Welcome to the continuation of my oldest story.
At the behest of many readers over the years I have decided to continue this stand-alone story and make it a series. This part is presented in two chapters.
The parts will come out sporadically as my writing schedule permits so it may be months before you see Part 3 but each part will be its own story so you don't have to wait to see "what happens."
Oh, and don't forget to donate to Nifty. You want this site to keep going don't you, you horny little bugger?
Comments are incredibly welcome, and I intend to answer everyone.
"No no no," I say with studied patience, striding onto the set and straight up to the tall dark 12-year-old playing the lead.
"Kurt, you've got to be more nuanced about it. Remember what's going on in the story. Your father smacked your mother just before school and you're furious with him, but you can't do anything about it. You feel like a coward for not confronting him, plus you feel guilty about taking it out on poor Kenny here because he's a good guy and he's only trying to be your friend. Somehow while you're bullying Kenny you have to show that conflict in your eyes."
Your lovely, intense, burnt-amber eyes, I would like to say, but of course I can't. Not only are we surrounded by about 25 cast and crew — including Kurt's real-life mother — but I've got a deadline, too. I'm going to lose my kid actors to their mandatory tutoring in a few minutes and I have to get this shot. It's the last set-up of the morning and I need to release the stage so the crew can set scenery and lights for this afternoon's cafeteria scene.
Filmmaking is incredibly complicated and delays cost a fortune. If I don't get this shot the delay will be my fault.
"OK, let's go again," I call out, hurrying back over to my perch next to the camera. "Take it from 'What do you know about it, shrimp' and then the shove."
Kurt and the other boy in the scene, a talented little blond named Jason, square off just as they were in the previous take. Kurt towers over Jason but the little guy perfectly projects his character's defiance.
Background players watch from a short distance. Like real sixth-graders some will show fear when the fight breaks out and others gleeful delight. These extras are not experienced professional kids but locals recruited from school drama programs and community theater. I had to spend nearly 20 minutes choreographing their responses during run-through and it's one of the reasons we're running behind.
Remind me again why I wanted to work with kids?
A Production Assistant with the clapboard hurries over in front of the camera.
"Quiet on the set," I call, though I really didn't need to because you could already hear a mouse fart. "Roll film."
"Rolling," says the Cinematographer glued to the Panaflex's eyepiece, and his assistant pipes in, "Speed," as soon as the little green frame-rate indicator lights up.
"Sound," I say.
"Recording," I hear in my headset from the Sound Recordist in the booth.
"Mark it," I order.
"Scene 17, take 3," the PA calls, sharply snapping the clapboard closed and scurrying off the set.
It's silly, but after a decade of this I still get a little thrill seeing chalked on a clapboard, Director: Richard Howell.
"And... action!"
"What do you know about it shrimp!" Kurt yells with real fire. He shoves Jason with both hands on the boy's chest and Jason takes the fall to the floor with convincing shock in his eyes. The background kids do exactly as I directed them, giving Jason a beat to play his reaction and then erupting into oohs and catcalls. The boy playing Kenny's best friend rushes into frame, kneeling next to the fallen Jason and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
It's the role I hand-picked for David and he does a lovely job with this tiny piece of business, just as I knew he would. When David glares up at the bully his face, his eyes, even his body language wordlessly say, What the fuck, dude?
"I know you're bein' a jerk!" Jason defiantly shouts at Kurt from his place on the floor. "What's the matter with you, man?"
Kurt looms over the boys, all his muscles tense, glaring down and somehow projecting anger, remorse and confusion all at once.
It's a beautiful piece of silent acting. He holds the pose a beat and a half and then turns and stalks away.
"Cut! Print it!" I yell with a huge grin. "Wow, you guys, that was perfect! Great job, all of you!"
All three boys relax and smile. Kurt comes back and offers a hand to pull Jason to his feet and then all the way in for a brief bro-hug. They exchange congratulations on each other's performances, then generously congratulate David too. They collectively turn to me to bask in my approval and I beam it to them gladly.
There's something off in Kurt's smile though; a tiny hint of unease.
"OK, people," calls Tom, my Assistant Director. "That's the morning! The call for this afternoon is 2 o'clock!"
A bell sounds just like in a real school but in our case it's the all-clear for people to once again move freely about the soundstage. The lighting grid snaps loudly off and plunges us into the relative dimness of the work lights. Camera and sound grips pull equipment out of the way of the carpenters and set dressers who now have about 60 minutes to turn this school hallway into a cafeteria. Then the electricians can take over and light the new set ahead of the actors' arrival at 2.
Amid this commotion David rushes over to me, all smiles. "Was I OK?"
He's an exuberant puppy, tail wagging and everything. He knows he did well but he needs to hear it from me.
"You were terrific, kiddo!" I say. "It won't be long before you're the one the bully knocks on his ass!"
"Oh, gee," he says, picking up on my teasing. "Thanks a ton!"
I put my arm around his shoulder and squeeze him against my side. "Really, David," I say more seriously, "you were very good and I know you're going to kill your dialog scene this afternoon."
"Yeah," he says, nervously looking away.
"Butterflies are natural but you know your lines, right? And you've had speaking roles before."
"Yeah, but that was different," David says with none of his usual confidence. "Those were commercials, and the lines were real short and one at a time. The dialog coach said the line exactly how it was supposed to be and I just spit it back. This time I have a really long speech and I have to act with another person."
I catch his limpid blue eyes and hold them. "You've done plays before. That's remembering longer speeches and acting with other people."
"I guess," he says, then brightens. "Can you run lines with me, maybe over lunch? I could come to your trailer."
I glance around at the crew bustling every which way and reassure myself that nobody's listening, just in case he really means running lines, wink wink.
"I don't know, kid," I say. "I'm in charge of this hootenanny and there's a lot to do."
"I know," David says, switching on his persuasiveness. "But even the boss gets to eat lunch. And besides," he adds with a glint of mischief, "didn't you say working with actors is one of your jobs?"
I smile at his teasing impudence. "One of about a hundred, but yeah it is. OK, a man's gotta eat. But don't make a habit of asking for help on-set. I want you to build a reputation as a reliable, professional member of the cast; someone who shows up knowing his lines, hits his marks and delivers the goods — first time, every time."
"That's what I want too, Richard," he says with total sincerity. Either he honestly means it or he's a really terrific actor.
I hope it's both.
Over his shoulder I spot Wanda, David's Pro Bowl linebacker of a mother, looking at her watch. She's clearly annoyed but even she knows better than to bulldoze up to the Director on-set in front of everyone.
"You'd better get off to school, David," I say. "That's another part of professionalism, not keeping people waiting." This earns me a nod and a fond smile.
And Jesus Christ it's one beautiful smile.
"See you at noon," he says and trots off to his mother, who gathers him in and ushers him forward by his shoulders. She gives me a look and I can't tell if it's a glare or just her natural Resting Bitch Face.
"Twelve-thirty!" I call after them and David looks back with a grin and a thumbs-up.
I watch until they round the corner of a scenery piece that looks like school lockers, out of sight. I can't help but fixate on his undulating butt encased in clingy khaki schoolboy pants and decide that the Wardrobe Mistress deserves a raise for the way she dresses him. My mind wanders back two months to David in my motel room on location for our second commercial together, exquisitely naked and offering his delights on a silver platter.
"Richard!" a voice comes from right behind me, and from the tone I know it's not the first time it's been called. I turn to find Edward, the Line Producer. He's not Executive Producer — my boss — but a colleague on the same level of the pecking order, although during the shoot itself I'm the unquestioned Grand Poobah.
"What is it, Edward?"
Whatever it is I know it'll be a problem. That's the Director's life, problem problem problem.
"We have to shuffle the shooting schedule," he says. "We have a full day of exteriors on the back lot the day after tomorrow but they're predicting 40-mile-an-hour winds."
"Fuckin' Santa Annas," I mutter. "We'll never get decent sound in that, and we can't afford that much ADR."
Additional Dialog Recording, or looping, is when we put the actor into a sound booth to re-record the dialog to match his own lips he's watching on a screen. It's time-consuming and expensive, and kid actors pretty much suck at getting the lip-sync right. It's not in our budget or our schedule.
"Can we move up the exterior shots to tomorrow?" I ask.
"They're still building sets," Edward says. "I could run up a bunch of overtime having them work all night but the weather report is calling for 30 miles an hour by noon tomorrow. Even that would sound like a wind tunnel."
"Shit!" I explode as quietly as I can.
Nobody should ever know that the Director is worried. I set the tone for the whole production.
"How about this?" Edward offers. "What if we move the crying scene from the playground to the school gym? Shoot it indoors instead of outdoors? Then you can spend the rest of the day shooting the basketball game on that same set."
"Can we build the gym by Wednesday?"
"Jack says we can if he gets his guys started right now, and it'll only cost us one shift of overtime. We've gotta get Props and Wardrobe moving too because they thought they had another week for that. Also gotta make sure about 50 kids show up to be the two basketball teams and a bleacher full of fans. It won't be easy in two days but we can do it."
"You're the man, Edward," I say with a smile. "It's not often somebody brings me a problem and the solution at the same time!"
I stop into the production office and tell Jenny, the Production Coordinator, about the switch. She'll update the shooting schedule and the call sheets and get them distributed, then get with all the department heads to make sure everybody's on the same page. I'm really not worried because this crew is full of pros and I've worked with nearly all of them before. They'll take this disruption in stride.
I could probably wing it when we get on set but I decide I'd like new storyboards for the crying scene, now that it's an interior instead of an exterior. The lighting guys will appreciate it too so they can rejigger their plan. I dispatch a PA to the Storyboard Artist's cubicle and as she hurries away I wish I could remember her name. She's young, tiny and cute with short blond hair, damn near boyish enough from behind to body-double for David. Which reminds me...
"Mary," I say to my not-quite-assistant. She doesn't formally work for me but for the production company.
"Yeah, Richie?" she replies with a little smirk. We've worked together so many times she's the only one I'd let call me that.
"Would you mind organizing some lunch for me in my trailer? I know it's not in your job description but I'm stuck for time and I need to prepare that new kid David for his dialog scene over lunch break."
Mary smiles and says, "I've read my job description and it says, 'Whatever the hell the Director wants.' Besides, I'll just fob it off on one of the interns."
"Good thinking," I say, "but you pick out the food! I don't want to end up with seaweed chips or some shit."
"Got it, boss," she says and peels off in the direction of the Commissary, grabbing the elbow of a bewildered early-20's-looking college boy and dragging him along.
After a conversation with Sigurd the Viking — which is how I fondly refer to our Norwegian Cinematographer when he's not in earshot and Sig when he is — I finally head to my trailer. It's parked just outside the soundstage near the lot where carpenters were building my exterior sets until the high-wind forecast blew that plan away.
So to speak.
I round the corner of Main Street, a permanent outdoor set that looks like a small Midwestern downtown and has been in about a thousand movies and TV shows over the years. I spot two boys in the mouth of a fake alley next to a fake drug store and realize that they are David and Kurt. Their heads are huddled together and their faces anything but happy; Kurt near tears and David expressing sympathy.
I abruptly change course and stride over to them. Kurt sees me coming and breaks off the conversation, straightening himself and wiping at his cheeks with his fingers. He starts to turn away but David stops him with a hand on his arm and words I can't hear.
"Hi, Richard," David greets brightly as I approach, faking normalcy.
"Hi fellas," I say, then focus on the bigger boy. "Are you alright, Kurt?"
"I'm OK Mr. Howell," he says with no conviction. "I mean Richard," he adds, remembering my lame admonishment the first day of the shoot that my father is Mr. Howell and I am to be called Richard.
"Yeah, well I'll be the judge of that," I say, bending down to look him more squarely in the now-cloudy — but still gorgeous— amber-colored eyes. "David and I were just about to prep a scene in my trailer. Why don't you join us?"
"No, that's OK," the boy demurs. "I don't want to take up David's time."
"I think you and I need to talk too," I insist. "You're my lead, Kurt. I need to know if there's a problem."
"Yeah," David says to him in a very kind voice. "You should talk to Richard. He can help," and Kurt wells up again like he's about to cry.
"Hey, it's OK," I say, matching David's tone. "Whatever it is we'll get it sorted out. Now dry those eyes and slap a smile on your face, alright? The whole studio doesn't need to know your business."
The boy gathers himself and presents a reasonable facsimile of OK so we head across to my trailer. Just as we arrive the intern shows up with my lunch: grilled ham and cheese, onion rings and a tall lemonade. Mary well knows my on-set comfort-food preferences.
"Are you guys hungry?" I ask the boys, and when both say they've eaten I send the intern on his way. I usher both boys up the stairs into my trailer and I follow, admiring Kurt's shapely rear end at eye-level before me.
"You did a fabulous job this morning, Kurt," I say, meeting his eyes with all my sincerity. "In fact you've been wonderful throughout the shoot. You're a terrific little actor."
He swells with pride and gives a genuine smile. "Thanks, Mr. — Richard," he says. "That means a lot, and I sure don't want to let you down."
"I'm sure you won't," I say. "But you know, in that last scene this morning when I told you to act conflicted about your father and your feelings for your friend it sure looked real. Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt you can access those feelings even without anything real behind it, but now seeing the obvious pain you're in I have to wonder if the situation struck a nerve."
He stares at me with frightened eyes, barely breathing.
"Is everything OK at home, Kurt? Do you have some sort of an issue with your father?"
The boy doesn't answer, turning to David for reassurance and then back to me.
"It's not really any of my business," I say, "and I'm not going to make you tell me, but maybe it would be better to get it off your chest, and maybe I can actually help."
More silent seconds go by. "Your lunch is getting cold," Kurt says.
"Never mind that. You trust me as your Director, don't you?"
He swallows hard and sheepishly answers, "Yes."
"Acting is about vulnerability, Kurt. I always work best with an actor who lets me into his heart of hearts, so that we have that level of trust for one another. Can you let me in like that?"
"Go ahead, Kurt!" David urges. "I swear to God you can trust him just like you trusted me."
Kurt stares at me, his eyes wide and his lips trembling. I know he's about to blurt out whatever it is but suddenly he jerks his eyes to the floor.
"I can't," he mumbles. "I'm sorry," and it sounds downright pathetic.
My heart goes out to this wounded, broken boy but what can I do? It wouldn't be right to force it out of him, even though I need him on his game when we get back to set at 2 o'clock. I put a hand on his shoulder and he shrinks away from my touch.
"You can't keep on like this, Kurt!" David insists. "I know I promised to keep your secret but I didn't promise to keep mine. I'm gay! I like boys and I like men, and I have sex with them! And Richard already knows it and he's cool!"
Kurt jerks his eyes up to mine, his mouth open in shock.
"Richard has known since the first time I auditioned for him last spring," David goes on. "He never told anybody and he cast me in five commercials and this Afterschool Special, so you know he doesn't hold it against me."
Kurt is breathing in short, shallow pants and his eyes are still wide as manhole covers. I think I see some hope creep into them so I decide to gently press him.
"I don't think David should have been quite so blunt about it," I say, "but it's true. I believe gay people have to be who they are. Actually everybody has to be who they are. Nobody has a choice about their sexuality."
David puts his hand on Kurt's shoulder and the boy allows it.
"Come on," David pleads. "You can be honest here and nobody will be mad at you, I promise."
"Is that what it is, Kurt?" I ask with all kindness, then make a decision. "I know how hard this is to admit. There are still only about five or six people who know about me."
Kurt's eyes bug out their widest. "Really? You are?"
I glance at David and say, "Yeah. In fact, David and I..."
"Fuck like bunnies!" David laughs. "And he has a nice big dick, too. Wait until you see it!"
"Whoa!" I say. "Hold on a minute. Just because we're all gay doesn't mean we're all going to have sex together. Not every gay person on the planet sleeps with every other one."
I'm astonished when Kurt's eyes head back to the floor and he looks hurt.
"It's OK, David," he murmurs. "Maybe Richard just doesn't like me that way."
Now my mouth drops open. "Kurt, I like you in every possible way! You're a beautiful, smart and talented boy, and I'd be crazy not to want you. I just mean I can't assume that you want me too. It has to be your choice as well as mine."
"Well," David breaks in, "I choose for the three of us to all do it together!"
A smile brightens Kurt's face and the two boys share a look.
"I gather that you two have already..."
"Twice," Kurt says, blushing. "It was my first two times. Actually my only two times."
"Well you certainly picked a good person to break in with," I say, ruffling David's golden hair. "There's something else though, isn't there Kurt? About your father?"
The boy's mood plummets again, and his amber eyes go back to the floor.
"You might as well tell him," David says.
Kurt straightens himself and looks at me unflinching. "My Dad caught me, you know, playin' with it. He walked into my room without knocking and I was right there on the bed jerkin' over a magazine. I was almost ready to get the feeling, too! I covered up real quick but he was smiling then like he was proud of me. He said something like, 'What do you have there? One of my Playboys?' but not so much when he saw what the magazine was."
"Not Playboy, I guess," I say, nodding in understanding.
"It was Tiger Beat," he says. "I was looking at a picture of Jonathan Taylor Thomas, you know that kid on Home Improvement? It was, like, a full-page picture of him with no shirt on and it gave me such a boner!"
"He's fuckin' cute!" David agrees.
"I'm gonna guess your Dad wasn't too thrilled that you were jerking off over a boy?"
"He got so mad!" Kurt says, looking frightened at the memory. "He tore up the magazine and threw it at me. I was afraid he was gonna hit me but he didn't."
"Has your Dad ever hit you?" I ask.
"No, not since I was little and got paddled sometimes."
"Well that's good," I say. "But he has other ways to mess with you, doesn't he?"
"Yeah. He hardly talks to me at all, just kind of acts like I'm not even there. And when my Mom's not around he says mean things, like how I'm turning into a Hollywood faggot and I'm not a real boy and stuff."
David adopts a sly smirk and pipes in, "Oh, he's a real boy all right. I know for sure!"
This gets a smile from Kurt, but a small one.
"So is it tolerable?" I ask, and when he looks questioning I clarify, "Can you deal with it until it blows over?"
"I don't know if it ever will," Kurt says. "Now my Dad is talking about not letting me be an actor anymore. He tells my Mom that I should focus on my schoolwork, but I know it's really because I like it and he wants to punish me by taking it away."
"That would be a damn shame," I say. "You're really good, and I'm not just saying that. You really are."
"Yeah Kurt," David says. "I hope I can be as good as you someday."
David's actually better, but I don't say so.
"OK, I'm going to help as much as I can," I say. "First I'm going to make a point of telling your mother just how good you are, and just how good a career you have waiting for you. Hopefully she won't let your Dad pull you out of acting. Then I'll talk to some of the casting agents I know, see if we can get you a few jobs to follow this one so your Dad will be leaving money on the table if he makes you quit. Finally when I do press interviews for this special I'll talk you up and get your name out there. If you become an in-demand actor it'll be a lot harder to make you quit."
"Wow!" the boy exclaims, his chest filling in happiness for the first time since we came into the trailer. "That would be awesome! Thank you so much, Richard."
"You could thank him by sucking his dick," David offers and Kurt turns blood red in one second, although the grin never leaves his face.
"Are you crazy?" I laugh. "Somebody's gonna knock on that door any minute and call us all to the set!"
Kurt looks me right in the eye and asks, "OK then, when?"
It's kind of a schlep from the studio in Century City out here to the Valley but to me it's worth it. I bought this place mainly for the privacy even before I had a reason to hide but now the seclusion comes in especially handy. With five wooded acres and the nearest neighbor a quarter-mile away no one can see who comes and goes.
Not to mention that a B-list working-stiff director like me can't afford the Canyon.
They're late, but even Wanda can't bully LA traffic off of the 405. There's no doubt she'll show up though. I'm the ticket to what she wants so she'll keep coming, keep driving me like a donkey pulling a cart.
David is the carrot and San Quentin is the stick.
Headlights sweep across the front windows and my heart quickens. My emotions are mixed; thrilled to see David and Kurt but dreading the idea of dealing with Wanda, even if only for a moment. I throw open the front French doors and there's her old blue mini-van in the circle driveway.
"Hi Richard!" the boys call out in near-unison as their doors open, both smiling broadly. Wanda forces a smile for Kurt's benefit but drops it the instant the kid's back is turned.
David shoulders his backpack and cranes up on tip-toe when he reaches me at the door. He gives me a nice kiss on the lips and I have hopes for Kurt but he doesn't take my obvious invitation for him to get one too. He only grins up to me as he passes.
I start to close the door but Wanda blocks it with a beefy arm and imperiously strides into my house.
"Sure, come on in," I say with a healthy dose of sarcasm. "We're fine on our own though Wanda. I'll take care of the boys."
"I'm sure you will," she says in a tone laden with innuendo. "But we need to talk."
With grim resignation I wave her into the living room. It was a major escalation of risk to add Kurt to our weekend playtime, especially given his raging homophobe of a father, and I need to know if anything is amiss. Wanda went ahead and brought him here so I presume there's no immediate danger but I need to be sure.
"David, why don't you show Kurt upstairs? You guys get settled while your Mom and I gab."
David knows the dynamic between me and his mother so he gestures Kurt toward the stairs. "Come on," he says. "There's a bunch of cool movie posters up there."
As soon as they're gone I put my hands on my hips and say, "OK, so talk."
"Kurt's mother..." she begins, but pauses searching for the name.
"Judith."
"Yeah, that airhead. Turns out whenever Kurt sleeps over at a friend's she calls him on the phone at bedtime." Then with dripping disdain, "She has to say nighty-night to her baby boy."
"I've never seen Kurt with a cellphone," I observe, and Wanda shakes her head.
"He doesn't have one," she says, aggravated. "The bitch is going to call me because she thinks he's at my house. When she calls — and she will — I'll pretend to call Kurt to the phone while I add you on 3-way calling. If my name comes up on your phone don't answer! She'll recognize your voice. Let Kurt answer."
"Yeah," I say. "I get it. Anything else?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. I want to know what's next. What's your plan?"
"For David's career?" I ask.
"Of course his career. I don't need to know what's gonna happen up there!" she barks, indicating the stairs.
I can only stare at her for a moment. This woman doesn't give half a crap what I do to her son. She'd sell him to slave traders if it got her the money and limelight she craves.
"Give it a chance, huh?" I finally say. "We just wrapped the Afterschool Special. It doesn't even air until January. How is he supposed to get buzz from something that isn't even out there yet?"
"We have a deal," she says in hushed anger. "You said you would make him a star!"
"Not overnight! You don't even want it overnight. That would be too much expectation too soon. You want it natural, organic, so he can grow into the bigger roles as he's ready for them. You climb the ladder in Hollywood one performance at a time, and David's still on the first rung."
"Then get him into something! Something with a higher profile. None of this Boy Number 3 shit!"
"I'm not an agent, I'm a director. I can only directly cast him in my own projects."
"Then cast him!" she says. "You must have another job lined up."
"I do, but there are no parts for kids."
"All I'm hearing is excuses," she complains. "Maybe you've forgotten which one of us has the other's balls in a vise."
Crude metaphor aside she has a point. If she ever decides it's to her advantage to nuke my life I know she'll do it without a blink —as long as David is outside the blast radius. Maybe it was stupid to get involved with the kid in the first place, putting my head right on Wanda's chopping block, but it was the heat of the moment and blah blah blah. It's a little late to worry about that now anyway.
What she doesn't know is that I'd do anything for her son, no blackmail required. As long as David wants to work in Hollywood I'll be thrilled to help however I can. I have to keep her believing she needs to dole him out to me like a drug, keeping me addicted. Knowing I'd help him anyway would surely be the end of his weekends in my bed.
I force my voice calm.
"Wanda," I say, "this will only work if casting agents come to us instead of us being after them all the time. I can nudge them along but they automatically get suspicious of too much pressure. If he gets written off as a wannabee he's done. Let them discover him through his work. Trust me — no, trust him! He really does have the talent."
She eyes me for a long moment. "Then what do we need you for?"
I steel my gaze straight back into her cold eyes.
"Contacts. Reputation. My talent. I can make him a real actor Wanda, guide him to a real career, one that lasts into adulthood and won't leave him a has-been when he's 20. You can't do that without me. I'm the one who knows how to get it done."
"Then get it done," she says with quiet menace. She steps to the stairs and calls up with fake brightness, "I'm leaving now! Have fun boys," then adds softly for my benefit, "though I can't imagine how they can think it's fun. I had to do it twice to get David and his sister and both times I thought it would make me puke."
The kids rumble to the top of the stairs. "Thanks for driving us, Mom," David says in that way children say polite things to adults while secretly mocking them. If Wanda catches the tone she doesn't react to it.
Kurt pipes in, "Yeah, thanks Mrs. Furth!" except he is totally sincere. He doesn't know Wanda yet.
"I'll be back about noon on Sunday so be ready to go."
"Yes Mom," David says. He makes no effort to come down to hug her goodbye. He does know Wanda.
I stand in the doorway watching the mini-van's taillights recede down the tree-lined driveway. I wait until she has actually turned onto the county road before I relax and close the doors.
"You boys want some dinner?" I call. "You must be starving."
I expect the mini-thunder of two sets of boy feet on the stairs but instead they're still at the top, huddled together and whispering. They both smile and nod to each other and then look down to me.
"We were thinking we'd eat in about an hour," David says with a twinkle.
"Yeah," Kurt chimes in, "we're hungry for something else first."
I chuckle and shake my head in wonder. I remember being their age, when my life was run mainly by my dick.
"Ohhh-kayyyy," I sigh with fake weariness. "Let's get it over with."
David knows better but Kurt's mouth opens in shock and disappointment.
"Gotcha!" I cry and begin running up the stairs two at a time. The boys squeal and dash for my bedroom but I overtake Kurt and scoop him into my arms.
"I gotcha I gotcha I gotcha," I tease as I rush him into the bedroom, where David is already kicking off his shoes and peeling off his shirt. I throw myself and Kurt together onto the bed, rolling us both over until I end up on top of the handsome boy, looking down into his excited amber eyes. I press a kiss onto him and he surprises me by wholeheartedly joining it, kissing me back with equal fervor.
There now seems no need to go slow with Kurt, at least not with kissing, so I slip my tongue between his plush lips. Instantly he engages, our tongues swirling and grasping at each other while soft moans escape us both.
His mouth is delicious, tender and sweet-tasting, and I drink deeply of it. The hint of mint I detect tells me he brushed his teeth while I was doing battle with Wanda. It's a thoughtful touch that I find tremendously sexy because it means he was looking forward to this moment and wanted to be fresh for me. I fear that my own breath is not nearly as pleasant.
Oral hygiene fades from my mind as our passion builds. I decide I don't have to go slow with anything and I slip a hand between us to find the small, iron-hard spike tenting out his jeans. A louder moan escapes him and his eyes smolder into mine.
Many seconds pass before I feel David's weight press down the mattress very near our heads. We both glance up and find David's hairless cock and balls only inches away. He bends his straining boner down with a finger and implores, "Kiss it somebody! He wants some fun too!"
Kurt breaks our kiss and turns toward David, mouth eagerly open. This is all the cue David needs to lean in and slide his sleek three inches to the hilt. Kurt begins avidly sucking the way I know he has done on at least two previous sleepovers and I spend a minute appreciating the show right before my eyes.
I slide down Kurt's body and fumble at his belt buckle. He moans encouragement around David's dick and raises his hips to assists me getting his jeans and underpants down.
He is beautiful, perfectly hairless and 5th-grader small, smaller than David despite being a year older and two inches taller. His cut little cock stretches up with a noticeable curve toward his belly and his little balls hang loosely in a lovely rounded sack. There is not a hair to be seen and I salivate like a dog under the dinner table.
I can't wait a second longer and I engulf that sweet little meat, eliciting a deep and appreciative moan. I am elated, joyous, exactly where I want to be. I lick it and lave it, pumping up and down and slurping on the small helmet head.
Kurt squirms underneath me and his guts involuntarily tense, not near orgasm yet — if indeed he can even get there — but just from the intensity of the stimulation. His hips buck up and he thrusts deeply into my mouth.
David climbs astride Kurt's chest and starts fucking his face. Kurt's hands come to David's flexing ass cheeks and fiercely pull him in over and over.
They've done this before.
"Oh, shit!" I hear in David's high voice. "Oh, suck man, suck! It's so fucking good!"
David slams against Kurt's face, faster than I ever remember him doing with me. I peer up and see his hairless balls pulled up tight, ready for their big moment. Kurt pulls David's hips even harder against his mouth, focused on giving David his pleasure.
And then with a loud groan David cums, holding himself deep in Kurt's mouth while his body quakes and shudders. After a few seconds David thrusts a few more times and buries himself again to his furthest depth, his balls squeezing and his perineum pulsing. In a few seconds he is spent and collapses on top of Kurt's face.
Kurt lets him lie there for several seconds before nudging his dead weight to the side. David pants like an asthmatic and gazes into his friend's amber eyes, finally putting his lips to Kurt's and tenderly kissing him.
It's sweet and affectionate and I adore them both.
Kurt has been distracted from his own buildup while he concentrated on David's but now his focus comes back to my mouth. The boys are kissing harder again and I know it's helping Kurt get back into it. His dick remains bone-hard as my mouth plunges up and down its short length and the tremors in his gut begin anew. I pump and pump and his tension mounts.
Kurt's hands come to the back of my head as he thrusts up to me, meeting my plunges halfway. His little silken scrotum rubs tantalizingly against my chin and increases my pleasure tenfold. It's our very first sex together and I don't know how it could be better.
David breaks their kiss and urges, "Come on, baby! Cum for us, Kurt!" and goes right back to fierce tongue wrestling.
I feel it building within him. Kurt's muscles tighten, his hips push upward and his little cock gently pulses.
And then he falls back to the bed, limp as a rag doll, his dick already deflating. He didn't reach anything like a nut-busting climax, just a few little pulses and heavy breathing, but he pushes me away from his too-sensitive member like he'd shot a geyser.
"Wow," he says between gasps. "That was great, Richard. Maybe the best ever!"
I catch David's attention and he shrugs. "Kurt never has a big one with me either."
I'm disappointed but I'll never show it. I return Kurt's smile and climb up to give him a kiss. It's different from our first and I'm kind of glad it's sweet rather than sexy.
I gently pet Kurt's flat belly until his breathing slows. I smile affectionately and ask, "Do you get bigger ones when you do yourself?"
"Not really," he replies, unperturbed. "It's always pretty much the same. It's fine though. I really like how it feels."
"That's all that matters I guess, eh?"
Kurt giggles up to me and asks, "Do you have big ones?"
"Boy he sure does," David pipes in. "Want to give him one?"
Kurt giggles again. "OK."
I begin to speak but David shushes me.
"No you don't," he cautions. "This time I'm the Director and you guys are my actors, OK?"
This is something new. "Sounds like fun to me. Where's my mark?"
"You'll be on your back on the bed," David says. "But first you need a wardrobe change. For this scene your costume is... nothing! Get those clothes off!"
"Yes sir, Mr. Director," I say with a chuckle and strip off my shirt. Kurt starts to do the same.
"No, not you," David says. "In fact you need to be dressed for this scene. Pull your pants back up."
"Aww," Kurt says in genuine disappointment, but complies.
"Don't worry," I say. "I doubt you'll have them on for long."
I toss the last of my clothes away and lie back the bed. My cock towers its full seven inches, the shaft throbbing red and the head purple.
David gives it a concerned look. "Make it go down, so we can see it bone up again later."
I look at him in disbelief. "Are you kidding with that? You might as well direct me to flap my wings and fly!"
Both boys laugh. "It's OK," David says. "We can fix it in post."
I chuckle again. David has been paying attention on set, at least enough to mimic things he's heard me say. It's gratifying to know that he genuinely wants to learn the process of filmmaking. It will be a big plus for him going forward.
"OK Richard," he says in a serious tone. "Your motivation for this scene is extreme horniness. There's a beautiful boy right in front of you and he's just driving you crazy! You've got to have sex with him right now!"
OK, I smirk to myself. So it's Method acting then.
"And you Kurt," David says. "You stumbled into this stranger's bedroom and found him just getting ready to jerk off. You've never seen such a big cock before."
"I haven't!" Kurt exclaims, his eyes wide.
"And something clicks inside your head," David says, excitedly getting into the scene he's inventing. "You have to have that big giant dick!"
"I do!" Kurt wails, his pretty face twisted into a grimace of desire. "I need it!"
"That's fantastic!" David says with a grin for his friend. "Man, you are a great actor!"
"Who's acting?" he blurts and lunges forward onto the bed. Before I can react Kurt is upon me, his small soft hand gripping my shaft.
"I didn't say action yet!" David complains.
"Then say it David!" Kurt implores. "Please!"
"OK, when I say action I want you to kiss the tip of his dick. Just kiss, OK?"
"Yeah, fine," Kurt impatiently says. "So say it!"
"Action!" David calls and fast as a cobra strike Kurt's little mouth engulfs my cockhead. The lips and tongue that my mouth so enjoyed a few minutes ago are now working my sensitive glans with little finesse but amazing zeal.
"Ohhhh!" I cry in delighted surprise, my torso curling up from the bed, but David's hand comes to my chest and nudges me back down.
"No!" he cries. "Just lay back Richard. Let Kurt play his scene! And you were just supposed to kiss it, Kurt!"
Kurt pulls off just long enough to say, "I'm improvising!"
"Fuck, OK then," David relents. "Now kiss all up and down his shaft, and end up back slurping on the tip."
I guess Kurt thinks it sounds like fun because he follows David's direction. I want to caress his beautiful little head, feel his silky brown hair between my fingers, but instead I do as I'm told, lie back and just experience this new, wonderful young mouth.
Now I've had a lot of blowjobs in my 41 years but other than David not for a while. Kurt is obviously new to it, especially on a grownup, but he's learning fast and driving me wild with his bobbing little mouth. The thrilling sensations course through me and it's all I can do to keep lying back and passively accepting them.
"Unngh!" I groan at the almost unbearable pleasure. Kurt looks up and makes twinkling eye contact, his mouth never pausing in its efforts. I understood how David had taken me so well our first time because he was already experienced with men but this is Kurt's first time. Just like on the set he apparently has an instinct for what will please me.
"OK, Richard," David says, "now you can sit up and reach for his shirt. Get it up and off of him."
Happily I comply and thrill as Kurt's solid, boyishly muscular torso is revealed. I remember from his audition that he said he is an athlete, playing basketball and soccer for his middle school. It was one of the reasons that I cast him in the lead. The character had to physically face off against his abusive father and a wimpy little kid would have looked ridiculous.
Kurt disengages only long enough for me to get his shirt off and now he's back down on me with even more vigor. I feel the slippery wetness of his tongue and soft palate caressing me like rarely before and I hope David is almost ready to cue the Money Shot because I don't think I can hold out much longer.
The Director has other plans.
"Kurt, spin around so that your butt is facing back toward Richard's face, but don't take your mouth off of his dick!" Kurt quickly moves as directed and the sensation of his tender lips and tongue rotating around my cock is an amazing new one on me!
"Ohhh!" I moan. "Oh shit, I'm gonna blast any second!"
"Not till I cue you!" David insists. "I'm the Director on this set!"
"Tell that to my nuts!" I groan and Kurt giggles around my dick.
"Richard!" David sternly says, trying to command my focus, "Take his pants down, all the way off."
The boy had not fastened his belt when David had him dress again so it was much easier to get his jeans open this time. I wrestle them and the undies down and Kurt's magnificent smooth ass comes into view for the first time. He had been on his back earlier plus I had been a thousand percent focused on his delicious little cock and balls, but now I suck in my breath in appreciation of the beautiful round butt before me. It's every bit as luscious as David's and that's saying something!
"Come on," David prompts, "get 'em all the way off, but leave the socks. You're much too horny to take time with socks."
That's actually a pretty good directorial instinct I observe with the only brain cell I have left that isn't focused on Kurt's delectable body. I wrestle the pants down and off with Kurt assisting by raising his legs, then without being told I position Kurt straddling my chest. He immediately goes down even further on my cock, this angle apparently more comfortable, and I fight mightily to hold back my flood gates.
"Good you guys!" David calls. "That's perfect. Now Richard, spread open his butt cheeks so the camera gets a good shot of his hole."
Of course "the camera" is David's own eyes and I quickly use two thumbs to give him the view he's hot for.
Turns out I'm hot for it too. Kurt's sweet butthole is tiny and tight, pink and perfect. I don't know what kind of experience he has with this point of entry but in any event he isn't shy about it. It looks utterly relaxed and gapes open before us.
"Can you reach it with your tongue?" David asks and I feel a bit of sudden tension in Kurt's body. I don't think he anticipated this.
"Lower yourself a little," I say to Kurt and after a second of hesitation he does. The view from here is the best ever: his beautiful hairless balls two inches from my eyes, his smooth, firm 'taint just above and that delicious pink asshole in the background. I burn it into my memory, a very welcome addition to my Spank Bank.
"Lick it, Richard!" David commands. "Rim that butthole!"
With a passionate moan I curl myself upward and spear my tongue into his wide-open cavern. Kurt jumps a little and lets out a yelp but the little trouper takes direction well and he doesn't fight me. His hole is hot and tight and tender, smelling of pure boy and not the least bit shitty.
It's a little late, but it suddenly strikes me how lucky I am that Kurt is nice and clean. I was so horny I didn't even consider that 12-year-old boys often give little thought to personal hygiene. I feel like I've dodged a bullet until I remember that it's routine for David and me to prepare in the bathroom before sex, so that tongues and fingers and cocks can go where they please without worry. I probably have David to thank for both this sweet clean ass and the minty fresh mouth I've enjoyed tonight.
Kurt lets out a moan as my tongue-tip probes his unexplored territory. He never slows his attack on my throbbing hardness, down further than ever. I think he's got even more of me than David has ever managed. He pumps up and down, gripping me tightly with his lips and caressing my length with his tongue.
I have no idea how I'm not cumming yet. I have to throw my head back to the pillow and give a loud moan of tortured delight.
"Kurt," David says right next to his ear. "Do you know about cum?"
The plunging pauses for a second and then resumes. Apparently David got some form of negative reply.
"You know how when you fool around you get that great feeling at the end?"
A muffled, "Mmm-hmm," comes out around my dick and I feel Kurt nod his head, which feels pretty good in itself.
"When kids our age get it nothing really happens, it just feels great," David says. "But when a grownup man gets there this thick hot liquid squirts out of his dick, and they say it's a hundred times better than what we feel. The stuff is called cum and it's kind of thick and milky, and I swear to God it's not pee! When Richard gets his feeling — and that's gonna be real soon now — he's gonna squirt his stuff and if you're still sucking him it's gonna go right into your mouth."
Kurt pulls off of my cock but still keeps jerking it with his hand.
"So I should stop?"
"You don't have to," David says. "I take the stuff in my mouth all the time. It tastes kinda weird but it can't hurt you and it feels super good for Richard. I even swallow it."
"So I should keep going?"
"Only if you want to," David says. "Some guys think it's yucky but I like to make Richard happy."
I'm on the very brink of orgasm, holding back the best I can but frankly tiring of the debate.
"Tell you what," David says. "I'll be your stunt double! You keep sucking right up until Richard's ready to shoot and when he gives you the signal pull off and I'll take the cum instead!"
Kurt thinks about it while he jacks me a few more strokes. Finally he says, "Nah, I can do my own stunts," and plunges down on my cock, right back to his deepest depth.
The surprise and thrill overtake me and I immediately begin to spew. Kurt reacts in shock but stays down, making little gurgling noises as the hot fluid gushes into his mouth. His tongue works and he gulps it down, swallowing over and over as my voluminous load continues to spurt. I haven't jerked off in a week in anticipation of this visit, though I'd thought it would be David's belly I'd fill.
This is even better.
Kurt vacuums up my final dribbles until he finally pulls away, rolling away from me onto the bed. "It didn't taste so bad," he says. I pull him in for a deep kiss and taste my jizz on his lips.
It's the hottest thing ever when a boy takes my cum.
"Did I do good, Richard?" he asks with a grin.
"You were a star!" I gush and hug him tightly to me. I glance up and David is watching us, mostly smiling but maybe with a hint of jealousy.
"Come here Mr. Director!" I say and pull him in too, and the three of us happily giggle and smooch.
Thanks for reading Chapter 1 of Casting Call Part 2. Chapter 2 will be along shortly.
If you like my stuff have a look at my story archive here on my Prolific Authors page.
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