Reality Girl: Episode Two (Behind the Scenes #2)

by Jessica Hildreth

  Or at least I hoped she wouldn’t.

  Dressed in his typical attire of jeans, boots, and a wife beater, Les opened the saddle bag of his motorcycle and pulled out the tool kit. As he fumbled to remove the tools from the leather pouch, Randy nonchalantly walked alongside him.

  Wearing khakis, a fitted black tee shirt, and sneakers, Randy looked cute. His leather tool belt hung low on his hip, and discounted his boyish looks somewhat. His outfit – and the pair of pliers he held in his hand – made him appear to be a construction worker, which I found to be hot.

  His southern California tan and athletic body made him seem more likely to be a model than Les.

  The thought of it all was making me uncomfortably horny.

  “Something wrong with the bike?” Randy asked.

  Les stood. “Nope, just making some adjustments.”

  “Nice bike.”

  Les gave a slight nod. “Thanks.”

  “So, what do you think about the girl, Lou?”

  “She’s nice.” Les shifted his attention from the tool kit to Randy. “She’s got a great attitude, and a lot of spunk.”

  “Cute, too,” Randy said.

  Les shrugged. “Yeah, she’s cute.”

  Randy turned to face Les, rested his thumbs on his tool belt, and looked him up and down. “Do you feel out of place?”

  Les narrowed his gaze slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know. I just got the feeling you felt like…”

  “A little, I suppose.”

  “So, why are you here? Really?”

  “Trying to get another modeling gig.”

  Randy’s eyes lit up. “You model?”

  “As much as I can.” Les place the tools on the seat of the motorcycle. “I thought this might get me noticed.”

  Randy glanced over each shoulder and then locked eyes with Les. “So, are you--”

  Les grinned. “Yeah, I am.”

  “You know what I was going to ask?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  Randy studied Les for a moment, and then met his gaze. “You’re gay?”

  “I am.”

  “Wow.” He shook his head, and then grinned a shallow grin. “I wondered. I’m guessing you knew I was, too?”

  Les chuckled. “Why do you think I’m out here fucking around in the garage?”

  “I don’t know, why?”

  “I saw you in the drive I thought maybe you’d come in here.”

  Randy cocked an eyebrow. “And, if I did?”

  Bobby moved toward the corner opposite of me, all the while keeping the camera trained on Les.

  Les stepped around Randy, walked to the opposite wall, and pressed the button to shut the garage door. He then turned around and began walking toward Randy. As the garage door slowly closed, he continued his confident approach, and Randy’s eyes eagerly followed. As he stepped around him, he hesitated, all but brushing his chest against him as he passed by.

  A sigh escaped Randy’s lips. Choreographed, or not, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

  Oh my God. This is so good.

  Standing directly in front of him, Les turned to face Randy. After a short study, he raised his hand to Randy’s cheek. Without warning, or a spoken word, the two men embraced in a kiss.

  A really, really hot kiss.

  I never would have thought watching two men make out would be such a turn on. But it was. Les twisted his body as they kissed, lowered Randy to the seat of the motorcycle, and broke their embrace. Now seated on the motorcycle sideways – and facing Les – Randy looked up at him with eyes that were filled with desire.

  With his eyes fixed on Randy, Les unbuckled his belt and pulled down his zipper. His thick cock sprung free of its denim confines, and Randy’s eyes fell to it as soon as it did. The pliers he still held dropped to the floor.

  Cautiously, he reached for Les’ cock, appearing to be seeking approval as he did so. Les’ consent was apparent as he guided his throbbing shaft into Randy’s willing mouth.

  Oh my God.

  Witnessing everything in person was so much better than watching it on the monitor. As Randy slowly took Les’ cock deep into his throat, my face went flush and my pussy began to tingle uncontrollably.

  I glanced at Bobby, and then back at the action. Les’ hips gyrated as he worked his cock in and out of Randy’s very talented mouth. After a few balls-deep thrusts, Randy leaned back, pulled his mouth free, and grinned a mischievous smile.

  Les looked down and smiled in return.

  Randy wedged his face between Les’ thighs, and carefully wrapped his lips around Les’ cleanly shaved balls. As he sucked the scrotum he slowly stroked his glistening cock with his free hand.

  In clear appreciation, Les closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

  Randy continued to lick and suck Les’ balls with a simple grace that I began to wish I possessed. It not only appeared that he loved doing it, but it was undisputed that Les loved it equally.

  Ten minutes of watching the men, and my pussy felt as if it were on fire. The ball sucking and stroking of Les’ cock quickly proved to be just too much for me. Although I considered rushing to my room and fingering myself into a frenzy, I couldn’t pry myself away from the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to watch the two men go at it in the garage.

  Les’ breathing began to become irregular, and it appeared he was a stroke or two from climax. Randy’s pace of stroking Les’ cock continued as he licked and sucked the balls with care.

  Les opened his eyes and looked down.

  He inhaled a choppy breath.

  No, don’t come. I want more.

  Please.

  My pussy ached.

  Les placed his hand on Randy’s forehead, suggesting, I suppose, that Randy accept his soon to come offering. Randy complied, releasing Les’ balls from his mouth. He encompassed the tip of the cock with his lips, then swallowed it entirely, twice. After pulling his mouth free, he began to stroke it with passion, all the while pointing the tip toward his open mouth.

  It was too much for Les. And, for me, for that matter. Les erupted into Randy’s mouth, shooting three large streams of cum as he bellowed his pleasure into the garage.

  In an attempt to make myself comfortable, I twisted my hips back and forth, hoping to find a position that made me feel…

  Less horny.

  Nothing helped.

  As Randy licked the tip of Les’ cock clean, I turned toward Bobby and quickly rushed in his direction.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  I stepped around him and opened the door leading into the house. “I’ve got something I have to take care of.”

  Our plan to give Kelli something completely unexpected left me with a pent up sexual desire unlike anything I had ever felt.

  I had no idea where the show was going to go from here, but wherever it went would never match what happened in the garage that day.

  Or so I thought.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I wanted Les to meet Franky, but doing so wasn’t easy. I rode to the bar with the driver, and left Les at home working on his bike. After we left, les hopped on the motorcycle, rode it to the bar, and parked in the alley.

  It wasn’t something I normally would have done with any of the men from the show, but considering the fact that Les was gay – and not a threat to my relationship with Franky – it somehow seemed appropriate.

  Franky stared at me with crazy eyes. After a long study, he glanced at Les.

  Les wagged his eyebrows. Franky’s eyes shot back to me. “You’re not kidding?”

  “Not a bit,” I said.

  “Right there in the garage? On film?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s fucking crazy,” he said with a laugh. “The good kind of crazy.”

  He alternated glances between us. “And then what?”

  “Right after, I had to run to my room. It was too much for me.”

  “Was anything said about it?�
��

  I shook my head. “Kelli hasn’t seen it yet.”

  “Sounds like it would have been too much for anybody. Getting a blowjob in the garage while two people watched, one of which was filming?” Franky pushed himself away from the bar and chuckled. “Hell, I’d have probably run to my room, too.”

  He clenched his fist and held it at arm’s length, in front of Les.

  Les pounded his fist into Franky’s.

  “Got a lot of guts, man,” Franky said.

  “Had to come out at some point. No better place than national television.”

  “Hope it works out in your favor,” Franky said.

  He turned toward the bar. “Anyone who gets a blowjob on a reality show qualifies for a free drink. What’ll you have?”

  “Beer.”

  “Name it,” Franky said over his shoulder.

  “Corona.”

  “Lime?”

  “Please.”

  Franky nodded as he handed Les the beer. “Tough looking, covered in tats, and polite. Nice combo. You’re good in my book.”

  Les raised the bottle. “Lou speaks highly of you, so you’re good in mine, too.”

  “So, she told you about me? Franky the margarita man?”

  “She said she comes here regularly.” He glanced at me, and then back at Franky. “She thinks you’re hot.”

  “Uhhm. I’m right here,” I whined.

  “I think I’m hot, too,” Franky said with a grin.

  I rolled my eyes and took a drink of my margarita. Bringing Les to the bar made me feel like I being forthright about my odd relationship with Franky, all the while strengthening my friendship with Les.

  “I think you’re hot too, but not in a gay way,” Les said.

  “Thanks,” Franky said with a nod.

  Thoughts of Franky and Les tangled up in a sixty-nine position with each of their mouths filled with cock while I watched them suck each other to completion filled my mind. I took another drink and shook it off, or at least I tried to.

  I’d never seen gay porn prior to witnessing Les and Randy the first time, and although it wasn’t technically porn, it was close enough for me. If I was forced to speculate preceding my exposure to the man-on-man exploit, I would have guessed that I wouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as I did.

  But, I was wrong.

  As the two of them sat and talked, my mind drifted away. A few minutes later, my margarita glass was empty, my pussy was a disastrous wet mess, and I wondered just what it was about seeing the two men that excited me to no end.

  It certainly wasn’t love making.

  Nor was it relationship driven.

  Maybe it was the unbridled passion.

  Honestly, it was nothing more than two people enjoying a spur of the moment sexual romp. The best kind, as far as I was concerned. Well, as long as it wasn’t with a former Navy SEAL who was a pizza prick.

  I glanced at Franky. He and Les were talking like two sixteen-year-old girls, sharing a story about how Franky used to ride his dirt bike at his uncle’s house back in the day.

  It didn’t cross my mind at first, but after watching them laugh and share their experiences, it comforted me that Franky wasn’t a homophobe. The fact that he welcomed Les with open arms, so to speak, let me accept him into my heart just a little more.

  Maybe it was that what little hope I held in reserve for Les had all but vanished when I found out that he was gay, I don’t know.

  Either way, Les was quickly becoming someone I knew I would enjoy as a friend. And Franky?

  Franky was Franky.

  And, the more I got to know him, the more I liked him.

  “You’re fucking kidding,” Franky wailed. He pushed himself from the bar, brushed his hair from his eyes, and stared at Les.

  Stone-faced, Les looked back at him. “Not in the least.”

  “Get the fuck out of here.”

  Les raised his hand in the air. “My hand to God.”

  “Can I tell her?”

  Les shrugged. “Sure.”

  “So get this: This crazy fucker put a rattlesnake in the seat of his teacher’s car. It was when? September?”

  Les nodded.

  Franky continued. “The teacher never said anything about it, so Les here forgets about it. About eight months later, in the spring, the teacher doesn’t show up for school. The principal stands in and tells the class that the teacher was bitten by a rattlesnake, and they didn’t expect him to live. After a couple of weeks, the teacher returned--”

  “That’s good,” I said.

  His eyes went wide. “He was wearing a fucking prosthetic.”

  My eyes shot to Les. “What?”

  Les shrugged. “He was an asshole.”

  “But wait.” Franky raised his index finger in the air. “It gets better.”

  “After a couple of years of hobbling around the school, the teachers leg gets infected. His uhhm. His prosthetic was below the knee. So, it’s summertime, and schools out. The teacher, who was off of work for the summer – and probably drunk, from what Les says – digs at the infection with his pocket knife.”

  He cocked an eyebrow playfully.

  “This isn’t going to end well, is it?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “The infection worsened, and it turned into gangrene. Finally, he goes to the hospital. They amputate his leg at the thigh. Eventually, he goes home. A week later, he’s dead from complications associated with the gangrene.”

  “Holy shit!” I gasped.

  “Pre-fucking-cisely,” Franky said.

  “How can you live with yourself?” I asked.

  “It’s easy,” Les said. “Karma’s a bitch.”

  “Here comes the best part,” Franky said.

  Les turned his barstool until he faced me. “I was about to turn myself in, and I found out from the local cop that the snake that bit him was in his back yard, not in his car.”

  “But it was a rattlesnake?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “It had to be the rattlesnake you put in his car, though.”

  He shook his head. “Nevada’s full of rattlesnakes. They’re everywhere. Six months later, and the snake was in his yard? There’s no way it was the one I put in his car. But. It sure seemed that God and I shared the same opinion about what this asshole needed.”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “That’s awful.”

  “No,” he said. “It’s karma.”

  “So, what did this guy do to piss you off enough to get you to put the rattlesnake in his car?”

  He cleared his throat. “He was a horrible bastard. He called one girl a fat pig once. Told her she needed to lay off the snacks. Then, he called one of the other students, who was Hispanic, a ‘spic. The last straw, at least for me? He called me a fag.”

  “Oh, wow.” I swallowed heavily. “A real asshole.”

  Although it wouldn’t have warranted Les’ intended punishment, calling him a fag wasn’t appropriate for a teacher – or anyone for that matter. I felt sorry for the teacher at first, but after I thought about if for a moment, I started to laugh.

  “Went from awful to funny?” Franky asked.

  “I was just thinking about what Les said. There’s no way that a snake put in the guy’s car in September ended up in his back yard in the spring. Les was right, it was a different snake. It was karma. And, it was his fault. He should have gone to the hospital instead of trying to dig out the infection with a pocket knife. He got what he deserved.”

  “Amen,” Les said.

  “Amen,” Franky repeated.

  I nodded my head in agreement. “Amen.”

  And, at that moment, I made a mental note not to ever piss off Les.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I wouldn’t have described her as angry – or even mad, for that matter. If I had to choose one word, based on what I’d seen so far, it would have been furious. She was so upset that she was spitting when she spoke.

  “You.” she pointed at Bobby
. “You.” she pointed at me. “And, you.” she pointed at Les. “Put your shit down and get your asses in the kitchen.”

  We were in the living room listening to Les tell a story about riding his motorcycle from Henderson, Nevada to Washington, D.C., and the people he met along the way. From my perspective, it seemed that he had changed after the garage scene was filmed.

  He was more relaxed.

  “Don’t order me around like I’m some fucking dog,” Les snapped. “If you want something from me, ask.”

  Kelli pressed the web of her hand against her waist and cocked her hip. “You’re gay. I can’t fucking believe this. Gay. A gay biker. You didn’t bother to tell me that, Lesley. I’ll talk to you however I want.”

  Les began walking in her direction. “You sure as fuck won’t.”

  “You stuck your cock in my gaffer’s mouth.”

  He chuckled. “His willing mouth.”

  I looked at Kelli, grinned, and shrugged. “I thought it was hot.”

  “Shut up, Lou,” she snapped. “I didn’t ask your opinion, and I really don’t care what you think.”

  Les took two or three quick steps toward Kelli. As she stumbled to try to escape him, she backed up against the front door. Now wedged between it and Les, her eyes slowly widened as he began to wag his finger in her face.

  “Don’t ever talk to her like that again,” he fumed. “Ever.”

  She cleared her throat. “We need to--”

  “Apologize to her.”

  She let out a sigh. “We need to talk, I--”

  “Apologize,” he growled. “I mean it.”

  She couldn’t hide the fact that she was scared. It seemed she tried to force a smile, but the fear in her eyes didn’t escaped her.

  She straightened her posture and lifted her chin slightly. “Or what?”

  He took one step backward and folded his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll make it public that you are George Leet’s mistress.”

  She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

  “Now, apologize,” Les demanded.