Flip Mecum in New York Ch 14

Sunday afternoon, I had checked out his name and where he lived. He had talked about the gym a lot. He said he used it everyday and mentioned LA Fitness. So I took a chance and waited around at the one nearest his address. I "happened" to be there when he arrived to work out—actually, I had been waiting for nearly two hours, attracting several really suspicious eyes (and two propositions from older gents) during that time. We ran into each other casually and I offered to spot. And I kept my mouth shut, allowing him to relax and enjoy the quiet company. But, my lust for him had grown with each set. I was pleased that he had showered. That gave me a chance to get a good look. The dark skin, black hair, muscles and that hooded dick! I had a hood, but his was a royal cloak! I decided. He was going to be my first.

I had partnered with him all day Monday. When he invited us to the pub, I knew I had my chance. I waited until the other guys left. And then he opened the door. He invited me to his place. During the walk, I spilled enough about me to attract his interest. And then he confessed he was gay, and all the bells started to ring. So I seduced him. I couldn't believe how easily he let me recline into his lap. Those were some of the best moments of my life so far. When he first touched my dick, I nearly exploded in my jeans. A man had caressed my shaft! And he wanted to! And he wanted to do it again! The best part of all this is that everything I said to him was true—at least insofar as it described me and my experiences. Only my desperate search to find out where he lived and where he worked out was contrived. And when I was searching, I came upon a porn promo. The guy sure looked like him. The name was wrong, but.... Nothing else. He's so naive. So compassionate. Such a hunk!

I can't believe he's a theatre electrician like me. Coincidences like that are made in heaven. He was absolutely my dreamboat. And fuck! He's the best lover in the world. I am so lucky to have had him as my first. I love that dark velvety skin. And he's so smooth. Those eyes are so dark and mysterious. And that cock! It's bigger than the ones that hung from most of the horses that I've ridden. He got it all inside me. And he filled me with his magic cream. And now he's got me pregnant. In my world, Daddy has a shotgun to make sure that if you get someone preggers, you marry them. That's what's going to happen. That man is going to be mine. Forever. Until death and all that jazz.....or is it jizz?

Someday, I'll have to find out how he got that apartment. Sure, it isn't furnished, but I still think it's pretty expensive. Maybe he's got a rich daddy too. Who's more tolerant of fags.

Well, there's time. We're both going to be assigned to the Barrymore for the foreseeable future. I'm going to find a way to be part of his life. Mr. Mecum, you may not know it yet, but we're destined to be together. Just give me a chance. Southern boys have a way of getting what they want.

*******

A few hours later....Tarnation. I just heard he's not part of the team. He is a free lance specialist, asked to come in and give us new guys a boost to get this job done. How the hell am I going to find him now in this City? Well, I've got his name and I know where he lives and where he works out. A Southern boy like me has hunted prey before with far less spore.

Flip....

(Tuesday) Trey just left. Somehow he assumed that I was going to the Barrymore with him again today. I really didn't straighten him out. I let him go on, promising vaguely to see him later. I simply didn't know what to say. He was so happy. And he made me feel so good. I've got all day until tonight's show. I need to get my head screwed back on. He was perfect, but wasn't he just a diversion? Michael and I had something more going on. Did I just use the past tense?

I just invited a cute virgin to sleep in my bed. On the premise that he needed me. Then I fucked him bareback. Then I did it again. What do I tell Michael, if anything? But, I felt more tenderness and yeah, young lust, with Trey than I've felt with Michael in the last several months. Maybe we both need some spice to pick up the flavoring in our life routine? Or is that we really are so different that my repeated attempts to "marry" us are futile. Maybe Brent was right about all this. Maybe Michael needs to be a free agent. But, I'm a team player. That spells trouble.

The cell rang (the Oklahoma! chorus notes) and I rushed to pick it up, assuming it was Michael. It wasn't; it's only 6:30 in LA. He won't be up for hours. Curiously, he didn't call yesterday—nor did he leave any texts since Sunday. He must be very busy. Or maybe very guilty. I'm still pissed about the producer. The call was from the Barrymore foreman. Could I PLEASE give them a few more hours? Previews started that night, and the techs were still untrained on how to cue the computer-controlled lights. I agreed, dressed for work and walked to the theatre—planning to go directly from there to my show.

The day went well and was quite easy—except that I felt Trey's puppy-dog eyes on me all day long. He was already smitten and imprinted. Is it possible I'm that good? I pulled out at six with nothing more than a goodbye and good luck to the crew to head for a shower at the Winter Garden, a few blocks away, not realizing that Trey followed. Apparently he saw me enter and scanned the posters—seeing that I was playing Jud. He suddenly realized that he had been fucked by a star. Of course, he couldn't buy tickets—they had been sold out for months. But apparently, he had waited. Because as I exited around 11:30 and eyed the hundreds of ans crowding the alley, he called out from among the fans, "Do you need a body-guard, Flip? I can run pretty good interference." I spun around to the voice, and was magnetically drawn to his incredible smile—those brilliant white teeth and those green eyes.

As we walked to my place, he asked lots of questions. He couldn't believe I was a star. And that I was still working as an electrician. By the time we reached the coop, I realized we were holding hands. In the end, I invited him in. And we spent another night together. It was every bit as good as the first. Maybe better. He was less passive and used his obvious strength to assume a full partner role. He bottomed, but this time we tried missionary. When he pulled up those legs and flashed his rosy pink invitation, I realized I was in lust. This boy was beautiful, a fast learner and athletic. He submitted to my thrusts and my needs, but with each stroke, he used his ankles on my shoulders to launch his ass into me harder. And then his legs dropped and wrapped me tightly, holding him close to him, as his fingers probed my opening, finally reaching and tapping my love nut. Fuck, he had learned very fast. I was assuming by morning that he'd be asking me to roll over so he could top. And if he kept this up, I was inclined to let him.

And throughout all of this, he spoke few words, but all were deep throated, Southern drawl. He was hynpnotizing.

But, this was my second "chit." Michael had confessed to two "encounters"—although one was with an older woman. He had invited me to do the same. But, if I did Trey again—or let him do me, I'd owe an explanation to Michael. Michael's fucks had been transactional; he needed them to secure a part. But mine were clearly not.

Then I realized it was Tuesday night, and except for a few quick texts, we hadn't communicated for a few days. I really didn't know what was going on in Hollywood.

I assumed the non-communication wasn't good. Of course, I assumed the worst. Maybe he had screwed up and didn't get the part—and he was sulking.

During the night, I got up from the warm bed, leaving that beautiful ginger jock in my bed, snoring lightly. The sheet had pulled away from his lightly freckled body. He was spread out on his back, his flaccid dick resting peacefully on his nuts, his guns popping under his head. He was like a big Leprechaun. Well, not really a Leprechaun. They're little and puny. This guy was all man, all muscles, but somehow softened by the blonde-red fur, the dimples and the deep red curls that were dripping over his face. I didn't know where his pot of gold was buried, but he had sure already brought me a pot of happiness.

There were no texts, and it was too late to call. So I sent a quick text with a nude picture of me. "Missing you. When are you coming home?"

I noticed it was read—which was curious. Then I saw the signs that he was writing something back. Why not call? Then the dots disappeared and no text arrived. And it was the middle of the night.

So I headed back to bed. I had sinned against our relationship. But, once a sinner, you might as well make it a good one. I climbed in, pulled Trey into a deep embrace. He was all warm, cuddly and responsive. His body automatically formed into mine. And, lo and behold, his eyes fluttered open. He smiled that dimpled smile that caused that immediate reaction in my gut—and my dick. Then, he turned over waiting for me to take him again.

Fuck it. Why not? Michael hasn't called in days.

TBC BD