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 14

Since Brant was occupied for dinner, I wrangled an invitation to Mom and Dad’s.  We feasted on Violet’s shrimp scampi with wild rice, broccolini, and a garden salad.  For much of the meal we swapped Hollywood gossip including the fact that the producers of Beauty Pageant had scored big to sign Matt Damon to play the father of Miss Massachusetts and Ben Affleck to play the father of Miss New Jersey in an upcoming episode of the series.  They would wind up in fisticuffs over which daughter would win the crown. 

“Which one wins?” Dad asked.

“You mean the fight or the pageant?”

“Um, both, I guess.”

“I think they are fighting hard when the daughters team up to throw buckets of cold water on them and they wind up laughing and become friends.”

“Leave it to your writers to come up with a bit of melodrama.”

“You know, dear, that Beauty Pageant is really an English language telenovela, don’t you?”

Dad and I laughed.

“That’s the perfect description,” I said.

“Yes, it is,” Dad nodded.

“So, who wins the pageant?” I asked.

“Oh, Miss Arizona or somebody,” Mom said with a twinkle in her eye.  “The two daughters don’t even make it into the finals.”

“So,” Dad said, “which one do you get to sleep with?  Matt or Ben?”

Mom laughed.  “Why, both of them, of course.”

I howled with laughter as Dad looked a trifle unnerved by her response.

“I hope you don’t have them both at once,” I said.

“Oh!” she said with a haughty tone.  “Beauty Pageant is not as trashy as Living Large!”

I thought Dad was going to choke on his iced tea at that one.

“Touché, Mom!”

After a moment or two of silence as we concentrated on the delicious food, Dad turned toward me.

“Son?”

I focused on him.  “Dad?”

“Have you guys cast the other star of Living Large?”

“I believe we have our final audition tomorrow.”

Both my parents nodded.

“Do you have some good candidates?” Dad asked.

“We’ve been mostly disappointed so far.  A couple of guys are great but too young for the part.  One is great but too well-known.  Others are good but too white.  We’re seeking some diversity.”

“Important these days,” Mom acknowledged.

“Even with so few characters, Laying Low was criticized for being an all-white cast,” I said.

“The producers are smart to diversify the sequel,” Dad nodded.

“Who’s the one who is well-known?” Mom wondered.

“John Claston.”

“Oh,” Mom said, “from All My Children.”

I nodded.

“I understand why they wouldn’t want to use him,” she said.  “He’s quite popular with the old ladies.  Can you imagine a bunch of old ladies going down from their rooms in the nursing home to see John on the big screen and happening upon all that … sex?”

We all laughed loudly.

“They’d drop like flies when they saw all those willies wagging in the wind,” Dad said wickedly.

Mom cackled.  “Brodie!”

Dad looked over at me.  “Hey, Rachel, it won’t be my willie wagging.”

“Stop, you guys,” I laughed awkwardly.  “Please!”

“Okay, son, we’ll change the subject.”

“Why, Brodie?  This is fun!”

“Mo-om!”

Dad ignored Mom and deftly changed the subject.  “You turned in some great work on Lunar Base 1 this season, Sky.”

I was grateful for the shift.  “Thanks, Dad.  It’s been a lot of fun playing your son on TV.”

He nodded.  “It’s being very well received by the fans, apparently.  I think they’re considering including the handsome Shane in next season, too, so be aware of that possibility.”

This was news to me.  “Wow!  I hope they do.  I love the show.  It’s one of Brant’s favorites, too.  He says he has a crush on the commander,” I teased.

“Well!” Mom exclaimed.  “You tell that Brant Kimber that he’s quite welcome to one Ford hunk, but not two!”

Dad nearly spit out some rice as he burst out laughing.  He reached across the table to pat her hand.  “Don’t worry, dear.  I don’t want any other willies in my bed than mine.”

I giggled.  Mom chuckled, then said with her low seductive voice, “Me neither, dear.” 

********* 

Brant and I got home from our respective dinner engagements – me with Mom and Dad and him with Arthur Westfield, director of RFK: A Lost Presidency – at almost the same moment.  We walked together through the foyer, up the front stairs, and down the long hallway to our bedroom.

“How did it go with Arthur Westfield?” I asked.

Brant perched on the old couch as he thought about his dinner date.  “Good as could be hoped for, I guess.”

That sounded a little tentative to me.  “Anything go wrong?”

He hesitated as we entered the bedroom.  “No.”

I kicked off my shoes.  “You don’t sound too excited.”

“Sorry,” he grinned as he kicked off his shoes.  “I was just thinking about something.”

I sat down on a chair in the conversation area.  “Want to share?”

“Sure,” he nodded as he sat in the chair facing me.  He began tugging his socks off as he continued.  “Arthur said he’d heard about a sequel to Laying Low and asked what it was about.  So, I said a gay threesome.  He seemed a little shocked at that and got rather quiet for a short while.  I thought maybe he would decide to release me from the contract.”

“Oh, no!”

Brant looked up at me.  “In the end, we talked it out a bit.  You know, would it include sex with someone other than my husband?  Would it be as explicit as the original movie?  Did my producers at Mariel to Miami object?  I thought he was going to object.”

“Did he?”

“No.  After some more conversation, Arthur smiled and said that Laying Low had boosted my box-office potential by 100% and that he figured the sequel would also be a plus to my draw.”

“Thank God!”

Brant chuckled.  “In the end he said that based on what he saw in Laying Low, fans of the new movie wouldn’t be seeing anything they hadn’t already seen.”

“Interesting.  He’s not homophobic, is he?”

“No, not at all.  He’s the consummate Hollywood businessman.  It’s all about the bottom line.  I could be having sex with elephants and he wouldn’t care if it sells more tickets to RFK.”

I chuckled.  “Hollywood.  You gotta just laugh at its predictability, don’t you?”

He nodded. 

We rose and finished getting out of our clothes.  As we were pulling on sweatpants, Brant asked, “Feel like some TV tonight?”

“Sure.”

Five minutes later, we were ensconced in our TV room downstairs with glasses of cold tea.  Without asking me, Brant brought up Netflix and did a search for Elite. 

“Good choice,” I said.

Soon, we became engrossed in Episode 1.  It was not long before Miguel Herrán appeared, dressed in his burgundy school jacket and looking hot.

“There’s Miguel!” we said simultaneously.

By the time we turned off the TV and went upstairs, we had finished 3 episodes.

“Who’s the killer?” Brant asked, then quickly said, “No, don’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

I’m not sure if it was thanks to the hot muchachos from Elite or not but our good-night kiss lasted more than an hour.  Brant’s hardon was like granite and was so insistent that I finally yielded to him, allowing him unprecedented access to my body.  (Chuckle, right?  As if there had ever been anything denied to him!)

He had me face down on our bed with his face in my butt.  He wasn’t too big on rimming, but when he was in the mood, it was a damn good time for my ass!  He was not in a hurry either, so he tongued and fingered me until I was writhing all over the place and humping the bed like a prisoner in solitary confinement. 

When he pulled the dildo out of our nightstand, I knew I was in for a major ass reaming.  He lubed it and pointed it at my rosebud.  I got an electric shock when he touched my tender spot with the end of the rubber dicky. 

“Oh, fuck,” I moaned.

Then he began pressing in as he slowly rotated the dildo.  My sphincter was massaged until it was as relaxed as could be.  His pressure pushed into my tender asshole and the fake cock began to stretch me open as it slid through the guardian muscle and into my guts.  I got another electric charge when he tapped my prostate with the big prod.

“Oh-ooo-oh-oh!” I cried.

“Do you like that, babe?”

“Oh, god, yes.”

He pushed in with more force causing the dildo to pass my prostate and conquer a couple of more inches of my rectum.

“Yes!” I yelped.

He used the dildo to fuck me slowly for at least ten minutes.  Throughout his assault, I whimpered as visions of Hector, Jeff, Reynaldo, and the boys of Elite danced through my head.  In my mind the dildo became interchangeable with all their cocks, moving into me, possessing me for their own pleasure as I lay subservient to their wants and desires.  Pictures in my head tumbled over each other creating a kaleidoscope of sensuous jolts to my sexual psyche. 

“Oh, fuck me!” I screamed.

I was so caught up in my internal fantasies and the also-internal stimulations of the dildo that my orgasm came upon me unaware.  One moment I was lost in sensual fantasies and the next moment hot lava came oozing out of my dick to pool on the sheets below me.  Our sheets were bathed in the copious results of Brant’s work with the dildo as I screamed out.

“Oooh-whoa-oooh-haaa!”

Finally the dildo paused, then began a slow retreat until my sphincter was allowed to close somewhat.  It was so relaxed, I’m sure Brant could see my prostate, but the emptiness I felt was staggering.

My sphincter only had a few moments of rest before Brant’s own glans began demanding entrance.  I pushed back gently and he lurched into me at least 6 inches deep.

“Oh, yes, babe!” I muttered.  “Take me!”

For a while, Brant fucked me slow and deep with long plunging thrusts that lasted several seconds each time.  Damn!  Then he shifted gears into a quick, jabbing style that really worked my sphincter and prostate.  Before either of us came, he stopped and withdrew.

He pulled me up into the doggie position where he could really pound my ass and make me love every second of his assault.  When he came at last, we collapsed into a pile on the bed with my tummy falling into the sticky mess of cold goo from my earlier ejaculation.  His cock waned quickly after so much effort and, in a few moments, he slipped off me. 

We mumbled “I love you” to each other, then cuddled up and were soon in dreamland.  I don’t know what my lovely man dreamed about, but I was a schoolboy again, attending the very posh school called Las Encinas, sitting in class with Miguel Herrán and Álvaro Rico, showering after gym with them.  Eventually, I replaced Ester Espósito for a fabulous threesome with my favorite muchachos.    I awoke in the middle of the night gently humping my husband.  Still asleep, he gently pushed me away and I rolled over.

To be continued...

Posted: 05/05/2023