Role of a Lifetime II
By: Kenneth Kirk
(© 2023 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

kkirk@tickiestories.us

Chapter 6

We spent Christmas morning in our own bed.  We made slow, romantic love for a couple of hours.  It was our best time together in months, given our respective on-location shoots out of town and the stress of work even when we were both in town.  We kissed, cuddled, caressed, and eventually fucked.  He wanted to delay cumming so he plowed my ass for a while, then just laid there with his nice prick keeping me open and relaxed, then plowed me some more.  I think he was inside me for nearly an hour before he finally picked up his pace to pound me to a gushing conclusion.  I enjoyed it so much I came about halfway through it and once again at the end.  Oh, yeah, Brant Kimber is fully the stud his fans think he is!

We were in the missionary position when we finally orgasmed.  He just lay atop me without pulling out.  His body rested in the cooling pool of cum on my belly, crushing my spent penis to my abs, and moving into a static cuddle which lasted long enough that we both fell asleep for another half hour or so.  Finally, I woke up with him still on top of me but with his flaccid penis lying against my balls where it had come to rest when it slithered out of me.

I looked at the LED clock on our nightstand just as it changed to 11:34.  We were due at the Ford-Hughes residence at 1:00, so I kissed my husband on the side of his face until he finally swatted at me as he mumbled, “What?”

I reminded him of our Christmas brunch date with Mom and Dad before saying, “Get off me so I can go take a shower.”  He begrudgingly rolled off, but joined me in the shower a few minutes later. 

********* 

Rachel greeted us in a Christmas-red frock as she invited us to the backyard patio where our brunch was to be served. 

She wasn’t big on decorating the house for holidays, so the interior looked normal except for a small tree in the den and a mound of presents beneath its tinsel-covered branches.  Violet had created a lovely egg soufflé, smoked sausage patties, country potatoes, and pancakes with “real” maple syrup.  Of course, there was also fresh-squeezed California orange juice and a pot of hot coffee.  After we had eaten our fill, we headed into the den for our family Christmas exchange, which was truly obscene in its excess.  Everyone ended up with new suits, watches, and shoes.  Mom made off with a spectacular emerald necklace and earring set that must have cost Dad more than his salary for an episode of Lunar Base 1.  Dad got an Apple I-Pad and a new computer along with a special edition set of Agatha Christie’s mysteries and a framed and autographed photo of the grand old dame.  Brant and I were given a set of serving pieces for “when you have formal parties” that consisted of an ornately designed 50-cup coffee urn, three serving platters, a tea set, several serving bowls, a triple casserole serving rack with casserole dishes, a half-dozen serving trays, and a serving cart, all in 14-carat gold.  Holy, moly!  That must have cost a fortune.

We were flabbergasted at their generosity.  I had been proud of the original Andrew Wyeth oil painting I had scored at a gallery on Santa Monica Boulevard, which they both seemed genuinely taken with, but I felt it looked rather simple compared with all the clothes and the serving set they’d given us.  I vowed to be more inventive and extravagant next year.  Unaided by me, Brant had acquired a gorgeous Japanese silk scarf with gold braiding on the edges for Mom.  She loved it!  For Dad, he came up with a collection of four Italian belts that included narrow and wide belts in both black and brown. 

“I’ll never need to buy another belt, Brant!” he exclaimed.  “Thank you!” he said as he stood up to embrace my husband.  “I’m very glad you’re a part of our family.”

Brant seemed a little overwhelmed by Brodie’s comments.  To be honest, so was I.

We invited Mom and Dad over for drinks and dinner the next night, which was Sunday.  We departed the house around 5:30 to take some of our “loot” home and were there within 5 minutes.  It took a few minutes to load our stuff into the bedroom where we put all the new clothes into the closet.  Luckily, our master suite closet was enormous and we were far from filling it yet. 

I’d given Brant a silk robe and PJs set the night before and he had given me a trip to Hawaii for February, when we should both be finished with our current movie projects.  A surprise to both of us, we had gotten leather jackets for each other.  I had given Brant a soft and sexy black leather bomber jacket with tight leather pants, which he wore to a photo session a few days later.  He had picked an amber suede sport-coat for me and a gorgeous pair of tooled cowboy boots in the same color of suede leather.  We had laughed about swapping such similar gifts.

I thought my husband looked incendiary-hot in his outfit, but I’ll let you judge for yourself, dear reader. 

********* 

On Monday, David Dawson’s assistant Tammy called us to tell us that the script for Living Large was going well and that David wanted to begin auditions for our new “guy” right after the first of the year.  The plan was to do the first round of auditions using submitted video files (which was becoming the norm in Hollywood post-pandemic) and then follow with in-person call-backs after a couple of weeks.  She wanted to check to see what our availability would be for the second round of in-person auditions.

Although filming for The Gay King was not scheduled to be completed until mid-February, I had been told that there should not be any additional trips to Bavaria and that my filming would be sporadic during January and early February.  It seemed likely we could schedule the auditions in such a way that I could attend them.  Brant’s schedule was a little more challenging as he expected to return to Miami on January 3, 2022, for another couple of weeks that could become three.  Tammy thanked us and said she’d be in touch. 

********* 

Some of Hector’s Florida friends came to LA for the New Year’s holiday.  A bunch of us went to a costume party hosted by the executive producer of Mariel to Miami, Arnold Lister.  I’m not overly fond of costume parties because I usually can’t come up with a costume I’m particularly pleased about.  Wearing his Christmas leathers, Brant took the easy way out and went as a biker.  He laughingly suggested I go as his “moll,” but I declined emphatically, saying I was not doing drag in public or private.  I rented a Superman costume which did show off my body pretty well.  Juanita donned a platinum wig to impersonate Daenerys Targaryen from Game of Thrones.  She managed to look hot and slightly weird simultaneously as her skin tones were a bit off with the white wig.  No one mentioned this oddity and we all had a fun evening. 

What I found more interesting was that Hector and his two buddies (José Velasquez, left, and Robbie Rodriguez, right) went as members of the Night Watch.  This choice seemed a little gay to me but, of course, I kept my mouth shut about that.  I noticed throughout the evening that Robbie always seemed to be watching Brant and me while José stayed very close to Hector all night.  Juanita, knowing virtually everyone at the party, was constantly surrounded by people associated with Hollywood Weekly or wanting to get a spot on the show.  So, Hector, José, and Robbie were a subtle trio for the evening.  At the count-down for the New Year, Juanita found her man so they could have a sexy kiss at midnight.

When I finished kissing my gorgeous husband, I looked up to see Hector and José in a lip-lock while Robbie ogled Brant and me.  Then, when Hector and José parted, Robbie leaned in for shorter kisses with each of his buddies.  Was that just Latin affection or something more? I wondered to myself.

Before I could think any more on the subject of the correct connotations for Hector’s New Years’ kisses, I was besieged with other well-wishers, including Juanita, Angela Johansen (my co-star from B-School Confidential), Neil Patrick Harris and his husband David Burtka, Randall Culpepper (producer of Hollywood Weekly and director of an episode of Lunar Base 1 I was in), and Carrie Winshaw (a classmate of mine from UCLA and new star of Vixens from Planet Zeta) along with her date Mark Allen, whom I did not know.  I wound up talking with Carrie for a while about the abysmal aspects of her low-budget “titty tale”, as she called it.

By the time I was again free to move around on my own, Brant had joined the Night Watch in chugging some tequila shots.  I sauntered over to see if I could gently extract him before it was too late.

Before I could say anything, Robbie grabbed me as he drunkenly (but in a strangely shy fashion) planted a peck on my cheek.  “Happy New Year,” he slurred.

“Happy New Year to you, too, Robbie,” I replied.

I pushed him away, turned to Hector and embraced him quickly.  “Happy 2022, my friend,” I said.

“Happy New Year!” he shouted, a little too loudly, as he pecked my cheek.  He patted my back and we stepped back a few inches.  “You make a gorgeous Superman,” he said.

“Thanks!  I feel much safer with the Night Watch surrounding me,” I laughed.

Brant put his arm around me, pulling me close.  “The Night Watch might be the most dangerous bunch in the room,” he giggled.

Hector smiled at us both.  Then he wiggled his eyebrows, put one hand on each of our shoulders, leaned in so he could be heard, and cried, “You got that right, Brant!  We’re dangerous as they come!”

You can’t judge anyone for what they say under the influence of tequila shots, but I wondered if there was a hidden meaning to Hector’s words.  To extract us from this awkward conversation, I said to Brant, “Neil and David were asking for you.  Shouldn’t we go find them?”

“Okay.”  He turned to our shirtless companions.  “Gotta run, muchachos.   We have some schmoozing to do.”  With that, we spun around to seek out the A-list couple who had actually not inquired about Brant.  We caught the gorgeous duo just as they were heading toward the door, so we only spoke for a moment before they excused themselves.

Brant and I left the party shortly after Neil and David.  We did a fast hug-and-wish-you-a-happy-new-year circuit of the room before heading out into the somewhat fresh air of LA in the first moments of 2022.

Back at home, Brant and I slipped upstairs to our bedroom, stripped off our costumes, and took a long, hot, sexy shower that resulted in mutual blowjobs and healthy doses of lover-juice for each of us.

As we snuggled under the sheets, I looked into Brant’s deep brown eyes to see the look of total, vulnerable, and committed love.  I knew without a doubt that he is as in love with me as any man could be.  That’s wonderful because that describes how I feel about him, too.  I am most grateful to be sharing this spectacular life with him.

“Thank you for the most spectacular year,” Brant said.

“Oh, it’s been amazing!  2020 was the best year of my life because I met you.  2021 has been the best year of my life because I married you.”

“Let’s make 2022 the best year of your life because we’re together always,” he added.

“I love you, Brant,” I whispered as I caressed his neck.

He smiled broadly.  Suddenly his vulnerable look disappeared only to be replaced by a confidence that was quite happy and sexy.

“Uhm.  My favorite words to hear.”  He pecked my nose.

I giggled.  “My favorite words to say.”

“Baby, I love you, too, with all my heart,” he said.

I kissed him lightly on the mouth.  “Happy New Year, stud.”

“Uhm,” he purred softly.  “Happy New Year to you, too.  Good night, my love.”

“Sleep good,” I answered.

He turned over, putting his back toward me, then he scooted back until he was plastered against me from toe to torso.  I smiled with contentment.  Nothing could be better than cuddling with my baby as we fall asleep.

To be continued...

Posted: 03/10/2023