Flip Mecum in New York Ch 15

Flip and Michael Ch 15

Conclusion

Michael....

It's late Tuesday night. I finally got Ross to sign off this afternoon, and I didn't even have to fuck him. I just plied him with a half bottle of Ketel One. I can't wait to see how he films! It's definitely going to be a challenge. And I don't think I'm totally out of the sexual woods with him yet. He's very interested in getting fucked. If only he stayed sober long enough. I don't do zombies.

So I'm in the picture. I called my agent who told me the contract was final except the big number. He had just heard that they were offering a cool million, all expenses in California and New York, half the fee in advance, the rest when the film was complete, and a very small percentage of the ultimate take over $100 million. He laughed, clearly pleased with the results, but advised me that I shouldn't really count on any extra. The producer accountants knew how to cook the books—and I couldn't afford my own yet. I was ecstatic. It was time to go home, or was it?

It's had been a few days since Flip and I have talked. I sent him a few texts—and late last night he sent me a suggestive photo with one question, "When are you coming home?" God, he's beautiful. How did I ever leave that behind? I started to answer, but I gave up. I'm so confused.

Another day has now passed. I spent part of it with Ross and several hours in Croft's bed.

In fact, I spent most of Sunday and a good deal of yesterday in Croft's bed. He's insatiable. And he's incredible. I lost count after he fucked me a half dozen times. I think he's got one of the biggest dicks in the universe—and two of the most efficient jism-producing balls. He spawns orgasms so deep inside me that I think I'm going to explode as he does. I can't imagine how many times he has filled me. There's probably more of his seed inside me than my own. But, he's rough. Rough and big are not always a great combination. Fuck, I spent an hour this morning in a hot bath tub trying to heal my ass. I can barely walk. He's so big and so powerful. He doesn't let up. He takes and takes. And pounds and pounds. And plants and plants. He's got me at the edge all the time. Almost to the point of madness. And he pushes me over at will, often more than once, with one ever-lasting hardness. I'm literally his slave. Maybe that's what they pay him for.

The worst part is that he's told me over and over that I don't need to do this to get the part. But, I can't help it. I want him inside me. I want to feel his size. I want to feel someone taking control over my body. When he's inside, I don't need to think. I need the pain. It's not love. Nothing like what I have with Flip. It's like a drug. A sex drug. I can't get enough. I'm addicted. Even now, I'm waiting for him to come to bed. He was called out for dinner by his investors after being inside me for a good part of the afternoon, but promised to return. Thus, I couldn't try to call Flip. Croft could walk in any second.

And I couldn't answer Flip's text. I just couldn't. He'd wonder why I didn't call. I'm an actor, but not a magician. He'd know immediately that something had happened. What the fuck am I going to do? I can taste this part. No that's not a good reason. Croft had said the part was mine, and now the contract is signed. I don't need to do anything more. I'm thinking in circles. I do want the part. And I also want Croft. I want him real bad.

My last screen test was today. I could have left on the red eye. Or I could leave early tomorrow morning. But, can I untie the metaphorical collar that Croft has buckled around my neck? And my dick? And my soul? I can feel them all, even if I can't actually see them.

I've got a perfect excuse to stay. They want to start filming on Monday—five days from now. That's barely enough time to fly to New York and back. But, if I go, what the fuck am I going to tell Flip? Can I get by with nothing more than I've already told him? Suppose I tell him that I'm going to stay in California for two or three months. Will he insist on joining me? Will he give up his career? Can I let him do that with the way I feel about Croft? Call? Go? If I call, how much do I spill? Whatever it is, I've got to do it tomorrow by phone—or maybe I should fly out early and tell him tomorrow night. But, if I fly, I'll get to JFK just as he's leaving for the theatre. I couldn't handle this discussion when he gets home from the theatre, all jazzed up and ready. So it has to be by telephone, probably Facetime. I need to see his face. I can't meet him in person in New York. Not now. Maybe my attraction to Croft will disappear in a few months. Maybe it'll get old. Maybe he'll find someone else. Fuck, I need a drink. But, I'm not going to become another Ross. I picked my drug of choice. It's called Croft Al-Amin. And he'll be home soon. I'm going to punt. I'll decide tomorrow. I'll call tomorrow. These were words I hadn't used since I left LA for Houston, a long time ago.

Croft returned from his dinner date around 10:30 and immediately climbed into the shower. Then he crawled into bed with me. Fuck he was so huge. The whole bed, even though one of those non-tilt foam jobs, sloped and rolled me into him. He pulled me tight without a word. I was already hard and so was he. We embraced but didn't kiss. He grabbed my ass and held it tight. His cock between my legs was so big that it stuck out behind me. I could ride the fucking thing like a hobby horse! But, he seemed anxious and troubled. Maybe the meeting had not gone well. I'd take care of that in the next few minutes.

Without a word, I rolled onto my belly and grabbed a pillow to loft my ass into position for him. I felt his weight, then his lips on my nape. He pulled back and I spread my legs in anticipation of his attack. Lubed fingers quickly opened me. (Well, almost. He was so big that nothing could really prepare me for his insertion.) Then the peach-sized head was poised to stretch me even more. I felt the pressure and then the pain and pleasure as he began to slide inside. He touched the prostate and I saw stars—and the moon and the sun. He was opening up my universe. No one in the world can resist this feeling—the feeling of being totally fucked, totally impaled by a horse dick, totally under his power. The ultimate pleasure is in complete surrender. He pulled back, lubed again, and this time penetrated even deeper. One more time, another lube, and he bottomed. I felt his curly pubes on my ass. I threw my arms to the headboard and backed into him. That was his signal.

He started the machine-like pistoning. Powerful thighs pulled back and jammed back in. The pressure—and the pleasure—were intense. Never before had anyone taken me so completely. It was like a giant fucking a baby. He was tearing me up. I was at the edge, except that his sturdy fingers on my shaft stopped any possible response. I must have muttered something unintelligible. He took it as a green light. He paused and spoke the first words, "Michael, this ass is the best that I've ever fucked. You are a beautiful boy. You're gonna go far in this town. Now give it up, boy. Give it all up. I want everything you've got." His finger and thumb released my dick. Curious words, but I did as I was told.

I squirmed. I squeezed. I bucked back into him. I felt his relentless motion and the incredible pressure on the sides of my chute. Over and over he stretched the inner ring and pushed through it. Then I felt him stretch and stiffen. His entire weight fell on me. Dominated me. Pinned me. He drew back, used his thick thighs to spread mine ever further apart and plunged hard, shooting his first massive load of hot spunk deep inside. Then another and another. That pushed it all out of me. I creamed onto his silk sheets. Then he raised up just a bit and one massive hand grasped my dick and my balls. He held them tight, asserting ownership. He didn't need to do that. I was his, even as I wallowed in my own spunk under my gut. But he milked me for still more. He wanted me totally drained. He had taken every drop of my manhood. I had nothing left. It was all Croft. The aroma of sex filled the room. Once again, I had taken a hit of my favorite drug—Croft Al-Amin—and he had taken me on a trip to paradise. When he fucked me, he redefined what it meant to be fucked. I was limp, placid, full and empty at the same time--and his.

All too soon, he rolled off. He looked up at the ceiling, not at me, and started to talk. "I signed your deal today. You're one of ours now, Michael. You belong to me. Congratulations. I'm looking forward to this picture and many more. You're going to be a star, Michael."

All was said in a fairly flat and wistful tone. Somehow I just knew more was coming.

"But that was a farewell-for-now-fuck. We've got to lay off for awhile. Everybody knows about us. Tonight's dinner was with my father-in-law and his brother, the sheik who controls entertainment investments. His daughter, my wife, is complaining that I'm neglecting her. She wants another child. And he wants another grandchild. He knows I'm bi. He knows that I get my rocks off by bedding most of our stars. So long as I come home regularly and keep her pregnant, he's okay with me. He probably does the same."

"He knows about you. And he's told me to end it tonight—or he's calling me and my family back home until we 're-order our family priorities'—to use his words. Maybe in a few months, we can get together again, Michael. I've put in the contract that you get to stay in a cottage here when you film. But, I've really got to stay away from you for some time. I can't risk my future. And my marriage is a non-negotiable part of that future. So this is a farewell, or maybe an au revoir, Michael. At least for now. I was serious when I said you were the best. The best I've ever had. But we'll never be more than intense fuck-buddies."

Then he got out of bed. "I'm going home to my family. I need you to move out tomorrow morning. If you want to stay until we start filming, a cottage is yours. Or you can move into Paul's guesthouse. Angeline returns tomorrow and he wouldn't dare cross her. It's her money. Or you can go back to New York and return on Sunday. We film at the studio on Monday morning. It's your choice."

"I'll miss you Michael. Really miss you. And I promise this is not our last time together. I'm going to make you a star. And I will fuck you again. Just not right now."

Then he dressed and left.

I was in turmoil. And disbelief. How could this happen? After only a few days, I knew Croft well enough to recognize that we would never be a couple. Maybe we'd work out ways to fuck a few times in the future. But, not a couple. There was a hole inside me. A deep, dark hole. He had created it inside me. And not just with a big dick!

I started to think about my next steps. But, it was too much. So I walked into the bath, gulped a few sleeping pills and headed back to bed. I'll think about this tomorrow.

(Wednesday)

Flip....

I woke with Trey beside me in my bed and in my arms. His head was on my shoulder, his beautiful rosy blonde curls tickling me just a bit. His left hand was fisting the base of my shaft just above the balls. I pushed him off, but he didn't wake. I definitely needed a trip to the WC. I came back and stared down at his beauty on the sheets. He was a handsome, beautiful specimen of Southern manhood. Slowly his sleepy eyes opened, his deep green eyes shone and stared at my chubbed dick. His smile dazzled. "Fuck me, Flip. I need it before I go."

I climbed in and he lifted his legs, held them high and wide and rolled his hole up to face me. How could I refuse? I knelt between his legs, lubed and began the process of opening him. That winking cute pink hole was beckoning. God, he was sexy. It was easier than the last few times (Fuck, how many had it been already?). His color darkened and his anal lips puckered. God, he was so hot. I leaned in and positioned my cockhead at the opening. He rolled a bit more and his lips swallowed my head. Then I felt the suction and the muscle control. He was slowly drawing me deep into him. Never before had I experienced that. A mancunt that sucked? And massaged? And squeezed? I was a goner. This boy had talents that I had never dreamed existed. They always say boys think with the brain in their dick heads. Now I've experienced a mancunt with a brain!

I dropped over his chest, jack-knifing him hard until our lips touched. Then together my cock and his cunt danced. Fuck, it was a Texas two-step. He bucked up and I backed off. I plunged in and he backed down. Over and over. As our passion rose. I couldn't take it any more. But, he beat me too it. The tight hood on his penis had drawn back, exposing a deep red plum-shaped head. His cock started to spasm, leak and then it exploded between our chests. Then I planted. My little finned seeds were finding their way deep into his soul. He would always remember this coupling.

I rested for a few minutes. Then realized he had to go. I rose, walked into the kitchen and made coffee, not bothering to dress. Although he's working today, I'm not—at least not until curtain time. My contract with BTE is over. I'm free until tonight and need that gym. Then I realized that I also needed a call from Michael. But, I wasn't sure what I was going to say. Trey had bewitched me like no other man had ever done. Even Michael, I had to admit.

Trey walked in a few minutes later, freshly showered and dressed. His eyes scanned my nudity. "I guess you're not on the job today?"

"That's right. I only signed on to help for the emergency."

"Thank you for last night, Flip. And this morning. Yall've shown me how good it can be. I know I'm not in yall's class. But, maybe we can have a drink sometime or spot each other." Then he smiled that dimpled smile that melted me, "Or maybe something more."

He was going to let me off easily. I was grateful, but not completely. Somehow, I hoped there'd be a scene. And that we could end it finally. But no, he walked up to me, grabbed me in a tight bear-hug and kissed me with lots of tongue. I could feel his hard shaft against my gut. If I had said even one word, he would have stripped and stretched out on the counter waiting to be taken. But, I didn't.

"I enjoyed our time together, Trey. You're a great guy with a great body. You'll find someone in this big city. Just be patient—and be careful. Don't be a stranger. Maybe I'll see you at the gym on Saturday or Sunday."

"I'd like that." And he left.

I couldn't believe how sad I felt. In just a couple of days he had found a place in my heart. And he had burrowed in deeper than any cock could ever reach in a mancunt. For the first time in a few days, I felt full—and empty.

Had Trey filled the place that Michael had left vacant? Oh fuck. We still haven't talked. He was probably still sleeping. I need to talk. But I'm not going to wake him up.

So I called Brent. "We need to talk."

"I'm kind of busy right now, but I can get away around four. Is that enough time before you leave for the theatre?"

"Sure. I'm headed out to the gym anyway. See you then. And, Brent, just the two of us. Let's meet here."

*******

Brent arrived on the dot of four. He was still dressed for the office, but pulled his tie off. He walked to the make-shift bar in the kitchen. "How many shots do I need, Flip? How bad is it?"

"Make it a triple."

"That bad, huh?"

We sat on the new leather couch, which had been delivered that afternoon. I had called the designer on Monday and asked for delivery asap. The thread bare lumpy daybed had been banished to the maid's room (sorry, "office") for now. He put his feet up on the scratched old coffee table, sat back, took a big swig, and waited.

"I'm going to lay it all out quickly and without adjectives."

"Michael is still in LA. We haven't talked since the weekend. Even the txts are short and cryptic. He's already told me that he had to fuck the producer and both of his potential co-stars. Then there was silence. I don't know whether he got the part, but on Saturday he was talking like it was his."

"None of that surprises me. Sometimes these things take time. I know his agent is in New York, so the contract negotiations are bi-coastal. He's only been gone six days. You've got to have a little faith here, Flip. If you're both in the entertainment business there are going to be long absences—and you're going to have to learn to deal with deep mood swings that come on as actors get into their roles. And you've got to have some trust."

"I'm not worried about the mood swings. At least not since Storm House filming ended. And not withthis movie. You know the plot of the movie. Essentially he plays a sexually available body-double and model. And he jumps in and out of bed with the producer-husband, the mommie-star and the bad-boy-artist-son. Shit, any normal society would call that incest. That doesn't take much adaptation on his part—or mine for that matter. You know our backgrounds."

"I seems to me that we talked about this a week ago. So, there's more?"

"I don't think I've ever trusted, Michael. While I was near, and we were fucking every day or more often, I presumed that I was enough. But, when he's away. I'm not sure that he does use "sex is necessary success in show business" as carte blanche to fuck anyone he wants. But, there's even more. Big time. I think I'm in love—and it's not with Michael."

"Fuck, Flip. In five days? Or did this start before Michael left?"

"Would you believe three days? We met last Sunday at the gym."

I described the meeting with Trey, the compassion that turned to more, much more, the easy time we had with each other. "He's me, Brent. Same boy, same background. He's innocent and needy. He's real easy to love."

"So is a puppy. Why don't you get one? I thought you were a professional. Professionals don't fall in love with clients."

"He's not a client. He's a beautiful, troubled Southern boy. And I just took his cherry. It was really epic—and more than once."

"Don't give me that love-at- first-fuck, crap. You're a big boy. You've got a long-standing boyfriend. Puppy-love is way over-rated. You don't know anything about him. What do you really know about him? Are you sure he didn't stalk you? You're quite a catch you know. Terrific body. Good job. Better prospects. An expensive apartment. And you're a nice polite Southern boy. Christ, I'm talking myself into love with you. You're a fuckin' prince, Flip." Then he laughed and got up to make another drink.

"Okay. Talk about Michael."

"There's not much to talk about. I know we talked at lunch about the necessities of show business. But, I don't trust him. We've texted a few times since he left and managed one facetime sex call right after he arrived in LA. He's already confessed to sleeping with the producer, the star—and by now most likely, his co-star Ross Harper. And nothing else. In fact for over two days now, there's been total radio silence."

"So you think he's left your stage for good?"

"I don't know. More likely, he's just been lured away. He's like an autumn leaf, Brent. He just drifts with the slightest breeze. He's not anchored, not even to me. I've always known that I was second in his pantheon after the theatre. I'm actually okay with that. But, I can't be second to a series of flings with co-stars over the years. I'm not built to have an open relationship. It's not that I'm not confident about me. It's that I'm not sure about him. I can't be the patiently waiting spouse whose husband is out on the town every night."

"Before we met, he had done drugs. Apparently in a major way. And he got into serious debt and serious trouble. He was actually sold to the guy who owned the club in Houston to work off his debt. Ultimately, I paid off the debt. And I financed our move to New York. But, now he doesn't need me. He doesn't need my money. And maybe he doesn't need me. He's back in LA where he started and always wanted to be."