DISCLAIMER: This is the first 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
SULTAN OF GENOA CITY: CHAPTER I
Malcolm Silva-Winters felt at peace with himself as he enjoyed a cup of decaf in his studio. The morning's shoot had gone exceptionally well; all of his shoots had lately. Love can have a way of doing that, and the thirty-one-year-old African-American dreamhunk was deeply in love. He looked over at his desk as he stroked his well-groomed mustache and goatee, feeling the warmth inside his 6'1" body increase when he saw the photograph taken of John and himself on their honeymoon four months ago. He knew, deep in his heart and soul, that John Silva-Winters was the one he would spend the rest of his life with.
To be sure, his marriage to John Silva had rocked a few worlds in Genoa City. Malcolm's attorney husband was considered a nice guy with principles and honor, but getting beyond a first date with someone was a major problem he'd had in the past. Now other men viewed him as a prize, and women who'd previously given John the brush were noticing him; their loss, as far as Malcolm was concerned, was his substantial gain. The situation also had the ironic effect of increasing Malcolm's business at the studio. Women were practically breaking down his door to be photographed by him, and not only because of the quality of his work. Some felt safer with him. Others couldn't believe that this sizzling hunk of man was married to another man. Still others viewed him as a challenge, thinking that they could lure Malcolm away from his husband. His paranoid ex-wife Olivia had gone into a fit of apoplexy when the news broke, even though she had said she was through with him.
In spite of the come-ons and propositions the couple got from men and women alike, he and John only had eyes for each other. It had been that way since that incredible night just over a year ago in Vermont; Tarik and Thorne Forrester-Singletary's stag party had been the catalyst for a love connection that only got stronger with each passing day.
Their courtship had been both pleasant and intense. Getting to know each other could never be an overnight process, but the two found how much they liked being around each other. Disagreements and sometimes arguments arose, and Malcolm and John found ways to resolve them by strict adherence to the motto, "Never go to bed angry." They loved to do little romantic things for each other to offset the particular demands their respective careers made upon them---sometimes it could something as simple as curling up together and listening to jazz music or an afternoon in the woods. Ever present in the mix, of course, was the intangible kind of sharing that would keep them together in the long run.
Nothing, however, had been like the day they went walking in the main city park on a clear, chilly Saturday afternoon in January. Malcolm hadn't understood why John wanted to go there when they could be snuggled under blankets and comforters, drinking hot chocolate or hot apple cider. When he heard the small plane flying overhead he had looked up like the few scattered people in the park did. It was one of those planes that carried an advertisement banner behind it, only this time it said, "Malcolm, will you marry me?" When the stunned photographer was finally able to close his mouth and look back at his boyfriend, John was looking at him with those intense eyes full of love. "Well, querido, will you?" he said.
"You know I will," Malcolm said without hesitation, throwing his arms around John and kissing him without a care about who saw them.
Their engagement celebration that evening had started with an intimate dinner at Malcolm's loft apartment, toasting the occasion with flutes of vintage champagne and warm declarations of love. Malcolm felt uninhibited joy as John made love to him well into the wee hours of the morning, and waking up to find himself buried to the hilt inside of his fiancé set the tone for a very pleasant, leisurely Sunday.
His brother Neil and Victor Newman had been the first to hear the news. Not only did Victor host their stag party---which took place on a chartered cruise ship with their friends from Genoa City and Los Angeles---but he also served as John's best man at their wedding. Taking a cue from Tarik and Thorne, Malcolm and John had gone to Rutland, Vermont for their civil ceremony and had a wedding in Genoa City on March 31. As the contented shutterbug looked back on everything, it had been through Victor that he and John had gotten together. His older brother may have been the one who had been personally involved with the tycoon's family as well as working for him, but Victor was part of his life now as a very powerful friend.
Katherine Chancellor, the grande dame of Genoa City society, had gladly hosted their wedding reception, thereby putting her stamp of approval on the new couple. At the same time, she had also successfully spited her slutty archenemy, Jill Abbott, by inviting her to the reception. Indeed, when he and John were dancing together, Malcolm had noticed the First Bitch of Genoa City watching them, looking as though she'd been slapped. She'd been all over John like a cheap suit when she was his client, and John's staunch sense of ethics only turned up Jill's hormones to the "nympho" setting when he refused to bed her. However, once the case was over and he became available, she lost all interest in him---until she heard that he'd gotten married. Katherine, of course, relished the moment, and Malcolm was sure that she said something to the Abbott slut like, "The day has finally come. You may be the biggest harlot in town, but you'll never get your two-dollar hands on John Silva---or should I say, John Silva-Winters. You could lay down in the middle of the floor right now, and he wouldn't touch you. That may be your best position, but competing with Malcolm would be like wishing for rain in Death Valley." Needless to say, Jill's stay at the reception was blessedly brief.
Although some people, like Jack Abbott and Michael Baldwin, could always be counted upon for snide remarks about their relationship, it still felt good to be out and up front with it, the way Thorne and Tarik and their Los Angeles friends were. In the meantime, Malcolm also wondered what some people would say if they knew that the oh-so-sexy billionaire, Victor Newman, had his own private and very willing harem of the hottest studs in Genoa City.
Malcolm found himself squeezing his anal muscles in fond memory of the way John had taken him before they went to work, and he felt his thirteen inches of dick begin to stir. Their lovemaking had gotten even better since their honeymoon, and since John wasn't scheduled to be in court today he looked forward to going to his office for a "private consultation." At Tarik and Thorne's stag party, he had promised to keep John's hole filled regularly, and keeping that promise was a great pleasure. He loved the way John switched to Spanish whenever he was getting fucked. It was a thrill to see John dressed in the special "Satisfaction" slacks Ridge Forrester had designed on different occasions when they went out, knowing that his beloved was so hot to be plowed that they wouldn't make it home. His handsome Hispanic husband had also done an incomparable job of engraving his name inside of Malcolm's love tunnel with his ten-and-a-half inches of uncut fuckmeat, and the studly photographer often found himself switching his luscious cashew-colored melons when he was around John to entice him into taking a ride.
John had also made one of his fantasies come true on a trip to Green Bay after their honeymoon. John had to give a deposition at the Brown County Courthouse, and Malcolm, sensing opportunity, came along for the ride. Somehow they were able to sneak into Lambeau Field late the following night, and the hot legal eagle plowed Malcolm to his heart's content on the turf at the fifty-yard line. The combination of his husband and the surroundings were so powerful that Malcolm climaxed three times while John made love to him.
If anyone had told him two years ago how much he would love having his manpussy plowed, he would have been the first to give the guy an argument if not a fight about it. That, however, was before Victor Newman showed him that his experiences with Olivia and Callie were like a diet of McDonald's hamburgers compared to the filet mignon that had been waiting for him all along. He had a lot to thank Victor for. Who would have thought that a little trip to that awesome tycoon's office would change his life forever......
Malcolm hadn't been in a good mental space back then, and it had been affecting his business. His divorce from Olivia was in process, which would finally free him from her paranoiac imaginings. He had just kicked Callie to the curb---and out of his apartment---after discovering that the conniving vixen was married to Trey and had lied to him about it. Given the emotional blows he had taken, the one semi-bright spot in his life was in reconciling with Neil, who had been one of the displaced objects of his foul moods.
Malcolm was thrilled when he got the news that Victor Newman wanted him to do a photo layout of the Newman Tower office complex. He knew that his brother had to have put in a good word for him, and he thanked Neil profusely when they celebrated over a glass of the bubbly. As he prepared his portfolio the next morning, the thought of such a project being a part of it put a delightful grin on his face. His killer smile and come-hither brown eyes had been a potent combination when he went after a woman he wanted. This time, he hoped that the corporate supergiant would see a package that had "winner" written all over it.
He arrived at the mogul's penthouse office suite ten minutes early, ready and eager to discuss the project. He gave Connie a dazzling smile as he announced himself, warmed by the fact that Victor wanted to speak to him personally. Being shown into the great mogul's office right away was even more encouraging, and Malcolm stepped inside with confidence, his mind set on making the most of this golden opportunity.
It wasn't often that Malcolm spent any time in a CEO's office, but Victor Newman's suite was cut from a different cloth. It whispered power rather than shouted it, and that whisper proved to be far more potent in its effect on those who entered this inner sanctum. The man behind the massive desk with the chestnut hair, weather-beaten face and the famous mustache exuded an aura that people respected, and some feared. Today, Malcolm was greeted with grace, cordiality, and a firm handshake that left him with an inexplicable tingle.
Victor and Malcolm proceeded to discuss the plans for the photo layout of Newman Enterprises' headquarters. To Malcolm's amazement, Victor's plans also included travel to his other facilities as well, making for an extremely lucrative assignment. Malcolm was thankful that he had brought along samples of his best work, as the scope of the tycoon's project added additional enthusiasm to the photographer's eyes.
Although it wasn't considered tops on the romance language charts, Victor's prominent German accent and the way he used it made for a powerful aphrodisiac. As they were talking, Malcolm found himself drawn to the Newman hunk's voice, the way it played his auditory senses like a Stradivarius. Not only that, when Malcolm looked at him, he found himself wondering how a man that was nearly sixty could be so...hot. But why? Ladies' men didn't go around checking out dudes. That was for punks, and he wasn't a punk.
The lunch hour had arrived before he realized it. Malcolm, thinking that the meeting was over, got up to leave, only to discover that Victor had ordered lunch for them, catered by Gina's Restaurant. Happily he sat down to join the Newman hunk, his mind buzzing with the ideas generated from the meeting. Back in his days in the 'hood, he never dreamed that he'd be having lunch with one of the most powerful businessmen in the country, but he was determined to make the most of it.
The excellent cognac he had with lunch had him feeling quite mellow, and the Winters stud found himself eyeing Victor again with more than a casual interest. What was going on? He never checked out men before---well, that wasn't quite true. There were those bygone days in junior high school, before he had hooked up with that scheming, devious Callie. But Victor Newman....there was something about the man, the way those eyes of his could look at him, scrutinize all of his secrets. Was that it? And was it remotely possible that Victor was also giving him the eye?
These questions were buzzing in the African-American hotty's mind when Victor stood up. Looks like the meeting's over, Malcolm thought as he got up and started for the door. The billionaire's next move, however, gave Malcolm pause. His first thought was to put a stop to what Victor was doing when he felt the hot daddy squeeze his shoulders---or rather, the way his strong hands were squeezing and massaging his shoulder muscles. And yet he didn't, because it was Victor Newman doing it and---he had to quietly admit to himself---it felt good.
"I knew when you walked in the door that you were the man for the job, aside from the fact that your brother speaks so highly of your work," Victor said in that smooth, ever-seductive voice.
"Thanks, Victor," Malcolm replied, almost blushing from the compliment. "You'll get a photo spread second to none."
"I know I will, Malcolm. And now, I'd like to do something for you."
One minute Malcolm was captured by Victor's smoldering gaze; in the next he was in the man's powerful arms, being kissed with strong yet gentle passion. The younger man struggled against him, fighting the feelings that were rampaging through his body. His struggles, however, lasted for barely a minute before he found himself wrapping his arms around Victor's neck, kissing him back with a hunger that he didn't realize he had, parting his lips in an open invitation to Victor's tongue.
It was hard to believe that he, of all people, was in a major clinch with someone like Victor. He would never have figured the Newman lady-killer for being into men. As for himself, he had always thought his fooling around in his early teens was just a phase he'd grown out of, and any dude in his recent past who hit on him usually wound up with his feelings hurt. That theory, as evidenced by his rigid dick and his desire for more of those deep lip locks, was now sliced to ribbons.
Dazed from Victor's kisses, Malcolm felt as though he was watching himself from afar as Victor undid the buttons of his collarless dress shirt, running his hands over his well-muscled, sensuous pecs and abs, tweaking his nipples into hardness before he sucked on them, bringing him back into the action with a hearty moan. He felt his legs turn to jelly and he started to collapse. What were his pants doing around his ankles? Before he could completely process it, Malcolm found himself off the ground, gathered in Victor's arms. Further aroused by the powerful yet romantic hold he was in, the Winters hotty wrapped his arms around Victor's neck, leaning in for another body-tingling kiss.
As he carried Malcolm to the bedroom behind the secret panel in his office, Victor was quite pleased at the way Malcolm was getting into the swing of things. He had seen the undisputed evidence of Malcolm's huge sex column threatening to burst out of his boxers from the tantalizing foreplay, and before he was through Victor would have him pleading to be taken. When it came to men, the sultry mogul's instincts had deadly accuracy, even when the objects of his desire appeared to be clueless about themselves. Long experience had taught him how to spot even that which was hidden below the surface. From there it was all a matter of bringing those desires within to the forefront, and the Newman sex sultan was a genius when it came to the intimate knowledge of a man's body. Seeing Malcolm laid out on the bed, hard and throbbing in nothing but his black silk boxers, Victor gave him a smile that promised further delights.
How did he know I like satin sheets, Malcolm thought as Victor reached down and pulled off his boxers with one quick, skillful movement. The texture of the sheets on his now nude body turned his temperature up a few more degrees. What was happening to him? This was something else; he liked this feeling of lying naked before Victor, letting the man see his incredibly built body and know how turned on he was. Had Victor cast some sort of spell on him, being able to set his body on fire with his touch? As the Newman daddy slowly removed his clothes, Malcolm watched with eager anticipation the virile, mature body being revealed. When he had stripped down to his briefs, Victor knelt on the bed above Malcolm, his desire-drenched eyes inviting the Winters sex puppy to unwrap his present.
"Oh man," Malcolm said as the potent, twelve-inch manmeat sprang free of the briefs he had ripped off Victor's body. How many women were running around Genoa City with wet panties over this dude? He'd never seen a white dude packing the kind of dick Victor Newman had; seeing it in its mesmerizing, fully erect state, it came to within an inch of his own monumental proportions. Involuntarily he ran his tongue over his luscious lips, feeling his passion pillar jerk in response. He let out a guttural sigh as the hot, older man took both their shafts into his hand and stroked them. It seemed like eons since he'd experienced another man's hand on his rod, and it still felt so good.
The sounds of a classical-jazz mix softly serenaded Malcolm as Victor laid on top of him and engaged him in another hot, steamy kissing session. Reason had taken a hike as Malcolm savored the Newman daddy's tongue, his lips, the new and wonderful feeling of being covered by his powerful, work-hardened body. How was it possible for someone to relax him and turn him on so quickly? And another man, no less? Could it be that the old memories were too strong? Then again, he had never kissed a man until now. The fact remained that he loved it, and he threw himself deeper into the pleasure of Victor's embrace, his body simmering as he ground it against Victor's.
Malcolm had given full tongue baths to Callie during the time they had lived together, but he'd never been the recipient of one until now, as he undulated and purred beneath Victor's highly talented tongue. No wonder the woman turned into a bitch in heat---if things were this hot now, what else did this master of sensuality have in store for him?
He closed his eyes, giving in completely to the sensations washing over his body, feeling that delightfully maddening tongue work its magic. He hardly noticed his legs being raised, he was so relaxed. What was that new feeling? It couldn't be, but....passion had just soared to a new level. His buddies in junior high had never done anything like this. The knowledge that this new source of pleasure was in his pucker hit Malcolm's brain like an adrenaline rush. Victor's tongue was sending him up the walls, and the continued caresses of the mature man's hands on his body turned up the temperature yet another degree. Moaning with newfound passion, Malcolm held his own legs up now, reveling in the special oral treatment Victor was giving his manpussy and his balls.
After indeterminate moments of the rapture, Malcolm opened his eyes to find that the Newman stud straddling his chest, his huge cock a scant inch from his luscious lips. It was so easy to lean forward and capture the drooling head in his mouth, keeping his eyes on Victor's lustful grin of satisfaction. The business legend was clearly enjoying himself. However, he didn't stay idle, for Malcolm felt a wet finger slip into his virgin hole. It was a different but pleasant feeling, and Malcolm continued to suck as much of Victor's dick as he could, unaware that Victor's probing finger had found its target and began to massage it.
Malcolm's body went into a spasm of pleasure. The thoughts that had drifted into his mind while he was being rimmed were now stronger, more forceful. He sucked harder on Victor's sex pillar, reaching up to pinch and squeeze the older man's nipples, grinding his ass around the second finger that had slipped into his tunnel to stimulate him further. There was no doubt about it now. It would take more than fingers to satisfy the hunger within him. He let his head fall back onto the pillow, allowing the love club to come out of his mouth. With his chest heaving from desire, body burning with need, dick hard enough to break down a door, Malcolm's eyes were steamy with lust as he dove into Victor's deep, dark, all-knowing eyes.
"Fuck me, Victor. I want this dick all the way up in me." He had actually said it. Sure, the thought was foremost in his mind, but until he saw Victor turn up the sexual heat in his eyes he hadn't realized that he'd said the words. He, Malcolm Winters, was begging to be plowed, and at that moment he didn't care who knew it as long as Victor gave him what he so desperately needed.
"You've been waiting for this for a long time, Malcolm," Victor said, his voice heavy with unbridled passion as he lubed Malcolm's sizzling hole and his own legendary lust column. "Now I will give you something to remember."
Malcolm felt the initial pain of Victor's entry into his virgin tunnel, but he knew he was man enough to take it. After all, he had thirteen inches of his own that he had learned to wield with care when it came to the ladies. Although he would never divulge to them who plucked his cherry, his gay friends would tell him later that he'd been broken in properly, by starting with the biggest dick he could find. That pain, however, was only initial, because very soon it was followed by ecstasy.
Never in his life had the Winters sex prince been this hot. Whatever it was that the Newman sultan was hitting inside of him had his monumental dick harder than a steel beam---not only hard, but dripping. Olivia who? Callie who? At that moment, all he wanted---all he lived for---was to experience this magnificent testimony to manhood making love to him in that very plush office, to be plundered deeper than the ocean floor.
With the way he'd been moaning, groaning and carrying on as Victor plowed him again and again, Malcolm now had reason to be glad that the office was soundproofed. "Oh yeah, dick me! Just dick me! Pump that dick in my ass," Malcolm cried out. Had he ever known such pleasure before? The lustful haze over the Newman superstud's eyes was enough for Malcolm to open his ass more, gleefully welcoming those deep, deep thrusts as he locked his legs around Victor's waist.
"Oh, my beautiful Malcolm," Victor said huskily. "You were made to be loved like this."
"Yeah......oh yeah, Victor," Malcolm sighed as Victor's strokes grew longer and deeper. "I love it, man."
Victor growled with delight at the welcoming caresses and squeezes Malcolm's manpussy was giving his pulsing rod. The look on the Winters dreamhunk's face when he fully realized how wonderful it felt to be taken was priceless. Although men would be beating down his door to climb on his dick cannon, Malcolm would never be satisfied unless he was also getting fucked on a regular basis; of that Victor was certain. As he rocked his hips in variations of the strokes Malcolm craved, for a moment the Newman stud magnet wondered what it would feel like to have a cock in his own ass, especially one the size of Malcolm's. The thought passed, however, and Victor continued to plow Malcolm to the mutual pleasure of both men.
Malcolm couldn't get enough of Victor's fucktool Whether he was on his back, his side, his stomach, doggie style or whatever, the appetite of his sex chute became heartier. Until that day, he had considered himself an expert in the art of lovemaking. As he bounced up and down on the granite cockmeat, he knew that Victor Newman had written the book on the subject. The man had brought out his dormant desires with a vengeance, and there was no turning back. The void was filled. Sensory overload was imminent, and Malcolm was ready to take the plunge into the waterfall of paradise in the inviting arms of another man.
Switching positions again, without even taking his studpole out of the younger man's greedy hole, Victor turned Malcolm onto his back. The mature man fastened his lips onto Malcolm's straining dick and started sucking, all the while hitting Malcolm's G-spot. The Winters stud began to tremble, his body tightening up, unable to hold out for one more second.
Bolts, more bolts, and still more bolts of semen shot out of Malcolm's fire hose into Victor's waiting throat. His supply seemed inexhaustible; already his sex juice had begun to run down Victor's chin. Practically incoherent from the throes of his climax,
the walls of his tunnel had contracted around Victor's cock so tightly that it sent the older man over the edge, bellowing as his special sauce was blasted deep inside Malcolm's hole. Over the falls they went, drenched in satisfaction, crying out their ecstasy as their bodies bucked and heaved together.
Malcolm was in a dreamlike state as he lay there with Victor's arms around him, savoring the fullness of Victor's magnificent equipment buried inside of him. In all his experiences with women, he hadn't even come close to having an orgasm like that. Nor had afterglow been as powerful, keeping him with a sense of floating and drifting in the cosmos on a different plane of consciousness.
Only when Victor had to pull out of him to take a leak did Malcolm realize how awful it felt being empty. He needed to be filled again. When Victor returned to the bed, the horny photographer took his semi-hard cock in his hands and said, "I want to feel this in my booty again, Victor."
"Are you sure?" Victor said in a teasing way.
"How can you ask me that, man? No one---I mean no one---has ever made me feel like that. I want some more."
"I'm sure we can arrange that, Malcolm," Victor said, taking a finger and rubbing it around the rim of Malcolm's wet manpussy.
"How about now, Victor? I want you to dick me," Malcolm said between moans as he felt Victor's studmeat get harder in his hand.
For the next half-hour, the Newman daddy fucked the Winters studmuffin all over the office. When he left the fabulous suite---holding a signed agreement with a very generous fee and feeling his freshly deflowered hole twitch and tingle---Malcolm Winters was an incredibly happy man. He maintained his composure as he left the outer office, but once inside the elevator he was giggling with unabashed delight. The models that came for the shoot that afternoon at his studio couldn't help but notice the one-eighty his mood had undergone. The smile on Malcolm's face just refused to come off. Who wouldn't have a smile like that, after being taken so exquisitely by Victor Newman? A couple of the models kidded him about having a new woman somewhere, and all Malcolm could do was blush, thinking of his invitation to Victor's bed later that evening.
Exploring this facet of his life had added zest to his work. The Newman Enterprises project had opened the door for more opportunities outside of fashion photography, and Malcolm gleefully thanked his benefactor with his hungry hole whenever he was called. Learning that Neil had also been seduced by Victor was a pleasant revelation, and the brothers had plenty to talk about.
As time went by, Malcolm had the opportunity to meet---and make it with---the other men in Victor's harem of hot studs. To say he was surprised was putting it mildly, given that he was acquainted with all of them. Never had he suspected that they shared his now overwhelming same-sex desires. And what a treat it was, at Thorne's coming-out party, to tap the Newman daddy's hard, tight ass for the first time. Victor may have given the impression of being a top man only, but it didn't take long for the man to warm up to Malcolm's thirteen ass-plowing inches on a regular basis. Then, John Silva came along and captured his heart.....
Malcolm read the invitation again with a smile. It was great to know that his friends would have the opportunity to experience the kind of happiness he had, and Ridge and Adam deserved it. There was no doubt that he and John would be there for the wedding on September 1. And of course, there would be a stag party. Although he and John were monogamous, there was always good food, good company, dancing and hot action to watch while they were fucking each other.
As the sexy shutterbug sat back in his chair and propped his legs up over the arms, he picked up his telephone and dialed a number, lazily alternating between stroking his memory-hardened dick and inserting a finger into his steamy love tunnel, thinking of John as he waited for an answer.
"Hey, Victor, it's Malcolm. Whazzup?..........yeah, it's all good. Say, did you get your invite from Ridge and Adam?"
My deepest thanks and appreciation for all of you who took the time to check out the "Bold and Beautiful Men" series, as well as those who encouraged me to write a continuation in the form of "Sultan of Genoa City" (you know who you are). Questions and comments can be sent to firstname.lastname@example.org Make sure you include "Sultan of Genoa City" in the "Subject" area of your e-mail so I can readily identify it, and if you plan on contacting me to flame, it will be ignored and deleted.
Stay tuned for more "Sultan of Genoa City." Have a good one! (:-)