by Zack
Jeff grinned back at the older man, “Just been waiting for a chance to play Sir Galahad, haven’t you, you old lecher?”
“It’s okay for you guys. You get all the fun. I never get any time off for fun on the side. Anyway, someone oughta help out. He ain’t gonna move her on his own, and she sure ain’t gonna be walkin’ anywhere under her own steam today. You can look after the rest of this for me, can’t you?”
Jeff gave a short laugh. “Sure, ol’ buddy. Off you go. Don’t forget the white charger!”
“What?”
“Your mount, Sir Galahad.”
“Oh, fuck off and get the camera stalled away.” Harry pulled a face at Jeff and strode off across the set toward the bed. Gil was standing legs apart, hand on hip and the other scratching his thatch of hair with an air of resignation. Harry took the opportunity to have a good look at the youngster. The tight buns packed into faded cut-off Levi’s topped off his straight, firm legs with their fine down of pale hairs, which just showed against the tanned skin. Gil was wearing white sports socks, sneakers, and a striped red and black NFL T-shirt. The sight brought a lump to Harry’s throat and stiffened his lump elsewhere. Gil looked so young and vulnerable, a leggy thoroughbred from some fine stable. Harry began to wish he were a jockey.
Gil turned as he heard the footfalls behind him. “Hi, Harry,” he muttered glumly.
“Gotta problem here, I see. Well, c’mon, let’s get the cadaver onto her slab.”
“Gee, thanks, Harry. I was just beginning to think I’d have to drag her there by her heels.”
“Best thing for her, too,” Harry said, grinning, as he slipped his hands under her arms and yanked the inert actress upright. “Get her by the heels then.”
Gil gave Harry one of his infectious smiles that almost made Harry drop his load. Then he got a grip on Emmanuelle’s arms and together they hoisted her off the big circular bed and began to carry her off the darkening set.
“I ever tell you about your eyes?” Harry grunted as the effort of carrying the woman reached his voice. Gil looked up and shook his head. “No? Well, kid, I’m here to tell you, you got the most ‘come to bed’ eyes I think I’ve ever seen.”
Gil modestly lowered the offending objects of Harry’s gaze and replied, “I bet you say that to all the guys you meet.”
Harry just laughed in answer and they ducked under a low hanging piece of scenery, bumping Emmanuelle’s bottom on the floor. Just beyond lay the corridor which led to the star’s dressing room. Gil kicked open the door with his heel and they carted her in and dumped her unceremoniously on the cot inside. The dressing room was quite a spacious affair. The cot was meant for Emmanuelle’s personal maid to sleep on when the unit was working through the night. It stood just inside the door in what was in effect an ante-room to the star’s apartments beyond.
“She’ll be okay there until she’s slept it off,” Harry said.
“Thanks, Harry. That was real good of you.”
For a moment they both stood there, an awkward silence settling on the room. Distant hammerings reached through the thin walls as the stagehands out on the studio floor erected another part of the set for the week’s shooting.
“So this is how the stars live?” Harry suddenly quipped, looking around in mock wonder at the lavish decoration.
“Shit, this is nothing. You should see the rest,” Gil replied, pointing at the partly open door behind him. He turned and pushed it open and led Harry inside. Emmanuelle’s snores receded as Harry gently shut the door.
“This is the sitting room,” Gil said lightly in imitation of a real-estate agent. He pointed out the expensive Chesterfield specially flown over from the States, the low-slung oak coffee tables inlaid with Picasso and Chagall ceramic tiles, the gilt lamps from Harrods in England, and the thick-pile Persian carpet. “Through here’s her office and the bathroom, and in here’s the bedroom. And all this in addition to the most expensive hotel suite in Europe. Nice, huh?”
Harry came through into the bedroom, which boasted a bed only a few inches smaller in diameter than the one they had just carried Emmanuelle from. Above the bed a golden-tinted circular mirror had been let into the ceiling. “Very nice,” Harry said quietly. He went over to the bed and pressed its surface experimentally. “Wow, I’ve never made it on a bed like that. How about you?”
Gil shook his head, bashfully. “No, I don’t think I ever have.” He stood uncertainly, watching Harry as the camera operator sat down on the edge. “Is it comfortable?” Gil asked ingenuously.
Harry threw himself flat and bounced up and down a couple of times before replying, “Mmm, real good. Try it.”
Gil walked over and lay down as well. He looked up at the mirror and saw himself looking back, noticed how the table lamp threw the folds of his shorts into strong and suggestive relief. His eyes flickered across and met Harry’s looking at him. Their two bodies lay side by side, pinned to the ceiling. Gil could see that Harry was getting an erection. He couldn’t stop himself grinning. Harry’s face creased as well. Suddenly the cameraman rolled over onto Gil and pinned him to the bed. Past his head Gil could still see themselves in the mirror, Harry’s broad back covering his slighter body. Gil laughed out loud and playfully tried to push Harry off him. Harry grabbed him powerfully by the upper arms and thrust him back. Gil slid a leg out from under and wrapped it round Harry’s back.
They started wrestling, flinging themselves all over the massive bed. Harry soon found that Gil’s young body was tougher than it looked and some of his wrestling holds were difficult to break. Again and again their bodies touched, crushed together as they rolled around, electrical contact as bare skin brushed bare skin. Finally Harry managed to get Gil into a position, from which he couldn’t escape. Gil was kneeling on the bed with his thighs spread as wide as they would go, the ankles splayed out either side of his buttocks. Harry was kneeling up behind him, with Gil’s arms crossed over his chest and trapped between them in Harry’s strong grip. They were both laughing and panting for breath. Gil let his head fall back, his entire body stretched to its limit, and rested it, upturned, on Harry’s chest. He could feel the damp shirt and beneath it the heaving chest. Looking up, he was rewarded with a sight of himself in the mirror and could see what a blatantly sexual pose it was. With his legs so spread they almost made a straight line across the bedcovers it made his cock and balls stick out in an beguiling bump. Harry looked up too and obviously noticed the same thing.
“Okay,” Gil laughed, his eyes closing sexily, “okay, I give in.”
Harry nuzzled the boy’s proffered neck. “You won’t try to escape?”
“Uh-uh.”
“If I let you go, you’ll do whatever I say?”
“Yeah, I promise, now let me go, you big bull.”
“That’s no way to speak to your conqueror, now is it? Say you’re sorry.”
Gil smiled, lazily. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Right, that’s better.” Harry released Gil’s arms and Gil let them fall to his sides, but made no other move. Harry slowly stroked the tautly erect nipples, which poked provocatively through the thin material of Gil’s shirt. Gil watched the operation in the mirror and stretched himself even more. Then he stroked his bare thighs with his own hands. Harry ran a hand lightly down the curving chest and cupped the inviting bulge in Gil’s shorts. Gil sighed contentedly as Harry nibbled roughly at his ear lobes. His cock began to get real hard and in that position it was almost unbearable as there was nowhere for it to go.
“Okay, boy, let’s get rid of the NFL,” Harry quietly ordered with a touch of authority in his voice. He helped Gil remove the T-shirt, then shuffled back to let Gil move. Harry lay flat on the bed. Gil turned toward him, sat back on his butt, and waited. “You can undo my belt,” Harry commanded.
Obediently, Gil bent forward and
slowly unloosed the buckle. He could see that Harry was watching it all in the mirror above them. Next he had to undo the top fastener of Harry’s shorts and slide the zipper down over Harry’s tightening crotch. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath so his big thick tool slipped out between the widening gap, its root buried deep in a bush of dark hair. As it stiffened, the massive cherry-red knob glistened at its tip with a pearl of pre-cum. “Suck my tits,” said Harry.
Gil moved up and lowered his head, tongue reaching out for the hard points. He let the tip moisten the firm nipple and then circled around it, only occasionally letting his tongue lightly brush the hard mound. Harry’s body moved appreciatively and Gil saw that he was manipulating his own cock. Gil’s own hard-on was aching to be massaged, but he didn’t touch himself. After a moment Harry pushed him off and sat up. “Lie down there,” he said, pointing at the bed. Gil did as he was told, and Harry propped his head up on two satin pillows. Then Harry stood up on the bed and allowed his short pants to fall down in a heap around his ankles. He stepped out of them and took off his shirt. Gil stared up quietly, unable to take his eyes off Harry’s massive weapon as it swayed from side to side with the movements of his body. The shirt was flung away.
Then Harry lowered himself to one knee over Gil, all the while rubbing his cock with one hand and the dangling balls with the other. Gil thought he had never seen such a big cockhead before; it was at least twice as wide as the powerful shaft behind it. Harry lifted a hand to his mouth and deliberately let a gob of saliva fall onto the fingers. This he proceeded to rub over the helmet with evident enjoyment, mingling it with his pre-cum juice. When he was ready he moved in a shuffle toward Gil, straddling him firmly between his strong, hairy thighs.
Gil lay still, his whole body thrilling with vibrations of intense anticipation. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He felt the pressure of Harry’s knees pressing up against his ribs, could see in the mirror above the top of Harry’s head, the awesome monument of a dick jutting from under it, pointing straight at his face. Harry moved again, slightly, bringing the cock closer. Now it was only inches from Gil’s mouth. Without being very gentle, Harry reached out and grabbed Gil by the short hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him forward to meet the oncoming girder of flesh.
“Okay, boy,” breathed Harry, “you’re ready now for this. I’m gonna fuck your face good and proper.” Gil moaned in response, his lips faintly parted. His tongue flickered nervously across them, wetting the skin. So slowly the movement was almost unnoticeable, Harry straightened his body and at the same time pulled Gil more upright until, at last, the plum-sized cockhead brushed against Gil’s lips. Gil’s tongue slid out and licked at the slit, then tried to reach under one of the symmetrical lobes. Harry’s cock reacted to the touch and involuntarily jerked up. It fell heavily back onto Gil’s waiting lower lip. He licked slowly down under the knob and pressed both lips against the bulging, ribbed shaft and slid wetly down to the throbbing root, teasing the tightened skin where it joined the loaded ball sack.
Harry eased him back and with his free hand forced the meaty cock into Gil’s open mouth. Gil gagged on its rounded bulk as the flared head filled him. It seemed impossible to get such a huge thing in. His mouth was strained wide, as wide as his throat, and he imagined that sense of a snake enveloping its much bigger prey came over him again. At the moment when it seemed his jaws must unhinge there was a sudden easing off. He had got it in and his lips closed round the narrower, but still massive shaft.
Harry put both his hands on Gil’s head, holding him firmly by the ears. Now he began to move Gil’s head around, really working him back and forward, so that the skin of his cock head rubbed against all the surfaces inside Gil’s mouth, setting up an amazing frisson. Harry started groaning with pleasure. Gil was on the point of coming just with the excitement of what was happening to him. Harry forced his head back and down, leaning harder over him, so that his cock was shoved even further in, until it touched the top of Gil’s throat. In this position Gil could clearly see himself in the mirror, the unbelievably broad column of flesh emerging from his pouting lips. It was the most thrilling sight he had ever seen. His balls ached ferociously, begging him to relieve them, but there was nothing he could do, pinned as he was on the end of Harry’s great canon.
“Okay, boy, here we go,” panted Harry. Now he began to fuck Gil’s face, driving his gobstopper deep into the kid, the pace growing with each motion. Gil could hardly breathe but his saliva was mingling with the copious quantities of lubrication that Harry’s cock was adding so as the action got hotter it also became a little easier. Harry was fucking him like a jackhammer, faster and faster, groaning all the while now. Gil could feel the vise of his hands holding him, driving his head harder and harder onto the tower of tumescent meat.
Harry gave a deeper, louder groan than the rest and leaned on Gil more forcibly. Gil felt the first hot trickle of cum taste on the back of his throat and then a hard jet, which shot straight down his opened maw. Harry ejaculated like he fucked, real heavy, and with each shot Gil could feel the surge in the surface of Harry’s shaft as it protruded from his mouth. At the finish Harry yanked himself out of Gil and jacked himself. Gil’s saliva and some of the last spurts of cum glistened on the engorged cockhead. Harry sighed and bent forward as the urgency left him. Gil eagerly lifted his head so that the relaxing cock slid back into his mouth, sucking the last remnants of orgasm from it with as great an enjoyment as he had ever known.
Now he reached around Harry, pulled his tool from the restraining shorts, and started jerking off. Still with Harry’s dick filling his mouth, he came, the stream of cum arching up and landing on Harry’s bare ass. God, it was good. He shot his load with vicious jerks of his balled fist and heard it splatter. “Mmm,” moaned Harry into the pillow.
At that moment there was a noise from outside as someone stumbled across the floor. The door crashed open and they both heard the exclamation. Harry rolled off Gil and they looked up to see a swaying Emmanuelle staring at them, face frozen in disbelief. She was still very evidently drunk. “Whasa fuckin hell’s goin on here?”
Harry laughed and slid off the bed, collecting his pants and shirt as he went. He stood shamelessly before the actress, his cock shrinking toward its normal size. She gaped at him as he casually pulled the shorts back on. “Never mind, sweetheart, you’ll get yours next time.”
Emmanuelle barked furiously, “Get the shit outta here!” She tottered over to the bed and absurdly tried straightening out the disturbed surface, swatting at Gil as she did so. Gil leapt off and adjusted his Levi’s and grabbed his shirt from the floor. Harry put an arm across his shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the bedroom door. As they left he turned to Emmanuelle. “Thanks, honey, that’s a great bed you got yourself there.” And with that he slammed the door shut.
Emmanuelle stood staring at the closed portal for perhaps a few seconds before she crashed out on the bed, mumbling incoherently to herself.
When they returned to the stage the wrapping up was just about completed. Jeff gave the two of them a wry look as they strolled out from behind the scenery. Harry patted Gil on the head and walked over to join Jeff. Gil waved cheerily at the pair and then made his way to the front office to wait with the rest for the bus back to the hotel.
The company ran two buses from the studio back into town and as Gil emerged into the bright sunshine he saw that the first was just about to leave. He was forced into a run to catch it and got to the doors just as the driver was shutting them. He made his way down the aisle, looking for a free seat and found one opposite Mike, who was busily chatting to the English boom swinger. Mike looked up as Gil flung himself into the empty seat. “You look a bit flushed,” he observed.
“Yeah, I had to run to catch the bus,” Gil said with a grin. He flicked the hair from his eyes and glanced across at his friend.
“
I heard about your trouble with our leading lady. Get her bedded down alright?”
“What—oh, her. Sure. She’s fast asleep by now.”
“She won’t remember a thing about it tomorrow, I dare say,” Mike offered.
“Guess not,” Gil answered. And I hope to god she doesn’t, he thought with an inward shudder.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pumping Ass
Forty minutes after leaving the studio the by now familiar walls of the Vittorio Emmanuele loomed through the almost opaque craquelure windows of the wheezing bus. Gil stood up and followed Mike down the aisle to the door. The two young men strolled across the pavement and into the hotel foyer, chatting idly. They made their way to the desk and Gil stood with his hands in his tight pockets while Mike asked the clerk for their room keys.
As he waited Gil let his eyes rove around the large area, taking in the comings and goings of the other guests. For a brief moment he thought he saw a man looking at him. He was sitting on one of the sofas, ostensibly reading a newspaper, but Gil was certain he had been surreptitiously glancing at him. From that distance it was hard to make out his appearance. As Gil returned his attention to the desk, he thought he saw the man’s paper lowered. Mike handed him his key. “Hey, I’m thirsty. Want a Coke?” he asked Gil.
“Sure. Where? In the bar?”
“Oh, I’m fed up of people for the moment. Let’s get a couple from the shop and take them up to my room.”
Mike led the way along one of the corridors to the hotel’s kiosk where they each bought an ice-cold bottle of Coca-Cola. Then they took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Mike fiddled with his key and unlocked the door. In every respect, Mike’s room was identical with Gil’s except that it was all the other way around. Gil popped his bottle cap in the little device provided behind the door and sat down on the bed while Mike adjusted the rattling air conditioning. Gil looked around for somewhere to put the bottle top. He spotted a trash bin in the corner and threw it. It just missed, hitting the rim with an audible clang.
