Campy (Ballsy Boys Book 4)

by K. M. Neuhold

  Campy

  A Ballsy Boys Production Book 4

  K.M. Neuhold

  Nora Phoenix

  Campy (Ballsy Boys Book Four) by K.M. Neuhold and Nora Phoenix

  Copyright ©2019 K.M. Neuhold and Nora Phoenix

  Cover design: K.M. Neuhold

  Editing: Jamie Anderson

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form by any means without the written permission of the copyright holder, except in case of brief quotations and embodied within critical reviews and articles. I leeched this book from mobi, this is not a retail.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The use of any real company and/or product names is for literary effect only. All other trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners.

  This book contains sexually explicit material which is suitable only for mature readers.

  Contents

  1. Campy

  2. Campy

  3. Campy

  4. Jackson

  5. Jackson

  6. Campy

  7. Jackson

  8. Jackson

  9. Jackson

  10. Campy

  11. Campy

  12. Campy

  13. Jackson

  14. Jackson

  15. Campy

  16. Campy

  17. Campy

  18. Campy

  19. Jackson

  20. Jackson

  21. Campy

  22. Jackson

  23. Campy

  24. Jackson

  25. Campy

  26. Campy

  27. Campy

  28. Jackson

  29. Jackson

  30. Jackson

  31. Jackson

  32. Campy

  33. Campy

  34. Campy

  35. Jackson

  36. Jackson

  37. Campy

  Epilogue (Cameron)

  KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR MORE BALLSY BOYS!

  More About K.M. Neuhold

  More About Nora Phoenix

  1

  Campy

  I step out of the car and take a deep breath, letting the sweet scent of hay and the pungent aroma of animals and manure fill my lungs. It might not be what some people consider the best smell, but the sense of peace and happiness that washes over me is undeniably linked to the odor.

  Gravel crunches under my work boots as I reach back into the car to make sure I have my neon-orange work gloves and a few bottles of water to tide me over for the next several hours. Five hours to be exact, the only five-hour chunk several times a week when I feel happy and peaceful. The only five hours where I get to be me.

  The rest of the time, I’m Campy—porn star at the hottest gay porn studio in LA. But two to three times a week, I drive forty minutes to an hour outside of the city, depending on traffic, to Sylmar, California, where I volunteer at a wildlife, large, and exotic animal rehabilitation center and sanctuary. Those are the days I get to just be Cameron.

  I make my way toward the main barn to sign in and find out about any new animals we might’ve gotten since I was in last.

  “Hey Cam,” Julie, the shift lead, calls in greeting.

  “Hey Jules. How’s it going?”

  “A bit busy with some new arrivals, but otherwise good,” she says with a smile. “Hey, actually, you might be able to help with a little problem we’re having with one of the new guys.”

  My chest warms a bit at her statement. I love being known around here as the guy who solves problems others can’t. It helps me hang onto the hope that someday, I’ll finally reach my dream of becoming a veterinarian.

  “Yeah, what’s the problem?”

  “Well, we got this sheep in, her name is Ethel, and she won’t eat.”

  “Hmm.” I stroke my chin. “I assume she was checked for oral abscesses, parasites, the usual?”

  “Yeah, she checked out as healthy. We figured it might just be stress from being in a new environment, but it’s been a few days and everyone’s getting a little worried.”

  “Can I see her?”

  “Sure, come on.” Julie waves me after her and we head down the main aisle of the barn, past towering cages filled with wild birds and a few barn stalls containing foxes, baby raccoons, and other cute furries. She pushes through the door leading to the first arena where a number of animals are housed with access to surrounding pastures.

  Ethel is in the farthest pen with access to a small field to graze. She’s huddled in the corner with her butt against the trough and the rest of her body as close to the wall as possible. Everything about her body language screams insecure, and it only takes me about thirty seconds to realize what the problem is.

  I glance around the rest of the arena, assessing my options for a solution, and my eyes land on a pair of donkeys—Fonzie and Chachi.

  “You know why it’s so easy for one sheep dog to handle a huge herd of sheep all by itself?”

  “Um…because it’s instinct?” Julie guesses with a shrug.

  “Because sheep have a very strong flocking instinct, it’s how they survive predators. To a sheep, there’s nothing worse than being alone, because being alone means they’re vulnerable,” I explain, and understanding dawns on her face. “Try her in with the donkeys, I bet they’ll become fast friends.”

  “All right, let’s try it.”

  A sense of satisfaction fills me as she grabs a herding board to move Ethel. The donkeys take to her quickly, and as I predicted, the change in Ethel’s demeanor is almost instant. She starts bleating happily and within a few minutes she’s happily chewing on alfalfa hay.

  “You’re amazing,” Julie muses as she watches the animals together.

  I wonder what Julie or the other people who work and volunteer here would think if they ever found out I was a porn star. Okay, star might be a bit of a stretch. In all honesty, I feel like at least half the comments on any video I’m in are about Pixie— I need more Pixie! When will it be Pixie’s turn to cum ;)? Pixie! Pixie! Pixie!

  Don’t get me wrong, Pixie is a great kid and I can understand why guys are nuts for him. But damn if it doesn’t hurt my ego just a bit. And if you’d told me three years ago I’d be salty about the fact there aren’t enough guys jerking off to videos of me having gay sex, I would’ve probably died laughing. I mean, gay porn isn’t exactly how most straight guys envision their future, right?

  What? You didn’t think the whole gay for pay thing was just a rumor, did you?

  I’m sure people wonder how a straight man can do gay porn, and honestly, it’s not as difficult as it seems. When I top, I imagine it’s a woman I’m fucking…okay, except for this one time when I accidentally imagined John Stamos, but in my defense, I’d been binge-watching old episodes of Full House right before work and he just sort of popped into my head. But come on, it’s John Stamos. At first when I bottomed, I would pop a couple Viagra before a scene, but over time I guess I’ve developed a bit of a Pavlovian response. My body knows I’m going to get to come and it doesn’t seem to care how that happens.

  So yeah, I’m a straight guy working in gay porn. But let’s keep that little secret between the two of us.

  With the high of solving the sheep problem, I get started on typical chores like mucking out stalls before moving on to feeding the raptors. Any birds of prey always seem to land on my shoulders because most of the volunteers are terrified of them. Not that I can blame them, but the eagles and owls are by f
ar my favorites. Especially feeding the peregrine falcon, who prefers if you toss the meat into the air for him to catch.

  “A little birdy told me they’re going to offer you a full-time staff position soon,” Julie tells me while I’m using a pair of scissors to cut up a frozen rat to feed one of the foxes.

  My stomach swoops and I force a smile. I’d love more than anything to take on more hours here. But, unfortunately, they just don’t pay anywhere near enough, and the hours would get in the way of me doing the one job that does actually make a dent in the mountain of bills that seem to get higher every day.

  Maybe if I found a roommate to lighten my load even a fraction I could afford to take more hours here and cut back at Ballsy Boys? I couldn’t cut porn out entirely, it pays way too much, but if I could get that down to one day of filming per week? That’s a lot of maybes, but it never hurts to dream, right?

  Jackson

  My, my, we sure as shootin’ aren’t in Kansas anymore, or in my case, a small town in the Texas Hill Country no one has ever heard of. I’m barely able to hold back a gasp as LA pops up in the distance. Sure, I’ve seen big cities before, like San Antonio, Austin, and Dallas, and I went to Toronto when we shot the pilot, but this is different. LA is different. It will be, I promise myself all over again.

  The view in the distance is hazy, but I can make out hills, high rises, and lots and lots of traffic on the most intricate pattern of highways I’ve ever seen in my life. It doesn’t appear glamorous at all, but to me, it’s what freedom looks like.

  It may not be as pretty as the Hill Country where I hail from, but it sure as rain is a lot more inviting to me. I’ll take polluted air, endless traffic, and exorbitant housing prices any day over blue skies, breathtaking vistas, and empty roads, because the latter come at a price I can no longer afford. I was dying, and to me, LA is life.

  I have a shot at making a new life here, a life that’s authentic and true, rather than spending the rest of my life choking in the straightjacket—pun intended—my parents have unwittingly forced me into. They love me, of that I’m sure, but they can’t live with the reality of a gay son. The longer I stay there, the harder it will be for me to breathe, until I’m sure I’ll wake up one day and discover I’m dead, even though my heart is still beating.

  It’s scary as all get out, this change I’m making, this dive off a high cliff, but I owe it to myself to see if I am strong enough to fly on my own. I’ve got the acting job, which pays enough to afford housing, and I’ve found a roommate with an apartment I can move into as soon as I arrive, so I’m all set. He actually offered to pick me up from the bus stop, but I already found out how to get to his place. That was mighty kind of him to offer, though, so I’m feeling good about rooming with him.

  “There it is,” says Anna, one of the girls I’ve been chatting with on the Greyhound bus, as enthralled by the view as I am. “The city of dreams.”

  “It’s the city of angels,” Tina, her supposed friend, corrects her, as she’s been doing the whole trip now ever since they got on in Phoenix. She’s pure vinegar pretending to be sweet as honey, that one. “Los Angeles, you know, meaning angels?”

  “I didn’t mean it literally,” Anna explains, her patience unwavering.

  Let me tell you, the way her friend has been dissing every single word out of her mouth, I would’ve been madder than a wet hen by now. Heck, I am mighty annoyed, and it’s not even directed at me.

  “It’s a new start for us,” Anna says. “It’s the city of possibilities, of dreams. Anything can happen there.”

  She’s right about that, as far as I’m concerned. LA is a new start for me as well, a place to try and be myself—whoever the heck that is. I have no clue, not after repressing myself for so long, but I intend to find out. And my new job is an awfully good place to start.

  “What brings you to LA?” I ask Anna. We’ve chatted a bit on the endless bus ride—my jeans-clad behind has long since passed the numb stage—but not about what brings us here.

  “I want to become a background dancer,” she says, her face lighting up as she turns toward me. She’s cute, with soft, brown curls tied back into a messy ponytail, and a pair of gorgeous brown eyes. “I’ve tried to audition from Tucson, where we live, but it’s hard to get in when you can’t show up for every audition in person. So I’ve given myself two years in LA to make it. I was hired as a server at an upscale restaurant some distant cousin I’ve never met owns. He says it’s good tips, and hopefully, that’ll tide me over until I get my break.”

  “She’s a really good dancer,” Tina says, the first nice words to come out of her mouth, and I’m pleasantly shocked until she continues. “But then again, so are many others. I hope she’s cutthroat enough to survive.”

  Of course, she had to ruin it by running her mouth again.

  “I’m sure if you’re that good, you’ll get your break eventually,” I encourage Anna. “Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m no expert, but a little kindness never hurt nobody.”

  She sends me a grateful smile. “What’s your plan in LA?” she asks. “What temptation lured you away from Texas?”

  I hesitate only for a moment. My publicist—and how weird is it that I even have one of those, can I just point that out?—said I can talk as much about the project as I want to. In fact, she flat-out ordered me to tell anyone and their mother about the show. They’ve announced it already, so there’s no need to stay quiet about it anymore.

  “I have a role in a new series that’ll be broadcast in a few weeks, called Hill Country. We shot the pilot a few weeks ago in Toronto, and it’s been picked up by a major network, so now we’re starting on shooting the rest.”

  Anna’s eyes widen. “That’s amazing! How very cool for you. Is it a big part?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m one of the four main characters. It’s about a family in Texas who has to cope after the dad dies unexpectedly, and I play the oldest son.”

  Anna and Tina share a look. “You’re perfect for that role, what with your accent,” Anna says with a big smile.

  I grin. “That’s what the casting agent said as well. They preferred people with a natural Texan accent rather than teachin’ someone, so that turned out well for me. I reckon I have a bit of a drawl.” I lay it on thick and the girls both giggle.

  “I could listen to you read the phone book,” Tina says. “Though the rest of you isn’t too shabby either. Maybe you could take me out sometime in LA? Check out the nightlife together?”

  Here we go. This is the moment when I have to decide how much of a fresh start I really want to make. All my life, I’ve responded to scenarios like this the same way, but I’m so tired of it, so tired of pretending to be something and someone I’m not.

  I take a deep breath and allow myself to feel the freedom. “As nice as that sounds, I’m gonna have to kindly decline, as I’m gay.”

  The rush that rolls through me after those words are said makes me light-headed. I did it. For the first time in my life, I’ve casually come out in a conversation. It may be stupid and insignificant to others, but as Anna and Tina both look surprised, I’m sitting on a rambling, bouncing bus, feeling doggone proud of myself.

  My parents never allowed me to be myself. It wasn't that they flat-out forbade me, more like they gave off a consistent air of disapproval. But, they’re not here. Heck, they don’t even know about my acting job, about me moving here. As far as they know, I’m still at the Southern Baptist college they pressured me into attending, God bless ‘em.

  Sure, I feel guilty about deceiving them, though I’m a tad more worried about my brother Brax’s reaction when he finds out. We’ve always been close, and I hate lying to him. I wanted to tell him about quitting college and moving so badly, but I didn’t want to put him in a position where he’d have to lie to Mama and Dad. He could never lie for crap anyway.

  “Wow, I did not see that coming,” Tina says, flipping her hair back. “My gaydar isn’t usually that far off. Well, too bad. I’m
sure we could’ve had fun together.”

  “I have no doubt,” I say, even as I wink at Anna, who’s clearly suppressing a laugh.

  My name is Jackson Bedford Criswell and why, yes, I am gay.

  2

  Campy

  “You coming out with us for a drink tonight?” Brewer asks as he towels himself off after his shower. I glance over my shoulder at him as I pull on my pants, wincing a little at the slight sting in my ass as I move. We filmed a very enthusiastic scene and I’m sure I’ll be feeling it for a few days.

  “I can’t tonight, I’m meeting my new roommate.”

  “Bummer.” Brewer sighs. “I feel like this is my last meal or something before I have to face the executioner tomorrow.”

  “You’re filming a scene with Tank, not facing the firing squad.”

  Brewer and Tank have had a long-standing animosity, stemming from god knows where. Bear never had the balls, or maybe it’s that he had too much brains, to pair them for a scene. But now that Rebel has stepped back from performing to do behind-the-scenes work for Ballsy Boys, he’s decided he wants to fan the flames and see what happens.

  “Same difference,” Brewer mutters.

  “What’s he going to do? Fuck you to death?”

  “Have you seen the way that man fucks? It’s not that much of a stretch to think he could do it if he set his mind to it.”