Welcome back to the continuation of my oldest story. This is Part 3 Chapter 2. If you haven't read the earlier parts yet you can find them in my archive here.
Please remember that Nifty needs donations!
Comments are incredibly welcome, and I intend to answer everyone.
I am approaching visual overload.
Six great-looking boys aged ten, eleven and twelve rollick around my pool, splashing, racing, going off the diving board, perhaps rushing over to the hot tub for thirty seconds to warm up before dashing back to plunge into the cold water again. I don't know which sleek, sexy little body to look at first.
It's a joy to behold but I can't show it. I have to appear indifferent because also crowded around the patio are all of their parents, plus the rest of the cast of The MVP and their families. We are about to start rehearsals ahead of principal photography and everyone is just meeting everyone else. This is no time to openly ogle.
One little brown-haired beauty named Spencer climbs out of the pool quite nearby, and when he stands up I see an unmistakable lump jutting the front of his swimming suit. It doesn't necessarily mean he is sexually aroused, because cold water sometimes does that to little boys and Spencer is one of the youngest. Still it's exciting for me just because it proves that the plumbing is in perfect working order.
Stimulus ergo erection.
Not that I expect anything from Spencer except his best possible performance in the film. I would certainly welcome the idea if he were to make such a desire known, but I will never pursue it. For now just the knowledge that Spencer has a sweet little boner is titillating enough for me.
"This is sho nice of you, Rishard," slurs one of the stage-Moms, waving around her Pinot Grigio, "having all of ush to your lovely home. I heard that the produshion ishn't paying for it either, that ish coming out of your own pocket! Now thash clashy, Rishard. Very clashy!"
I wonder just how many Pinots she's had. I also wonder how she plans to get home because she sure as shit shouldn't be driving, and if I remember correctly from the casting interviews there's no husband in the picture.
"It's my pleasure, Beverly," I say, making a mental note to confiscate her keys lest she risk her life going home, to say nothing of her lovely son Cory.
"Film is a collaborative art," I go on, addressing the group as a whole. "We all have to pull together to make something good, especially on a low-budget indie like this. It's much easier to do that if the people you're working with are your friends instead of a bunch of strangers. Besides, you're all terrific people with amazing, talented kids, and it can only help you going forward to have as many contacts in the industry as you can."
"I can vouch for that," says a Dad whose name I've already forgotten. I identify him mainly by his garishly loud Tommy Bahama shirt.
"My Alex got a callback for a sitcom pilot," the man says, "simply because the casting agent heard that Richard Howell had cast him in a movie. And they say the series has a good chance of getting picked up because Jaleel White is attached."
"Urkel!" cries drunken Beverly. "I love him!"
"Everybody loves Urkel," I agree, fondly remembering the cute, faux-nerdy black boy who burst onto the scene nearly a decade ago and instantly became the breakout star of Family Matters. It's 1995 now and he's nearly twenty — well past my Age of Attraction — but I still picture him at thirteen in his iconic red glasses, suspenders, and high-water pants.
And then I picture him without them.
"Which boy is Alex?" Jen asks Tommy Bahama, sliding so smoothly between us you'd think she was greased.
One of her agents at CCA cast the kid in my movie, but not Jen personally, which is why she doesn't know Alex on sight. The new Jaleel White sitcom is apparently using a different casting agency or she would have already known about Alex's callback. I see determination set into her eyes.
Jen McCutchen is not one to let talent get away without a fight.
"Alex Martin," the man replies with a proud grin. "That's him on the diving board right now. Our real last name is Jaworsky, so we use his middle name."
Alex is beautiful in his way, if a bit too stocky and muscular at age twelve for my taste. He has wavy black hair and a square jaw, with the sturdy athletic body needed to play the soccer team captain. He's nearly too developed for me, but under the right circumstances I would still go for it.
Of course for that to happen he would have to like guys, and older guys to boot. There's been no indication of that so far, and in fact all three girls in the cast have been fluttering around him the whole party and he sure seems to like it.
Not to mention that I'm with David now, our full commitment sealed with the L-word from both parties. He's certainly no prude, proven by the three-ways we've had with Kurt and several others over the months, but it just doesn't sit right with me to show interest in another boy right in front of him.
It feels disrespectful.
"Can we sit somewhere and talk, Mr. Jaworsky?" Jen asks, ushering him away by the elbow. A slightly mousy woman clambers awkwardly out of a chaise lounge and hurries after, apparently the Mrs.
This is exactly why Jen asked to attend this launch party, to meet the parents and get a sense of which kids she might be able to cast in future projects. She's had great success in Hollywood building relationships with up-and-comers like Alex, developing trust with their parents. Most kid-actor careers last only a couple of years so Jen strikes before the iron is even hot, when it's first stuck into the fire.
I am more than happy to have her here except that it fuels the popular assumption that Jen and I are now a couple. We have been spotted out on dates by friends and co-workers and even had a mention in a gossip column, despite both of us sticking to the "just friends" mantra.
Now I don't really care what everyone assumes. I like Jen and I like going out with her, and I like having her at my party. The part I don't like is the feeling that I am hiding behind her, using her as a "beard" as gays in Hollywood have historically had to do.
It's one thing to fly under the radar, since after all it's nobody's business what I do in the sack, but it's something else again to actively support a false assumption. It feels like lying, but of course I can never reveal the real truth. I've lived with that reality as long as I can remember and I suppose I'll continue to live with it until I'm too old for it to matter.
Or until I get outed. Or arrested. Or murdered by an outraged parent. It's a hell of a tightrope but I know I couldn't change it even if I wanted to, which I don't.
Boys are just too good!
As if to prove the point, Beverly's ravishing son Cory rushes up dripping with pool water. He is extraordinarily appealing, that rare dark-haired tween who rivals my golden blond David for sheer sexiness. His chestnut hair looks even darker wet, still stylish somehow even soaked and plastered to his head.
His body is delightfully childish: his chest narrow, his waist tiny, and his little junk and tight, curvaceous butt vacuum-packed into a miniscule Speedo. Cory is eleven, the same as my David, but like many child performers he presents at least two years younger. His delicate facial features are astoundingly cute, his brown eyes projecting intelligence and, at the moment, major anxiety.
"Mom!" he says at the first break in the adult conversation.
Cory is too polite to interrupt.
"What ish it, baby?"
"I've gotta go to the bathroom," he says in massive embarrassment at having to broach the subject of pee-pee in a crowd of adults.
I find it adorable.
"The one in the pool house has a line," he goes on, "but I can't wait much longer!"
"I'll show him," comes my David's voice as he steps through the throng. He flashes his beautiful warm smile and takes the boy by the hand to lead him away. "There's one right inside the house, Cory."
"But I'm dripping!" he protests.
"Don't worry about that," I say. "It's a tile floor that'll dry right up."
"Thanks, Richard," Cory says with real gratitude as they hurry inside.
"As long as it's only pool water that drips," I throw after them, getting a big laugh from the tipsy adults and a grin from Cory. I note a familiar glint of naughtiness in David's eager blue eyes as he leads the boy away and I know he is equally as enamored of young Cory as I am.
I surreptitiously follow the two wet and nearly-naked beauties with my eyes — as boylovers do — and watch as David leads Cory right past the first floor powder room and up the stairs.
I'm alarmed and excited at the same time.
I'm not sure it's a great idea to try something with Cory at a party full of parents, but David generally has common sense and I'm sure he won't do anything dangerous. He wants a career too much to risk it.
Still, the mental image of these two exceptional boys skinning down each other's suits and wolfing down each other's cocks is one of the hottest things I've ever imagined.
"Richard?" I hear, and I am jolted back to the world of adults.
I like my fantasy world better.
"Yes, I'm sorry," I stammer. "What were you saying?"
"What do you think of actors extemporizing on set?"
This from a moderately-ballsy stage-Mom named Glenda Raymer. I know this is really her way of pointing out her son Adrian's alleged talent for improv, a subject she has broached at least four times during the audition and casting process.
"I'm generally a fan," I reply, then caution, "when I'm working with experienced actors and have the time and budget for on-set rehearsals. This little indie of ours is not the place for it. Adrian's a smart boy, and in fact we had a lovely conversation about his aspirations to someday write and direct, but on this shoot I need him to show up knowing his lines and ready to go. Our schedule is so tight it squeaks, and it will really help if everybody just sticks to the script."
Several more ambitious parents ask ostensible questions that are really just excuses to bring up their kids' strong suits, just so Adrian isn't the only one whose praises are sung. Tactfully I compliment each child, which isn't hard for me because I honestly do think everyone in this cast brings something special. It's why I cast them.
After a while David and Cory hurry out of the house and run to the pool. I notice that they are both dry now, prompting me to glance at my watch and see that they were inside for nearly 45 minutes. The boys stick close to each other after they surface, treading water and smiling into each other's eyes.
I try to keep a stone face as I realize that David made his move and Cory went for it.
Instantly my imagination fills in the scenario, David beginning with kisses and fondling right there in the bathroom, dropping to his knees to show Cory a world of pleasure he never knew existed, and finally moving the party next door to the guest bedroom. I wonder just how far he persuaded Cory to venture.
My longtime caterer June materializes and announces that barbecue is served, whereupon the assemblage adjourns into the garden. Cory and David stay together as they negotiate the buffet lines and sit together to eat, giddily smiling their secret back and forth between them.
By the look in his eyes I suspect that for Cory it was no mere dalliance. I can totally relate, having fallen for the mesmerizing David pretty darn fast myself. I'll have to keep an eye on the situation though, because on-set affairs have a way of blowing up and causing tension, and this shoestring production can't afford any disruption.
Not to mention that poor little Cory could end up with a broken heart.
"Seriously?" Jen sputters. "Pomona?"
"That's where we live," Cory says. "We've lived lots of places since we came out to California. Not for very long at each one though."
"Richard," Jen says. "I'm all for helping Beverly…"
She gestures toward the snoring and drooling woman sprawled on the couch.
"…but it's one in the morning and I live in Thousand Oaks. Pomona is an hour in the wrong direction! Besides, what would I do with her once we got there? Leave Cory to take care of her by himself?"
"I've done it before," the boy says.
"You shouldn't have to," Jen shoots back. "You're the kid. She's supposed to take care of you."
"Well, mostly she does," Cory insists, getting defensive for his Mom. "Only sometimes she drinks more than she should."
"Is there anybody you can call?" I gently ask him. "Family or friends?"
"No," Cory says. "It's only been the two of us since we left Cincinnati."
"Why don't they just stay here?" David pipes in. "Cory can sleep with me in the guest room and his Mom can stay right there on the couch. It's big and comfy enough."
Jen turns David a perplexed look, then turns it to me.
"Tell me again why David is here?"
I think Jen might have had an idea that she would stay the night and maybe talk me into sharing my bed with her. Hope springs eternal I guess, but she's annoyed that it can't happen with two eleven-year-olds and a drunk mother in the house.
"We're working this weekend," I explain, trying to sound calm and innocent. "This is David's first lead in a movie and I need to get him up to speed."
"And Wanda isn't staying with him? In fact I don't remember seeing her the whole party."
"She wasn't here. She has a younger kid at home, and frankly we work better without her, so she dropped David off before the party and she'll pick him up tomorrow."
Jen thinks about this a moment and finally shrugs.
"I guess this is the best we can do then," she says. "You guys get out of here and I'll try to make Beverly more comfortable. Richard, do you have anything she can sleep in?"
I size her up, noting that she's fairly petite at about five-two or three.
"One of my t-shirts, maybe?" I venture.
"Good enough," Jen says. "If you could get that for me that would be great, and she'll need a blanket or an afghan or something too. I'll get her situated and let myself out."
"Come on, Cory," David says, turning for the stairs. "Let's go to bed. I'm beat!"
I stand at my bedroom window watching Jen's car pull out of the driveway and speed away. This is not how tonight was supposed to go, but what can I do?
It'll be fine, I tell myself. Beverly and Cory will go home in the morning and my boy and I will have a day and a half for fun before Wanda picks him up Sunday afternoon.
In addition to actually working. I wasn't lying when I said I need to get him ready. This movie could make his career.
I feel myself chubbing up as I imagine what could be going on in the guest room right now. Of course it's possible that they're actually asleep, given that it's nearly two a.m. and they're only children, but knowing my David it's even money that they're schtupping.
The answer comes a few seconds later as my bedroom door eases open and a small blond head peeks around.
"Can we come in?"
I'm momentarily alarmed, what with Beverly asleep just one floor below, although she's so hammered she'd probably sleep through an earthquake. My paranoia leaps to Cory's possible reaction but that is also short-lived as the two gorgeous boys hurry giggling into my bedroom wearing only underpants — both lewdly bulging. Cory blushes and giggles even more as my eyes widen.
"Hi Richard!" he calls in a hushed, but teasing tone. "Wanna rehearse with us?"
David melts into my arms and meets my eyes with a grin.
"Cory doesn't need any rehearsal for this," he says. "He's got it down cold!" and Cory giggles and presses up to me as well. I thrill to the prod of his stony little cock against my leg.
"So I gather today with David wasn't your first time," I say and he giggles again. He's a very giggly boy when he's excited.
"No," he says, a bit proudly I think. "I've done stuff lots of times."
"Just with boys?" I ask.
"I messed around a little bit with a girl once," he replies, "but we were really little then."
"He means men instead of boys," David explains.
"Oh. I guess Hector was almost a man," Cory says. "He was fourteen."
"Why don't we all get comfy?" I suggest. "And you can tell us about Hector."
Cory giggles again and we scoot up onto the bed, a boy on either side of me, leaning against the upholstered headboard the way I have so many times with David.
"You've got too many clothes on!" my boy protests. "C'mon Cory, let's strip him!"
In a flurry of high-pitched giggles the boys set upon me, Cory struggling with my leather huaraches while David tugs at my shirt. Finally with considerable help from me they yank my boxers down and my bare cock springs ceilingward.
"Whoa!" Cory gasps. "If that's what men have then Hector wasn't a man at all! He had some hair and he could squirt a little white stuff but yours is twice as big, Richard!"
"It looks big to you Cory because you've never seen a grown man with a hard-on before," I say. "Mine's only about average, I think."
"It's perfect!" David crows. "I've been with a couple guys that have super big ones and it's not as much fun."
Cory gapes and exclaims, "Really? You've been with other grownups besides Richard?"
"A couple, yeah," David says far less enthusiastically.
I think he just realized that he probably shouldn't talk about his history too openly. Not that Cory would necessarily spill anything on purpose, but the less he knows the less he can spill. I decide to bail David out by changing the subject.
"No fair, you guys," I say taking mock umbrage. "You can see me but I can't see you!"
"Go ahead, Cory," David urges, seizing his escape. "Show him your dick. It's beautiful!"
Cory laces his fingers behind his head and coyly says, "You guys do it."
David and I meet eyes and smile. We each grab Cory's undies by the waistband and begin sliding them down. Cory lifts his butt just enough for the briefs to pass and his hairless little dick jumps up like a coil spring.
"Oh, man!" I gasp. "David's not kidding, Cory. It's gorgeous!"
I can't recall a boycock more beautiful, more symmetrical, more perfect than Cory's. It stands proudly, like its chest is puffed out, every contour visible because the skin is drum-tight. Neatly circumcised, it pulses with excitement at every heartbeat.
It's not as big as David's, neither in length nor girth, but it is remarkably enticing. It's the kind of boner that begs to be sucked.
"You too, David!" Cory insists. "Get naked with us."
My boy skins out of his skivvies as fast as he can, crawling back up to envelope both of us in a tight hug. David kisses my cheek, then turns to Cory.
"Tell us about Hector," he says.
"OK. Back in Cincinnati I was friends with this kid Jamie and his brother Hector. Me and Jamie were in fourth grade together and Hector was a freshman in high school. My Mom worked until six so I would go over to Jamie's house every day after school, so their Mom could watch me. I never told my Mom, but every Tuesday Jamie's Mom had to work late too and Hector would watch us."
David smiles knowingly. "He didn't just watch you though, did he?"
"Nope! He fucked both of us. Sometimes twice!"
"Did you like that?" I ask in surprise.
"It was awesome!" he cries. "It didn't even hurt 'cause Hector's dick fit me just right!"
"Not even the first time?" I ask, my cock growing almost painfully hard.
"Nah," Cory says, waving it off. "Not much, anyway, but his dick was way smaller than yours." He turns a big smile to David. "Hector's dick wasn't much bigger than yours, David, and you saw how easy I took yours this afternoon."
"Yeah," David says to me with a grin. "One squirt of lube and it went right in."
"David's got a pretty big one for a kid our age," Cory says. "It felt great but he can't squirt like Hector…"
He focuses a sly look on me.
"…or you, right?"
"You like when a guy squirts, huh?"
"Yeah man! David says you squirt a lot, and you fuck super good! So you wanna?"
"What about your Mom?"
He waves it away the cute way he does.
"She'll be out cold until morning. One time she got loaded like this and I stayed up all night watching movies right next to her on the couch. She never knew a thing!"
"Why don't you start the ball rolling, Cory? What would you like to do?"
His small, soft hand encircles my cock — though not all the way around — and gently, sensually squeezes it.
"I want this!" he says with thrilling eagerness. "I never tried to take such a big one before. David can suck me and finger my butt to get me ready."
"Perfect!" I say. "Can we start with a kiss?"
He answers by nosing up to me, offering his sensual little mouth. I lean down and touch my lips to his, and they are every bit as delectable as I'd imagined. In seconds we are fully engaged, our tongues twisting together and his little hand slowly stroking me. I feel David slide down the bed and when Cory deeply moans I know my boy has taken his cock, and believe me, I know how sublime that feels.
Cory is a boylover's dream. He is young and tender and oh so passionate, rapturous over the things happening both below his waist and above. He attacks my tongue with sensual swirls, then pushes his own into my mouth to receive the same delight, meanwhile undulating his narrow hips up to David's grateful face, moaning and gasping all the while.
It's clear to me that, like David, Cory is completely aware that he is full-on gay. Not curious, not experimenting, he accepts — no, revels — in his feelings for boys, and apparently men as well.
Cory likes being gay.
"Ah!" he gasps into my mouth as David's finger penetrates him. It's more surprise than pain, and in one second I see joy replace the shock his eyes.
"Oh yeah," he mutters, and I know David is working it deeper into him. I French him more aggressively too, like I'm working my way down to his tonsils, and he gives back with matching fervor.
"Put more lube into me, David," he begs, "with two fingers. I'm almost ready."
Saying more lube means Cory already has some in there, which means David began prepping him while Jen and I were dealing with Beverly. Now that he's seen "what men have" he realizes more lube is prudent.
I'm starting to get serious "bottom" vibes from sweet Cory.
David jumps out of bed and scrambles to the nightstand. He yanks open the drawer and grabs the K-Y, then vaults back into bed. Cory and I reluctantly end our lip-lock, both sensing we are about to enter the next phase.
Cory rolls onto his back, turning his delighted eyes to mine, and I can hardly breathe. His childish beauty is arresting, his cherry-blossom skin as fresh and unblemished as a cherub. His pulsing-stiff little cock juts up and back toward his flat, smooth belly, it's deep pink head near to bursting with the hot blood that courses through him like a tidal wave.
This boy is massively ready!
"Lift your legs up," David instructs, and Cory gleefully raises his knees up and wide. His vernal aperture gapes in eager offering.
"Use plenty of lube," I say to David, and he smiles his agreement.
"Oooh," Cory exhales. "Yeah David. Two fingers just like that."
My boy's hand works back and forth and the lube softly squishes. Cory's mouth opens into an "O" of pleasure and his eyes dreamily close. David has every bit of his two fingers up there and Cory sighs in contentment.
"You do it now, Richard," David says, offering the K-Y. "Your fingers are bigger."
We swap places and I insert my middle finger, which goes in so easily and Cory seems so pleased with it I am emboldened. I corkscrew it around his steaming canal then withdraw.
Cory moans in both relief and anticipation.
With another squirt of gel at his dusky entrance, my two digits follow, meeting initial resistance and strained little grunts, but also immediate surrender. Carefully I impale him until my fingers are so deep I could roll him like a bowling ball.
A high-pitched yelp comes from Cory, sounding like actual pain. My heart leaps into my throat as Cory begins breathing heavily.
"Don't pull out!" David cries, stopping my hand already in motion. "Cory doesn't want gentle. He wants your best."
"But it's hurting him," I protest.
"No it isn't!" Cory cries, discomfort straining his voice. "Do it Richard! I need it."
For another minute I carefully open him with my fingers, watching intently for signs of distress. As I slowly withdraw Cory's breath escapes him right along with my fingers, until I pull completely free and meet his happy eyes. Nothing need be said. Those eyes tell it all.
David lubes me up with a generous handful and we share a happy look as well.
"Don't go easy," he advises. "That's not what he wants."
"He probably wants ice cream for dinner too, but that doesn't mean it's good for him."
"It's OK, honest," David says. "He'll tell you if it hurts too much."
"I will, Richard," Cory promises. He lays back and visibly opens himself, ready and waiting.
It was never a question of whether I was going to fuck Cory, only how hard.
I am well-lubed now and David scoots out of the way. He is truly pleased for Cory and me, his eyes sparkling with it. What an amazing boyfriend he is, sharing me with other beautiful boys without a hint of jealousy. He wants me to be happy, and my heart fills with love for him.
Which won't stop me from banging his little friend like a tin drum.
"Put this under your butt," I say, tossing a pillow toward Cory. He looks confused, but David assists him getting into position and presently Cory's beautiful open hole is at the perfect angle.
"Oh, I get it," he says and shares a smile with David, then turns his trusting, expectant eyes to me.
I'm almost overcome with both excitement and tenderness. This radiant child, all innocence in his virginal nakedness, is offering himself to me, his eyes projecting eager lust like no virgin I ever saw. Cory is all mine, and he wants it that way.
The Director in me recognizes just how open Cory is to his genuine emotions, and how I can use that to draw amazingly raw and honest performances out of him.
It pisses me off.
Now is not the time for analysis and assessment. Now is the time for fucking.
I get to my knees and move into position, my gaze now intense. Cory's whole visage changes in reaction to my sudden seriousness.
He too knows it's time for fucking.
I shuffle forward until my steel hardness is poised at his excited entrance. I nose it around, finding dead-center, and once nestled perfectly in that moist depression I pause and lock with his eyes.
They are blazing with desire.
"Oh!" he cries as my tip pierces him with one quick jab. He clamps around it in autonomic response, those blazing eyes suddenly wide with surprise and his little body rigid all over. It's only the head but I'm sure it's the biggest thing Cory's ever had in there and, despite his lust, self-preservation takes over. But our beautiful Cory is not to be denied, and seconds later he is smiling.
It's a pained smile, but it's amazing he managed one at all.
"It's all right, Richard," he strains to say. "Give me one minute, OK?"
It almost hurts to hold myself back. I've never needed to thrust so badly in my life, but I nod and let him settle.
I feel him struggle, his sphincter muscle spasming around my cockhead, and listen to his breathless gasps until finally I'm aware of Cory's grip loosening. His breath slows and finally he smiles a smile that doesn't seem forced.
"I'm OK, Richard," he says, still slightly out of breath. "Make love to me. Let me feel your love the way David does."
I'm shocked to realize that in their short intimate relationship that began only today, David has already spoken of the true love he and I share. He has told me many times how he can feel it in the way I make love to him, and now Cory wants to feel that too. I glance at David watching from a foot away and he smiles his approval.
"Go ahead, Richard," he gently says. "You have love for every boy who needs it, I know you do. And Cory really needs it."
I tick off the reasons in my mind:
Missing Dad, divorced, abandoned — dead?
Alcoholic Mom, single-mindedly chasing pipe dreams of stardom for her son, with no Plan B.
No stable home, bouncing around L.A. from cheap apartments to ever cheaper ones, always the friendless new kid in school.
In my mind I want to be a one-boy guy, to love my David as my soulmate and my one and only, but I feel my heart rending for Cory too, apparently with David's blessing.
I give in.
"Ohhhh!" Cory cries as I push into him. His lips clamp shut as he registers the pain but his eyes — those sparkling, alive eyes — send me gratitude and joy.
Steadily I sink into his fiery tightness, and it is among the finest sensations of my life. Far from fighting me, Cory wills himself open, pulling me into his very being. We merge both physically and spiritually and I feel the connection buzz between us.
"Oh yeah," Cory murmurs as I slowly work deeper into him. He has maybe a third of me now and I pull back to just the head again, only to gently slip back to that same depth. I do this three or four times until it is sliding easily and the ecstasy shows on his face.
I pick up the pace, screwing to that same depth in a moderate, steady rhythm. The boy sighs contentedly.
"Yes, Richard," he moans. "Fuck me. Make me your boy."
His words encourage me and I push deeper, two-thirds now, at that same steady pace.
"Faster!" Cory implores, his sweet little face a mixture of rapture and torture. I speed up and Cory's mouth opens in a silent cry, the only sounds our huffing and the little squeaks of the bed frame.
"Oh Richard!" Cory cries. "Oh yes! Fuck me!"
Without even trying I'm suddenly deep-dicking, my full length plowing into him over and over. He vocalizes now, ecstatically grunting and moaning in that same rhythm. He is wide open, fully accepting, making love to me as much as I'm making love to him. It's the kind of spiritual oneness that I had only felt with David before and I think I'm in love.
Again.
I lean down to him, crushing his tiny mouth in a powerful kiss. I have to bow my back like a contortionist to keep up the deep thrusting but the kiss is a hundred times worth it. His little knees grip my sides and his arms clamp around my neck as he hangs on to me like a sloth from a tree limb, his moans and grunts coming staccato in time with my pumps.
Cory's face screws up into an orgasmic grimace and he clenches me harder than ever before. He cries out in full voice as he cums and his little body gives its all. I shudder and my guts tighten and suddenly I am there too. My balls clench and my whole body stiffens as I shoot my huge first blast deep into the beautiful sweet boy.
MY beautiful sweet boy. The boy I love. The boy I must have for my own, to worship and adore for the rest of my life.
I cry out in my own bliss as I fire again, my deep voice joining Cory's soprano and echoing through the house. If Beverly weren't dead to the world she'd be pounding at the door, screaming for the cops, but I wouldn't care. This is one of the key moments of my life, a turning point, the beginning of something new.
I don't know how it's going to work, but I love Cory now and I simply must make it work.
Around ten o'clock I'm banging around in the kitchen, making coffee without worrying too much about noise. Beverly was still sawing logs when I peeked in on her and of course the boys will sleep until noon. As the machine begins to wheeze and drip I can't help but ruminate on the surprising events of last night.
And what the hell I'm going to do about it.
David seemed fine with the way Cory and I connected. More than fine, in fact. The second we finished, my cum still dripping down Cory's hairless perineum, David jumped to his knees and slammed his unbending four inches deep into the smaller boy. That suited Cory more than fine as well, and the two of them grunted and moaned for the next ten minutes until they wrested yet another orgasm out of each other.
I wish I had been able to pop them off that way when I was eleven.
For another hour we were all too busy with pleasures of the flesh to confess emotions, which was a relief for me. David and I orally double-teamed Cory: me eating his sweet, open butthole and David sucking his stiff little cock until he wracked and writhed again in ultimate ecstasy. Three huge cums were his limit, however, and our little Cory fell dead asleep with his head on my shoulder, while David struggled not to do the same.
I insisted they finish the night in the guest room, just in case Beverly roused and came looking for her boy, so I carried Cory like a toddler while David stumbled down the hall and flopped himself into bed like Otis the drunk on the Andy Griffith Show.
My final task was to put the underpants back onto them, but while I was sorting whose was whose they both sighed in their sleep and rolled together, cuddling up and intertwining their sublime little arms and legs. They looked so beautiful and peaceful I couldn't bring myself to pull them apart. Sure, there was a remote possibility that Beverly might discover them while I'm sleeping and get the wrong — actually right — idea, and that would certainly open a kettle of fish.
At least I wouldn't be caught in the kettle with them.
"Richard?" I hear behind me, and I turn startled to see Beverly standing in the kitchen doorway, looking like the final makeup test for a straight-to-video movie called Zombie Moms.
She's holding her head as gingerly as a Fabergé egg.
My t-shirt barely covers her, especially with her arms raised hiking the shirt even higher. I notice that she is actually quite comely for a 35-year-old mother, her smallish breasts outlined through the fabric and her legs smooth, strong and shapely. I wonder if she ever trained as a dancer.
"Hey, there you are," I say, putting on my friendliest smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Like a car hit me," she mumbles. "Or I wish one would."
"Here," I say, turning to the fridge and filling a tumbler from the water dispenser in the door. "The trick is to stay really hydrated today. Water's best, and nothing stronger than coffee, OK? I'll give you a couple of Advil too."
"Thank you," she mutters, taking the glass and sipping a small amount. "Where's Cory?"
"Sleeping upstairs in the guest room," I reply, handing her the pills. She pops them into her mouth and washes them down.
"I woke up on the couch in nothing but this," she says, indicating the t-shirt. "Not even panties." She turns a severely embarrassed look to me and asks, "Did we…?"
My jaw drops but I manage to turn it into a smile and a chuckle of disbelief.
"No, Beverly. I would never take advantage like that."
"No, no!" she quickly backpedals. "I didn't think you would." Then sheepishly, "It's me, actually. When I drink too much I tend to get… aggressive."
"Well, you didn't last night," I reassure her. "Jen McCutcheon was still here at the end of the party and she got you situated in the den."
Beverly looks relieved. "Your girlfriend," she states, like it's a known fact.
I don't dispute it.
"That was really kind of her," she adds. "You've got a good one there, Richard. Don't let her get away."
"There's a hall bathroom upstairs," I say, glad to change the subject. "Why don't you take a hot shower and get dressed? You'll feel better. Then come back down and we'll have coffee and talk."
Beverly nods like she's accepting an order, though I don't really mean to pull rank on her. From her point of view I can see it though. Not only is this my home that she got drunk and passed out in, but I'm the guy putting her kid into his first movie role. At this point she must be pretty motivated to keep me happy.
I have no doubt she would fuck me given the tiniest indication I wanted her to.
Twenty minutes later Beverly appears again in the kitchen with a sheepish smile. Yesterday's flowered sun dress is rumpled now, and she's missing jewelry, makeup and shoes, but she's reasonably presentable.
"Come on in," I say, keepng the atmosphere light and friendly. "How do you take your coffee?"
"This morning? Black I think," she says. "Listen, I have to apologize, Richard. I know I've made a really bad first impression, but I hope you won't hold it against my Cory."
I smile reassuringly. "You don't need to worry about that," I say, pouring coffee into an oversize mug commemorating the 1983 Daytime Emmys.
I lost, but it was cool being nominated.
"Cory is terrific, and he did absolutely nothing wrong. I won't hold anything against you either, Beverly, but I am rather concerned. From things Cory said I get the impression that last night was not an isolated incident. It's none of my business, but I'm worried for you both."
"I appreciate that, Richard. I really do. But you have much more important things to worry about than us. We're fine. Really."
"Yes," I say. "I'm certainly busy with the movie, but not too busy to show compassion to good people having a rough time. I'd like to help if I can."
She stares at the coffee mug cupped between her hands before she carefully replies.
"It's very nice of you, Richard, but I can't impose on you that way. Back home my friends think of Hollywood as a pit of vipers, and I've met a few pretty horrible people in the year we've been here, but you are not one of them. I thank you for your kindness, but we'll be all right. Honestly."
I shrug and smile.
"OK. But if you need anything, anything at all, promise you won't hesitate to ask."
"I will, Richard. Thank you."
"Mom?" comes a high voice from the doorway.
Beverly brightens and cries, "There's my boy!"
Cory runs to her and she opens her arms to catch him. Thank goodness he's at least somewhat dressed, quite fetching in fact in only his t-shirt and underpants. It looks entirely appropriate for an impromptu sleepover. Waiting at the door, David is in pajamas like a boy who planned all along to stay over. They could have been costumed by the wardrobe department to give exactly the right impression. Beverly will have no clue anything happened here other than sleeping.
I know it's David's doing, and I'm proud of him.
Beverly notices him in the doorway. "Good morning, David," she says with little enthusiasm.
"He's so cool!" Cory gushes. "And he's my best friend now!"
She appraises David warily. He's competition after all.
"That's nice, Honey," she says, still taking the situation in.
"Hi Mrs. Wolf," he says, turning on that adorable smile that can melt the coldest heart. "I'm really glad Cory's in the movie with me."
"It's Wolfram," Beverly corrects, softening a little. "Miss Wolfram." She turns to me and adds, "I read once that three-sylable names are the most memorable, so when he got his SAG card we registered his stage name as Cory Wolf."
"It's a good, strong choice," I say, sensing the need to suck up to her a bit. I'm sure she's not thinking anything untoward about David being here, only that it's weird. I decide to give her the same explanation I gave Jen last night.
"This is David's first lead role and he's in almost every scene in the movie. We're working here this weekend to give him a jump-start on his part."
She stares at me with disbelief in her eyes, and behind my calm demeanor I'm in a minor panic. I'm about to trot out the further details I gave Jen, about Wanda having another kid to look after and the project not having the time or budget to bring David up to speed on set, when Beverly's expression turns to awe.
"You are amazing, Richard," she says. "To give up your weekend for this boy!"
I smile in relief.
"It's not entirely from the goodness of my heart," I say, "though that's certainly part of it. It's also for my movie. Directors pretty much work seven days a week during production. In fact, I was once on set for 36 days in a row to get back on schedule after a weather delay on location. Giving up a weekend barely qualifies as an inconvenience."
"Well I still think it's awesome," she says. Then to Cory, "We should get out of here, kiddo. Let these people get on with their work."
"Stay for breakfast at least," I urge. "You can't make a hungry boy wait an hour until Pomona."
"Thank you, Richard, but I have work at two o'clock today. Don't worry, that's why God made drive-thrus."
"My favorite is Dunkin' Donuts!" Cory pipes happily.
"OK I guess," I say. Then, getting an idea, "You know, by next weekend David and I will be working on scenes that Cory will also be in. Why don't you guys come too, and Cory can work with us? You can hang out, have a swim, whatever. It'll be a nice break for you as well, Beverly. What do you say?"
"Oh Richard!" she cries. "Would you really do that? Do you just keep getting more awesome?"
I grin at her and say, "Why yes. In fact I do!"
"The only problem is I work Saturdays and Sundays. I could bring him in the morning but we'd have to leave by noon. That hardly seems worth the trip."
"He could stay the weekend like me!" David eagerly cries. "And you wouldn't even have to come get him on Sunday. My Mom can drive him home when she comes to get me."
Beverly brightens, which is a good sign, but I have to interject some reality.
"You guys live in Torrance, David," I say. "That's a whole other direction from Pomona."
"Oh," David says, deflated. "I guess I don't know where Pomona is."
"It would be tough to come get him on Sunday," Beverly says. I work two-to-ten that day. I wouldn't get here until eleven, and then it's an hour home from here."
"So what would work for you?" I ask.
"Well," she warily says, "I work days on Fridays and I'm off on Mondays and Tuesdays, so the best thing for me would be to drop him off Friday evening and pick him up Monday afternoon." But then she shakes her head and says, "No, Richard. I can't do that. It would be way too much trouble for you."
"Nonsense," I say, inwardly thrilled but outwardly calm. "It gets lonely out here all by myself sometimes. It would be nice to have the company."
"Seriously, Richard?" she marvels. "You'd really do that for us?"
I turn a fond look to the beaming Cory.
"Believe me, it will be my pleasure."
Thanks for reading Part 3 Chapter 2 of Casting Call. Pt.3 Ch. 3 will be along shortly.
If you like my stuff have a look at my story archive here on my Prolific Authors page.
If you email me I will add you to my mailing list and notify you whenever I post on Nifty. I won't use your name for any other purpose and I will remove you from the list upon request.