This story will contain sexual acts between two adult males. I am not, nor do I know the celebrities involved. I do not know their sexual preferences. If you are not of legal age, please direct yourself to another site. If you enjoy Nifty, please donate!
-------------------------------------------------- Channing's Visit - Chapter 11 --------------------------------------------------
Oh, buddy! I hope you guys are still reading, because I am not stopping any time soon!
Thanks to Bryan, Carl and Sven for the e-mails!
One thing though: (and I'm sure I'll get a whole heaping ton of e-mails off of this one!) Not too soon, but in the future, there will be some... cameos. So, I'm going to put it out there and ask you guys who you think would be a good guest in the series. Maybe as a friend, maybe as competition, maybe sexually! But, along with a name, give me some reasons why! Sell me on it! I certainly can't promise that I will add them all in, but I will get a few and I'll always mention who suggested it and why I chose! So let me have your hot male celebrities! --------------------------------------------------
Channing and I were fortunate enough to catch a flight out almost immediately, seeing as it was close to one o'clock in the morning on a Monday. We slid through a private screening room for security, then boarded shortly thereafter. Having been startled from sleep so suddenly, I curled up with a blanket and fell asleep just as the plane was taking off. It was a short flight, barely two hours, so when we landed it was still quite early.
Channing had remained relatively quiet since we left the house, the only indicator of his mood being a constant tapping of the foot. I tried to comfort him with a touch here, a small smile there, but his stress was palpable. As soon as the wheels touched the tarmac in L.A., his phone was out. Once he turned it on, it began a series of vibrations; texts, calls and voicemails. He scrolled through the texts, then listened to the voicemails. After a few minutes, his body visibly relaxed.
"What's up?" I asked, undoing my seatbelt. He sighed and met my eyes. "It was a false alert. False labor."
"That's good, right?"
He chuckled as he stood and pulled our bags from the overhead bin. "Very. She's only at thirty-one weeks." We paused our conversation as we exited the plane. I made for the baggage claim while Channing arranged a car. Once we were all squared away, I reclined into the passenger seat. "So... what now?"
Channing patted my thigh as he turned onto the freeway. "Now, I'm going to take you to my place and tuck you into bed so you can get some sleep."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to go to the hospital and check on Jenna," he replied, a degree of tension edging into his voice. "She's there with her parents."
I wanted to offer to go with him, but the prospect of meeting his pregnant ex-wife and her parents was daunting to say the least. Fortunately, it was just a scare, I thought, and not the real thing. I yawned widely and stared out of the window at the passing scenery. It was shocking to me that I was in Los Angeles, but I couldn't fully process it at my level of fatigue. There would be plenty of time to explore later.
I must have dozed off because I woke to Channing calling my name quietly. "Reagan. Reagan, babe. We're here." I roused myself to find us parked in a large garage and willed my body out of the car. I began to grab my things out of the back, but Channing stopped me. "Don't worry about that. Let's get you to bed and I'll bring the bags in."
"But-,"
He silenced me with a kiss. "Bed."
I chose not to argue any further, but wrapped my fingers in his and let him guide me into the house. In my lethargic state, I didn't take in too much detail, but the house had a modern and simultaneously warm feel to it. We made our way up the stairs and into a grand master bedroom. Channing pulled my shirt over my head as I bobbed sleepily. "Lean on me, babe." I did as he said and rested my arms on his shoulders. He undid my pants and slid them down my legs. I took the liberty of sliding out of my shoes before I threw myself onto the bed. A giggle escaped as Channing pulled off my socks, his large fingers tickling the soles of my feet.
"Do you want anything to drink before I go?" he whispered, laying next to me. I shook my head and pressed my small frame against his. The selfish part of me wanted to ask him to stay. The baby wasn't coming, so why did he have to be there? But, I knew that was just me being greedy. Channing had escaped from this life and found refuge, and a connection, with me. Now, he had to return to reality.
And, I wondered where that would leave me.
"I don't know when I'll be back, but text me or call me if you need anything, okay?"
"Okay."
His lips met my forehead tenderly as my eyes drooped. My fingers held onto him, but my grip slackened as I slipped into sleep. ~~~~~~
I was awakened by my phone vibrating on the bedside table. I reached to my right, as I always did, but hit pillows instead of phone. Confused, I opened my eyes and looked around. My brain finally caught up to me and I remembered that I was no longer in my house. I had traveled to L.A. and was sleeping in Channing's bed. My phone was buzzing insistently on the table to my left instead of where I was used to.
I answered quickly. "Hello?"
"What's going on, Blondie?"
I chuckled. "Hey, Owen."
"I just wanted to check in and see how your guest was doing," he said. "I haven't talked to either of you since... well, since I dropped him off."
"You're so good at your job," I shot playfully. "But, actually, Channing isn't my guest anymore. I'm... well, I'm his guest." There was an expectant pause from the other end. I sighed. "I'm in L.A."
"WHAT?! After how many years of me trying to get you out here?"
"It wasn't something I planned, Owen. It just... happened."
"Yeah, fuck all that noise. We're doing lunch."
I spared a glance at the phone to check the time. It was only nine thirty, so I had time to get ready. "Sure. Message me an address and let me know when."
"Noon and I'll text you. See you soon."
He hung up without so much as a goodbye, something I found out to be very common with him. My eye caught a small envelope on the bedside table with my name on it. Inside I found a handwritten note from Channing.
`Reagan, I'll be staying at the hospital for a while today. Had to come home to grab some stuff for Jenna. Didn't want to wake you. Call you around lunch. Miss you. Channing.'
Although simple, the note made me smile. I took a moment to stretch out on the plush bed before sliding out from the covers and making my way into the bathroom. I was impressed with the clean lines, marble floors and frosted glass accents. The shower and bathtub were elevated and enclosed in a smaller room entirely in glass. The dual sinks were inset into a smoky grey stone and placed in front of an elegant yet simple series of rectangular mirrors. As I stepped forward onto a plush bath carpet, I found another note on the counter.
`Reagan, just wanted you to know that I wish I was in here showering next to you. Channing.'
I rolled my eyes at the cheesiness, but smiled again and jumped into the shower. The water rained down on me from a sleek, chrome shower head positioned directly above. I reached for the soap only to find a small note mounted on the wall.
`You look hot right now.'
I shook my head, but couldn't erase the smile off of my face. It was truly endearing to imagine him placing all these notes around the rooms while I slept. I knew he was simply trying to make my first experience in Los Angeles a nice one, even before I left the house. He was succeeding.
After drying off and slipping on a pair of khakis and a tank, I wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. I was initially dismayed at the lack of a personalized note, but that feeling dissipated when I opened the fridge. On the center shelf was another piece of paper.
`Help yourself to anything you want. If you can't find anything you like, have something delivered. We will go grocery shopping tonight.'
In the end, I contented myself with the only thing that had survived: some dry granola. I wasn't too put off by the lack of food. After all, Channing had been absent for almost two months. Besides, I was due for lunch with Owen, so I didn't feel the need to eat too heavily. I entertained myself by exploring the house, from its lavish living room to the fully equipped gym to the picturesque infinity pool and backyard. Of course, with Channing's career, it was no surprise that his house was decked out. I was mildly surprised at how fashionable and well-decorated it was, no offense to Channing.
I checked the address Owen had sent me and found it to be about thirty minutes away, so I started to get ready. I coiffed my hair, shaved and threw on a random tee shirt. I made my way to the garage and found yet another note on the door.
`If you want to go anywhere, use any of the cars you like. With the exception of the Lotus. That's my baby.'
I opened the garage door and scanned my choices, deciding on the Mercedes Z4 convertible. I figured if I was going to meet Owen in his territory, I might as well do it in style. I let the top down and backed out of the garage, following the directions on the dashboard GPS. I managed to avoid getting too lost and reached the restaurant only a few minutes late. Upon entering, I spotted Owen sitting at a corner table and waved. He was, unsurprisingly, on the phone, but returned the wave.
My phone suddenly went off in my pocket, startling me. I answered as I was guided to the table. "Hey, Channing."
"Hey, babe. You doing okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Actually, I'm out to lunch with Owen."
As I settled into my seat, Owen paused to whisper, "Order something to drink. I don't have anything planned for this afternoon." I chuckled. Owen had always been a bit of a party animal, a skill that I supposed came in handy considering his line of work. "Thank you for the notes," I said into the phone. "I don't know if I found all of them, but I liked the ones I did."
"I didn't want to wake you up when I got home, but I wanted to make you feel welcome," Channing replied. "Sorry, I couldn't be with you. I didn't expect to be here for so long."
"It's no big deal," I assured him. "I got some sleep and took a shower."
"Okay. Well, have fun at lunch and tell Owen I said hey. I'm on my way home now."
"Do me a favor and take a nap. You need sleep, too."
His rumble of a chuckle resonated through the phone. "Trust me, I will. I'll see you soon, beautiful."
"Bye, babe."
I hung up just in time to order a martini and wait for Owen to end his phone call. As soon as he did, he brushed his perfectly coiffed brown hair back and energetically began conversing. "So, Blondie! You're in L.A. finally! You hair isn't down to your ass! What's going on?"
I shrugged as my drink arrived. "Nothing much, really. Just working on some new pieces. Came out for a visit."
"Oh, really? Just a visit? You show up, unannounced, with a new look and expect me to believe it was just on a whim?" He leaned forward over the table, swirling his drink like some villain in a movie. "Don't hold out on me, you punk. What's the deal?"
It was my turn to take a sip and glare at him. "Why does there have to be a reason?"
He eyed me suspiciously, then took a swig. "Fine. You're here for no apparent reason. Let's say I believe that. How long are you staying?"
I shrugged and picked put the menu, deciding quickly. "Not sure yet. Eager to see me go?"
"Not at all, Blondie!" he chuckled. "Quite the opposite! I'm fucking excited to see you here. It's going to be an adventure. I mean, obviously, we'll have to take you to get some new clothes. Maybe a suit and-,"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa... what do I need new clothes for?"
We were interrupted by the arrival of the server. Our order was taken and we resumed our conversation, albeit sans an answer to my question. "So, I'll take you to my tailor today. We could have a suit for you by Friday. And, he does amazing work. It'll fit you like a second skin."
I pursed my lips. "Answer my question, Owen. Why do you think I need new clothes?"
"Look, Reagan. It's L.A. You never know who you're going to run into and it'd be good for you to get your name in people's mouths. These people have money and they love art. You don't have to just relegate yourself to New York old money."
"I'll have you know that Joseph Gordon-Levitt has several of my pieces," I replied smugly. Owen gave me a dubious look. "And, how would you know that?"
"Channing told me. And, so did Joey."
Owen slammed down his drink dramatically, startling several tables nearby. "Okay, there is something you are keeping from me. And, considering our personal and professional history, I think that's fucked. Spill it. Why are you here and why do you not know how long you're..." His face went still before a look of understanding crept across his face. "Oh... shit."
"What?" He continued to smile. "What?!"
"You're fucking Tatum."
I snorted into my drink, scanning the closer tables to see if anyone had overheard. After wiping the gin off of my chin, I leaned in. "What... what makes you think that?"
"Oh, please. It's obvious. He brings you to L.A., you don't know how long you're going to be here and the fact that you cut your hair? You're taking it up the ass from Channing fucking Tatum. Are you screwing or actually dating?"
"Are you serious with that question?"
"Hell yes, I'm serious," he shot back, smirking. "You two are involved. I'm just curious as to how far you're involved." I reached for my drink to buy some time, but Owen snatched it up and dumped its contents on the floor. I, as well as everyone around us, gawked openly. "Don't stall. Answer the question."
I gave him the dirtiest look I could, both for the question and for the lost martini. He shot me a challenging yet ambivalent look until I relented. "You know I'm only telling you this because I KNOW that you will keep your mouth shut. We are... sort of... dating."
"SLUT!"
He yelled the word so loudly that the entire restaurant turned to face us. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I tried to hide my face. "Can you lower your voice, please?"
Owen switched to a hokey stage whisper. "Slut."
Our food arrived at that moment and Owen took the opportunity to order me another martini. "You had better keep your snide comments to yourself," I growled.
"Like what? Like the fact that the man JUST got divorced? Or the fact that I'm sure he's been deep-dicking you on the daily? Or the fact that you are a slut?" I responded by kicking him under the table. His grunt of pain turned into a laugh as I dove into my plate, mildly amused by his ribbing. "Obviously, this is not widely known fact, so you need to keep this under wraps."
"Oh, please," Owen snorted. "I've been in the business of keeping secrets for almost six years now. You don't have to worry about anything."
"Since we're on the subject, what exactly IS your job? It's something we've never really talked about."
He shrugged, mouthful of some perfectly cooked piece of steak. "In old school terms, I'm somewhat of a fixer. I fix problems. Officially, I've deemed myself a PR Consultant."
"And, people believe that title?"
"The people who need my services know exactly what I do," he replied smartly. "Besides, I also help manage people's images. Clothes and styling, getting them into events, meeting the right people." There was a devious pause. "All the things I intend to do with you."
"I am not one of your clients, Owen."
That comment brought a smile to his face. "No. You're my friend. And, if you're going to be in L.A., you're going to have to play by our rules. Sorry about it." I set my jaw, but began to entertain the fact that perhaps he was right. Even looking around the room, I could tell that I stood out. Not that I looked sloppy, but I didn't have that... polish. The haircut had been the first step. It would kind of be silly not to go any further.
"Fine," I sighed. "Let's go shopping."
Owen stopped mid-chew with a look of incredulity. "Seriously? Like... today. After lunch. And, you don't fight my advice."
"Sure."
"I'm talking casual, suit and tie, swimwear, everything. Total overhaul."
"If you say so."
"Fuck yeah!" he celebrated. "Oh, this is gonna be good. Finish up quick. I have to make some calls." He made a beeline for the door, abandoning the remainder of his meal, and whipped out his phone in record time. I shook my head in amusement. If I knew Owen, and I had for almost ten years, he was about to go overboard.
By the time he returned, I was done and waiting. Owen said nothing to me, but settled up the bill before I had a chance to object, then ushered me out of the door. "Okay. Tailor first. He has an appointment in an hour, but he said he would squeeze you in. So, I'm thinking the essentials: a gray, double-breasted. A black sharkskin, possibly with a vest. And, of course, something lighter. For you, I'm thinking a powder blue linen." I started to resist, but smiled as he ushered me into his sleek sportscar. "Anything you say, Owen. As long as it looks good."
Owen had always driven like an asshole and it was no different, even in the L.A. traffic. We wove through cars and blasted through yellow lights so fast that we reached the tailor in about ten minutes. Once inside, I was introduced to Nathanael, a tall, slender African-American with skin like pure chocolate. I was in awe of his chiseled features and warm eyes. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as we shook hands, mostly because I could feel his eyes looking me up and down. I assumed it was because he was imagining a suit on me.
"Well, you'll excuse me if I skip the formalities as our time is short," he said in a sonorous voice. "Do me a favor and take off your pants and shoes. " I did as he asked, noticing his sly gaze as he gathered his tools. Owen was moving around the showroom picking out suits he deemed appropriate for my makeover. I snapped back to attention as Nathanael approached. "Just stand naturally. I'm going to take your measurements and we can go from there."
I watched in the multiple mirrors as he made his way around me, measuring lengths and widths, then marking them down on a nearby clipboard. I could have sworn a small smile touched his lips as he said, "Time for the inseam." Before he could kneel in front of me, I heard Owen call out. "Keep it G-rated, Nat. He's spoken for."
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're insinuating," Nathanael replied, sliding the tape measure up my leg. A slight squeak hitched in my throat as he bumped against my package. He stayed for an extra second before shooting me a wink and recording the numbers. "Let's try some things on and get an idea of what you're going for."
"Ask Owen," I replied honestly. "He is the style guru."
At that precise moment, Owen handed me a pair of sharkskin slacks. As I slid into them, he spoke to Nathanael. "Look, Blondie has a small frame. The sleeves have to come in, as do the pant legs. A good taper on the jacket, maybe take some fabric from the shoulders and he'll be good."
"Are you presuming to tell me how to do my job?" Nathanael quipped, inserting pins down the legs. "Because, you can always find yourself a new tailor."
Owen gasped dramatically. "I would never. I am merely here to assist you in your artistic splendor. And, to humbly ask if you can have this particular suit ready by Friday."
Both Nathanael and I whipped around to look at him, speaking in unison. "Friday?"
"Yes, Friday," he said as Nathanael slid the jacket up my arms. "We have a party to go to and, unfortunately, Blondie hasn't a thing to wear. And, I thought it would make a monumental first impression if he could show up in one of your finely crafted masterpieces."
"Kiss ass," I muttered.
Nathanael pursed his lips and glowered at Owen. After inserting a few pins in the arms and folding the sleeve back over my wrist, he spoke. "For you, and only this once, will I rush this suit. The others will be ready in two weeks."
"You are a miracle worker!"
"Aren't the sleeves a little short?" I interjected. Nathanael absently shook his head. "You want the sleeve to end just above the hinge of the wrist. It allows the shirt underneath to peek out, forming a sort of framework. Trust me."
I took his word, then moved on to another suit while he and Owen began arguing about what color shirts I would need. The debate continued through the pinning of the grey suit and on through the linen. I remained silent, save for the occasional chuckle at one of their comments. When all was said and done, Nathanael patted me on the butt. "We're all finished, beautiful. You can get dressed."
After ironing out the details and payment, Nathanael approached me as we exited. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure I'll see you soon." He handed me a stylish business card, his fingers lingering on mine. "Call me anytime."
Owen dragged me down the street towards more shops. "What was that all about?" I asked quickly, indicating the business card in my hand. Owen chuckled. "What's there to explain? He thinks you're hot."
"As if he couldn't get any guy he wanted. He's beautiful."
Owen rolled his eyes and yanked me into a shoe boutique. "Self-deprecation doesn't really fly in this part of the world. You gotta have some confidence in yourself, Blondie." Our conversation was cut short by the emphatic greeting of the two sales clerks, apparently two more of Owen's friends. As we settled into our transaction, meaning the three of them debating looks and options, I thought about what Owen had just told me.
I had never felt particularly attractive, being small-framed and, well, a little feminine looking. But, if I wasn't even a little good-looking, where was all the attention coming from? First Channing, then Joey, now Nathanael. There had to be some truth to all of their words. I felt a smile reach my face. Perhaps coming to L.A. would prove to be beneficial after all.
The rest of the afternoon was filled with accessories, fitted jeans, V-neck tees, ties, skimpy underwear, short shorts and tiny swimsuits. True to my word, I didn't argue with anything Owen suggested. At least, verbally. Inside, my self-conscious inner me was screaming in protest at almost every choice. Too much skin. Too tight. Too garish. But, I bought it all. And, by the time we returned to my car, I had eight bags and Owen was carrying five. We loaded it all into the backseat and I turned to face him.
"Well, Blondie, I am proud of you," he admitted as he leaned against the car door. "True to your word, you didn't complain once. It seems you've finally learned that, when it comes to these things, I am right."
"God, your modesty is overwhelming."
"Modesty is not part of my skill set," he replied. "Now, don't forget to pick up your suit on Friday. I'll text you the address of the party. I suggest you get a driver as the drinks will be plentiful. And, yes, you can bring Channing. I would bet he already knows about it anyway."
"Special event?"
"Nah. Just a bunch of people getting together. A good time for you to start meeting the Hollywood crowd." At that moment, his phone rang and I made my way to the driver's side. I knew that he would likely wander off, not bothering to say good-bye. Sure enough, he turned, cast a half-hearted wave off and headed towards his own car. Good old dependable Owen.
I pulled into the garage a while later and began the task of unloading my new purchases, trying to stay quiet so as not to disturb Channing's nap. I left the bags downstairs and tip-toed upstairs. Fully intending to crawl into bed next to him, I slowly opened the bedroom door. I was greeted with a surprising and arousing sight.
Channing was most certainly awake. He was sprawled out on top of the sheets, naked and slowly stroking his eight inches. His eyes were closed as he pleasured himself, one hand on his dick, the other gripping his muscular thigh. There was a light sheen of sweat over him, making his skin glisten as he moved. I felt my own piece stir in my pants as I stepped fully into the room. "You couldn't wait for me to get home?"
Channing eyes opened slowly, as if he was emerging from a dream. His green eyes were glazed over with pure sex. His voice was raspy when he spoke. "Come here." I approached slowly, drinking in the sight of him. His right hand made lazy strokes as his left reached out for me. I smiled and shook my head. "You just keep doing what you're doing." He pouted, but resumed his stroking.
I watched raptly as the muscles in his arm bunched and relaxed as he played with his cock. His left hand slowly teased one nipple, then slid down his toned abs, passed his engorged piece and cupped his hefty balls. He spread his legs further apart to allow himself more room, his breathing growing heavier. As his hand came in contact with his orbs, his back arched and his eyes closed.
I hadn't realized how turned on I was until that point. I had apparently been biting my lower lip throughout this entire show and, when I looked down, I noticed a growing wet spot on my khakis. I had leaked straight through my underwear and pants. Still, I resisted the urge to jump on Channing. I wanted to see this through.
A familiar blush spread across his skin as he fondled himself. His toes alternated between curling and flexing. His mouth gaped slightly, his breathing ragged. Channing was close. The steady flow of precum coated his dick in a sheen as his pace increased. Intermittent groans and whimpers escaped his lips. My own hand gently caressed my erection through my pants.
And then, he did something that surprised me. Channing drew his knees up and planted his feet on the bed. Without opening his eyes, he took his middle finger into his mouth and coated it with spit. Then, with no hesitation, he reached down and buried his finger in his ass, right up to the hilt. Apparently, that was all he needed. He released and animalistic growl as his hand flew up and down his shaft so fast it was a blur. Every muscle in his body tensed, then released as his orgasm shot through him. His load was powerful and copious, landing on his shoulder, chest and stomach. He was coated in it, cum dotting his entire torso. He jerked his cock a few more times, squeezing out every possible drop.
He relaxed, withdrawing his finger from his meaty ass, and lay panting on the bed for a minute or two. I thought his carnal needs were satiated, but he soon opened his eyes and fixed them on my crotch. I was still painfully hard, but in awe of what had just transpired. He beckoned for me to come closer and, as soon as I got in arm's reach, yanked my pants open, pulled my briefs down and inhaled my dick. I clutched the headboard with one hand and Channing's cum-covered shoulder with the other. His mouth was voracious, like he was trying to suck the actual life out of me. There was no way I was going to last any time at all.
Between the show I had just watched, the smell of cum in the air and the high-suction blowjob I was receiving, it only took a few minutes before I felt my legs tingling. I squeaked as the sensation moved up to my groin. My hand moved to the back of Channing's head as I felt my dick swell then fire into his mouth. I must have twitched harder than I thought because my cock fell out of Channing's mouth and, before either of us could recover, painted his face with streaks of cum. As my orgasm subsided, he leaned in and took me back in between those talented lips.
I shook and shuddered from his oral manipulations until I had to step back. Channing's body was covered in his orgasm and his face, at least from the right side of his mouth up to his hair, was streaked in my load. He wiped my jizz from his eye and smiled at me. "That was hot."
I agreed and knelt next to the bed, kissing him passionately. I could taste myself on his mouth as we made out, both on his tongue and his lips. Once we separated, he smiled. "I tried to wait for you. What took so long?"
"Owen decided I needed a wardrobe makeover," I explained. "You'll see all the bags downstairs." Channing kissed me again before jumping off the bed. "Sounds like Owen, all right. Shower time for me. Join me?"
"I'm okay. You get cleaned up."
I relaxed on the bed and waited for him to clean up. About fifteen minutes later, he emerged in a loose tank and shorts. Channing sprawled across my body, kissing me gently, lovingly. Before we could get too comfortable, the doorbell rang. He sprung up quickly without so much as a word. Within minutes, I heard multiple voices downstairs.
Curious, I made my way down the staircase and saw a couple guys carrying in bags full of food. Guiding them was an absolutely stunning Indian woman with raven hair pulled back into a perfect ponytail and a dazzlingly fashionable outfit. From her subtle, but sparkling necklace to her rose colored, suede Louboutins, she radiated order and efficiency. Even her hug with Channing seemed measured. They made their way into the kitchen and I followed.
"You're free for the week, but, starting Monday, we've got to play catch up," she was saying. "There are three scripts I need you to look at, you've got meetings for 22 Jump Street and the producers want you to come in and do some initial voice work for The Book of Life. Nothing serious. Merely a test run, if you will." Channing opened his mouth to respond, but she plowed on. "As to social aspects, there is the party this Friday that you already know about. Jonah has asked if you would like to join he and Dave for lunch on Saturday before shooting starts for 22. And, advance notice, Cannes Film Festival is coming up in a month and a half. I need to know how long you plan on attending and if anyone is going with you so I can RSVP."
As the last delivery person exited, she turned and caught sight of me. There was a pause before she looked at Channing, her expression blank. He smiled as he introduced us. "Reagan, this is my assistant Naina. Naina, this is Reagan... my boyfriend."
I blushed at the introduction, but Naina's reaction was more... calculating. After a moment, she shook my hand. "Nice to meet you." Then, in the same breath, she turned back to Channing. "I assume this is not public information."
"Not at the moment."
"Mm. In that case, should I book two flights for Cannes? I'm sure the one hotel room will be fine considering your... level of intimacy." I felt my face grow even hotter, but it was Channing who cut the tension. "Uh, Naina, I think we can talk about that later. Would you mind making sure the delivery is taken care of?"
"Of course."
As soon as her heel disappeared around the corner, I wheeled on him. "What the fuck? She is... severe."
"She's efficient. And, extremely intelligent. And... a little socially awkward. But, she's amazing at what she does and I wouldn't be able to keep up with half of my stuff without her. So... yeah." He began unloading the groceries onto the large kitchen island. I stood opposite him and did the same. "And, outing us to her?"
"Everything I do goes through her," he explained. "Every dinner, every social outing, every flight, every transportation arrangement. She was bound to figure it out eventually." I was slightly miffed that Channing had outed me without asking my permission, but I supposed that he was right. The Hollywood assistant was the most important person in a star's career, the person who held all of their information and secrets. Technically, I was one of those secrets.
I was distracted when I pulled out a can of tomato soup. "Aw, hell yes!"
"What's so exciting about tomato soup?"
"It's only one half of the best meal mankind ever created!" I basically shouted. "Tomato soup and grilled cheese! Cheddar, not that fake cheese slice crap. OH! I'm so excited. I know what I'm having for dinner!"
Channing rolled his eyes as Naina returned. While they talked, I continued sorting out the groceries. I tuned them out as I moved around the room, considering they were talking about business. Before long, their professional conversation had concluded and I had finished. There was an awkward silence as Naina typed away on her phone faster than I had ever seen a normal human being type. Channing looked at me helplessly before beginning to speak. Without looking, Naina cut him off.
"Am I confirming one or two for lunch on Saturday? Jonah is being quite insistent."
Channing looked at me questioningly. I, in turn, looked to Naina. "Two."
"Fantastic. I will send you the details. Is there anything else you need at the moment?"
"Whenever you get a chance, the bar could use some restocking," he replied. Naina made a note on her phone, turned on her heel and left. I wondered if anyone in L.A. actually said goodbye. "Just so you know, Owen knows now."
"I figured you'd tell him," he said, popping open a can of Pepsi. "You guys are close. It's no biggie." I sidled up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist. "I didn't tell him. He figured it out. But, I'm glad someone other than Meagan knows. It's... it's a little relieving, but still a little scary to tell people."
He kissed me passionately. "Then, from now on, we will decide who we tell together. Now, come show me some of those fancy duds you bought today."
The days whizzed by with Channing showing me around the sights and landmarks of the city. We took pictures at the Hollywood sign, the Griffith Observatory, the Hollywood Walk of Fame and TCL Chinese Theatre. Of course, Channing spent all of his time in public wearing shades and hats to hide his identity. We were fortunate to avoid any incidents even when we asked strangers to take a photo for us. By the time Friday rolled around, I felt like a seasoned tourist.
Channing, or Naina rather, arranged for a car to take us to and from the party which was being held at someone's chic Malibu residence. Channing was donning a light green button up and grey, plaid slacks. I, of course, wore my black tailored suit with a classic white shirt, although I had substituted the jacket for a vest. Feeling the need to be as dapper as possible, I complimented the look with a metallic red skinny tie.
My nerves must have been obvious because Channing ran his hand over my leg as we pulled up. When the driver got out, he snuck a quick kiss in. "Don't be nervous," he reassured. "You'll love everyone and they'll love you. Okay?"
I forced a smile, but my heart was pumping. "Yeah, okay."
We approached the door and and I fought the urge to reach out and grab Channing's hand in mine for comfort. "Babe, you haven't even told me whose house this is," I said as the door swung open. Before he could reply, there was a squeal and a dark haired woman flung herself at Channing. He embraced her with a smile, spinning her around in the doorway. When he finally set her down, I took in her face.
"Channing! I haven't seen you in months!"
He looked sheepish. "I know, I know. It's been... interesting. Oh, Zooey, this is my friend Reagan Mauldwin. Reagan, Zooey." There was no introduction needed. Zooey Deschanel and her body of work were well known to me. I loved her quirky personality both on and off screen. She beamed at me with her bright blue eyes. "I know that name. You're a painter, right?"
"Y-yeah. How did-,"
"Joey's talked about your work before," she said energetically. "He showed me some of your stuff at his place. Very nice!"
"Thank you," I said, sure that the blood was rushing to my face. Before I could recover, she ushered us inside. "Well, it's awesome to meet you. Welcome to my place. Everyone is out back, so make yourselves comfortable. There's the bar and the caterers just put out some food. Have as much as you like!"
"Is Joey here?" Channing asked. Zooey shook her head. "He's doing something for hitRECord tonight. Jonah just got here, though. He's over by the pool. Ooh. I'll see you guys in a minute. I've got to make a call!"
I looked around and felt an immediate sense of awe. Zooey's house was full of stylish, cool actors and actresses. Among them, I spotted Jason Schwartzman, Mindy Kaling, Joel McHale, Neil Patrick Harris, Emily Blunt, David Krumholtz and the entire cast of New Girl. Channing snapped me out of my reverie with a subtle squeeze of the arm. "I'm going to go get some drinks. Gin martini, extra dirty?"
"You know me so well."
He smiled and slid through the crowd, occasionally exchanging words with acquaintances. I shrunk back into a corner, but hadn't been alone for ten seconds before someone crossed my path. I couldn't help but gasp aloud. "Holy crap!" The girl in front of me chuckled as she turned, causing me to backtrack, so I wouldn't look stupid. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Lawrence. I didn't mean... I just... shit."
"It's okay," she giggled. "And, call me Jen. You are?"
I held out my hand. Shakily. "Reagan Mauldwin. It's a pleasure. Sorry to spaz on you. I'm relatively new to..." I gestured to the surrounding party. "This."
"New to the area?"
"Yeah. Just a visitor."
"Well, you chose the right people to start with," she said pleasantly. "Zooey keeps her parties very chill and relaxed. I've been to some parties where the atmosphere is much less... civil." We had a laugh and I felt the tension begin to ebb away. Jen's warm demeanor was soothing and made me realize how human celebrities actually are. Well, celebrities other than Channing.
"So, may I ask who you came with?" she continued. "Or, are you a friend of Zooey's that I've never met?"
"No, Zooey and I just met all of five minutes ago.I'm here with Channing. Well, not WITH him. Obviously. Because he's straight. I'm not. Not that it matters. Fuck. I don't even know why I said that. I'm sorry, I'm just a little-,"
At that moment, Channing arrived. I snatched the martini out of his hand and downed it. Both he and Jen looked impressed and scared. Once I inhaled the olives, the two seemed to take notice of each other. They exchanged introductions and turned back to me. "So, Reagan, are you an actor as well?" Jen asked as we sat at a vacant table. I laughed. "No, not at all. I'm a painter."
"A GREAT painter," Channing chimed, beaming proudly. "He's shown some good stuff in New York."
I gave him a stern `please-shut-up' look before returning my attention to Jen. "It's not that big of a deal. Really."
"I'd love to see some of your pieces," she said, leaning forward excitedly. "I'm actually looking for some artwork for my house. I mean, if you don't mind." I pulled out my phone and brought up some pictures of the stuff in my house. Jen scrolled through each one in silence. When she returned my phone, her face was all smiles. "We have got to trade information. I have to get my hands on one of those."
"You're too kind." I was sure she was being polite, but she pressed. "I'm serious!" she laughed, shoving me playfully. "That's amazing work! Here. I'll give you my number." And, just like that, Jennifer Lawrence was in my phonebook. "What's your Twitter and Instagram?"
"Um... I don't... I've never used them."
I expected shock, perhaps even condescension from this popular Hollywood starlet, but there was none. In fact, Jen seemed excited. "Well, let's start! I can show you if you want."
"Oh... okay!"
Channing patted my leg. "I'm going to grab you another drink. Jen, do you need anything?"
"Sure. Whatever white wine they have."
He left for the bar and Jen sprung into action. While the apps were downloading, she gave me the highlights of each program. By the time Channing returned, I had created a handle for Twitter and begun following Jen, Zooey and Joey, to name a few. I had a loose grasp on hashtags and the whole word limit. Channing stayed only for a second, then squeezed my shoulder and walked off to join some others. We moved on to Instagram.
"Well, let's christen your newfound social media!" Jen suggested. She leaned in and we took a picture, drinks poised. We laughed as we debated over filters, then as she taught me how to tag her. "Always add in some hashtags for good measure," she advised. I thought of a few clever ones, then threw in `The Thirsty Games', evoking a hearty laugh from Jen. Despite only meeting her half an hour prior, she was growing on me with every passing minute. Maybe L.A. wasn't so bad after all.
Jen guided me around the pool, introducing me to basically everyone she spotted. And, with incredible finesse, she managed to bring up Twitter and/or Instagram at every meeting. By the end of our lap an hour later, I had at least forty followers on each and a plethora of pictures with a whole slew of actors. Anyone who looked at my accounts would think I was a Hollywood icon myself.
Thanks to Jen, I felt myself coming out of my shell. Even when she or Channing were otherwise preoccupied, I managed to introduce myself and make conversation. I was still guarded when it came to my relationship with Channing, however. When people asked, I merely said that we were friends through Owen and Joey, which was a sufficient answer. I watched him as he socialized and felt a smile each time I looked at him. He was charming, funny and warm with every person he talked to. Not to mention gorgeous. I couldn't help but admire his round ass in his pants, thinking back to earlier in the week. I wondered...
A sudden full feeling hit my bladder and I made my way over to Channing who was talking to Jen, Zooey, Jonah and several others. I subtly placed my hand on his lower back, getting his attention. When he turned, it only took one look for me to know that he had been enjoying quite a few drinks. His face was slightly flushed, he had rolled up his sleeves and the top two buttons of his shirt had mysteriously come undone. "What's up, little man?"
"Where's the bathroom?"
"I'll show you," he replied animatedly. "I've got to hit the head myself." He downed his bourbon and guided me into the house. A few turns and he gestured to an open door. I swept in and did my business, stepping aside for Channing. As he made his way inside, I playfully smacked his ass. For a second, I thought I felt something... hard, but dismissed it as his wallet. "Hey, that hurt!" Channing whined as he closed the door. I scoffed dismissively. "You're telling me that my tiny hand hurt you?"
"Well, you hit the... never mind."
I felt my face scrunch in confusion. "I hit what?"
"I'm pissing! Stop distracting me!"
I rolled my eyes and waited for him to finish. When he emerged, I opened my mouth to speak, but he took my by the vest and pinned me against the opposite wall. With a quick glance around, he pressed his lips to mine. I started to object, but melted into him instead. I was weakened by the way his muscled body enveloped my smaller one, the feeling of his body flush against my own. I could taste the bourbon on his tongue as he attacked, an undeniably masculine taste. Channing growled in our kiss and gripped my neck in his hand.
"Ooh, shit!"
I reflexively shoved Channing back to see Jen standing at the end of the hallway, eyes wide, smile across her face. I'm sure my own face was a mask of terror and embarrassment. "Jen! It's not what it looks like!" I screeched, realizing instantly how cliche and horrible that sounded.
"Reagan, please," she snickered as she approached. "It's obvious that you guys are dating." I traded looks with Channing, who seemed just as confused as me. Jen took the silence as a chance to explain further. "Seriously? You two bozos have been fawning over each other since you walked in the door. The little touches, the smiles at each other from across the pool? And, to top it all off, the personal delivery of drinks? Totally obvious."
"You can't say a WORD to anyone."
Another laugh. "Like Channing here is the first guy I've met in movies that secretly likes the D? I could tell you some names that would blow your pretty little mind."
My eyebrows shot up. "Really? Like who?"
Channing whacked my shoulder. "Hey!"
"I'm just curious!"
Jen clutched her sides laughing. "See? You two are all about each other!" She slid into the bathroom, singing as she went. "Reagan and Channing sitting in a tree. F-U-C-K-,"
"Jennifer!"
"Don't make me laugh!" she cackled. "I'll fall in!"
Channing pinched the bridge of his nose, but I could see a smile on his face. Jen seemed like I trustworthy person, even though I had just met her. I decided to take the whole thing in stride. One day, it would all be a funny story. She rejoined us, her smile full of knowledge. With a glance at Channing, she slid her arm in mine and pulled me a few steps ahead of him. "I gotta ask. How's the sex?"
"You remember in `Titanic' when they finally did it in the car and it was all steamy?"
"Yeah."
"Multiply that by ten."
She barked out a laugh, then looked back at Channing, then back to me. "I hate you so much." When I peeked over my shoulder, Channing shot me a playful wink which sent a pleasant shudder down my spine. We all rejoined the party, obviously making our way to the bar first. Once we had beverages in hand, we met up with the group. Channing introduced me to Jonah, who shook my hand emphatically.
"Cool to meet you," he said. "I hear you're joining us for lunch tomorrow."
"Yeah, even though I have no idea who `us' is."
"Ah, it's just me and Dave. No biggie."
"Dave?"
"Franco. Y'know. 21 Jump Street, Warm Bodies, Now You See Me. James' little brother."
I felt an unpleasant bristle, but said nothing on the subject. Fortunately, the conversation continued without anyone noticing. As did the party. It was another three hours before I even thought to look at the time. In that time, I had spent time talking to so many different people that I lost track. I was in the middle of a conversation with Neil Patrick Harris and his partner David when Channing weaved up to me. His hand snaked around my waist but I gently removed it, although not before the guys exchanged a knowing glance.
"What's up, Channing?"
"Ready to go?" he asked, slurring slightly. "I have a surprise for you."
To the guys, "Excuse us."
"Text me tomorrow," Neil called out. "Let me know about the surprise! And, take pictures!"
We snuck off into a dark corner where Channing wrapped his arms around my slim waist. "Let's head home," he whispered sensually. "I'm ready to have you to myself again."
The sentiment brought a smile to my face. "Did you have something particular planned? Or is this spur of the moment?" Channing's hand slid down to my crotch, bringing a pleased sigh to my lips. "I already told you I have a surprise." He gripped harder to emphasize his point which made me grunt louder than I would have like in the public setting.
"Call the car."
"Already did."
"Then let's say our goodbyes."
In a matter of minutes, Channing and I had made a lap around the pool and said our farewells to everyone we could. There were hugs and handshakes and promises of lunches to be had. As we entered the house, we found Zooey and Jen amidst a group. Channing made his way to Zooey as I joined up with Jen. "We're heading out," I told her, my head swimming with gin. She smiled and pulled me into a hug. "It was so awesome meeting you. Don't hesitate to call or text me!"
"I promise you will hear from me soon."
"And, promise me you'll have some amazing sex tonight!"
"I don't think I could break that promise if I tried!"
Channing and I traded places, he with Jen and me with Zooey. She hugged me tightly, then held me at arm's length. Although she didn't say it out loud, I could tell that she had an inkling about my relationship with Channing. Her big, blue eyes pierced into me knowingly as if I were a large print book. So, of course, I played dumb. "What?"
"Nothing," she smiled. "Just glad to have met you!"
"And, I'm glad you had me."
"Talk soon?"
I smiled, knowing she was genuine. "Of course."
There were a few more embraces before our car arrived. Channing and I tumbled into the car, laughing and gabbing about the evening. I showed off my pictures and newfound social media, which made him grin. "You're becoming one of us!" he teased. Of course, I rolled my eyes.
Our ride went silently and without incident until I felt Channing's hand slide into my lap. I sighed at his touch, but said nothing so I wouldn't alert the driver to our misbehavior. For a quick minute, he was content with rubbing me outside of my slacks. I was rock hard in a flash and biting my lip to keep quiet. Never one to be satisfied, I gasped when Channing quickly and with superb skill undid my slacks and reached into my briefs, gripped my dick and pulled it out into the open.
I started to quietly protest, but Channing gently slid his fingers over the tip of my leaking cock and effectively shut my brain down. His digits ran circles over my slick piece. It took all my willpower not to moan out loud and alert the driver to our illicit activities. I was saved by our arrival at Channing's house. As the driver exited and moved to open Channing's door, I hastily tucked myself back into my slacks. Before sliding out of the car, Channing turned to me and luridly licked the same fingers that had just been molesting me.
I let myself out and quickly made my way to the front door in hopes that my blatant erection would go unnoticed. Channing soon joined me, a Cheshire grin on his face, and opened the door. I rushed inside and basically ran up the stairs. By the time Channing reached the bedroom, I had removed my shoes, vest and shirt. My boner hadn't subsided at all, even in my embarrassment.
Channing said nothing upon entering, but pushed me onto the bed and basically tore off my remaining clothes. I lay there naked under his erotic gaze as he stood over me, fully dressed. The sexual tension in the room was palpable. I sat up and pulled him forward by his belt, leaning back until he was forced to crawl onto my body. We wasted no time in locking lips, the feeling of arousal amplified by the contrast of my naked body against his clothed frame. Amidst our kiss, I began undoing his shirt, eventually peeling it off of his muscular torso.
When I reached for his pants, he stopped me. "Reagan, wait."
The words were so unknown to me in this circumstance that I immediately stopped moving. "Wh... what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he chuckled. "I just... why don't we try something new tonight?"
"Like...?"
His face took on the same shy expression it had right before he told me he wanted to pursue our relationship. It was kind of like a kid asking for a special present for their birthday. I remained silent until he decided to answer.
"I was thinking... we could... trade places."
"Meaning what exactly?"
"Like, maybe you could... be on top."
I looked at him in confusion. "You mean you want me to ride you?"
Channing huffed in apparent frustration. "No, Reagan! I mean... why don't you be THE top." In my inebriated stupor, it took a minute or two to register what he was asking. When the pieces clicked, my eyes bulged. "You mean... you want ME to fuck YOU?"
Channing's cheeks turned red as he plopped down next to me, his hand gently massaging my rock hard piece. "I just think maybe we could, y'know, mix things up. I mean, I'm fine if you want to keep things the same. I love fucking you. I just thought I could... try."
I could have read between the lines if I was blind. "Channing, have you ever bottomed before?"
"Well... no."
"So... why now?"
He shrugged and leaned his head on his shoulder. "I guess I just... trust you. And, I see how much you like it." I ran my hand over his solid chest, briefly teasing the nipple as I contemplated his words. As much as I loved being on the receiving end of Channing's sexual prowess, there was no way I could pass up this opportunity. "Okay," I said finally. "Let's give it a shot."
"Awesome," he beamed, eyes still glazed with alcohol. "I'm glad I didn't prepare for nothing."
"Prepare?"
He blushed again, then slid off of the bed and shucked off his pants. Underneath, he was sporting a fashionable and revealing jockstrap. The straps hugged his legs and accented his pert ass. "I wouldn't mind if you prepared like this every day," I chuckled, squeezing a globe of flesh in my hand. I could see Channing's cock straining against the fabric. He smiled. "That's not all I did..."
"Oh?"
Instead of responding, he stepped forward and guided my hand towards his hole. I was expecting to encounter his hot hole, but instead found something hard. My hand explored more as my brain caught up. "Is... is that a butt plug? Have you had this in all night?"
He looked sheepish as he nodded.
"Fuck, that's hot!" I exclaimed. "Come here!"
Channing's smile returned as he pounced on top of me, lips latching on to my neck. I moaned loudly, my hands never leaving the foreign object implanted in his hole. I pushed on it slightly which made Channing sigh into my shoulder. I was mesmerized by his ass, unable to move my hands anywhere else. He must have sensed this because he suddenly flipped around, simultaneously taking my dick in his mouth and parking his backside over my face. I finally laid eyes on his new toy, the bright red end of it protruding from his hole.
As Channing sucked and slobbered on my cock, I entertained myself by twisting and tapping the butt plug. Each movement evoked a moan from the lips around my piece. Intrigued, I gently tugged on the piece of PVC and heard a gasp from Channing as its bell end emerged. Not wanting to totally deprive him of anal stimulation, I chose not to completely remove it. Instead, I moved the smaller end around in circular motions. I felt Channing's dick pulse between us.
Slowly, I pushed the plug back into him. As it popped past his outer ring, Channing threw his head back and let out an appreciative groan. "Oh, fuck, Reagan!" he panted. "I can't wait anymore."
He swung himself around to face me, engaging in a sultry kiss. "So, how should we do this?"
"Probably best if you ride me," I replied. "That way you can control the pace."
"Have you ever topped someone?"
I took the question indignantly. "Of course I have! I'm not a total bottom!"
"Calm down," Channing laughed. "I was just asking."
I pursed my lips, then retaliated by pulling the toy right out of him. He whimpered, but it was more pleasure than pain. I imagine after having it imbedded in him for almost five hours that he was somewhat used to the intrusion. My free hand found his hole open and waiting. As he leaned in to kiss me, I slid a finger inside and found that he was copiously lubed. He had though this out.
"You ready?" I whispered.
"Definitely."
Channing gripped my cock in his hand and scooted back until our skin touched. My skin bumped up as he pushed back onto my rod, tentatively at first, then with more conviction. With a grunt, the head popped in. Channing winced and bit his lip. In an attempt to alleviate the pain, I freed his own hard cock from the side of his jockstrap and ran my hand over the leaking head. The trick did the job. Both his face and his hole relaxed. He hovered for a minute before continuing the descent. Suddenly, and with a vehement moan, he sat squarely on my lap. I felt my jaw drop and my eyes roll back.
Channing's ass was hot, wet and squeezing me like a python. I didn't know if this would be so much of a fuck as me exploding as soon as he moved. My hands roamed over Channing's body in an attempt to distract myself, my fingers moving from his neck to his buff chest to his flat stomach. He sighed at the touch and ground his ass into my crotch. "How are you doing?" I asked breathily. Channing ran his fingers through his hair and slowly opened his eyes, staring down at me with an intense gaze. I wondered if I had the same look when he was inside me.
"It feels fucking great," he whispered, his hips moving in circles. "I see why you like it so much." He leaned forward for a kiss and the movement made him slide up on my dick. I took it as an invite, slowly curling my hips to slip back into him. Even as our lips remained locked, Channing whimpered. The pace was painfully slow, but I wanted to make sure that Channing was comfortable and that I didn't pop early.
We stayed like that for ages, our bodies meeting slowly and erotically. It was Channing who took the initiative to speed up the pace. His ass began clashing with my hips, creating a vulgar smacking throughout the room. He huffed loudly, sitting back on my rod with the same vigor that he normally fucked me. I, on the other hand, sat back and enjoyed the sensations. Above me, Channing looked like he was on cloud nine: he clutched at his thighs, ran his hands through his hair, threw his head back in passion, bit his lips.
Then, with no warning, he pulled off of me and planted himself on all fours, his ass in the air. I said nothing as I jumped up behind him and crammed my entire length inside. Channing howled in pleasure, his pucker squeezing around my dick. I began fucking him in earnest, each thrust making his gorgeous ass jiggle beautifully. From this perspective, I could truly appreciate his backside. I kneaded the two globes of flesh in my hands as I pounded him. Sweat covered his skin as well as mine, causing me to slide. I changed tack and clutched him by the hips, pulling him back to meet me.
"Oh, god," he grunted. "Fuck me, Reagan..."
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" I growled, slamming into him particularly hard. I felt the rush of power and dominance as he submitted to me.
And, I loved every second of it.
Channing had long been reduced to guttural moans and grunts, his arms stretched out in front of him, his chest to the bed. He looked like a perfect power bottom. I couldn't resist giving him a good smack on his ass. The contact seemed to wake him from a trance. "Mm, again." I did as he asked, this time harder than before. His back arched as he sucked in air through his teeth. "Goddamn it, that feels good."
I agreed, but also realized that I wasn't going to be able to hold off my orgasm for much longer. When I told Channing this, he slowly picked himself up and pulled off my aching rod again. He moved sluggishly, as if from stiff muscles, and rolled onto his back. The sight of him pulling his knees to his chest and exposing his pink hole will be forever burned into my memory, as will the words he said.
"Fuck me until you cum in my hole."
Without a moment's hesitation, I pounced, dick first. I plunged into his asshole like it was the end of days, fucking him with all of my might. Channing wrapped his legs around my waist and yanked me by my hair into a sloppy, feral kiss. Between us, his dick slid around our stomachs with no resistance, his rod drenched in precum. He snaked one hand in and gripped his piece, stroking furiously.
There was no mercy in my fucking. Much like our tryst in the car back in Colorado, I gave him everything I thought he could handle. And, for a first time bottom, he handled it like a champ. I wrapped one arm around his neck and drew him impossibly closer. Our bodies met at every possible point as I slammed him into the mattress. I was panting like a marathon runner when the tingles started. I couldn't even vocalize my feelings as my legs began to twitch. With one look at Channing's flushed face, his hand a blur on his dick, his delicious ass wrapped around my piece, I rammed into him and unloaded straight into his guts.
I felt like I was being pulled inside out as I came, his tight ass milking the life out of me. I was barely aware of Channing beginning his own orgasm, the only indication being his hole twitching around my dick. We were a shuddering, sweaty, jizz-covered mess: Channing covered from neck to crotch in his load, me knelt over him with my load filling him up. It was one of the hottest moments ever.
When Channing pulled me into another kiss, it was different. It was intimate, caring and gentle. His feet settled onto the bed as he wrapped his arms under mine. We made out until my dick softened and fell out of him, tongues wrapping around the other. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed next to him. Channing reached into the bedside table and pulled out a small hand towel. After wiping us both down, he chucked it somewhere across the room and curled up next to me.
Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Tonight was a milestone in our relationship and, hopefully, something that would happen again and again. Channing had trusted me enough to be his first and I was confident that I hadn't disappointed. He kissed me again, his eyes already closed. I switched off the lights and quickly slid into a light sleep. Just as I was on the cusp of deep sleep, I heard Channing mumble in my ear. Perhaps it was the copious amounts of drinks we had both consumed. Perhaps I didn't even hear what I thought I heard. Perhaps Channing was just mumbling nonsense in his sleep.
But, I was convinced I heard him whisper, "I love you."
Thanks for reading guys. Feel free to e-mail me and let me know what you think, what you would like to see or even if you just want to say thanks or anything!
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