Date: Sun, 29 Apr 2007 19:14:14 -0700
From: Backlash29 x <backlash29@hotmail.com>
Subject: ryans-hole-13

Disclaimer: This story is about men having sex with men. If that's not your
thing or you're too young to read it, please leave now. The author has no
knowledge of Ryan Phillippe's sexuality, nor that of any other famous
personality mentioned here, and has written this purely as a work of erotic
fantasy fiction. Enjoy!

RYAN'S HOLE

by Backlash29

backlash29@hotmail.com

Epilogue: Bachelor Pad

Ryan woke, craving dick.

When he had dozed off, his bedroom still had two other men in it--a hot
blond guy who was sitting on his face, and a hairy-chested surfer dude with
a close-cropped head shave who was pushing his meat in and out of Ryan's
butt-pussy. He didn't recognize them, but he'd been getting fucked all
evening by some local community college kids, and all of them had been
phoning their friends, telling them to stop on over.

The last thing he remembered was crying happily as his tongue continued
swabbing the blond hunk's spongey ass button, and the surfer loudly
unleashing his pent-up cumload into Ryan's goopy, yawning cooze. Then Ryan
had lain there like a used cum rag, waiting for more, but there wasn't
any...at least, not that he could remember. He felt horny as always but also
very tired, so he must have passed out.

Now it was a few hours later. His ass tingled with the moist deposits of
many sperm loads. As he breathed the cool nighttime air of the empty house,
he pondered the best way to get more cock. He was still tired--indeed, still
half-asleep--but his ass knew what it wanted, and there was no quenching
that thirst. Groggily, he pulled on a pair of old jeans, grabbed his cell
phone, and got a cab to arrive at his home and take him to his favorite
seedy underground place in downtown Los Angeles. In the rare times when he
found himself without a cock to take up his ass, he went to this place, and
it never disappointed him.

The cab dropped him off in front of a dark, unassuming warehouse structure,
settled among mid-rise office towers and streetside retail shops that had
closed hours earlier. He walked to the back, knocked twice on a windowless
door, smiled for the security camera, and went inside.

Two steps inside the door, guys were fucking. Another well-known slut like
Ryan was on his knees taking dick, and a crowd of goodlooking men had fallen
on him. They all pounded him, one at a time, and in the mean time, sucked
and fucked each other. Ryan made his way around the pile and started into
the maze of corridors, each lined with dim shadows of couples and triples
and larger groups of men making out and having sex. Finally he arrived at
his favorite place, a narrow stall with glory holes on either side. Several
regulars noticed him there and hurried over. Ryan didn't even bother
stripping, just yanked his pants down and aimed his ass for the first dick,
already hard and dripping as it protruded through the hole.

He sighed with satisfaction as he felt the first cock in nearly three hours
make its way into his well-oiled chute. That cock lasted ten whole strokes
before blasting its load into Ryan's nympho fuck hole. As soon as it pulled
out, another fat dick went in, this one even bigger and dark black. At the
same time, a new cock appeared at the other glory hole, right next to Ryan's
face. As he devoured the tasty cock meal in front of him, Ryan rocked
frantically on the ebony rod behind him, coaxing that black baby sauce into
his love tunnel, milking the jet black cock until it blew its contents way
up into his superstar ass.

On and on it went. Within a few minutes the long line of men waiting to fuck
him had stretched from one end of the club to the other. And so Ryan was
fucked continuously, all night long, by and endless parade of hot men and
hard cocks. One anonymous stud after another took Ryan's ass for a ride,
pounded him hard and then shot his cum gun into the young man's hot dripping
ass, filling his slutty fuck-passage with their tangy seed. Eventually the
glory hole booth was dispensed with and Ryan relocated to a nearby bench,
where he hoisted his legs up, his greased fuck hole open and ready, and
immediately his ass was stuffed full by the next dick in line.

Ryan was beside himself with happiness, feeling all of these men fucking him
and getting his pretty ass flooded with their warm, sticky loads of cum. He
was a little cum-craving ass puppy, a fuck-glutton beyond abandon, a
ferocious cum dump who just wanted cock all night. He served every man in
the club, sucking their cocks and then giving up his boy-butt to them,
yielding his hot cunt, crying and begging and sobbing and slurping the whole
time that this building full of total strangers was breeding his hole. He
felt their energy, the force of their cum as they pissed it inside of him,
shooting it into his guts and belly.

And that's what he got it. By the time he showed his face in the downtown
alley once again, his stained jeans barely clasped around his sweat-soaked,
desirable body, dawn had broken on the city, and the first dark-suited
businessmen were just starting to arrive for work.

*     *     *

Across town, that same morning, a laptop screen displayed the following
message draft:

"House for sale. Three bedroom suites, plus guest room, and new casita over
garage. Secluded hills location. Call for showing."

Brady clicked Send on the mail. Remaining in his Drafts folder was his
carefully worded resignation letter, where he explained his reasons (well, a
few of them) for leaving his job at the talent management agency.

In a separate mail to Ryan's realtor, he reiterated the terms Ryan had
agreed to: The house could only be shown in the late afternoons, and only by
appointment. If any realtor--or, much worse, anyone from the press--were to
stop by at any other time, god only knows what they'd end up seeing going on
inside. And, equally importantly, the maid's room and casita can NOT be
shown in their present condition. They are currently furnished in a way that
would require too much explanation, after all...

*     *     *

October 2005. It had been nearly a year since Reese moved out, although it
wouldn't be reported widely until later. During the Reese years, the
playroom over the garage had sufficed for Ryan's non-stop sexual play.
Contractors had added a kitchen and full bath, making it a functioning
apartment unit, allowing Ryan and Reese to live entirely separately. Ryan
slept and showered there, and in the late afternoons, he wandered up to the
main house to play with his two beautiful kids. The rest of the
time--roughly fourteen hours per day, evening included, for over three
straight years of his career hiatus--he was in the playroom, naked, getting
fucked.

They came in droves. They never left him alone. They were always fucking
him. Men, beautiful men, from every part of the city, even men who flew in
to Los Angeles regularly for the experience. And he could deny them nothing.
His ass was theirs for the taking. Ryan bought the house next door, the
casita's closest neighbor, because it had a four-car garage and a huge
driveway, giving his top guests a place to park and hang out while they were
waiting for their turn to go into the playpen and fuck him, or where they
could take meals and relax during a break in between shooting their loads
into his luscious ass.

For over three years, a non-stop parade of men. All hot, all hung. Ages 16
to 45. Celebrities and non-celebs alike. Regulars or first-timers, all were
welcome. Reese never questioned him about it. Their kids and neighbors never
noticed or thought to ask about the cars. It was a perfect arrangement. He
had money in the bank, an understanding wife, a beautiful and practical
home, and a supple, insatiable ass that required constant filling with cocks
and cum. His career still mattered, but he knew it could wait. Reese was
earning just fine for both of them now, the same way he had earned for both
of them at the beginning of their marriage. She met her own social and
sexual needs through a series of boyfriends, just like he did.

So, it was too bad it had to come to an end. The last days of Ryan's
Hollywood playpen were a simple matter of a well-placed paparazzo with a
zoom lens and an appetite for success. When Brady first showed the blackmail
letter to Ryan, he didn't even seem that fazed.

"I recognize the guy's name," Ryan said. "I'm pretty sure he fucked me."

"Well, now he's REALLY fucked you, Ryan," Brady told him. "He wants a lot of
money. You'll have to either get it from Reese, or sell your half of the
house."

"Or what?"

"Or these pictures end up in Us Weekly, I guess," Brady said, fishing
through the contents of the large, plain envelope. He produced one.
"Pictures like this one." It was a shot of superstar ex-Laker Rick Fox
drilling his gigantic black bone into Ryan's grateful hole, while some
miscellaneous studs gathered around the sling and looked on. Ryan's face was
clearly visible, writhing and sobbing with pleasure. (Ryan writhed and
sobbed so much in a typical day that he had to stretch and do vocal
exercises before bedtime each night to avoid feeling sore.)

"Right." Ryan still wasn't impressed. But he gradually realized the
seriousness of the situation. "Well, Reese isn't going to give me the money.
Maybe she'll buy out my half. She's been wanting to move on, anyway. And I
think the kids would be better off in a neighborhood that had more stuff
they like to do."

Brady shook his head. "Even if she buys you out, and you sell the house next
door, you're going to owe some money. Unless you want to start working
again."

Ryan laughed. "Whaddya mean? I did 'Crash'."

"Oh please. 'Crash' sucked, Ryan. It was this overblown white guilt fairy
tale with the most condescending, pandering script this side of an
after-school special. You did it for the money, so you could crawl back into
that sling. I'm talking some real, quality projects. You know, I haven't
been managing you too well lately. There's really not much on your radar
these days, acting-wise."

"Aww-w-w...baby..." Ryan cooed, and immediately unzipped Brady's pants and
started pulling on his fat hard cock. "You manage me just fine. I need you
out there, getting cock for me, so I can get it up my ass. The more you work
on that, the more time I get to spend with my legs in the air, doing what I
do best."

Brady swatted Ryan's hand away and rebuckled himself, even though he was
clearly hard. "That's not what you do best, Ryan. You're an actor. At some
point, you're going to have to start acting again, and slow down a little on
getting fucked!"

Ryan thought about his for a moment. "I will," he promised. "But you're
right, it really sucks about this photographer guy. Let me check in with
Reese about some things. I'm sure we can work it all out."

*     *     *

Some years had passed since Brady and Ryan had first met, and things had
gradually mellowed somewhat. They both clearly benefited from their business
and social relationship, and the attraction between them was still
strong--in addition to all the endless cock both hot men got in their mouths
and up their asses, Brady himself still plowed Ryan's asshole and filled it
with his cum every chance he got. Still, for a short while after the birth
of his second child, Ryan really had slowed down, no longer requiring quite
the same number of men around him all the time, yet he still had more sex
than anyone he knew. With Brady's help, he had finally settled on a "short
list" of a couple dozen hunks who would be in regular service to fuck his
hole. All were paid for their services, and each was required to be
available for several shifts every week.

By this schedule, Ryan's ass got serviced by a regular and diverse group of
well-hung player studs: Abe and Monte on Mon-Wed-Fri mornings; Jack, Jamie
and Lonny over the lunch hour; Garcia and Zeb mid-afternoon; and so on. On
Tue-Thu he had an alternate schedule, with a different roster of players. By
staggering days like this, he realized, his players had more stamina, not to
mention more cum to shoot up into his hole. And of course, week-ends were
fair game--apart from the time he spent with his family, Ryan's hot ass was
wide-open and available for any of the hired studs who wanted to pick up
extra cash.

But eventually his full appetite came back. And so, in addition to the
steady stream of hot player cock he was getting (and the never-ending supply
of luscious player cum getting shot up inside his ass), Ryan resumed
pursuing sex with his celebrity friends. However, that too had changed
somewhat. Many of his old Hollywood posse had moved on to other social and
sexual circles. Ryan suspected it was because of the current slump in his
career. Even though his ass was just as fine and tight and fuckable as ever,
Ryan was yesterday's news. These days, it seemed, everyone wanted to fuck
Chris Klein's sweet hole, or Matt Dallas, or Drew Fuller, or Chris Evans, or
that sluttiest slab of new meat on the Hollywood market--Adam Brody.

Even an also-ran like Freddie Prinze was getting more dick than he could
handle, thanks to the endless marketing of his lame "Scooby Doo" franchise,
and his stunt marriage that went with it. Freddie still stopped by sometimes
to screw Ryan's ass, and he'd tell Ryan and Brady all about how some hockey
team had gang-banged his ass, or how he spent a whole night getting used by
Tom Welling and David Boreanaz, getting filled by their hot prime-time sperm
over and over at both ends, or how he snuck onto a Blink 182 music video and
got the cocks and loads of the whole band in his sticky boy-twat. Ryan was
jealous, even though his ass was getting plenty of attention from the
round-the-clock list of players who used his holes.

So, for the last few months at least, Ryan made as much use of Brady as he
could. After Brady's six-month affair with studly Aaron (the charter pilot),
which had ended badly, Ryan got a lot more regular sex from his assistant.
And he had no complaints: Brady was as buff and sexy as ever. The only
problem was that Brady was much more of a bottom than a top, and so when he
was at Ryan's house, it was usually to take advantage of all the available
player cock. As one or two players were power-fucking Ryan's hole, Brady
would suck off the one that was re-charging his batteries and then take that
stud's cock in and out of his sweet little ass until Ryan was ready to be
fucked by it again. Brady still fucked Ryan, but usually only on week-ends,
or during the week when all of the players had left for the day.

The "short list" of players eventually proved to be inadequate. Before long,
Ryan and Brady were both going to the sex clubs fairly frequently, at least
once per week. Ryan loved these visits... he could park his cute butt on a
bench or in a sling, and take on up to twenty guys in a matter of a few
hours. That was almost as many players as he had on his "short list" in the
first place. In fact, he usually took some players with him to the sex club
(whoever was on their shift already) who would help round up tops from
around the club, and take turns filling Ryan's hole with dick and sperm when
there was a break in the ongoing anonymous action. Brady usually wandered
off to get fucked on his own, but he always stopped by for Ryan's big
finale, where he took as many cocks and loads as he could get in the last
hour before they had to go. And when all of the tops had spent their loads
in and onto Ryan, Brady knelt before Ryan's splayed, wet legs and slurp the
fresh cum out of his well-fucked pucker, and then the two of them would hit
the showers.

One recent occasion proved to be a pleasant exception. At a recent charity
event at a downtown LA hotel, Ryan was seated at a table with Scott Caan and
Cameron Douglas, two hot young sons of Hollywood legends (James and Michael,
respectively). The two men obviously knew of Ryan's reputation, and just
after the ceremony the three of them rented a room and went upstairs to
fuck. Both young men were strapping hunks with broad shoulders, beautiful
muscles, and nice, fat slabs of meat. They porked Ryan's hungry asshole
repeatedly, fucking him over and over and machine-gunning their cum loads
into his happy butt-hole until it was leaking out of him and all over the
hotel bed. Scott was an especially energetic fuck, using his whole body to
do Ryan missionary-style, his hard, furry thighs wedged inside Ryan's,
pressing against him, holding him open for his fuck. Ryan relaxed and moaned
as both studs did him right. And when Cameron fucked him in the same
position, the Zeta-Jones stepson's ass felt like two footballs i
n Ryan's hands as he pulled the sexy top into him deeper and harder with
every stroke.

Another time, Ryan was at a popular T-room on the UCLA campus, taking his
fourth cock of the afternoon anally through his favorite gloryhole, when his
stall door opened and he saw a familiar, pretty face: Jensen Ackles, the
buff, pretty actor whom Ryan had lusted for ever since first watching him
play supporting parts in "Dawson's Creek" and "Smallville" and who now had
his own new series "Supernatural" co-starring his best friend and fuck
buddy, Jared Padalecki. The hot TV actor looked surprised at first, and
started to apologize for intruding. "No problem, man," Ryan said
enthusiastically, grimacing slightly as he spoke to accept the huge
anonymous black dick that was pummeling his ass from the other side of the
wall.

Jensen peeked into the adjacent stall, and saw that the top was a handsome
young black athlete. Then he returned to Ryan, seeing the blond star
expertly take the hot black student's excellent hard fuck. As he watched
admiringly, he blushed a little. "You know, when I'm here, I like to do what
you're doing," he said. "This stud over here fucking you is just exactly my
type. Young, black, hot, and--looks like--really hung."

"Yeah, you got that right," Ryan replied, breathless. His elbows were bent,
his hands pressed into his bent knees, and his cute little biceps jumped and
flexed as he bounced his hungry ass against the glory hole wall. "So...no
kidding? You like big black dicks in your asshole, Jensen?"

"Fuck yeah, I love 'em," Jensen replied. "Black men's cum shooting in my ass
is the best thing I ever felt."

"Well..." Ryan panted, "...then you should come over to my place after this.
I got a whole stable of guys who'd drool at the chance to bang your sweet
butt. And there's some really hot brothers among them."

"Cool!" Jensen had heard about Ryan's setup, and was dying for an
invitation. He rubbed his crotch through his jeans, feeling the lube he'd
used to pre-moisten his own hole start to get warm underneath the denim.

There was a short break in their conversation as the jet black cock picked
up its pace through the glory hole, and Ryan braced himself against the
coming, familiar onslaught of total pleasure. Soon the fucking was so hard
and intense that the whole wall started shaking between them, and loud
whoops could be heard from the opposite side. Ryan smiled and groaned
happily as the unseen campus jock unloaded into his hole.

As he came back down to earth, and the spent dick slipped from his cummy
butt, Ryan added: "There's just one catch, though."

"What's that, man?" Jensen asked, casually wanking himself to the hot scene
he had just witnessed.

"You gotta fuck me at least once. You're so fuckin' hot, man. I wanna feel
you spray all your gooey load way up into my guts. I've wanted your dick and
your load inside me since the first time I ever saw you."

"No problem, Ryan! I've been wanting to cream your sweet butthole for
years!"

Ryan lit up, excited. "Really? Awesome! I was afraid you might be bottom-boy
all the way."

"Nah, I fuck Jared sometimes," Jensen told him, referring to his
"Supernatural" co-star. "I mean, there's nothing better than his dick up my
ass, and he throws a mean fuck--one of the few white boys I let cum inside
me, believe it or not. But once in a while, I'm licking out his hole, and he
just makes me go for it."

Nearby, Jensen noticed a stall opening up with a glory hole similar to the
one Ryan was using. He entered, lowered his jeans, backed up, and soon felt
another big black dick go inside him. It fucked him in deep, long strokes
until he felt a nice warm gooey sperm load shoot up into his insides.

On and on it went. Then, after each of them took a few more cum loads in
their asses at the T-room (from the hunky black athlete and a few of his
teammates), Jensen followed Ryan to his house. On the way, Ryan called Brady
and told him that, in addition to the regularly scheduled fucks for that
afternoon, he should call up some others and then show up himself to have a
sex party with their cutest and hottest new friend.

The rest of the afternoon and into the evening was spent in Ryan's playpen,
with Jensen and Ryan both on their backs, legs hanging off opposite sides of
the bed. Ryan loved using this position whenever he brought home bottoms, as
it allowed him to see their facial expressions as his fellow slut got fucked
by his players and friends. Also, in the case of someone as dreamy as
Jensen, it was the perfect position for making out.

Brady started things off, since he was the first to arrive. He was
immediately turned on by Jensen, whom he found in Ryan's bedroom,
sixty-nining with Ryan on the bed. Instead of sharing blowjobs, however, the
two boys had their handsome faces solidly buried in each other's well-fucked
ass pies, slurping out the fresh jizz they had collected from the studs at
the club.

"Mmm, Brady, you gotta try this," Ryan said as soon as he saw his friend. He
was peeking through Jensen's sweet, muscular legs, over at Brady standing in
the bedroom doorway. Brady chuckled at seeing the cum goatee that had formed
on Ryan's smooth facial features. "We took a bunch of black dude's loads at
the club just now. And Jensen's ass here makes a really good cup to drink
them out of..."

Fully dressed, Brady knelt by the bed, and Jensen swung himself around until
his thighs landed on Brady's strong shoulders. Brady licked all around the
young hunk's wet brown hole, his spit joining Ryan's as he dug his tongue in
deep, eating out all those creampies from his slutty, perfect ass.

"Oh yeah, eat him, eat all those black loads..." Ryan purred, beating off as
he watched. "Lick all that nasty spunk right outa his cummy little
chute...eat him deeper...get him ready for all those guys coming over...
he's a slut like me, man...he just wants to get fucked and fucked and
fucked..."

Sure enough, after a few blissful minutes of devouring all that yummy jock
sauce out of his new friend's hole, Brady couldn't stand it any more. He
stood, unzipped, and plunged his engorged cock into Jensen's asshole. With
his first stroke inside, he came, and Jensen felt it, wailing like a banshee
as he accepted Brady's fiery jism. Brady stayed hard and continued fucking
him, pushing the load in nice and deep.

Turned on even more, Ryan leaned in over Jensen's body, and they tenderly
kissed. Then the first few tops appeared, and while Ryan instinctively did
the splits on the bed to allow the next cock inside of him, he never opened
his eyes or removed himself from Jensen's embrace. Brady stepped aside,
allowing one of the new arrivals a shot at plugging Jensen's leaking hole,
and although the black stud entered Jensen with an enormous dick, Jensen
didn't flinch, and didn't look up from kissing Ryan. His hole simply
embraced the huge intrusion, and he used his expert muscle control to hold
and squeeze the plunging ebony rod in his ass.

And so, as the two power bottom boys kissed, the long line of tops that
Brady had assembled took their turns lifting each cute stud's legs and
power-fucking his warm, tight, cum-filled hole. Both Jensen and Ryan took
cock like pros, even exchanging dirty talk as they did so: "Yeah, fuck his
sweet hole..." Ryan would groan to Jensen's tops, as a different stud also
fucked Ryan's hole. "Use that horny bitch...fuck his tight, wet little
pussy..." At a few points, they even compared notes. Ryan would say, "Oh
man, Jensen, you're gonna love this guy I've got in me right now...his dick
is so big I can feel it coming up my throat..." And Jensen would say: "Fuck,
this dude is so big...I can't believe he fucks you like this so many times
in a week..."

Other celebrities, too, still stayed in Ryan's close circle. Three of Ryan's
regular week-end fucks were Paul Walker, Seann William Scott, and Ashton
Kutcher. Even during the busy heyday of Ashton's TV shows, he still made
time on Saturdays to meet the others at Ryan's place for some good,
old-fashioned man sex. All three sexy studs were getting plenty of hot
versatile sex elsewhere (Seann alone boasted of having gotten over a
thousand different loads up his ass in the few years since first taking
Ashton's on the set of "Dude! Where's My Car?") but they all craved Ryan's
sweet butt, so they always showed up to take advantage of it.

Ryan would always have fond memories of those Saturday encounters. Someday,
long after his two kids were grown and gone, he would happily recall the
afternoons he spent on all fours on the floor of the playpen, sucking
Ashton's big cock as Paul eased his gigantic fourteen inches in and out of
Ryan's back door, and Seann took on a player or two on his back on the bed,
wrapping his sexy legs around each hunk's back and pulling the player's big,
pounding dick deeper inside his insatiable, hot, muscular little ass.

*     *     *

Ryan was lost in his thoughts, mulling over his situation. He'd talked to
Reese, and she agreed it was probably a good time for them to move on
without each other. Her realtor had found a new house for her and the kids a
few days later, and since it was already furnished, they moved into it a few
days after that. Her stuff was still in the place they shared together, and
she'd made no plans to stop back and pick it up.

So, he had the house to himself for now. But he couldn't afford to keep it.
He hadn't told Reese about the photos.

Right now, he was on his knees on Reese's bed, getting fucked and sucking
cock. The playpen was getting its weekly cleaning (by a VERY discreet team
of maids) so, as he did every Monday afternoon for a few hours, Ryan had
relocated indoors, bringing his sexy top players, Zeb and Garcia, with him.
Zeb was a tall, mid-20's, strapping former university lacrosse player with
an endless supply of cum. Garcia was a shorter, softer, prettier Mexican boy
with dreamy eyes and a fat cock. Ryan was drinking cum out of Garcia's brown
rod as Zeb pounded his third jock load up Ryan's ass, when the cell phone
rang on the nightstand.

"Hey, it's Nick," came the voice at the other end. "I need your help, man.
Jessica kicked me out."

"Yeah?" Ryan struggled to maintain his balance while wiping the cum from his
chin with one hand and holding the phone with the other. Zeb started pulling
out of his ass, but Ryan spun his neck around and glared, mouthing the
words: Keep going! To Nick, he said: "Sorry to hear that. Trouble in
paradise?"

Nick sighed. "She walked in on me getting tag-team fucked by Reichen and
Lance." Nick's fellow boy-bander, Lance Bass, and his boyfriend Reichen
Lehmkuhl, had just become an item. "They fucked me last week-end, too, and
came in my ass five times each, so when Jess walked in they were working on
beating their old record. They would have made it, too...goddammit, I wish
she'd call before she just shows up."

"Yeah, but so what? She's walked in on you before. I thought she didn't care
if you got fucked by guys."

"Yeah, she cares. When it's in our bed. On our anniversary."

Ryan let out a slow whistle. "Oh man, that sucks. Yeah, I get it. You need a
place to stay for a while?"

"I do, man. Is that cool? I mean, your place is so secluded, and with all
this shit going on with me and Jess...who knows who's following me, or what
the papers would print if they found out we're on the outs..."

Ryan laughed. "You're so fucking transparent, man. You just want to be here
to get your share of all this good dick I've got swinging around this
place." He heard a pause, and then a chuckle from Nick. He said, "Sure, come
on over. Reese already moved out, anyway, with the kids. I'll fill you in
when you get here."

"You sure, man? I don't wanna put you out, or nothing..."

"Oh please. I'm taking a load up my ass right now. I definitely know about
needing a place to hang out and get your sex on. Pack a bag and stop on
over. I'll meet you at the front door and we'll get you some dick."

And so it was, that same evening, that Nick took up "temporary" residence in
the house once shared by Ryan and Reese. Ryan took a quick break from sex to
pull on a pair of shorts, run down to the linen closet, grab some clean
sheets and drop them on the guest room bed. He also put a lube pump on the
nightstand.

As soon as Nick arrived, Ryan greeted him by unzipping his jeans and sucking
his cock. Nick still had his duffle bag in one hand and his overnight bag in
the other. Ryan blew that nice babymaker for a little while, then stood up
again, saying: "OK, here's the rules. If you're gonna live here, you gotta
fuck me with this big thing whenever I say. And when you're getting your own
sweet ass fucked, you just gotta make sure my players have had their fill
with me before you start wagging this hot little tail over in their
direction. Got it?" Nick nodded, smiling sweetly. "Other than that, you can
do whatever you want."

By way of responding, Nick smiled, dropped the bags where he was standing,
and roughly pushed Ryan backward toward the stairs. "Turn around and drop
'em," he growled.

Ryan didn't need to be told twice. His shorts went south, and he sprawled
forward on the curved front stairs, clutching the stairway carpeting in his
strong hands and moaning as Nick's cock first found its mark, then plunged
up into his jizz-soaked rectum. Nick's big dick pounded Ryan's hole
unrelentingly, not letting up for a single thrust until he had unloaded his
big batch of boy band cock syrup into Ryan's famous ass.

"Shit," Ryan said, breathless, after the attack had stopped. "You didn't
even stop once. That's fuckin' great."

"Yeah." Nick, panting himself, withdrew his fat cock and spanked the
still-dripping head against Ryan's lower back. "That's the way Jess used to
like it, after we'd spent a few days on the road apart."

Nick sounded a bit glum as he said this, but Ryan had no time for pity
parties. "So, grab your shit."

Nick tucked his semi-hardon (it never really went soft, ever) into his
underwear, tugged up his jeans, and walked back to where he'd set his bags.
"Cool. Just show me where I'm going to be staying. I wanna take a quick
shower and then stay naked and get in bed. Dude, I'm a free man now!" His
steely eyes shone atop that movie-star handsome smile. As he followed his
new host through the house, he continued: "Hey, I'm really glad to stay
here, man. I already told a few guys to stop over. Hope that's cool. I wanna
start getting fucked in the next twenty minutes, and I don't wanna stop
until sometime in the middle of next week!"

*     *     *

And that's pretty much what happened. Nick played by Ryan's rules, only
taking sloppy seconds from tops who had already used the host's holes to his
content, and stopping by Ryan's bedroom to drill his fat rod into his
buddy's fine cum-sloppy ass whenever he was requested to do so (or, even
more often, whenever Nick himself felt the urge to cum). Other than that,
Nick stayed in his own room, on the bed, taking on a steady slew of tops,
all aching to take their turns fucking and filling the superstar's newly
single male ass.

Ryan helped out as much as he could, reminding the players that his and
Brady's weren't the only talented asses available under this roof any more.
"Go fuck Nick with this," he'd tell a player he was jerking off, while
another player was plowing his asshole. "After you cum in him, bring it back
to me, so I can suck off your fresh sperm, and get a taste of Nick's
man-funk. Make sure you shoot your load in him nice and deep!"

After the fifth or sixth day of non-stop sex, Nick finally took a shower and
pulled on some clothes. He had a meeting on the lot of a film set that was
courting him to make a cameo. While meeting with the writer and
producer--hot gentlemen in their mid-thirties and early forties
respectively--he detected the smell of cum, and realized he hadn't fully
washed it off himself. In fact, cum was leaking out of his asshole and
making a wet spot in his underwear. Soon enough, the writer and producer
noticed the smell, too, and Nick blushed.

To sweeten the deal for his film role, he agreed to pull his pants and
underwear down and let both men fuck him, which they happily did. Sadly, he
didn't get the role, but at least he got two extra loads of fresh cum.
Following the meeting, he returned to the house he now shared with Ryan,
stripped naked, and got fucked by the four guys who had shown up there
during his absence. He didn't get dressed again for over a week.

*     *     *

When Brady called Ryan a few days later, after returning from a trip to
Phoenix, he was surprised to learn about the newest living arrangements.

"Nick? Living at your place?"

"Yeah," Ryan panted, while taking a deep fuck from a tall muscular guy named
Tom, who was an ex-army buddy of Jamie and Lonny, two of his regular players
who were also a couple, and who had met and fell in love while serving in
the military. Tom had Ryan on his side, and was straddling one of Ryan's
legs while he hoisted the other one high up and pistoned his fat, dripping
dick in and out of the slut's well-used pussy.

"How long does he plan to stay?"

"I dunno...probably a while..." Ryan said, still distracted. "We put some
cameras in..." His words collapsed into a fit of loud groans as he felt
Tom's cum-tube expand inside him sooner than expected, and a quart of prime
US Army baby batter pulsed deep into his slutty hole.

"Cameras?"

Brady didn't get a response, so he hung up the phone. Conversations with
Ryan during sex were impossible.

Looking around his office at the Coswell & Sons talent agency, his eyes fell
on the wall of framed headshot photos, displaying all of the actors Brady
now represented. A few of them were relatively famous, though none as much
so as Ryan. Most of them were still unknown. Most of them were also very
goodlooking, and most of those had regular sex with both Ryan and himself.
With a sigh, Brady wondered what exactly he'd become. Was he really an
agent, or a raging sex addict who also functioned as Ryan's well-paid pimp?

Now, Ryan had a new partner in sleaze, and it was none other than the
delicious Nick Lachey. Just the thought of it made Brady's dick jump. He
reached into his pants, pulled out his nine inches, and started stroking
himself to a recent memory...

One night a few months back, Brady had stopped to get some food at a diner
off the freeway in North Hollywood. Nearby, he knew of a good adult
bookstore whose backroom had a regular clientele of black and hispanic "down
low" gangbangers. So he finished his sandwich and wandered over. Who does he
find in the last buddy booth but Nick himself, gorging himself on one stud's
gigantic black pole while getting an equally impressive Puerto Rican bone
banged up his slutty ass at the other end. Brady watched the scene and beat
off, timing his cum to fly against Nick's shoulder at the precise moment
these hot thugs pounded their own loads into the superstar singer's tandem
pussies.

After the encounter, Nick and Brady went for a beer at another place nearby.
Nick described how he was getting sick of his marriage, and that he needed
to be fucked at both ends as often as possible. On this night, he was
craving black dick, which was what sent him to this neighborhood, but the
truth was he needed as much cock as he could possibly find, every day and
every night of the week.

"That's the kind of sex I like," Nick told him. "Totally repetitive on my
hole. Non-stop fucking. Load after load after load, right up my ass. I think
about it all the time...it's driving me nuts!"

"Yeah? Do get a lot of hot tops to help you out?"

"Yeah, I do. I'll let pretty much any guy fuck me, as long as he's
uninhibited and knows how to treat me like his personal cum dump. The best
ones are the ones who aren't into bullshit, they just stop by, fuck my face,
then breed my ass, and go. Sometimes I'll get a whole group of dudes to just
gang fuck me until I'm dripping with cum everywhere. But the rule is, no
pulling out. If you're gonna fuck my sweet jock ass, you're gonna breed it.
Just squirt it right in there, man. God, I love feeling a big warm load
inside me."

Brady nodded in agreement, sipping his beer. "Do you still get it on with
your wife at all?"

"Sometimes," Nick said. "But usually it's in a group. My brother Drew stops
by--the three of us have always done it together, for years now--she still
likes that a lot. Once in a while, she brings home some guys for a gangbang,
and she and I both take cock the whole time. But I don't fuck her myself
that often."

Brady arched his brow. "Really? I guess I forgot that you and Drew did
brother sex."

"Oh hell yeah. It's some of the best sex there is. He's a lot straighter
than me, but I still dig taking his bone inside me. He's got a nice big one
and it shoots a hell of a load. He takes my fuck sometimes, too. He gets off
on reaching around and holding his cheeks open while I plaster his cute hole
with my load of jizz. Then I use my fingers to push it way down inside, and
I feed him the rest of what's left over."

"And he's straighter than you," Brady said, laughing.

Nick rolled his eyes and hoisted his glass. "Yeah. I know."

After their beer, they retreated to the men's room so that Brady could fuck
Nick's cum-lubed butthole full of one last load for the evening. Nick's ass
was plenty sticky as the remnants streamed out of him of the many men who'd
been there already that night. As always, Brady admired the obsessive zest
and natural ease with which Nick took his breeding. Nick was a true power
cum dump, rocking his whole muscular body forward and backward to coax the
load out of Brady's cock, then squeezing his sphincter to get every drop.

Following this brief encounter, Nick said he was returning to the bookstore
for more loads, while Brady was headed home. Before parting ways, Nick
casually mentioned Ryan's situation.

"He gets so much cock, man, all the fuckin' time...he's lucky to have a guy
like you working for him."

Brady smiled shyly. "I guess so. I wish I represented singers...maybe I
could lure you over to Coswell." He followed this with a laugh. Both men
knew this wasn't possible. "Still, you're welcome at Ryan's anytime, I'm
sure. Come on by tomorrow, if you want. There's always plenty of hot guys
around who love to fuck a sweet tight ass like yours."

Nick thanked Brady. He had been to Ryan's plenty of times before, but he
appreciated the invitation.

So maybe that's how it all got started, this whole business of Nick moving
in, Brady considered, still sitting at his office desk and pulling on his
throbbing, fat rod. He was close to cumming when he noticed a figure
standing in his doorway. It was Eric Balfour, one of his longtime clients,
wearing a look of surprise.

"Uh...am I interrupting here?" Eric asked. "I wanted to talk to you about
24..."

Brady spun slightly in his chair and spread his legs wide open, showing Eric
his dick. "Get in here and shut the door," he commanded. "I haven't felt
your mouth on this thing in over a month. You wanna suck me?"

"Only if I get to fuck your ass." Eric smiled playfully, closing the office
door.

"Deal." Brady moaned a little, and felt his butt twitch with anticipation.
His deep hole was built for loads from studs like Eric. He couldn't wait for
this hunk to start plowing him, riding his ass good and hard.

*     *     *

Hanging up the phone with Brady, Ryan returned to the excellent fucking he
was getting from army stud Tom. After his last orgasm, Tom had stayed hard
and just kept fucking Ryan with gusto. Ryan already knew from his regular
tricks Lonny and Jamie that army boys made for great tops, but this guy was
simply amazing. Every thrust seemed to pry deeper into Ryan's ass cavern,
stretching his gooey ring and rubbing his prostate in all the best ways.
Positioned on his side, Ryan had a perfect view of the flat panel monitor
that one of his other players, a hot electronics geek, had set up for him.
It displayed the action in Nick's bedroom across the house. Next to it was a
camera pointed at Ryan's bed, sending a feed to an identical flat panel
monitor in Nick's room, allowing the studs to watch each other take cock all
the time.

Just now, he noticed, Nick was getting supremely plowed by Ryan's hot young
black neighbor Duane, who was now a strapping bundle of muscles at 22 years
old. Just out of the frame was Duane's brother Jaron, three years older, who
had fucked Nick's greedy ass-twat full to the brim with his black babies
only moments before. Ryan knew how Nick got off on both black dick and
brother sex, so he was more than happy to make this introduction. The
brothers enjoyed Nick, too, and needless to say, Nick was in constant heaven
whenever they got together. They stopped by at least every other day to give
Ryan a quick pounding and then go over to Nick's room and spend an hour or
two breeding his superstar ass but good.

Soon Army boy Tom was cumming again up into Ryan's hole. Ryan shut his eyes
and smiled, sighing deeply as his ass was filled with the strapping young
hairy-chested blond lad's hot military cream.

"Can I fuck you again sometime?" Tom asked politely, pulling out his cock
and pulling up his khakis.

"Anytime," Ryan promised. "You know how to find the place. We're open 24/7.
No loads refused!"

Tom took a step toward the door, then saw the action on the flat panel
monitor. "Holy shit. Is that..."

Ryan smiled. "My housemate, Nick." At this moment, Nick's face was grimacing
wildly at the camera while Duane emptied his ball sac into the singer's
greedy butt hole. "You like what you see?"

"Fuckin' A..." Tom was speechless, and his just-spent cock was already
tenting his trousers once again.

"Go fuck him, if you want," Ryan said. "I'm sure he'd love it. And it looks
like he has an opening now."

Sure enough, when Duane withdrew his fat black rod, Nick turned his hole
toward the camera, and Ryan and Tom could see all of the fresh cum leaking
out. There didn't seem to be another top waiting at the moment, so Tom
rushed through the house to find the "sloppy seconds" hunk. Moments later,
Ryan was watching Tom, the army stud who had just bred his hole, lowering
his khakis once again and pushing his magnificent dick into Nick's well-used
rectum, just as another top appeared in Ryan's bedroom doorway.

*     *     *

Later that night, Ryan got fucked by Brady Quinn, the newly hot-shit Notre
Dame quarterback, who (like his fellow QBs Jason Seahorn and Matt Leinart)
always came by to breed Ryan's hole whenever he was in town. Quinn was
something of an old-school romantic, always bringing flowers and candles,
and so Ryan took him the way he always took him: missionary-style, on his
back, so that he could wrap his legs around the jock hunk's fabulous torso
and pull him to him while they passionately made out.

Quinn squirted one big load into Ryan's pussy, then rolled off. Outside, the
sun was setting on a gorgeous Los Angeles day. No other tops were waiting,
and Ryan had switched off the monitor on Nick's bedroom an hour or so
before, so the two men were able to relax in relative peace and silence
post-fuck.

"You rushing off anywhere?" Ryan wondered. "You wanna fuck me again?"

"Nah, I'm good," Quinn whispered, tenderly kissing Ryan's soft chest.

After a moment, Ryan said: "Nick Lachey's staying here. He's down in the
guest room, if you want to give him another load."

Quinn laughed. "No really, I'm fine. Actually I went to a party at Chad
Michael Murray's this morning, so I'm still kind of recovering from that."

Ha! So, behind the romance, Quinn was slutty like him, as well. "Party? In
the morning?" Ryan teased.

"Yeah," Jason said. "He was doing some crystal. He got partied up last night
and had a whole bunch of guys over to fuck him, and then this morning he
called and said he wanted more. We all fucked his ass, over and over. There
were dozens of guys. He really was loving it, but I gotta worry about the
drug thing."

"Yeah..." Ryan agreed. For all the risks he took, Ryan was drug-free, and
required his tops to be the same.

Later that night, Ryan called Chad. The prime time studboy was just coming
down from his high. Ryan expressed his concern, and so Chad invited him over
to talk.

Of course, the first thing Ryan noticed when he got to Chad's house was that
the young man was totally naked and rock hard. "Sorry, man," Chad laughed.
"I haven't had any clothes on for about 35 hours now."

"Are you still high?" Ryan asked.

"Nope, I'm down now," Chad said. "But I do need to get off."

Without a word, Chad sat in a chair in his living room, and allowed Ryan to
climb on top of him and sink his sweet ass down on Chad's ten-inch pole.
They had done this before--fucked while also having a casual conversation.
Both boys were such insatiable bottoms that it came naturally to do so. Ryan
also did this with Brady all of the time: took his agent's cock up his ass
(usually in a bent-over position) while they discussed business or planned
their schedule together for the next few days.

"So, what with the drugs, man," Ryan asked, chugging his whole lithe body up
and down on Chad's monster cock at a slow, easy rate. Ryan had just showered
before stopping over, but plenty of cum lube remained for the day's
activities. It pulsed out of his well-fucked hole, coating Chad's cock like
syrup.

Chad sighed. "I know, I know..." His big hands clutched Ryan's biceps to
steady his friend as his big cock impaled him, nice and deep. "I've just had
so many cravings lately. I'm like you, I just can't get enough."

"Yeah man, but I do it all sober..."

"I know. That's cool. That's how I should do it, too. But the drugs make it
pretty wild. Lately I just feel like partying up and then getting fucked
over and over until I'm unconscious with cum leaking out of me at both ends.
It's a pretty good high..."

Ryan contemplated this. He enjoyed the same thing, only without chemical
help. "You do this a lot?"

"Yeah," Chad admitted. "At least four of five nights a week, for several
months. Since Sophie left."

"Ah!" It made sense now. Chad was just lonely. "Dude, you don't need that
shit. We're your friends. Just talk to us when you need some company. Or, if
you really need to take dick so bad, come on by my place. God knows we've
got it over there in great supply. Nick's moved in now, you know."

"Yeah, I heard. So, you mean it? I can come by your place and use your
tops?"

"Well, house rules are, you can only get fucked by the guys who've already
fucked me first. But, sure."

"Awesome. Does Nick play by those rules, too? And there's still plenty to go
around?"

Ryan laughed. "He did, at first. But now he's got his own regular posse
coming over. Why?"

"Well..." Chad went shy for a moment, and began thrusting more urgently into
Ryan's ass. "Uh...it's just that, well... I've been kind of jealous of him
living over there, to tell ya the truth. All that cock, all the time. I was
kinda wondering... if..."

Ryan looked at him, wide-eyed, but the thought went unfinished, because a
few seconds later, Chad let a huge torrent of stored-up cum loose in Ryan's
hungry bowels. Ryan's ass sucked up the load, and in the course of taking
it, he felt Chad pick him up and throw him back on the nearby sofa, with
that monster dick still deep inside him and pumping cum into his guts. Ryan
moaned loudly, savoring the breeding with total abandon. He started to pass
out, and when he came to, Chad had disappeared to another part of the house.

Before leaving, Ryan left a note: "Let me talk to Nick."

*     *     *

The next morning, new roommates Nick and Ryan were in Ryan's kitchen,
discussing developments.

"You wanna do, what now?" Nick was partly incredulous, partly annoyed.

"I want to let Chad move in here. I think it would be good for him. He's a
little out of control."

Nick pouted, but he knew he couldn't win. This was Ryan's house, after all.
"Well, okay, I guess..."

"Listen, I know there's a bit of a supply/demand situation here. If Chad
starts taking on too many cocks, we can tell him to play by the old rules:
No one fucks him unless they've fucked you or me first, and bred us."

Snorting, Nick replied: "Yeah. How long do you think that will last? You and
I are fine fucks, my friend, but that Chad has got one beautiful ass. Every
guy who comes here is going to want a crack at it."

"Listen, we'll figure something out," Ryan promised. "But I already called
him and told him to pack a bag. He's coming over this afternoon."

*     *     *

Chad arrived later that day, and in addition to the suitcases he'd packed,
he also brought a large object wrapped in plastic. Two assistants were
helping to move it off the truck.

At the moment, Ryan was in his bedroom, getting fucked by Gael Garcia Bernal
and three of his hot Mexican stud friends. Nick stood on the front step,
eating a bowl of cereal, watching the assistants unload the mystery object
from the rear portion of Chad's Hummer.

"The fuck is that?" Nick growled, his mouth full of Cheerios. Chad saw him,
smiled, and walked over.

"It's a surprise for both of you," he said. "Now, where am I supposed to
go?"

Nick led Chad inside the house, then waved his free hand up the stairs. "Up
there on the right, there's two bedrooms. They used to be for Ryan's kids
but they're empty now. Pick one."

"Perfect," Chad said. "I'll put my bags in one, and set up the machine in
the other."

Machine?

*     *     *

An hour later, Ryan was interrupted from taking his third Gael Garcia Bernal
load of the day by Nick's voice. He looked toward the bedroom door, but
didn't see him. Then he looked at the monitor.

"Hey Ryan? Ryan? You there?" Nick was hunching down, his face directly in
the camera. "Dude, you gotta fuckin' see this thing. It's amazing."

What thing? Ryan finished taking Gael's load, then excused himself from the
fantastic fuck team of brown-skinned studs and ventured across the house to
see what Nick was talking about. Finding no one in Nick's room any longer,
he returned to the front hall, then followed upstairs to the former kids'
wing, where he heard curious noises.

Rounding the corner to the room that was previously his son's, Ryan wasn't
quite prepared for what he saw. Chad Michael Murray, the most recent arrival
at Ryan's home for wayward bottoms, was on all fours on the twin-sized bed.
He was positioned all the way to the foot of the bed, so that his ankles
were directly above the mattress' lower edge. His ass was pointed straight
up and out, in a perfect position to get fucked, and getting fucked is
exactly what it was doing. Only, the "top" that was fucking him wasn't
human.

Parked at the foot of the bed was an unusual machine. It stood on an
adjustable rolling table, whose casters locked at the bottom. On the table
was a two-piece gearset, terminating in a long piston that pushed straight
out at a horizontal, directly over the bed. The last fifteen inches or so of
the piston were fitted with a fat, rubbery cylinder--obviously an artificial
cock. As the gears turned (thanks to a motor that was plugged into the
wall), the dildo pushed out and pulled back at a strong, steady rate.

It was a fucking machine. An automatic top. It was currently pistoning in
and out of Chad's ass, exactly as if he were taking a giant cock
doggy-style. And, from the look on Chad's face and the volume of his moans,
it seemed to be doing the trick just fine.

Nick looked at Ryan with a wild grin. "Isn't this fuckin' great? Dude! We'll
never leave the house!"

Ryan smiled. "Wow. I've heard about these things, but I've never actually
seen one."

"Chad here had it custom made," Nick beamed proudly. Ryan did a double-take,
amused by how quickly Nick's position had changed on their latest roommate
addition.

Next to the gears was a plastic jar with a hose leading out of it, and into
the shaft of the rubbery cock. Midway along the length of the tube was a
much smaller device with a digital readout that seemed to be counting down
in minutes and seconds. "What's this?"

"Oh man, that's the best part," Nick enthused. "Tell him."

Chad struggled to stop moaning long enough to reply. "It's cum..." Chad
panted. "Every five minutes... it shoots another load... in me..."

Ryan noticed the counter was under the ten-second mark.

"Watch..." Chad squealed, and seconds later, his gorgeous ass was filled
with fluid from the hose--spunk, evidently. Ryan could see it move along.
After taking the load, Chad reached for a previously unnoticed remote
control that was wired back to the machine, and it gradually rolled to a
stop.

"Nick's right, the cum shooter is the best part," he said, still catching
his breath. "I had it upgraded recently. It's like jet propulsion now.
Shoots like a motherfucker. Feels just like a hot stud throwing his load
inside your ass. You won't believe how deep that thing can shoot!"

"Where the hell do you get the cum from?" Ryan asked.

"Sperm banks, the internet, wherever," Chad responded. "Sometimes I'll jerk
off and save my own cum to put in there. I've paid a lot of my straight
friends to save their cum for me, as well. You wouldn't believe all the
studs who get off on selling it to me. I get most of it from college
campuses. Those boys need cash."

Ryan was still taking it all in. "Well, this is pretty amazing, I gotta
say."

Nick was beside himself. "Please Ryan, can we keep it? Can we keep it? Can
we?"

Ryan laughed. "Well, I gotta take it for a test ride here. But sure." He
started to get in position on the bed. "Just one thing, though. Can we move
it down to the maid's room or something? It's weird enough that Chad here's
gonna be powerbottoming all day and night in my daughter's old double bed. I
don't think I can handle all of us getting robo-fucked by a thing that's
parked in the former location of my son's toybox...!"

*     *     *

Brady sat in his car, parked in the VISITOR space outside the 3-story,
nondescript office building. It was a humid day, and he'd switched off the
engine ten minutes before, so his milky, muscular chest was starting to form
beads of sweat underneath his fitted, starched shirt. His meeting started in
two minutes, and he was nervous about what lay in store. He took a final
look at the business card on his dashboard: Jake Simon, financial advisor.
The office was called Foster and Brookline, attorneys at law. The address on
the card matched the building he was parked in front of right now. On the
back of the card was written:

BRADY: WE KNOW ABOUT THE RYAN SITUATION. COME TO US IF YOU NEED ADVICE.

Brady had no idea who gave him the card, or when. He discovered it in his
jeans pocket one evening, roughly one week before. Who could know about his
situation? And how much did they know?

A few days before finding the card, Brady had been issued an ultimatum by
his new boss, Cheryl: Fix Ryan's worsening financial situation, or else be
prepared to drop him as a client. Implicit in Cheryl's message was another
threat: Brady was in danger of losing his job. Jerry Cosgrove, Brady's
former boss, had recently sold the business, and although they kept the
Cosgrove name, their style of management was very different--more old
school. Suffice to say, they had little patience for the "open secret"
around Ryan's rampant sexual predilections...even though, as Brady had
pointed out more than once, Ryan's wide network of "friends" (ahem) had done
more than any other client to expand Cosgrove's business and drive new
talent to their ranks.

And then the card appeared, as if by magic. Who was this Jake Simon? What
did he want from Brady? Who was "us"? And why were they meeting at a
lawyer's office on the outskirts of Los Angeles?

With a deep breath, he gathered his briefcase and his composure, and entered
the building.

*     *     *

"Brady Jones, to see Jake Simon," he announced to the young, hunky
receptionist, his voice almost a croak.

Before the stud could respond, Brady was accosted by a tall, handsome man
who emerged from a nearby swinging glass door. He was muscular and fortyish,
with a broad chest and a thick goatee.

"Mr. Brady Jones," the man greeted him warmly, shaking Brady's hand with a
fist so strong it made Brady feel instantly submissive...not a feeling he
was used to, at least not in public social situations.

"Mr. Simon?"

"Call me Jake. Follow me."

They passed back through the glass door, went to the end of a long hallway,
and turned into a trendy conference room with a view out to the San Gabriel
mountains. Waiting in the room was one other person, a boyish, cleancut man
in his mid-forties wearing the nicest suit Brady had seen in months.

"Gregory Foster," the new man introduced himself, standing to shake Brady's
hand. Brady smiled pleasantly, but was distracted by the notion that he had
met this man before. Where could it be?

As soon as all three sat down, Jake began.

"We're here to discuss your current management of Ryan Phillippe," Jake
said. "It's come to our attention that Ryan is running into some cashflow
difficulties, possibly resulting from his upcoming divorce, or possibly for
other reasons..."

Jake's voice trailed off there, leaving Brady to wonder how much these men
knew about the "other reasons". Did they know Ryan had sex dozens of times
per day, and that was what made him miss out on regular film roles and other
opportunities? Did they know he was being blackmailed for it?

Jake continued. "I've worked as a financial advisor to many high-profile
celebrities in the past fifteen years. My associate, Mr. Foster, is a lawyer
specializing in documents that, among other advantages, keep all association
with our clients perfectly discreet."

Foster broke in then. "We're gunning for the Ryan Phillippe account, you
see. We see real potential in him. We think he can turn his situation
around, and we believe that our resources are what's needed to improve the
situation--not only for Ryan, but for yourself."

"Me?" Brady was wide-eyed, taking it all in.

"We know you're on the outs with Cosgrove's new management," Jake said, in a
low, candid voice. "We're, ah, aware of some of the indelicate requirements
that Ryan brings to his talent management situation, and we believe these
requirements are in keeping with other services that we can provide."

Brady knew they were talking about the sex, but so what, half of Los Angeles
knew about that by know. He'd long since made peace with the unconventional
methods he employed to keep Ryan satisfied. But he didn't understand what
these men were offering.

"I don't quite follow. You want to take on Ryan as...a financial client?"

"More than that," Foster said, smiling widely. "Much more."

Jake explained. "Mr. Foster also runs a talent management agency, called
Foster and Associates, located in downtown Hollywood."

"I've never heard of it."

"And there's a good reason for that," Jake went on. "We don't advertise, you
see. No one ever knows our name. But our talent, though very exclusive,
remains extremely loyal, and we make sure they remain gainfully employed.
And all of the clients that we represent share...the same management needs
as Ryan."

So it's a whorehouse, and a ritzy talent agency combined, Brady thought.
Intriguing. What's the catch?

"I think I get it. But, you're not...some kind of cult, or something?"

Jake and Foster exchanged glances, then both laughed.

"Well we're not the fucking Scientologists, if that's what you're worried
about," Foster said.

"Then how do you stay in business?"

Jake's sexy eyes narrowed slightly, and he focused them directly on their
guest. "We charge a shocking amount of money," he said evenly,
matter-of-fact.

Brady nodded, smiling slowly. "Of course you do. And your clients pay it,
because..."

"Because they know that absolute discretion is assured." Foster said this
plainly and matter-of-fact. "Look, the sign outside this office building is
much as anyone knows about our operation. Foster and Associates is a holding
company for a variety of wildly successful service offerings in the
celebrity community. Everything is legal--I can show you all of the
documentation you'll need to prove this--but it's run in strict secrecy.
Much the same as rehab clinics, or other top-dollar private services of
which the celebrity elite avail themselves in this town when they don't want
anyone ever finding out."

After a pause, Jake explained further: "It's much like the type of service
that you have been improvising for Ryan over the past few years, but we do
it a couple levels further below ground..."

"Yeah, about that. How much do you know about my relationship with my
client?" Brady looked at one man, then the other. Again, the two men across
the table from him shared a knowing smile. Brady focused on Foster. "You
know, Mr. Foster, you looked familiar when I first walked in. Have we met?"

"Call me Greg," Foster said graciously. "Yes, we've met, sort of. I fucked
you at Ryan's house last week."

Brady blinked. "Um, oh. Uh...really?"

"Yep," Jake said. "We both did. You probably just recognize Greg here
because he did you from the front. After he came in you, I showed up and
fucked you from behind, while you were sucking the last bit of cum off his
dick. You have a marvelous, sweet little ass, you know. One of the best I've
sampled recently."

Greg Foster reached down, pushed his chair back from the conference table,
and unzipped his dark suit pants, withdrawing a nicely curved nine-inch hard
pole. "Look familiar yet?"

"Oh yeah..." Brady said, the memory coming back. "In the living room, with
those three other guys in suits... Jesus, that thing was delicious.
Actually, all those cocks were good that day. Ryan and I agreed."

"Other associates of ours," Greg said, stroking his cock. "They all work
here, in this office. We were on a field trip that day, sort of a
reconnaissance mission if you will, checking out the prospects to see if we
liked who we were proposing to represent. Jake here slipped the card in your
pants when you weren't looking."

Brady laughed. "It was hot. I didn't ask to think where you were from...Ryan
likes hot guys in suits, so I figured he'd just picked you up somewhere
along the way."

"Naturally," Gregory added, still stroking, "we are open to working with
some of Ryan's regular, uh, talent. I'm sure that over the years he's grown
fond of, well, several dozen of those studs who regularly fuck him. And rest
assured, if we can hire them, he won't have to run up all those accounts
with them. Unlimited free fucking is the cornerstone of our retainer. Sort
of like getting free checking at a good bank."

Well, that sweetened the deal right there. They were right, Ryan ran up an
astounding monthly bill, paying all those players. Here, he'd get unlimited
sex, and it would all be covered by the steep annual fees. Brady quickly
calculated the dollar figure these men would need to quote him to make this
deal worthwhile.

"All our men got to fuck Ryan that day...needless to say, we all enjoyed
it," Jake said. "And right now, we'd like to fuck you again, if you're
interested." He began undoing his own suit pants, revealing a long thick
uncut hose that emerged from a forest of dark pubic hair, and stood out
against the hot man's stark white dress shirt. Brady licked his lips.

"Uh, yeah, by all means." He lowered his own slacks and assumed the position
over the conference table. As Jake pressed his huge cock into Brady and
started fucking him, Foster got on the phone to the front reception desk.
"Dustin, can you bring us some refreshments?"

A moment later, the studly receptionist appeared--an alluring lad of 30
years with shaggy brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. He stripped in front
of the others, revealing a tight young body and a lightly hairy chest. His
cock was a gorgeous, ripe nine inches, and Foster set about sucking it for a
while. Then Foster announced: "Brady, come over here and suck Dustin off,
while Jake and I take turns fucking your ass."

Brady obeyed, inhaling the younger man's bone and suckling it lovingly,
while continuing to accept the firm pounding that Jake was giving his ass
from behind. Like Ryan, Brady could be a real cock junkie at a moment's
notice, a true sex glutton, and for some reason he wanted to prove this
ability to these men he'd just met. When Jake came up his ass, he abruptly
shifted his upturned butt around to where Foster stood, the whole while
keeping Dustin's cock in his mouth. He hummed happily through his blowjob
delivery while taking Foster's cock, and soon after that Foster's load, up
into his hole.

Then, for good measure, Brady stood up, pushed hunky Dustin into a nearby
chair, and hopped on the boy's thick nine inches to take one more quick load
before their meeting was officially adjourned. As he did so, he held his
dress shirt up with one hand and used the other to beat his cock, while
tipping his handsome face backward in ecstasy at the spontaneous bouncing
fuck he was enjoying on Dustin's prick. Jake and Foster both leaned back
against the conference table and jerked off, timing their second loads to
spray Brady's sexy exposed chest just as Brady unloaded onto himself, and
Dustin sprayed a big cumwad high up into Brady's hungry asshole. Two hot men
in suits, and two studly young pups, all getting off together.

As all of them were coming back down to earth, Brady thought of one last
question. "I hate to ask this, but since I'm in the business, I think I've
got to. Other than possibly not losing my job, what's in this for me?"

"Oh, you'll lose your job, alright," Jake said, his eyes twinkling as he
tucked in his shirt. "You'll resign."

"Huh?"

"We like your moves," Foster said, leering playfully at Brady's sexy body.
"All of them. Including the way you've managed Ryan. So we're ready to
double your salary. We want you to come and work for us."

Brady was about to express his surprise when Dustin took a step toward him
and gently grabbed his arm.

"I gotta get back up front," Dustin said. "But when you see Ryan, tell him
thanks. From Dustin." The lad seemed to blush a bit as he said this. "And
maybe I'll be seeing him again real soon."

"You know Ryan?" Brady asked.

"You could say that. We met about, uh, thirteen years ago know, when I was
living on the street. Hustling." Dustin licked his lips, obviously fond of
the memory. "He let me fuck him. It was his first time."

"You...what? You were his first?" Brady was aghast. It never occurred to him
there WAS a first. This was like discovering "patient zero" of the Ryan sex
life phenomenon, the celebrity sex equivalent to the dead sea scrolls.

"Yep, you got it. This--" Dustin patted his package, now safely tucked back
inside his work pants "--was the first one ever to go inside his hot, famous
ass. The nine inches that started it all."

*     *     *

As Jake showed Brady back to the door, he handed his new recruit a piece of
paper. Listed on it were three dozen or so names, male and female. All were
A-list Hollywood celebrities of every stripe.

"These are some of the clients we represent," Jake explained.

"Women too?"

"Oh yes. Both genders, all...proclivities." Jake dropped his voice slightly.
"I personally oversee most of the gay clients and their managers. Mr. Foster
and his ravishing wife are both, ah, voraciously bisexual, so between them
both we manage to land a lot of business, across the spectrum. And there are
many others you'll meet, as well."

Brady noticed that one name on the alphabetized list was circled. An entry
in the E's. "What's this mean?"

Holding the door now for Brady to exit the building, Jake told him: "That's
the name of the person who's eager to give Brady his next role."

Once again, Brady was wide-eyed. In a day of shocking news, this was the
most shocking--and the best.

"No shit?"

"No shit. All you need to do is resign from Cosgrove, and sign the paperwork
to join us over here."

They shook hands, and as Brady headed toward his car, he heard Jake call
after him:

"Oh, and don't worry about that trouble you were having with the
photographer. Once we've got our new client, that won't be an issue any
more!"

Brady stopped in his tracks, thinking about the implications of this. It
unnerved him a little. He turned back to ask Jake to explain himself, but
his new boss-to-be had already disappeared again inside the building.

Creepy? A little. Intriguing? You bet. And the money sounded fantastic.

Brady got back in his car, taking one last look at the building. Much had
happened in the past hour, and he didn't mean just the three fresh, amazing
loads of cum that had been expertly deposited into his rear end.

Pulling out of the parking lot, he pointed his car to the freeway, and
headed north back to his office, toward Hollywood and Ryan, toward home. He
was a new man. He'd trusted his instincts these past few years, and now it
got him exactly where he wanted to be. See, good people really could make it
in this town.

His phone had eight message waiting from various clients, but he shut it
off. He had a resignation letter to write. But first, he had to stop by
Ryan's house and let him know the good news.

*     *     *

"See, man? I told you not to worry," Ryan said, after Brady described the
meeting. "And, now that Chad's all moved in, I've got one other thing to
tell you. Justin called. Cameron threw him out over the week-end. So we want
to put him up here, because with that huge dick he's got he can fuck any of
us whenever he wants. He'll even pay rent, but the thing is, if we're all
living together and pooling our expenses, I think I should sell this place
and look for a bigger house."

"Sounds good to me," Brady said. "Wait until the cashflow gets better, but I
don't see why not."

They were chatting in Ryan's kitchen for some privacy, but Brady had
interrupted his client in mid-fuck, and Ryan was itching to get back to the
bedroom. "Now, let me get my naked ass back in there. I'm getting some
really good fucking today. My pussy is stretched to the maximum!"

"Yeah? Who's here?"

"Well in my room, right now, it's Jesse Bradford, Paul Walker, and some
cute, megahung kid I never heard of named Jamie Bell. They're going on about
some movie we might all do together, but they won't tell me what it is. I
hope I get it, 'cos I'd love having access to these beautiful dicks for a
few months at a time!"

Brady thought back to the name that was circled on the list, and smiled. His
new bosses were already a step ahead of him, sweetening the deal.

Ryan started down the hall, but called behind him: "The real news is in the
maid's room, though. Chad moved in upstairs yesterday, and he brought the
world's best toy with him. Check it out!"

*     *     *

The maid's room was empty of people, but Brady took one look at the giant
contraption parked there and let out a laugh. So this was what a fuck
machine looked like, he thought. He had believed it was just a myth.

"Here, I'll show you how to use it," offered a friendly voice behind him.
Brady turned to see Bryce, Ryan's techie player, a sturdy hairy boy, fully
clothed at the moment with a socket wrench in one hand. "Just let me finish
setting up the monitor."

Ryan had indeed hired Bryce to add not one but two additional closed-circuit
monitors in the house: one in the maid's room, and one in Chad's new digs
upstairs. Each one now showed a split screen, Brady Bunch-style, where the
four quadrants each displayed the activity in the four sex playrooms
throughout the house.

He stripped and got on the bed. The machine was currently in a low position,
just right for a missionary fucking. Bryce finished hooking up the monitor,
then approach Brady, showing him the stirrups where he could rest his legs,
then positioning the giant rubber cock to press directly into Brady's
cum-lubed hole.

When all was ready, Bryce fired up the machine. With the first push in,
Brady gasped. Even with all the cum that he had in him from the meeting with
Jake, Foster, and Dustin, the fifteen-inch dildo intrusion was a bit of a
surprise. But, after a half-dozen slow strokes, it felt pretty wonderful,
and he smiled over at Bryce, who then turned the speed up to mid-throttle
and left the remote control in Brady's hand.

At the doorway, a familiar face appeared. It was Nick, smiling at Brady's
enjoyment of the new toy.

"Feels pretty fuckin' good, don't it?" he laughed. "I figure it's good
having this down here as a safeguard. Any time one of us is hungry for it,
and we can't get any dick off our guests or off each other, then we just
come in here and let the Top Machine do the fucking for us."

"Top Machine," Brady laughed, still breathless from the hard fucking the
machine was giving him.

"Hey Bryce," Nick added. "Ryan says to tell you we need two more monitors
again. He wants one in the playpen over the garage, and another one in the
bedroom next to Chad's where Justin's going to be staying."

Both studs left then, and Brady was alone with the machine, loving the
feeling of getting stuffed repeatedly by the giant pistoning dildo-arm.
After a few minutes, he heard a beep and a whir, and then a burst of warm
sticky liquid was fired into his ass. The thrill of sensing this surprise,
and not knowing whose load it was (probably, he learned later, one of
several cash-strapped UCLA boys with whom Chad had regular contact) made
Brady close to cumming himself. But he held off for now--he wanted to simply
enjoy the sensation.

On the monitor next to the bed, he casually watched the other action around
the house. In Nick's room, the singer hunk was getting on his knees on the
bed to take Bryce the techie's oversized dick. Chad, lying on his back, had
his hands full with what seemed to be a 90210 reunion: Jason Priestley, Ian
Ziering, and Brian Austin Greene were busily taking turns hunched between
the newest roommate's sexy legs and front-loading his cute, insatiable ass
with their pretty-boy cream. And Ryan, getting fucked by his future costars,
had one cock in his mouth and another up his ass, but the angle was too
close to see whose was which.

Then he saw Ryan smiling over at him, the cock he was sucking temporarily
displaced from his bee-stung lips to his jerking hand. That was when Brady
realized he had a camera pointed on himself as well, and each of these studs
could also, if they chose, be watching him. Now self-aware, Brady playfully
started acting like a porn star, writhing on the skinny bed, taking the
machine's fuck as if it were a voracious lover.

Looking back he saw Ryan laughing, then blowing him a kiss and resuming his
cocksucking bottom duties.

Life wasn't so bad. He was pretty sure his career had taken up a whole new
trajectory today. He'd soon have enough money in the bank to trade his condo
for a decent house, lease a new car, and who knows, maybe take some vacation
time and travel for a little while. He didn't have a boyfriend any more, and
after the ordeal with Aaron the pilot, he really didn't want one anytime
soon. Besides, it's not like he was lonely. Not any more. In Ryan's house,
in Ryan's life, he was never truly alone, not even when he was all by
himself getting fucked by an absurdly kinky machine. He loved his
friendships, and life was looking up.

OK, he told himself. I'll let this thing cum in me one more time, and then
I've gotta get back to the office.

THE END

*     *     *

Thanks to all who patiently awaited this long-overdue wrap-up of my fans'
all-time favorite series.

Comments? Questions? Feedback and suggestions? backlash29@hotmail.com

Check out my other stories under Backlash29 in the Authors section. Recent
gay stories/series include "Jesse's Load Party," "Chronicles of Roddick,"
"Slutty Matt," "Road Trip Slut," and "Girlfriend's Bitch Boy." If you want
the full list of stories and links, write to me and let me know.