you do," C.J. said. "You look like you've been around."
"It helps," Giovanni purred as he lewdly wet his finger with his tongue, taking it and lightly tracing the outline of the Spectra cutie's now steel-hard cock. Inwardly, the horny Mediterranean was dancing with anticipation. C.J. was looking at him like a young stallion who had just caught the scent of a mare in season; things were looking up for the weekend.
"I'm taking off for the rest of the day. As soon as you can get away, why don't you come over to my place?" He took one of his business cards and wrote his address and phone number on the back. "It would be a shame to have to walk around like that all day without any relief but your hand." He gently squeezed the throbbing shaft, causing the younger Garrison to draw in a sharp breath.
"Ohhhh shit," C.J. moaned softly, his eyes half closed from the enjoyment of Giovanni's hand on his denim-covered sex wand.
"Do I take that as a yes?"
C.J. opened his eyes and nodded, the stallion look in them even stronger. In his most desperate hour, opportunity had dropped a five-course banquet onto his table in the form of this very hot man, and if he had to run all the way there he would. A quick glance at Giovanni's fully erect pleasure rod was further confirmation of his offer, and as the sensuous Italian turned around to leave the sex-starved Spectra freshman reached out and grabbed his desire-heated buns, pulling them against his aching mantool. "You gonna give me some of this, too?" he said, his voice dripping with lust.
Giovanni ground his ass against him in reply before he gently pulled away. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you at my place, C.J." And then he was gone.
C.J. finished his errands in record time, and he was soon driving down Melrose, carefully watching for the street that would take him to Giovanni and what promised to be a long, lust-crazed celebration, if the porn videos he'd been beating off to were any indication. The effect on him was evident to anyone who could look down into his car, but he didn't care. All he cared about was the fact that one of the men who had been in some of his hottest jackoff fantasies was giving him an engraved invitation to fill his hungry manpussy and expert mouth with the eight-and-a-half inches that were pounding inside his jeans. No power on earth would keep him from taking that horny Lorenzano sex machine on this now fun-filled Friday.
Giovanni answered the door in a pair of provocatively worn cutoffs, his eyes gleaming as he beheld C.J.'s rampant state of rut and let him in. There's no turning this stallion away, he gleefully thought to himself. "Hi, C.J.," he said, scrutinizing the insistent tent in the younger man's jeans. "Does that mean you're happy to see me?"
"You said you could take care of my cock, so the answer's yes," C.J. said, opening his pants and pulling out his turgid studpole.
Giovanni felt his mouth watering again. If this guy had been nervous before, need certainly took care of that. And the way he was coming out of his clothes, it was a sure bet that he wasn't going to wait long to get what he was promised. Falling to his knees before the now nude Spectra hottie, Giovanni licked his lips with relish as he appraised the feast that was pointed at him. Their cocks were the same length, but C.J. had the thickness of a small tree trunk. A little thing like that, however, was not about to stop someone as determined as he was from getting all of it into his gullet. The only question was, how long could C.J. hold out?
C.J. drew in a breath at the feel of Giovanni's hand stroking his member. Splendid was a very mild way to describe it. The word didn't even enter into description when this sparkling example of Mediterranean manhood looked at him in a sultry way and ran his tongue over the shaft, teasingly circling the apple-shaped head before diving into the slit. His hefty nuts had already drawn up long ago, heated up as he was. The man knew how to make him feel like he was about to jump out of his skin, but if he didn't start sucking him soon he would.....he was doing it. Now he knew how those hot guys in the video felt when they got a real blowjob. Giovanni was gradually swallowing his length and working his tongue from within at the same time. The Spectra heir found himself babbling incoherently. He felt ready to spring. He felt...
Giovanni had taken the last inch of that overloaded cock down his throat when he heard, "Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhh!!!" In the next instant his mouth and throat were hit by a flash flood of semen. Expert cocksman that he was, the thirsty photographer swallowed most of it, but some of the cum still managed to flow around his mouth and down his chin. He didn't even realize the tight hold C.J. had on his head until he came up for air. As he felt the young stud's hands relax and drop to his sides, Giovanni looked down at his own leaking sex log poking out from beneath the leg of his cutoffs, then up at the satisfied smile on C.J.'s face. The look in his eyes, however, told the Neapolitan cock slut that this was only the preliminary round, the cream skimmed off the top. He loved it.
Cum-smeared face and all, Giovanni got up and looked the lust-crazed C.J. in the eye, wrapping his arms around his neck and planting a big, sloppy kiss on him. The Spectra stallion practically squeezed the life out of him as the fires began to build again. Oh shit, yes, C.J. thought as he felt the major stimulation from their kiss and their hard cocks rubbing together. He wasted no time putting two fingers under Giovanni's cutoffs to find the moist, steamy hole he knew was waiting for him, growling when he located and breached it.
"Now you're gonna give me that fuckhole of yours," C.J. said with urgent desire.
"Si, mi amore," Giovanni said in that velvety, sexy voice that made C.J.'s cock stand so stiffly at attention. "I almost gave it to you at the Insomnia, I was so hot for you."
"So hot you wanted me to fuck your brains out?"
Giovanni let out a throaty groan from the finger fuck C.J. was giving him. "Why do you think I'm all greased up? I've got to have it. I need it."
C.J. practically threw Giovanni down on the thick-piled carpet floor, ripping the cutoffs from his body and hurling his legs into the air. He felt his pillar of passion throbbing insistently at the sight of his fantasy man lying there, horniness dripping from every pore of his body, his rigid pole turning red, his mancunt winking and spreading out a welcome mat.
With remarkable precision, C.J. lunged forward and pushed the head of his rod inside, only to be pulled the rest of the way in by the vortex of Giovanni's ravenous hole. "Oh, fuck!" the Spectra studmuffin cried out, euphoric from the dizzying effects Giovanni's fuck chute was having on his steel-hard assrammer.
"Ram it in there, stud. Fuck me silly. You know I can take it," Giovanni growled.
No one had to tell C.J. twice. He jumped out of the starting gates, fucking like a thoroughbred on his way to a Triple Crown victory. Giovanni, having no knowledge of C.J.'s "homework," was amazed. Who taught this little stud how to fuck? The stars before his eyes were reason enough for the dick-hungry Neapolitan to thank whoever it was. "Fotta me! Fotta me! Fotta me! Fotta me!" he cried when C.J. hit his love button, feeling the clear fluid coming out of his rod like a running faucet.
C.J. didn't understand all the Italian that was coming out of Giovanni's mouth other than a phrase that sounded vaguely like "Fuck me," but it was obvious that the man loved a big, hard cock in his manpussy. As far as the dark-haired Spectra stud was concerned, the drought was over. Everything he had seen on his visual aids safely tucked away at home was being played out in a way that exceeded his wildest expectations. He must have been kidding himself about his desires all these years, but he was definitely going to make up for lost time, starting now. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the harder Giovanni got fucked the better, and he was well equipped to handle that challenge.
C.J. found himself squealing further with delight at the feel of Giovanni's steamy tunnel around his cock. Talk about a hottie....Giovanni probably coined the term. Carried away in passion and the driving need, C.J. drilled him harder and faster, which only served to make Giovanni's temperature rise and his sausage get harder. Never in his life had he experienced somebody so hot to get plowed. His hair now in wild disarray, Giovanni was a cat in heat, and his chute knew exactly how to treat a rod. However, that very special treatment soon sent C.J. right over the edge, and he cut loose with quarts of seed inside his newfound fuckmate. He thought he would never stop, and Giovanni's greedy hole squeezed every last drop out of him until he collapsed on top of the man in an erotic stupor.
Before he fully realized what was happening Giovanni had C.J.'s legs in the air and covered him with his body, his raging love tool already a third of the way inside his virginal hole. C.J. cried out from the pain and begged Giovanni to take it out, but his efforts were halfhearted. The experienced hunk saw through the feigned protest and held himself still, kissing and caressing the younger man in a taunting but persuasive way until he felt the inexperienced muscles relax around him. Sensually and gradually, Giovanni worked more and more of his burning fleshpole into C.J., sensing even in the midst of a passionate kiss when the grunts and groans of pain transformed into pleasure.
What's he doing to me? C.J. thought, moaning with delight as Giovanni continued to plunder his mouth with his tongue. The man's cock was touching something inside him, and it felt so damned good. He found himself relaxing his hole even more, welcoming the increased thrusts, aware of his own shaft throbbing with renewed vigor between their damp bodies. So this is why he loves it so much. I hope he doesn't stop, it's so GOOD.
Giovanni propped himself up on his arms as he continued to pump his manmeat into C.J.'s now eager love tunnel, relishing the way C.J. looked at him with eyes completely glazed over with desire and ecstasy. He couldn't miss the way C.J.'s dick had turned to steel and was dribbling like crazy, ready to erupt at any moment. Knowing that he was causing these sensations inflamed him even more, and Giovanni took longer, deeper strokes as C.J. cried out his need for him.
"I love it. Oh, I love it. Deeper, Giovanni, fuck me deeper," cried C.J. as he bucked his trim buns up to meet Giovanni's passionate onslaught. His surrender was complete. He knew in his heart that once would not be enough. He had to have more, and the lusty grin on Giovanni's face assured him that he would get it.
The next bull's-eye on his prostate was all it took. C.J. howled as his orgasm pushed him over the cliff into the river of semen that spurted from his cock. Seconds later, Giovanni's heavy grunts and groans turned into a rapturous cry as his seed spilled and then overflowed C.J.'s pleasure cavern.
Lying there with pleasure juice all over his stomach and a hole that was still stuffed with Giovanni's virile manhood, C.J. felt like he had won the Kentucky Derby. His mind went back for a moment to the night at Big Bear, and his lips formed a sated smile. If this was what being a pussy boy was like, bring it on! His eyes looked dreamily at the deliciously erotic shutterbug who was running his hands through his damp hair, whispering his need for the Spectra stallion to fill his manpussy again. Giovanni would definitely and most eagerly put him through his paces for the Preakness and the Belmont Stakes, and they'd come through with all the trophies befitting a Triple Crown winner...
In the weeks to follow, C.J. felt like he was on Cloud Nine. His wild weekend with Giovanni had opened him up to playing the field with his newly discovered sexuality, and he checked out hot men with even more fervor than he formerly eyed the girls around town. West Hollywood was his Disneyland, and the nineteen-year-old soon became one of the darlings of the club circuit. Freed of his jealousy and armed with his new self-knowledge, C.J. came out to Rick, and with mutual disclosure their friendship reached solid ground once more.
Late one Thursday afternoon, C.J. stopped by Spectra Fashions, pleased with the diamond studs he bought for his newly pierced ear and the tighter pair of jeans that now graced his slim physique. He walked down the hall, whistling to himself as he approached the electrical closet. At that moment the electrician came out, and C.J. felt his knees grow weak and his heart pound like a triphammer.
The man was without a doubt the hottest denim bear he had ever laid eyes on. He easily stood 6'5", and his brawny 320 lbs. was a delight to C.J.'s lovestruck eyes. His hair spilled out from under his Dodgers cap into a shaggy, reddish-brown mane that reached to just below his shoulders, complementing his full beard and mustache. His black form-fitting T-shirt hugged a massive chest, huge biceps and a sexy gut. There was no doubt in the Spectra cutie's mind that a guy like this could lift the front end of his Camaro without breaking a sweat. As he appraised the man's furry forearms, C.J. shivered happily at the thought of being embraced in them. A denim vest, jeans and work boots completed the ensemble. Neither second-skin tight nor overly baggy, his jeans fit well enough to give his ample crotch breathing room. Standing there, staring at this man who was a mere hair's breadth from thirty, C.J. saw every man he'd previously been with pale in comparison. He was no pretty boy, nor did he have the standard model/actor looks, but C.J. wanted to dive into those Perry Mason eyes with an intensity he'd never known.
So lost was the Spectra heir in the moment that he didn't realize the hunky electrician had said something to him. "Huh? What?"
"I said, who can sign off on this work order?" he said with an amused expression.
Flustered and blushing from excitement, C.J. managed to blurt out, "Oh, uh, just take it to, uh, Darla. Her office is at the end of, uh, the hall." Looking for a way to keep this beefy dreamboat around a little longer, he extended his hand and gave him a sexy, if nervous, smile. "I'm C.J. Garrison."
"Tucker McCauley," he replied, taking C.J.'s hand in his powerful, work-toughened paw. "Nice to meet you."
"Do you have a lot of other jobs today?" C.J. asked, hoping that he read the look in Tucker's eyes accurately.
"A couple. As a matter of fact, I need to get to my next job." Before C.J.'s disappointment could completely cloud his face, Tucker took one of the cards from his clipboard and wrote something on the back. "Here. Call that number after six and we'll go out for a bite to eat." C.J. managed a nod, to which Tucker replied, "Great. Talk to you then," and turned to head up the hall, but not before C.J. saw the sparkle in his eyes.
C.J. leaned against the wall, holding Tucker's business card as if it belonged in Fort Knox, struck by the lightning of love at first sight. As he was treated to the sight of Tucker's wide, firm ass striding away from him, the young dark-haired man knew that Tucker was different. This was a man who knew what he wanted and played no games when it came to getting it. Remembering that indeterminate moment when he all but drowned in the studly electrician's eyes, C.J. had sensed that Tucker McCauley was someone who wanted far more than an evening of mindless sex. He hadn't said the words, but his bearing was clearly that of a man who believed in the philosophy, "Shit or get off the pot."
When he finally gathered his wits about him and his traitorous cock softened to a manageable level, he went straight to Darla's office. He came out to her shortly after his disclosure to Rick, and the two became thick as thieves. She had also been awed by Tucker's presence and wondered why she hadn't gotten anywhere with him while he was there. "That's because he's taking me out tonight," C.J. said with a silly grin.
"Well, aren't you the fast worker," Darla teased.
Dinner was at one of Tucker's favorite places, a comfortable neighborhood steakhouse. C.J. found himself enchanted by the man. Tucker was about as far removed from the games and fantasyland of Hollywood and Beverly Hills as one could get---plain-speaking, straightforward, tough when he had to be and yet caring. C.J. was surprised at how much he opened up about himself with Tucker, and his respect for this awesome bear had increased a hundredfold by the time the check was paid.
Normally C.J. would have been deciding which clubs he wanted to hit for the evening, but hanging out on Santa Monica Pier with Tucker wiped that completely from his mind. The fact that the sharing and the attraction were mutual was exhilarating. Whenever Tucker turned on that sparkle in his eyes and that soft smile---which he did many times that evening---C.J. felt like a lovesick puppy and made no attempt to hide it. He had been witness to the love Rick and Raymond had for each other. Perhaps this was the one he'd been looking for, the soulmate he could really be himself with.
At the end of the evening, sitting in Tucker's late-model Ford F-150 pickup, the captivating electrician pulled a trembling C.J. into his arms, and the young man's senses went into overload at the first feel of Tucker's lips on his, at the loving way he was held in Tucker's arms. He was far from being a muscle god, but that didn't matter to Tucker, and C.J.'s heart soared from the passion in the huge hunk's kiss, light years from the frustrating moments with Kimberly. He would have willingly let Tucker take him right there in the truck, but the sexy man had said, "Not yet, C.J."
"But why?" the bewildered C.J. asked.
"Because that's something special to me, and when we do make love it means we're in it for the long haul. Can you understand that?"
"I....I think so."
"So, are you willing to wait a little while?"
His instincts had been right. There was a much bigger picture at stake, a man of solid character and substance behind the eye candy, and that man wanted him. He would have to be begging to be locked up in the loony bin if he turned down someone like Tucker. From the depths of his heart, brimming with emotion, C.J. said, "For you, Tucker, anything."
For someone who lived for deafening house music, packed clubs and a different guy every other night, Tucker's request was a drastic departure for the Spectra party animal. However, there was no way that he was going to screw up the best thing that ever happened to him. He found that he liked old-fashioned dating with the McCauley bear, whether it was a picnic, the beach, a movie or the Dodgers games that the sexy giant was so passionate about. Double dating with Rick and Raymond served as further confirmation and support for the new couple. No other man existed for C.J. but Tucker, and raging hormones being what they are he spent many nights in his bedroom with one hand on his shaft and the other on the nine-inch dildo in his ravenous hole, fantasizing about the night he and Tucker would make love.
He didn't know how he knew it, but C.J. was sure that Tucker's thirtieth birthday would be that special night, and he wasn't disappointed. The sensation of Tucker's abundantly hairy pelt against his smooth skin was highly arousing. Clearly he was, by a wide margin, the most attentive lover C.J. had ever had. Tucker paid close attention to the younger man's hot spots, and he had discovered new ones that drove him even wilder with need. When C.J. saw the substantially thick, uncut ten inches Tucker had been packing away it was like discovering buried treasure, a fringe benefit of the man who had taken his heart and cherished it. It hadn't even hurt when Tucker filled him with that amazing manhood; in fact, C.J. found himself crying in joy when he saw the love in his gentle bear's eyes. For all the hot, steamy sex he had had before Tucker, it was like being on impulse power compared to the warp speed of their lovemaking. C.J. loved the way the McCauley bear picked him up and carried him around the house, all the while keeping his potent love column buried deep inside of him and showering him with gentle kisses. It had been enough to cause the Spectra hottie to climax at least twice that way, spurting his juice into Tucker's ample chest fur while feeling a fountain of juice blast inside his hot tunnel.
C.J.'s desire and love for Tucker only increased over time. They didn't always see eye to eye, but their relationship could stand those differences. He knew he would never get enough of him. Every time Tucker would fill his juicy hole with that live-wired instrument of love was something to relish, and C.J. was so glad he did it often. And to add icing on the cake, every once in a while his beloved sexy giant would spread his big, furry cheeks, inviting C.J. to mount him.....
For C.J., all the sayings about spring and a young man's fancy held true, although he had been in love with Tucker long before the season began. The onset of spring brought about an important event in the life of the Spectra heir---moving in with Tucker. Passionate and emotional as he was, C.J. just couldn't hide how he felt about Tucker whenever the studly electrician called or visited him, which naturally raised questions. With a little push from Darla and Tucker, C.J. made his disclosure to his family shortly after Valentine's Day. Mom took it in stride and stood behind him, and for some reason Macy found it easier to handle this news coming from her brother than learning the same thing about Thorne. Adam and his father, however, were very low-key in their reception to his news, which puzzled him. Overall, though, the environment was warmer for Tucker and himself. After Mom had pulled Tucker into her office for a lengthy talk, she had given her blessing to the couple and their plans.
In the process of getting C.J.'s things moved into the new home he and Tucker had chosen, Rick had accompanied C.J. on the trip to his father's penthouse to get some items he'd left there. Leaving their respective spouses at the house, they laughed and joked about the party Tarik and Thorne had hosted for the couples, including the surprise guest.
"C.J., I thought your eyes were gonna pop right outta your head when Ridge showed up," Rick said. "It's a wonder you didn't pass out."
"Well, what was I supposed to do? You and Thorne didn't say one word to me about him."
"He didn't want us to. He wanted to do that himself. Anyway, he hasn't told Taylor yet."
"So when's the big event?"
"Probably today. Stephanie's baby-sitting the kids."
"Is that why he didn't tell us who his boyfriend is?"
"Could be, but there could be more to it. Still," Rick said with a laugh, "I wish I had my Polaroid that night to get that look on your face."
They were still laughing when they got off the elevator and knocked on the door of Clarke's condo. "Hmmm---no answer," C.J. said.
"Now what do we do?" asked Rick.
"No sweat." C.J. sorted through the keys on his key ring until he found what he was looking for. "I've still got the spare keys to this place from when I'd crash here sometimes. Besides, we're just here to get my stuff."
Once inside, the young men were greeted by the sounds of Santana coming from the stereo system. "Does your dad leave the music on when he's not here?" said Rick as he looked around.
"No. He's gotta be here. I don't understand why he didn't answer the door, unless maybe he's asleep or something."
"You think he's got a woman here?"
C.J. sniffed the air and scanned the living room. "Nah. If he did there'd be a purse around here and shoes by the couch. He's probably asleep. Let's just get my stuff and go."
"Where is it?"
"In the guest room."
Their sneakers were silent on the carpet as they made their way across the spacious condo to the hallway that connected the bedrooms. The Spectra cutie knew that his father had been a Santana fan in his younger days, but he hardly ever played it now---or so he thought. As they walked down the hall, they heard sounds coming from an open door. They were familiar, just audible under the music, reminding the two of wild animals in heat.
"Are you sure your dad doesn't have someone in there?" Rick said in C.J.'s ear.
"Positive. I bet he's watching a porn flick. Did you smell any perfume when we got in here?"
"Like I said, he's probably getting his rocks off with a porn flick. Let's hurry up and get out of here."
Rick kept up with C.J.'s pace, feeling equally as anxious to complete their mission but not quite sure of the reason he felt that way. As he mulled over it, he was brought up short when he suddenly bumped into his friend. C.J. was frozen in his tracks at the door the sounds came from. The junior Forrester started to say something, but C.J. didn't seem to be aware he was there at that moment. Instead, he followed the direction his friend's eyes were looking.
The television in the bedroom was off, but the empty bed looked like it had been struck by a tornado; the whole room did. They could really hear the noises now, coming from the rutting couple on the floor, going at it with a frenzy that precluded all conscious awareness of anything else, raw, uninhibited animal passions being driven to higher and higher levels by the music.
"DAD!?" Rick and C.J. exclaimed.......
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