THE VENTURA ADVENTURE! by J. "Butch" Raymond [Erotic Story]

As I walk, three roller-bladers whiz by me from behind. Moving fast, limbs blurred in motion. Sexy bodies. Muscular. Skin-tight shorts. Shiny high-tech fabric accenting incredible butts. Man, it's great to be back on Ventura Boulevard!

I'm a private dick. I'm here because a noted, popular author and lesbian activist, who wants her name kept out of the scandal sheets, had called. Said her son was in trouble. Started the conversation by telling me who'd given her my name: a world-famous actress, a closeted lesbian I'd once helped out of a jam. Told me she knew I worked with the gay community and kept my mouth shut about it.

I reminded her that I'm also known as a rodless dick, I don't carry a gun. If she wanted to back out get a dick with some firepower I'd understand. She said she was more interested in solving the problem quietly than in starting World War Three. I felt she had a good point.

She was afraid her son, her only child, was somehow involved with a bad group here in the Ventura area. It was unlike him. Said she was worried. Said advance payment of my fee was arriving by messenger along with details and addresses and would I please help her son. I took the case. I liked the way she did business. And I had always liked her writing. But I didn't embarrass her by saying so.

Here, now, was the apartment complex he lived in. All singles. I kept walking as I studied the place. I wondered how best to contact him. It wasn't like I could just knock on his door and say, "Hi! Your mommy send me!"

His name is Richard but he's called Rick. He'd finished college and now has a good job with an up-scale-advertising firm. At 24, he's doing all right for himself. I'd been given a photo of him when he was 18. It was fuzzy and his long hair was mussed, blowing in the wind, but handsome features couldn't be hidden. Like the thick neck of a wrestler, those piercing eyes, or that basket I first thought was a bubble on the photo-paper. The kid looked hung!

I heard a "Whoa! Ohh-Ohh-Oh shiiiit!" in front of me, turned my head from looking at the apartments to seeing what was ahead and what was making that noise as it came closer and closer, louder and louder, and - OOMPH - got knocked on my ass. A roller-blader, inexperienced or careless, and unable to stop, had crashed into me. I saw a naked pair of strong calves, some of that sexy fabric these guys wear, and a pair of roller-blades flying in the air in front of me as the big guy crashed to the ground. I controlled myself to keep from laughing aloud, but the slapstick-like tumble did look funny.

My ass hurt. I got up, rubbing it. My assailant just laid there. I looked him over. Big basket! Wrestler's neck. Very handsome, but now with short-cropped, stylish hair. Damn! It didn't matter how he wore his hair, I'd just been knocked down by the very guy I was wondering how to meet. I hate coincidence, but, what the fuck, sometimes that's just the way things go.

"You okay?" I asked, trying not to stare at that flashy basket.

He grimaced. "Think I hurt somethin', man," he said, hissing through clenched teeth, obviously in pain.

"Broken?"

"No, I guess not. But it fuckin' hurts, I'll tell ya that." He tried to grin and bear it, take it like a man, but those eyes told me he was hurting.

"Shall we call for help, or can I help you up?" I felt weak in the knees. Not from the fall, but from the effect this guy was having on me. I thought someone so handsome should be locked up and put on display. Or at least locked up and put in my bedroom!

I squatted down, next to him, at his side, and put a hand on his chest. It was solid! Firmly muscled. The texture of the skin-tight shirt was silky-smooth. He felt great!

"What hurts?" I asked gently.

"My back," he said immediately. "And my shoulder," he added after a moments hesitation. I thought I caught him taking a peek up the leg of the shorts I was wearing.

"I'll call an ambulance," I offered.

"No!" He was insistent. Then he tried to grin, but it came off as a grimace. "I'll be all right," he told me. Then, as he tried to roll and rise up, he reached out, grabbed my shoulder with a strong grip, and whispered, through pain, "Man, maybe you can help get me up, after all."

"Sure," I agreed, "Hang onto me. Here, give me your other hand. Now, pull!" I called as I leaned back, pulling, using a shoe to hold his blades from sliding. Slowly his big frame erected itself to a standing position. But he held his back, half-bending, and I could see he was hurting. His whole body was unsteady on these damn roller-blades.

"Wait!" I insisted. "We've got to get these blades off you, man. If you go down, again, you could really get hurt."

"Oh, shit, I forgot about them, but, fuck, I don't think I'll be able to get up, again, if I have to sit down here." We were so close we were almost kissing.

"You just hang on to me and I'll get 'em off for you, okay?" I slowly returned to the squat, lowering my body against his as he held onto my shoulder and my head. Trying to maintain balance, he was pressing his body erotically against me. I couldn't help it, I was getting turned on.

Even more surprisingly, it was turning him on! He wore a modern jock beneath those high-tech, tight shorts, but nothing less than medieval armor plate could withstand the expansion taking place. Or disguise it.

Quickly, I unlaced one blade. Then, working together, taking care not to strain his back further, we removed it and got his foot on solid ground. He looked relieved. Then we got the other one off. He stood, stocking-footed, a fraction shorter than me, but basically we were looking at each other eye-to-eye as I straightened up.

"Oh, shit. That's better," he sighed. "I can handle it, now," he said bravely and reached for the roller-blades. He winced. His breath caught in his throat.

"Com'on," I said lightly, "lemme give you a hand. Where do you live?"

"I'm right there, behind you, in that building."

I looked over my shoulder to the apartment complex I'd been looking at when we crashed into one another.

"You were looking at it when we..." he stopped.

Ignoring the implication that if I'd been looking where I was going this wouldn't have happened, I bent down, hooked my head under his arm, and carrying the blades, started him hobbling towards the entrance.

"Which apartment?" I asked quietly. I couldn't let him know I knew which one.

"Third floor. 302. Elevator's to the left."

"Com'on. We'll get ya there in one piece."

* * * * *

"D'ya live alone?" I asked as we entered the nice apartment.

"Yeah," he said briefly.

"Nice place."

"Thanks," he said as we walked to the center of the large living room.

"Where should we park you, d'ya think?" I asked. "In bed?"

"Oh! Fuck, I stink too bad to go to bed. I need to shower."

"Well, com'on then. Where's the shower?" The idea of him showering in front of me was a genuine turn on. My bulge grew larger."

"Man, I don't think I can handle a shower."

"Ah, don't be a sissy. I'll help you. It's the least I can do." I used the word "sissy" purposely. All males react to words like that. I was willing to bet he was no different.

"Fuck, I'm no sissy! It's just that, well, I'd need some help, and, well, I've always been..." he hesitated.

"Hmm?"

"...sort of embarrassed about getting undressed in front of guys, to be honest about it."

"Oh? Really?" I asked solicitously. "Why is that?" Actually, I was delighted. I knew for certain that he was embarrassed about his large cock size. He was shy! What a delight it was for me to be with him. Shyness, modesty, humility are all such pleasant characteristics. They make falling in love with a man possible, to my way of thinking.

"I get comments." He said it simply, leaving it to my imagination to decide what comments they might be.

"Hey! Com'on," I said half dragging him towards what I figured might be a bathroom. "I ain't no commentator. I don't get paid enough." I laughed.

He chuckled. I had said the right thing. Then he asked, "How much do you get paid?" He looked at me, his face almost touching mine, blushed, and said immediately, "I'm mean, what do you do for a living?"

The question was unexpected. But I knew the truth was the only response. "I'm a private dick," I answered without hesitation.

"Oh? No kidding. Hey! The bathroom's over there," and he pointed to a door other than the one I was heading for and seemed to forget about everything but showering. I told myself I had done the right thing by telling him the truth.

* * * * *

Stripping off his tight shirt was the most difficult maneuver. Raising his arms caused his back and shoulder to hurt, so the process was slow. But, man, it was worth the price of admission. Heat, sweat, pain had combined to create an aura of magnificent odors around him. His hair, his pits, his whole body was a wild game preserve of wonderful masculine smells.

I knelt and removed his socks, dirty from walking outside. Then, still kneeling, I tugged down those tight, shiny blader's shorts he wore. It was a tremendous moment for me. Beneath was a jock/brief combo that hugged his body even tighter than the shorts. The white, sheer, stretch-fabric was multicolored with the hues of hair- and skin-tones gleaming through. A huge, rounded mass of coiled cock stared me in the face, headed by a mammoth, red, dickcap that might as well have been uncovered, it was so clearly visible through the over-stretched fabric. Massive balls, bigger than any I'd seen before were captured with that huge cock. The odors emanating from that pouch were the best aphrodisiacs on Earth!

I reached for the waistband of the snug garment, my heart in my throat.

"What's your name," he asked huskily. Shyly.

I felt the hot, moist skin of his trim waist as my fingers slipped under the garment.

"Butch," I whispered, out of breath, pausing with my fingers against his skin, enjoying the touch, wondering why he asked.

"I'm Rick," he said, softly. He wanted an introduction before exposing himself. Before fucking around. That was nice. Because we were going to fuck around, there was no doubt about it! Magnetism was at work here with its most powerful forces. I felt his flesh quiver under my every touch, and he saw the lust in my expressions and the obvious reactions in my groin.

Looking up into those piercing eyes, I inched down the jock/brief. I exposed the most magnificent set of truly huge tools I've ever seen. The massive balls seemed to heft the large cock, holding it outwards, towards me. Its dimensions, in partial erection, were spectacular. Odors from sweat and heat were there, and the rich, musky odors of an active male who leaks lube fluids from partial arousal during the day, of course, but something else, too. The hint of a masculine cologne. The slight hint of used latex, with its stimulating suggestion of frequent, even prodigious, sexual activity. And, too, an unmistakable but subtle, faint, mere suggestion of another male's body odors mixed with his. I'm no wine connoisseur, but I got a damn good nose for men, and this one gave me an erection. A hard one.

"Man!" I said fervently, awed by his beauty, sliding a hand across his hip onto his firm buttocks, "I'm overwhelmed!" I admitted. As I stared at his mammoth cock, it fluffed further, obviously. Going on the bone. Putting on a fantastic show of masculine power and male beauty. I glanced up at him. He wore the expression of a man who was very pleased. He also gave me the impression that he had looked down on other men crouched adoringly at his feet. I was honored to be one of them.

My face slowly pressed into his hip, nose in cock hair, as my tongue darted out and licked at that crevice between thigh and balls, tasting hearty flavors of scrotum and sweat.

He groaned with arousal. His cock drew in several quarts of blood, I imagine, from the rest of his strong body and elongated before my eyes. Widened. Lengthened. Lifted. Stiffened. Hardened! Throbbed! Pulsated! Before my very eyes! It was awesome! It vibrated as I sucked on his balls. I licked my way up the long shaft, and, with some difficulty, managed to encompass the mighty meaty head with my mouth, as I rose up into a squat to get at it. It filled me, throbbing. It hardened to even greater firmness in me. It felt wonderful! I sucked. He jabbed upwards. It hit my throat. I relaxed, but sucked harder. He jabbed. It entered my throat!

"Oh!" he exclaimed, surprised.

I opened up to him, rising to stand bent over to position my head correctly for such a giant weapon. He withdrew slightly and jabbed again, ramming that big thing into me. Forcing it down my throat as I sucked. The entire cockhead entered my throat. It was mammoth! It was wonderful!

"Oh!" he cried, again, even more surprised. I figured it either felt amazingly good to him, or he'd never met a real cocksucker before - a real, deep-throating, no-holds-barred cocksucker. I sucked for more, conscious of the enjoyment I was taking from the taste of him. Tastes even better than his smells.

He humped several times, going in deeper and deeper. He withdrew almost halfway, and then, using both hands, oblivious to pain, shoved my face down on that gigantic dick, while humping his hips, and plunged me slowly down to the bottom, to the very base, where all I could see was cockhair as my forehead flattened against hard muscle and hot, hairy flesh! It was terrific! Bigger than any I can remember, and better than all of them.

I stripped in a flash as we worked together, wanting to relieve the constricting pressures of clothing on my erection. He hummed with contentment as he saw my naked body revealed, crouched, strong, head bent to welcome the cock into me, hardon poking my solar plexus.

"Fuck, you've got a big one, too, Butch," he whispered down to me, apparently seeing my body in a mirror. It was not said as a boast, like, "Mine is big. Oh, so is yours, sort of." No, it was said in recognition by one big-cocked man to another, with pride, surprise, and delight. Knowing that the days of being teased about large size were over. Knowing he was with a big-cocked man, now. I could hear it in his voice.

But I was busy. Working hard. Having the best time of my life! As he got harder, my task got easier. The combination of my saliva and his abundant production of precum worked to lubricate his giant organ perfectly. I slid up and down the entire hot column, now holding and sucking the cockhead in my mouth, and then, sliding all the long way back down to the enormous base. Up and down its entire length. Up and down. His hands guiding my progress. His hips pumping away, counter-pointing my efforts.

I wanted it to last forever. It was magnificent!

"I didn't know it could be this good," he sighed, hardly able to speak, overcome with emotion. "This is fuckin' great!" he added with enthusiasm. "Oh! God! It feels so good! It's in so deep, for the first time! I'm gonna shoot my wad, man. Ya better watch out!" And his hips jabbed me, raising my head, as he started to come.

My throat was plugged by the monster cock as his jism was pumped directly down my gullet without any backwash. I swallowed and he trembled from head to toe with the ecstasy of it. I tried to rise up, so I could taste his cum on my tongue, but he kept jabbing, humping, pumping cum into me. It was fantastic!

It was only after he had unloaded what seemed like quarts of jism that he relented. I rose up the shaft. I realized I was holding his giant balls in one fist. I relaxed my grip. A weak oozing of viscous fluid bathed my tongue. Its taste was heavenly. Exactly what I had been hoping for!

But my sucking became more than he could bear. His stomach and abdominal muscles flexed and reflexed with spasms of delight. He put hand on my forehead and gently pushed me back, releasing his cock from my unrelenting suction. I straightened up.

"Oh! Man!" he signed, backing away from me with those piercing eyes flashing. "I never thought..." his voice trailed off.

"Com'on," I whispered, "let's get you into that shower." I grinned. The spell was broken. Like a little boy, he allowed himself to be guided under the spray I started by reaching in and turning the handle. I followed him into the big shower stall. It was large enough for four of us. He made no effort to protest. I scrubbed him down, carefully, from head to toe, taking tremendous pleasure in the feel of him. Then, I rinsed him off, turned his back to the spray, and set the showerhead on hard massage, raised the temperature of the water, and let the hot water soothe his aching back and shoulder. My fingers plied the firm muscles, too. The combination had him purring in only a few moments. I washed off, too.

My attention got focused on that amazing buttocks. Twin orbs gleamed. Their perfection was breathtaking. I wanted to push my face into them but held back, letting him recover, both from the injury and from the orgasm. But it took all of my self-control, as my cock throbbed in strained rigidity. I couldn't remember the last time it was so solidly erect, so ready for the attack.

"Hmm," he moaned, finally, head resting against the wall, "You've made the pain disappear. You're a miracle worker."

I wanted to say, "No. Just a good cocksucker," but I kept still.

Slowly, I adjusted the spray to normal, lowered the water temperature, rinsed off and rinsed him off, turning him. I turned off the water and led him out of the shower. I grabbed a clean towel and dried him off like I was a Roman slave, kneeling at his feet, at one point, drying every part of him. He took it docilely, enjoying the attention. Reveling in my intimate touch.

"Come," he said, taking my hand. He led me, rapidly drying myself off, to his bedroom. It was sparsely furnished but had a giant sized waterbed. "Mom sent me this bed," he whispered, drawing us onto it, riding the waves we created with blissful contentment. "She said it's a great way to fuck."

He reached into the headboard cabinet and withdrew a foil-wrapped condom. It was my extra-large-sized brand. As he opened it, I thought, "Oooh, I'm gonna get fucked by that giant cock." But he leaned over and started to roll it onto my excruciatingly stiff boner.

"Yours is the first one I've ever seen that needs a condom my size," he reported as he rolled it down my shaft. His head followed his fingers and he nuzzled my balls and licked at them sending waves of carnal pleasures throughout my body. I thought I'd come right then and there.

"Fuck me, man," he pleaded, turning over on his stomach and thrusting up those beautiful buns. The sight was heart stopping. I had to taste him. I had to kiss that ass and lick it and poke it with my tongue. He writhed with delight as I went wild. But his ass told my tongue he wanted more. Much more. So I gave it to him. I fucked him. Sliding my big meat into him slowly. He was tight but not without experience. He complained about pain, but I ignored him. Finally, we were fully connected.

"Oh, man, that feels so good! Now, fuck me!" he demanded, as the waves in the waterbed helped raise our pleasure. He began to use his body to pleasure me, tightening sphincter muscles, gyrating his ass, lifting his hips, flexing and fucking. I fucked right back. It was monumental! Inspirational! The two of us were made to fuck and we both did it perfectly. And life seldom allows perfection. So I noted its perfection and enjoyed every second of it. I know he did, too.

My orgasm was almost anticlimactic. Mentally, I had already reached a state of nirvana. My body proved it can produce prodigious elation and make me love it. He accepted the orgasm with vigor.

The moment I withdrew, he squirmed under me onto his back. The size of his reinvigorated erection was awesome. I crawled off of him and towards his shoulder, as he held a puzzled look, but then I leaned in, from the proper direction, and engulfed that prize cock, sinking slowly until my nose was snuggled between those magnificent nuts of his. He whooped and hollered as I worked my magic, rising and descending on that stiff cock, and he began telling me how terrific this felt. In no time, he unloaded gallons of jism into me. This time, I caught much of it in my mouth. It was phenomenal!

* * * * *

We were lying there, next to one another, grinning happily, damn near speechless, reveling in the afterglow of great sex, knowing we'd revive for more soon enough. We simply knew we were great together in bed. There was no question of that.

"My mom's a great gal," he said, out of the blue. It was the second time he'd mentioned her. My antennae went up. My in-stinct as a private dick took over.

"Yeah? Why is that? 'Cuz she gave you this terrific waterbed?"

"She seems to know, better than I do, what I need."

"Hmmm," I hummed. What was he trying to say, I wondered.

"She asked me to give you this," he added, reaching into the headboard and handling me a white envelope.

I was dumbfounded!

As he watched, eyes flashing, I tore open the letter and read:

Dear Butch,

If you are reading this, my plan has succeeded. You are a great guy, a steady influence, and a hung stud, my gay friends tell me. Just what my son needs...

My jaw dropped and I looked at Rick. His face was alert but expressionless. He was waiting for my reaction.

...He is a terrific boy, as by now you surely know, but untutored in manly ways, having lacked the steady influence during his life of a father. I want you to help him. Befriend him. Love him. Make love to him. Be with him, and allow him to be with you. You will know what to do I am convinced. I know you will do your best. For this, you will have my eternal gratitude, and his undying love.

Love...

She signed her full name. I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. All my scheming and I'm the one who gets plotted against. Or is it plotted for? It's very confusing. I don't know how should I react.

I glance at Rick. He's lying there, next to me, on his back, floating gently on the waterbed, playing with this giant, revitalized big one, wagging it at me invitingly. I want to ask him if he knew it was me when we collided, or was it really just coincidence, but I know it makes no difference. What can I say? That cock is calling me.

I go for it!

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THE BIG HUG by J. "Butch" Raymond [Erotic Story]

My redheaded friend was lip-synching a popular love song as I walked into Club Tantalize, that seedy, smoky, little bar over on the Strip. He was doing it well. He had discovered, when once desperately in need of a good disguise, that cross-dressing gave him a kick. I believe only his makeup man and myself knew that under the clever rubber mask, heavy makeup, and layers of padded women's clothing stood the heartthrob of every straight woman and gay man in the country.

He was the reason I kept being drawn back to this sleazy club. After his show, we sometimes made out in his dressing room. I was getting it from the handsomest, sexiest actor in Hollywood, and neither of us wanted it to stop. How he dressed didn't matter to me. How my cock felt as it slid between those handsome lips or hard asscheeks was what made me keep coming back for more. How he took it was what made him so special. And his nice cock was becoming a great friend.

This evening, activity at the door diverted my attention. Malcolm Forths and his "boys" were arriving. Their entrances always caused commotion. Malcolm was an award winning set designer/decorator with lots of money and a penchant for hung studs. He kept a stable of six of them around himself at all times. Even on the set, I was told. All of them, including Malcolm, dressed identically in white. All the time.

At six-two, Malcolm was the tallest. Each boy had to be handsome and had to be between the ages of eighteen and twenty-nine, but only if after twenty-five, he continued to look young enough to suit Malcolm. And, of course, each had to be exceptionally well endowed.

What struck me as odd, tonight, as they walked through the club like a flock of large white birds, flittering around Malcolm as chicks around a mother hen, was that I counted only five escorts.

I was standing at the bar. I'm large enough to be noticed, but I had thought Malcolm didn't know who I was. So I was surprised that when he glanced in my direction his eyes lit up and suddenly I found myself surrounded by him and his white flock.

"Butch!" Malcolm called out like he'd known me all his life. He came right up and gave me what I thought was going to be one of those fake fucking Hollywood hugs. Except that this was no fake hug, this time, it was what felt like a genuine hug of sincere warmth. Fuck, I hugged him back. I love hugs! Especially from a guy as big as I am and from a guy who likes cock as much as I do. And Malcolm filled the bill.

"I gotta talk to you, Butch," he whispered into my ear as we hugged. His voice sounded tense and frightened. I'd heard that stress in men's voices too often not to know he had a problem and needed the services of a private eye. "Meet me in my dressing room as I change for my number, okay?"

Yes, Malcolm was also well known as a cross-dresser of elegant demeanor. As a male, he carried himself with pride and dignity; as a female, with grace and charm. Either way, he had flair, style and charisma. Either way, he drew men like moths to a candle. His money didn't hurt either. But he was so openly gay I didn't think blackmail the reason for the worry in his voice.

The cloud of white floated away. I looked over to the stage. My actor friend had finished his set and vanished. He was almost the only performer there who arrived and departed in full drag. He had to. Everyone would have shit had they found out who he was - one of Hollywood's most macho, most moneymaking actors. But my success as private detective to the Hollywood gay set was due to my reputation for keeping my mouth shut. And everybody knew it.

When I saw Malcolm head for the dressing rooms, I moved to follow, noticing that, as usual, his entourage fanned out in all directions to play the crowd and ply for drinks. They were all good at it. Handsome young men who know they were chosen for good looks and big cocks move about confidently. Trust me on that.

Ken, whom I knew personally, intercepted me and said, "We got trouble, Butch. I hope you can help us."

"What's up?" I asked. I've always liked the phrase.

"Meet me in the can, and we'll talk about it." Absently, his hand toyed with his crotch. It looked like a nicely obscene invitation and, knowing what lay beneath that white cloth, I grinned and said, "Just as soon as I've talked to Malcolm."

*****

Malcolm was just taking off his white jacket when I walked in. For a conversation starter, and out of curiosity, I asked, "Why do you guys always wear white, Malcolm?"

"If any of those little cocksuckers get down on their knees while we're out, I want to be able to see evidence of it on their soiled clothes," he answered with a grin. "White keeps 'em out of trouble, usually."

"Usually," I repeated, half as a statement, half as a question.

"The clever little fuckers never get caught, but I do catch the dumb little boners." In time, I came to learn that he referred to his boys as cocksuckers when he was annoyed, fuckers when he was pleased, and boners when he was pissed off. But in any case, he referred to all of them as "little" as his form of in-joke because we all knew they were hung like stallions.

"What's up?" I asked as he took off his pants. He was hanging everything neatly as he removed his clothes, stripping in front of me without embarrassment. He had a great physique, nicely tanned and finely toned. As the shirt came off and I saw he was wearing white bikini shorts, I wondered, idly, if this modest bump in the crotch would enlarge to meaty proportions or confirm that he was just another under-endowed size-queen.

"Ned, the one we all call 'Nine-Inch-Ned,' is missing," he said with agitation as he removed his shorts. He was naked. Nice. Although he was facing me, I could see a triple reflection of his back in the dressing mirror. He had a muscular, firm butt, and though probably fifteen or twenty years older than me, I could see what his young guys could see in him. Working up a hardon to service that ass would be no problem, I was thinking as I felt movement in my pants. Face it, the guy was sexy. And being kept in style while servicing an ass like that couldn't be all bad.

He bent down to retrieve the shorts from the floor. His ass waved at me through the reflections, as I grunted, "What do you mean, missing?"

He looked up at me without straightening up. His face was near my expanding crotch. "I think something's happened to him but I'm afraid to involve the police." His eyes were looking right at my pant's bulge.

"Do you want to hire me?" I asked, and, not surprisingly, as I thought of all the boys he'd hired for sexual services over the years, I got completely hard.

"Yes," he sighed, still bent over, still flashing that fine ass at me through the mirror.

"Okay," I said, whispering in my arousal. "My usual fee."

"Sure, but as a bonus for accepting the job, how'd you like to fuck me with this big thing," and he reached out and slid knowing fingers against my stiff column taking its measure. "Oooh," he sighed, "I'd heard you've got a big one! This," he added, massaging the long tube, "feels like one I'd like to get to know."

I let him work his magic. For one thing, I was certain I was in good hands. Experience goes a long way in increasing a man's sexual pleasures and this guy had plenty of experience. So did I. For another, I was curious. I've got the size the size-queens are looking for, and since he is as active as anyone I know of in Hollywood, I wondered if he would be as skilled at handling size as I require for my own pleasures. Just being a size-queen does not qualify you for cocksucker-of-the-month, you know. Skill and talent still make all the difference.

Well, more than just my curiosity got satisfied in that dressing room. He had my cock out of my pants and down his throat before I could say, "Suck my dick!" And he was good at it! Deep-throating a cock my size is not for the timid, or the inexperienced, or the untalented. He knew what to do with it and did it well. Took it in, all the way, right down to the balls.

Then he did something I'd never seen done before. He reached behind himself and grabbed something from the dressing table. He popped off my cock, put the thing in his mouth and then began sucking me again, but this time, I felt him slipping a condom down over my cock with his lips and tongue. It was a very erotic way of getting geared up for action. As he worked the over-sized latex completely down my thick shaft, he reached behind himself, again, and dipped a finger in some grease and then lubed his asshole as I watched in triplicate.

"Oh, man," he said hoarsely, having slid his thick lips slowly up the length of my long dick, "you are hot! Lemme have it!" And he turned sideways to the mirrors. He wanted me to step around and plug him while he watched. I couldn't blame him. It looked very sexy. He stayed bent over poking his ass out as my throbbing, rubber-sheathed schlong moved in for the attack.

"Mmmmm, you've got great control," I whispered as I forced my big dick into him unceremoniously. He took it without a whimper. His chute was hot. It tightened around my meat from control not youth. I was able to pound it into him, slowly, to the hilt on the first assault. Within moments, we were fucking like mad. I undid my belt and pants and let them fall to the floor so I could feel my balls bang up against him. I pulled up my polo shirt so I could see my hair-decorated muscular abs pound his buttocks as I plugged him. The sight was arousing, both in the mirrors and looking down my body at it. And this was not a quick-as-a-bunny fuck. No, this was serious ass fucking which lasted a good long time. The way a good fuck ought to last. Till we were both puffing and perspiring. Till we were both ready to blast.

"Oh, man!" I hissed excitedly, "I'm gonna shoot!"

"Give it to me, man. Fuck my ass. I'm gonna shoot with you!"

He was still bent over as I held tightly to his hips. I hadn't noticed, before, but he was beating his meat, although I couldn't see it. The idea of him coming with me energized me and I stif-fened and began shooting off. It was terrific. I shot and shot, filling the big condom.

As I pulled out, still squirming with the delights of orgasm, he straightened up and I saw a good-sized cock in his hand. It, too, was condom-coated. He'd slipped it on without my realizing it. "Want to suck it?" he asked in an emotional whisper.

It looked too good to pass up. He was probably testing me, I figured, seeing if I was sensitive to other men's needs after my own orgasm, but I just dove down onto the big thing with great pleasure. It felt even larger than it looked. Before I could fully demonstrate my own creative talents by deep-throating that fucker, he stiffened and came. I felt the rubber swell and fill. I liked it. Cock is good.

We cleaned up next to one another at the sink. Basically, I stripped off the condom, washed my dick and balls, dried off and pulled up my pants. When he finished drying, he started strug-gling into his slinky outfit for the show.

"Come to the house at nine, tomorrow morning, Butch," he instructed with a sincere smile. When I hesitated leaving he came over and gave me another one of those great hugs.

*****

The bathroom seemed empty when I went looking for Ken. But suddenly I heard him clearing his throat for me. I found him in the old, unused shower stall hidden around a corner in the back of the decrepit former dressing room. His white clothes were hanging neatly on a hook. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting, I saw his nude body displayed for me. His erection was gigantic. Enormous. Perfect. His body exceptional. He was openly jacking off, getting ready for me, and enjoying himself during the wait.

I've always loved seeing a man jacking off. Just minutes after having an orgasm, I found myself quickly reinvigorated. One look at Ken, handsomest of the lot and hung like a porno star, and I knew he didn't want to talk. He wanted to fuck. In a flash, I was nude, too, my clothes hanging next to his. Silently, we moved about, like caged animals sniffing at one another looking for the advantage. Both of us now jacking stiff erections shiny with leaking excitement. When I touched his chest, he slid a hand around my waist, and we slammed into a belly-slapping embrace.

Stiff cock pressed stiff cock, proud in uncommon dimension. Lubed finger touched my puckered ass-lips. A rubber rolled down his giant weapon. Where these things came from I haven't a clue. Wordlessly, nibbling my flesh, playing with my nipples, he turned my obedient body around and slid the big cockhead between my willing cheeks. Man, it felt good! I wanted it. With his hands playing all parts of my body, I needed it. I pressed back for it. I had to have it. Cock! Big cock! It was all I could think about. And he knew it. And he gave it to me. Up the ass!

As he eased the huge cockknob into me, once again I realized I'm the biggest, closet size-queen in Hollywood. Nothing feels better than a truly large cockhead entering the rectum. I know it. You know it. We all know it. It's just that some of us are a little quieter about it than others. As Ken's huge thing slowly seared its heat into me, I wanted to sing for joy. But I didn't break the silence. Neither of us wanted Malcolm to show up.

Then Ken proved why he's a successful paid fucker. He bent me forward and pressed his body against mine, lovingly, as he inched his way into me, inch after inch after inch after inch after inch. It took time. He was gigantic. But even more inches were shoved in. I loved it, helping with the onslaught by shifting my hips and widening my stance. Then, he began fucking me. Really fucking me! Humping, jarring, slamming fucks that took my breath away and left me tingling from tip to toe. He jabbed and jarred, slapped me with his big balls and sizzled me with his hot skin. Hands were everywhere. Intensity increased. Motion increased. Fucking was raised to ecstatic levels. We became one animal together, my ass sucking for his orgasm, his body pumping to give it to me.

Finally, the silence was broken with his strained voice.

"Butch!" he whispered amorously. Then he came. And came. And came. And came. Like a machine spurting out packets of love. Stiffening with ecstasy, gasping for breath. Sliding that long cock in and out till he shuddered to a lurching end. It was superb.

I was ready to explode. His arms embraced me. He felt the wet tip of my cock against his forearm. The touch excited me and my cock throbbed against his hot skin. He moved his hand down, surrounded my thick column and gave a few knowing pumps. I stiffened. My cock turned to rigid steel. I came, spurting long jets of flashing white cum out into the darkness and against the old shower stall wall. Spurt after spurt after spurt. It was excellent. A standing fuck and a great handjob.

He handed me a warm, damp cloth to clean myself up with, and he had one for himself. I guess he planned ahead. As we dressed together, he whispered, "Watch out for Malcolm. I think he's not telling all he knows."

He was ready and left me standing there in a post-orgasmic daze, wondering what the hell he meant by that. Then I figured it out. He knew nothing. All he had really wanted to do was fuck. He was good at it and I was glad I came.

*****

As I got clearance from the hunk that manned the gate house and drove slowly to the front entrance of Malcolm's mansion next morning, I wondered what cozy little side benefits a guard on the gate might receive working here. Thoughts of orgies and endless sex played in my mind, bulging my crotch. But he had called ahead and I saw Malcolm, in white shirt, trousers and shoes, standing out front waiting for me.

Behind him stood a muscled giant clad only in white jersey workout shorts. I say "only" because at a mere glance I could tell he was not wearing a jock. Bulging, flowing lines in the soft garment accented a fat, long cock and humungus balls. The guy was a knockout, a breath-taker. My reaction was to get almost completely erect.

Malcolm grinned when he saw I was wearing a white tank top and white shorts, with sandals. I was ready for his kind of action, if necessary. And the first action was Malcolm's now very welcome hug. I hugged back. "Oooh, you're hard!" he whispered.

Straight off, I said, "I've been thinking about it, and I'm wondering if Nine-Inch-Ned's disappearance might not be linked to one of your audition prospects. That is how you select new boys, isn't it? By audition?" I cut right to the point.

"Yes," he confirmed, "and I've been wondering that, myself."

"Well, let's pretend I'm one of the new prospects, and walk me through exactly what is done to process him. Okay?"

"Exactly?" the big bodyguard sputtered. His first word. He had a deep, rasping, sexy voice. Malcolm raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, exactly. Lemme see how it's done. Maybe it'll give me a clue."

"All right," Malcolm agreed resignedly, "but to pass each stage of the audition, you've gotta do what, Carl, here, tells you to do. Is that agreeable?"

"Oh! You mean you want me to try to pass the audition?"

"Try, certainly," Malcolm confirmed as Carl nodded agreement, "even though you'll fail."

"How come?"

"You're as tall or taller than me," Malcolm explained. "I want my boys to be shorter than me. That puts you out of the running. But let's see how you do on the rest. After all, you just want to understand how this works. You're not applying for a position."

"Right!" I agreed.

"Then follow Carl and do what he instructs you to do. I'll see you later, before you leave." And he left the two of us standing there. Suddenly, I felt a little nervous, like stage fright. But Carl grinned and motioned me to follow. We went into the first side door we reached, just a step or two inside the mansion. The room we walked into was something else.

It was very large, with a high ceiling. One wall was completely mirrored and several full-length mirrors were on other walls. A large, well-detailed, lewd drawing, part circle-jerk, part daisy-chain, of ten muscular, hung hunks captured my attention and gave me a thrill, and several huge photographs of naked men decorated the walls. An unenclosed shower was in a tiled corner. Photographic equipment was set up in one area, and various lounges and sofas were placed about. Near the door was a table covered with dildoes, condoms, cock-rings, harnesses, lubes and other playthings for the active gay male.

"The first thing I do is give you a skin search, so let me get you out of these things," my raspy voiced companion said, grabbing my tank top and tugging it up over my head. Before I could protest, had I wanted to, my shorts were off, my sandals gone, and I was naked. Then he really did search my skin.

"No scabs. No lesions. No cuts. No abrasions. No rashes. That one scar that looks like an old bullet wound," he slowly ticked off as he examined every inch of my body from my scalp to my soles. I had to bend over and spread my buttocks for inspection. He lifted my balls and examined every millimeter of skin on and around them and on my cock, which kept expanding as it was being handled. "Nice skin," Carl acknowledged with a certain degree of admiration. Then he examined my fingernails, teeth, gums, mouth, ears, eyes, nose and hair. He was very thorough, with a gruffness that was somehow pleasant and a completeness that was very professional.

He led me to a table and said, "Here we normally take a blood sample and then a urine sample."

"So, do it," I allowed, "let's see the whole procedure."

Without comment, he handed me a urinal. I took it in my left hand, so he took hold of my right arm, tied rubber tubing above my elbow, slapped at the veins and poked in a needle, undid the tubing, quickly drawing out two vials of blood, just like my family doctor. When he finished, he stepped back and waited, looking down at the unfilled urinal.

Being watched slows me down, as does being hard, but the bloodletting softened me and I realized I did have to pee, so I let the flow start. A golden stream filled the bottle.

"Hmmm, you take vitamins," Carl commented recognizing the color.

I just grinned, shook off the last few drops in the neck of the bottle and handed it to him. "What next?"

"Your first orgasm," he replied calmly, and he handed me a beaker. "We need a sample, so zip it in here. Okay?"

"Sure," I agreed, "any particular way you want me to do it?"

"Naw, just have fun. How do you usually like to jack-off? Reading? Watching a video? Listening to tapes? On the phone?" His bulge was enlarging as he watched my cock grow.

"My favorite method..." I said with a grin, pausing for his attention, which I clearly had, "is bent over, sucking a cock so big that I couldn't do it kneeling."

His only reaction was to fold his massive arms across his chest, plant his feet wider, and shift his hips forward, shoving that enlarging cock outline against the tightening material of his shorts. It was a subtle invitation I had no intention of resisting. I bent over, pulled down his shorts, and gasped.

Now, I've seen big ones, but this was a record-holder. A true jawbreaker. A mouthwatering sight to behold. I got rigid in a second, grabbed my cock for a good beating, and with the beaker in my free hand, leaned in to take a taste of this giant of a muscle man.

Like many men, his horsecock had a rubbery texture and a latex aftertaste that comes of constant condom usage by overactive sex drives. I love the taste! As I licked and lapped, the cockhead bloomed into a glowing crown of shining glory, lifting itself tall, expanding, filling, hardening. I worshiped its power and lusted after its potency. I filled my mouth with the cockhead and became the classic cocksucker: pumping my cock while sucking with all my skill and strength. His cock kept growing. It was spectacular!

I felt I had finally found a cock I was unable to handle. No deep-throating techniques nor training had prepared me for the growing monster-cock in my mouth. For the first time, I felt unequal to the task. But I loved it, anyway! The heat, taste, size and power of the cock I was sucking was overwhelming. My pleasures were multiplied by his happy humps into me. He was enjoying himself. I loved it. And the harder he got, and the harder he fucked that hefty organ into me, the better it felt and the deeper it penetrated.

It plugged my throat and stopped my breathing. A fraction further and I though it might cut off the blood supply to my brain by blocking the arteries in my neck. But the deeper the cockhead went, the better I liked it! He unfolded his arms and pressed both hands on my head. He liked it! It was getting to him! I worked even harder, all the while pumping my cock with full-length strokes. It was wonderful!

Suddenly, I knew I was going to cum. I couldn't wait for his orgasm, if he'd even have one. My cock was so fucking hard I wondered how I'd capture the cum in a beaker, but I aimed the bottle and held it over my cockslit. Just in time. Orgasm overtook my being and I vibrated at the pinnacle of rapture, sucking hard cock like the master cocksucker that I am.

Carl reacted to my energetic orgasmic-inspired attack. With a quick withdrawal, which I used to fill my lungs, he plunged back into my throat like a savage, forcing cock into me like I'd never felt before, and I came! Like rockets firing off. Blast after blast, sucking with everything I had. And he couldn't hold back.

Suddenly, semen seemed to spurt everywhere. Into my throat, up my nose, down my lips, out the side of my mouth. I just couldn't contain both the size of the cock and the force of the spurting sperm.

I knew as I came that I'd love to suck this cock, again. And often! I was grateful for this chance, but I knew I had to have more. It was my first truly megahunk Centerfold cock and nothing less would ever fully satisfy me again. I had not been sure that megahunk Centerfold cocks even existed until I had his. That's how I felt as I filled the bottle - to the brim.

He let me slurp and suck and drink down all of his jism. I think it surprised both of us. We all use rubbers as a matter of course, but once in a while a good old-fashioned blowjob just feels right. This one did. Finally, he pulled back, dazzled, long cocktube shining with spit and sperm. He looked magnificent. I held up the bottle to him. I saw his eyes open wide.

"Fuck!" he said as he took the bottle from my hand, "No one ever filled it up, before! Jesus! Look what you done! What a load! And you made me come as you sucked me. That NEVER happens to me. I let these kids suck me for the fun of it, to give 'em a thrill as they jack-off, but they can't handle big meat and they never make me come. Shit, you sucked the fuck out of my cock! It was great! How'd you do it?" He looked delighted.

"Man, you've got the greatest cock I've ever had in my mouth," I told him honestly, straightening up to look him in the eye. "I want more of it! I gotta have more of it!" I was sincere.

"Well, we'll see," he said gently. "The next test is to fuck me and make me like it. Think you can do that?" He grinned.

"Where do ya want it?" I asked.

"I prefer lying on that bench, with my legs held in the air, taking it from the front. Does that sound good?" He held his breath.

"Sounds great!" I confirmed.

"Here," he said, tossing me a condom, "put this on." He'd seen how large I am and the condom was the largest size. He turned and ambled towards the bench, giving me a view of the spectacular globes of his perfectly formed muscular ass. I realized that I'd be able to penetrate deeper from the front, since those thick globes would act as barriers from behind. Thinking about it, sizing him up, got me hot again. I easily rolled the rubber down my growing shaft. As I slipped into him,I found that he had the control I love and we had a terrific fuck. He moved his ass in trained ways that increased our pleasure. We took out time enjoying ourselves, but I just couldn't withhold my orgasm for long. As I came, he did too, looking both surprised and delighted.

Well, one step in the audition lead to another, including photographs of my cock both soft and hard for their records, and a total of four or-gasms. I'll just say that we ended up in front of the wall-sized mirror jacking-off to see if I could make it five in a row. That was their minimum morning requirement. At first I wasn't sure I'd pump out a fifth, because when ol' megacock hit my prostate for my third orgasm, I thought I had pumped out a week's worth of jism. That fuck was a record breaker.

As Carl watched me jacking-off it got him hot, again, and he joined me. Standing shoulder to shoulder with him in front of the mirror, naked, hard, beating our meat, was inspirational. It planted a memory in me that I'll use for jacking off the rest of my life. We looked spectacular.

Well into the jack-off, I suddenly saw a look of lust in Carl's eye and an offer in his body language and knew he wanted me to go down on him, again. As I leaned towards the gigantic cockknob his hand dropped away and he hissed, "Yessss!"

His cockhead heat was amazing. I forced my mouth over the giant knob and sucked it into my mouth, and that's all it took. I went over the top. I came! Sending blasts of jism onto his nuts and thighs. The fiery liquid raised him up with me and he filled my mouth. This time, I was able to take all of it, swallowing often. It was excellent!

Moments later Malcolm entered the room beaming, flushed with post-coital coloring. He'd been watching, jacking off. It was obvious. "Butch," he cried out, effusively, "if you were shorter, you'd have a new job. That was inspirational!"

"Thanks," I said humbly, not hiding my nudity, "Carl made it easy for me." Carl beamed at me, grinning.

"Yes, it's a shame he's too tall, too," Malcolm explained, "but I don't know what I'd do without him. He's important to me."

"So, tell me. Have any recent auditioners given you any trouble?"

"No. Not really. We see several every week. And, lately, we've had six back for second and third auditions..."

"Oh? Additional auditions? What are they like?" I had to ask, interrupting.

They both grinned.

"Solve this case, Butch, and I promise I'll invite you back for at least three more auditions. It's the most we give - four of them. And they're all different. The second is a group sex thing." Malcolm seemed very pleased with me.

"So those six who came back all met your entourage, did they?"

"Yes, they did."

"I'll start with them. Give me a list of their names and ad-dresses and I'll check them right away. Okay?"

"Well, all right," Malcolm agreed, "but I doubt they're involved. Each was so nice. Isn't that right, Carl?"

"Good boys," Carl agreed. "Sexy, every one of them."

"Well, I'll check them out. It's a start." I had no other ideas, anyway, and meeting six sexy guys was no deterrent.

*****

I knocked. Muffled sounds came from within the apartment as if my knock was unexpected, unwanted and feared. Scurrying within and then silence. I knocked again. Slowly, the door opened a crack. The face matched the photo I'd been given.

"Stuart?" I asked, knowing it was he.

"Yes. What do you want?" he answered in a soft voice, confused, I imagine, that I knew who he was.

"May I come in? I have something I need to discuss with you privately. I don't think standing outside, here, is the best place to talk." I grinned at him, disarmingly. All right, so I know I'm good looking and he's gay and I played on that to get him on my side. I use what few weapons I've got to solve cases, because I'm known as a rodless dick: I don't carry a gun.

He hesitated, but let me in by slowly opening the door wider. I walked in briskly before he could change his mind and found myself in the living room of a clean, nicely decorated apartment. I liked that. He was a handsome lad, handpicked by Malcolm so I knew he was well hung. At five-nine, he had a great build. He was even better looking than his photo.

"Malcolm asked me to check with some of the men he's met with recently..." I said, pausing to see how he'd react.

His eyes darted uncontrollably to the hallway. He caught himself and looked back into my eyes.

I turned my head and looked into the hallway and then looked back at him, waiting. The silence was deafening. I just waited.

"Yes, I met Malcolm," he finally said, with apparent reluctance. He was the last on the list. At this point, each of the others had excitedly told me about the auditions and how much they had enjoyed them. They asked was I here for yet another audition and how could they help. I had to damn near bat them away from my fly, they were so eager to please. Stuart was acting completely differently.

"Ned is missing," I said, simply.

He froze. I saw fear in his features. He looked everywhere but at me or down the hallway, again.

On a private dick's hunch, I called out in a friendly voice, "Nine-Inch-Ned, get your ass out here, right now."

Stuart looked shocked. But I immediately saw a shadow on the wall in the hallway, and then Ned came slowly towards us, looking terribly dejected.

"Go hide!" Stuart cried with alarm. Ned came up to us and put an arm around him. They were the same height. They looked like brothers, they were both so attractive.

"No. It's okay, Stu," he said quietly. "Malcolm was bound to find us - I mean, find me. There's nothing we can do. I'll have to go back. It's no use."

Both looked so sad it touched my heart. It didn't take a genius to see that these two kids had fallen in love and wanted to stay together. It was dumb. I was sure of that. Malcolm paid the boys well, got them educated, found them real jobs with men who could appreciate them, gave them a future. Nine-Inch-Ned was giving up a life of ease for the risks of love. And, although Stuart didn't fully realize it yet, so was he. Somehow, I liked them both for it!

"I'll tell Malcolm it's time to hire himself another boy, if he still wants six of them," I said.

They acted like they hadn't heard me.

"He's not a slave master, after all," I added. "Is he?" I asked.

Then, they looked shocked, looked at each other, grinned, looked at me and said, simultaneously, "He/I can stay?"

"He never told you, you were a prisoner, did he? He's been very worried about you, fearful something bad had happened. He's not your Dad, or your Mom. He just wants to know you're okay."

They both looked relieved.

"So I'll tell him you're okay, and I'll tell him to take Stuart's name off his list of potential playmates. I know he'll be disappointed on both counts. But, I know this for sure..." I paused.

"Yes?" the both asked, together. They'd become a matched set.

"...he'll find another boy to take your place." I smiled.

They both smiled at me, nodding in agreement.

"Who are you?" Stuart asked.

"Just a private dick," I answered, suddenly very proud of my profession. I knew what I'd get from Malcolm. An invitation to more auditions! And a BIG HUG!

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The Redhead Caper by J. "Butch" Raymond [Erotic Story]

A muffled shot. It came from the house I had under surveillance. I was sure of it. I knew it meant getting out of my car and going to check on things in the house. The idea didn't appeal. My colleagues call me a rodless dick. I'm a private eye but never carry a gun.

Reluctantly, I released my condom-coated cock. Yeah, I jack off. It's about the only pleasure a guy can find on long, boring stakeouts. The dude who taught me this private-eye racket also showed me how jacking off can relieve boredom, so the two of us relieved a lot of boredom together. And he showed me how rubbers keep jism from hitting windshields. Granted, it was more fun with him at my side, but it's still a great boredom fighter.

The big rubber-sheathed cock was hard to slip back into my running shorts. As I got out of the car and crossed the street, I realized that anyone watching me would notice the big bulge. Maybe they'd think it was a rod.

The small bungalow was in a low-rent district of hundreds of such houses. It was owned by a renowned film director who used it to keep his heartthrobs tucked quietly away. The director had hired me to follow the current little trollop because he sensed infidelity at play here.

Since the front of the house had been in clear view, I worked my way carefully to the back. The back door was standing open. That spelled trouble. I checked around outside, but saw no one, so I went into the house. Everything seemed quiet and in order, until I neared the bedroom. Then, I smelled acrid gun smoke.

The bedroom door was partway open. I saw a naked body on the bed. I went in. Damn. Lying there was Jason, the current boyfriend. He was a nineteen-year-old hunk. A real good looker. But right now, he had a bullet in his chest just where most people think the heart's supposed to be. I saw that his fat, long cock was erect and covered with saliva. He was still breathing as I picked up the phone and poked 911.

Waiting for the recordings to end and a real person to come on the line, I leaned over and looked at his monster cock closely. I could see a faint ring of lipstick near the base of the big thing. Suddenly, to my surprise, he grabbed me by the shoulder strap of my tank top and, with wild eyes, said through gurgling noises, "He got me." Yep, just like in the movies.

"Who? Who done it?" I asked, trying to make contact with those wild eyes, my lips close enough to his thick, rounded, pouty lips to kiss.

"It... It was..." he started to say, when all of a sudden a voice came on the line asking what type of emergency it was.

"A man's been shot. It's bad. Get over to 1915 Longworth Road. His name is Jason Poole. And hurry." They wanted my name and phone number, and asked me to stay on the line till they arrived. They also insisted on knowing if the situation was still dangerous. I said how the hell should I know.

The exchange of information seemed to take only seconds, but when I turned my attention back to Jason, I discovered he'd passed out. It was a struggle to release his grip on my shirt. Then I patted his face trying to revive him, but he was out cold, and his dick had shriveled.

* * * * *

"Good thing you called when you did, Butch," Detective Will Boyer was saying. "Saved his life. Did he talk?"

A squad car had shown up first. Then people from all over closed in and the whole thing had become a three-ring circus. But the techno-medics were good at their job and Jason was whisked out of there in a flash already hooked up to all kinds of gadgets and gear. In the meantime, I had tried to get my employer, the director, on the phone, expecting to talk to his handsome private secretary, Harvey, whom the director had extolled as his right hand man, but instead I got an answering machine telling me everyone was out. That was strange. To me, it looked bad for the director.

"He tried to talk, but he passed out before he could tell me anything of any use."

"Well, what did he say?" Will wanted to know.

"He said, 'He got me.' That was all."

"Guess that leaves out all the babes in town," the detective said with a grin.

"I don't know, Will. I thought I saw some lipstick on his long Schlong?"

"Don't you mean his weenie?"

"It was a full-sized schlong when I first saw it, Will. The boy'd been aroused and it looked to me like someone'd been sucking on it."

"Oh?" He grinned. "Wasn't you, was it, Butch?"

"Com'on. You know I'm not gonna fuck around with a client's boyfriend."

Looking serious, he said, "Better come downtown with me, Butch, and give us the full story. Who you're working for; what you've found out; that sort of shit. Got any other clothes or do you always work half naked?"

"I prefer completely naked." I smiled. Will and I went way back. Naked with him was good. He was a big man and had a humungus cock with a honed instinct for finding the right hole. We'd made it from time to time, till we took different paths and I became a private dick.

His tanned face turned a darker hue, but he smiled, saying, "So do I," in a soft whisper. It was the first time in a long time he intimated we'd been intimate. My shorts began to tent. He was a trained detective. He didn't miss a thing, especially if the thing was a thing.

* * * * *

"Jesus! You've been workin' out, Butch," Will said in hushed tones of inspired awe as I stripped off my clothes in front of him. He'd followed me home, ostensibly for me to grab more suitable clothes for a downtown investigation and had come into the bedroom with me while I changed. "And still working the rubber, I see." He chuckled. With all the excitement, I'd forgotten I still had a rubber covering my cock. We both knew what the condom was used for. I thought it might have dropped off, but it clung to my ample endowment. Nothing like Will's horsecock, but ample, nonetheless.

My face flushed, but I laughed. "Yeah, working the rubber. A guy's gotta keep in shape. Keep everything going." I tugged at the reservoir tip thinking the condom would simply pull off. Instead, it stretched my cock, elongating it, failing to release it. Will sat down on the bed, a couple of feet from me, and watched what I was doing with fascination. I kept tugging.

"Should use the lubricated kind," he whispered instructively, staring at my action.

"Naw, not in the car. Gets too much goo on your hands." I responded absently, looking down and watching the struggle between my cock and that condom.

He chuckled. I looked over at him. He was rubbing the front of his pants as he stared at my crotch. "Wha'cha thinking?" I asked.

"I'm thinkin' you've grown a lot since..." he trailed off.

The reason the condom was being so difficult was becoming clearer and clearer. Standing naked in front of this sexy guy was getting to me and my dick was going on the bone. Getting bigger and bigger. If I didn't turn now to screen it from view, he'd be certain I was getting turned on. But, as I felt my balls lifting in their big sac, I just kept tugging at the rubber. It was fun. It was getting me hot. Suddenly, as my cock got longer and longer, the rubber gave way and with a loud snap hit against my fist which, released from the tension, flew upwards. My cock swung down, bounced against my balls, and surged upwards again, continuing its rise, and sort of waved erotically at Will who couldn't take his eyes away.

"I think I'd better give you a body search," he sighed huskily, "com' over here." He was unzipping his pants as he talked.

My cock was pointed straight out at him as I closed the gap. He lowered his body to position his mouth on the same level as my long tube and I simply walked it right into him. He took it with the same talented ease I remembered and instantly began terrific suction, moaning with satisfaction. His big hands slid around and up my thighs and dug into my muscular buttocks. It all felt great! He went to work. I was pulled in as close as possible by his strong arms and rough hands. His forehead was slapping at my abdomen and my balls were slapping at his chin in a rhythm guaranteed to raise me to a quick release. He was relentless. I watched, looking down my body at my cock appearing and reappearing as he took it to the bone. Deep-throating. Grabbing my ass. Hard. I couldn't have held back if I'd wanted to. He swallowed while I was in deep and the pressures sucked cum right out of me. I blasted off. It was the best orgasm I'd had in weeks. I pumped out a downpour. He drank it all down.

"Fuckin' great!" he sighed as I pulled away. I saw his gigantic cock in his paw. It was fiery red and wet with pre-cum. "Tasted like latex when it first went in, but you've always had tasty jizz, man."

"You do it good, Will," I told him. "I shot in a hurry."

"Still feel like fuckin' around, or does one pop finish you off?" he asked, looking like he expected to be disappointed.

"Fuckin' around sounds good to me," I replied.

"Got any lubed condoms, or are all of yours dry?"

"Fully lubed, reservoir-tipped, king-sized, and ready-to-wear," I answered, pulling out a large box of a popular brand.

He stood up, stripping off his shirt and dropping his pants while I opened the foil wrap. It felt good again to see him aroused and anxious to take me. I knelt at his feet, removed his shoes, socks, and pants, and looked up. The enormous cock towered over me above massive balls. What a fuckin' sight! I leaned in and nuzzled his nuts, flicking my tongue out at them. The taste was prime, California cop! I love it! The balls wriggled in the hairy sac and the huge organ vibrated with lust, oozing viscous liquid. I reached up and put the rubber atop the cockhead, then began slowly unrolling it down the length of that great cock. It was a tight fit. A very tight fit, even though the condom was the largest sold in the world.

"I like the feel of a tight rubber on my dick, man," he sighed, "and I like the feel of your hands on my meat, Butch."

I toyed with it longer than necessary just because we both liked it so much. "Come here," he whispered as he bent down and raised me to my feet, turning me around in the process. I'd had the foresight to apply a little extra lube to myself, not depending on the condom's lube to do the trick, and felt grateful I'd done it because he wanted in in a hurry.

"Oh, shit! You're just as tight and as hot as I remember," he sighed as the giant cockhead forced me open. Slowly, relentlessly, he drove cock into me, not pausing to take a breath. It was wonderful! I needed a good fuck. It'd been too long. And I got fucked by my cop, my lover. Good and fucked. And good and long. He took his time but we just stayed in the same standing position, him humping away, and me working every muscle I controlled to make this a great fuck for both of us. I could see us in the wall mirror. It was a terrific sight. But mostly I just kept working my ass for our pleasure. Finally, I reached out for another condom.

"Think I'm wearin' this one out?" he asked in a far off voice, enraptured by the pleasures of the fuck.

"No, I'm gonna slip one on. This has me so hot, I'm gonna shoot another load and I don't want it all over the fuckin' rug."

"Why don't you hold off and shoot up my ass?" he whispered.

"I was hopin' you'd ask," I answered. "I know you used to like mine in you." I slipped the condom on. It fit well. Not quite so tightly as Will's fit his big meat, but tightly enough to require the largest size condom.

"Geez, remembering how it felt in my ass is putting me over the top. God, I'm gonna cum!" And he thrust home so hard it rocked me from head to toe, lifting my body off the floor, and I felt his pulsating blasts filling the reservoir. I got jarred good as he emptied his load.

With little fanfare, he grabbed the base of his dick, holding the rubber, and pulled out. Not only was the reservoir filled, but the entire condom was almost fully colored with the white fluid. He'd shot a giant load!

He turned and rested his hands on the bed, sticking out his big, muscular ass at me. Nothing was said. I just aimed for home and moved in. It was great! He had terrific control of muscles and tissues, and knew just when to parry to my thrusts, and when to grind to my bumps, and we were fucking together like mindless randy teenagers in no time. This felt so good it made up for all those long hours of hand-relief I'd been having lately.

Rapid, shuddering strokes rocked him. I was as tall as he was, but not as bulky, so we fit together good and I pumped into him, slamming my abdomen and hips against his fleshy, hot buns as I drove my cock in all the way, to the hilt. Causing him to groan with satisfaction. He was getting what he wanted. What he remembered. And he liked it!

So did I. So much so, in fact, that holding back was a problem. I wanted this fuck to last and last, but, damn, he was so tight. His heat felt so good. His control felt so sensuous. Each long thrust felt so spectacular. I had to give up my load. I thrust into him hard, froze in place, and came. Grunting with each cum shot. It was terrific!

We uncoupled and went into the bathroom together. I slipped off the condom and put it on the sink counter. He placed his next to mine. The thought of picking it up later and smelling it as I jacked off in front of the mirror brought a smile to my face. He read my mind and grinned as we washed off our long cocks together at the sink.

"That was great, Butch. Thanks," he said softly as we were getting dressed.

"I'm happy you came," I said with a warm smile. He grinned.

* * * * *

Everything went fairly routinely as I told my simple story to a couple detectives. Until I mentioned the director's name. Then, all hell broke loose. First a lieutenant questioned me, and then the Captain, himself, came in looking pissed. They didn't want to believe me but they all knew that I had become the principal private dick to the rich, Hollywood gay set because of my discreet handling of a series of delicate cases where well known names could have been sullied but were not. It's the kind of reputation for discretion and results that sells in places like Hollywood and the cops knew it. In fact, were happy it was available because, by law, they simply were not able to act as discreetly.

"I'd like to lock you up, Goddamn it, Butch," the Captain snarled, "but everyone knows you're gutless and don't carry a fuckin' gun. So, I'm puttin' my money on your innocence. But I'll tell you one thing, you'd better find the fuckin' shooter before Jason wakes up from surgery and gives us the name of your director, or this'll get messy for all of us."

While the whole country loves a scandal nowadays, no one in Hollywood does. It ruins careers, is bad for business, and gets everyone even marginally involved pissed off. The Captain was giving me a short time limit to cover all our asses. He knew I had the right contacts with inside connections to ferret out the would-be killer better than his own detectives did. Too few of them were gay. Or so he believed. (I knew better.) But most Hollywood gays shared his belief. Cop equals trouble. Sex doesn't enter into it. Don't get friendly.

I got my ass out of there quick. I drove directly to the director's classy mansion. I'd been given the combination for the gate so I got onto the property and drove to the front door. I rang the bell and expected Harvey, the butler/valet/personal-assistant/confidant to Mr. Rich-and-Famous to open the door, but no one came. That was strange.

I slowly walked around the large, long terrace and came to the stairs leading down to the pool and cabañas. Down there, on a chaise, was a knockout. A real beauty! A breath-taker! Perfect California tan; long legs; tiny bikini; golden locks. A stunner!

I went down the stairs and cleared my throat.

The stunner's eyes opened and looked up at me. Two pools of violet took my breath away. A lithe hand was raised to shield those eyes from the sun and a questioning gaze met my gawking stare.

What a beauty! I thought to myself. "Where's the boss?" I asked aloud.

"Haven't seen him," was the soft-spoken reply.

"Who are you?" I pressed.

"Well, who are you?" was the assertive response.

"I'm Butch, his private dick."

"Yes, you look butch," was the purring retort.

"Com'on, who the hell are you?" I grunted, acting tough.

"I'm his..." a pause, "...his boyfriend."

I guess I looked surprised.

He grinned. "Name's Todd. Anything wrong, Dick?" he asked with a note of sarcasm in his voice.

"Butch," I corrected.

"Oh, yes. Butch." He gave me a come-on grin. White teeth gleamed. He was sure a looker. I felt an extension growing in my pants as I took in his magnificent body. I couldn't help it. He was stretched out before me, sculpted body oiled for the sun, shining in all its glory, the scant bikini over-filled with bulging delights. The kind of body to use as a centerfold in my mind the next time I jack off.

He lifted his hips and thrust up his barely covered crotch, spreading his legs lasciviously. He put a hand to his powerful chest, rubbed a pec sensuously while inhaling deeply, and squeezed a hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His inadequate covering became even less adequate, unable to cover an expanding meat. He was becoming turned on as he looked up at me, standing there panting, with my tongue hanging out, like a dog in heat. He was something else. A wet-dream come to life. A porno-star stepped off the screen. I was erect in no time.

"I see ya like what ya see," he sighed, writhing on the chaise like a cheap harlot, offering himself to me. A stranger. A private dick. It made me very suspicious all of a sudden. Why the come on? I wondered. I looked around. Over on an umbrella-covered table, I saw a large handbag, a cap, sunglasses and gloves. On the chair next to the table he'd thrown a dark-colored jumpsuit. Next to the chair was a pair of dark running shoes. They were mud-covered.

As he watched me looking over at the clothes, he slowly rose from the chaise. Standing on the far side, away from me, he struck a pose. It was glorious. Big, I mean big, bulge. Statuesque body. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. And as handsome a face as I've ever seen. But he was acting like a slut.

He turned. The bikini's back was a string across the top of his muscular, rounded, high, magnificent buttocks, and a string running down between those two perfect buns. He knew the impact the sight of that fine ass had on me, as he smiled back seductively over his shoulder.

"Want some?" he hissed, softly, running a hand down from his waist and over one of those classic cheeks. Then he slowly walked away from me.

Suddenly, it hit me. He was heading towards that table. Towards that large handbag. Towards a gun? I wondered. I lunged, striking the chaise with my shin noisily. He bolted for the table. I tackled him with a flying, horizontal leap through the space separating us. My arms encircled greasy thighs up near his crotch and we went crashing to the deck.

He had managed to reach the handbag and was digging for something. My nose was momentarily poked into that beautiful ass-cleft, but duty called and I struggled to climb up his slippery body and capture whatever he was fishing for in that bag. I saw a flash of silver and grabbed.

The gun went off! It scared the shit out of me, but I kept struggling and wrestled it out of his hands.

"Lie still, Fucker!" I commanded, shoving the gun nozzle against his neck. He calmed down immediately, sobbing, "Don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

"Shaddup!" I snarled.

He sobbed. I let him get it out of his system, holding him down with the weight of my body.

When he calmed down, I asked him, "Why go for the gun?"

"I thought you were here to kill me," he said, gasping for breath.

"Why would I want to kill you?" I asked.

"I heard that Jason was shot," he replied.

"How'd you hear that?"

"It's been on the radio."

Oh, shit! I thought. "So why would I want to kill you?" I asked.

The boss said someone killed Bruno in New York," he said.

"So?"

"Bruno was his last lover, before Jason and then me. When I heard Jason'd been shot, I figured I'd be next. I'm scared." And he started sobbing again.

"That don't mean you should be pullin' guns on people," I told him.

"I'm sorry. I only meant to scare you off."

"Scare me off? Bullshit! You pulled the fuckin' trigger, you goddam shit." I was pissed.

"It was an accident, please believe me. I only wanted to be safe." He sounded sincere enough.

"Why are your shoes muddy?" I asked.

"The boss asked me to plant some flowers. Let me up and I'll show you where I dug up the soil and planted them. Com'on, I'm not lying. I'm not a killer. I only wanted to protect myself."

"And the gloves?"

"Gardening gloves, I swear. I don't like dirt under my nails, and neither does the boss." He was becoming more assertive as he realized I was buying his story. But questioning him while lying on his naked ass was very pleasant and I had no intention of letting him up till I was satisfied.

"Who done it?" I demanded. Hell, maybe he knew.

"The boss thinks it was a woman," Todd said breathlessly.

"A woman!" I exclaimed, surprised as hell. "What the fuck gives him that idea?" I didn't mention Jason's remark about a "he" doing it.

"He said he thought a woman's been following him for a couple of days."

Fuck! I thought. Why do clients hold out on this kind of info? I wondered. Aloud, I asked, "What's her name. What does she look like?"

"Don't know her name. He only said she's a big redhead."

"A redhead," I mused. Hadn't I seen a redhead in a new car drive past Jason's house as I played with my dick? Yeah. I was sure of it. And not too long before the shooting.

"Look, Butch," he said softly, "please let me up. It's starting to hurt."

"What's starting to hurt?"

"My erection's getting scraped by the concrete," he admitted.

"Hmmm. Well, turn over, slowly, and let me check it out." I wanted to be sure it wasn't another trick. I didn't trust him any further than I could throw this goddam mansion.

He twisted as I raised myself a bit. I felt a large rod poke against me as he got onto his back. I looked down. Christ! What a big one! After seeing only two of the director's conquests, I knew he was a certifiable size-queen. With a penchant for picking penile perfection.

I settled down against the big meat. It felt terrific pressed against me. Our faces where close. Those violet eyes penetrated into my brain. My own erection throbbed. Those thick lips were moistened by a darting tongue. My tongue! He puckered up. I pressed downward. We kissed. It was heavenly! We kissed and kissed, frenching all the way.

Gasping for air, he said, "I don't know why you've got me so hot, but I want to make love to you. Right here. Right now."

"Yeah," I agreed. I knew why. It was a reaction to the realization that he was alive, safe, and in the hands of a man who, like himself, loved men. Who'd treat him right. It was the knowledge that he wasn't dead. It's a very strong emotion. An aphrodisiac.

Me? I was just horny. The day's excitement was my aphrodisiac.

"Got some protection?" I asked.

"You'll protect me, won't you, Butch?" he sighed, like a teenaged romantic.

"Yeah, sure," I replied sarcastically, "but meantime, got a rubber?"

"Oh! I thought you meant... Sure, in my bag." He reached in. I was ready for anything. He pulled out a big box of my brand of condoms. Triple XXX-Large. The right size for both of us.

I grabbed two, got up to a kneeling position straddling his thighs, and opened a foil. As I did, I looked down. What a sight! His mammoth cock lay against his muscular belly up past his navel. His balls were still enclosed in the small bikini but were fully outlined and very large. I grabbed the bikini and pulled it down. I watched his cock swell in response. I grabbed it, planning to dress it in rubber, but the feel of it in my hand was marvelous. It was responsive, hard as iron, and hot, hot, hot! I gave it a few pumps as I leaned down to take a closer look. What a cock!

Suddenly, I looked up. He had moved his hand and it scared me.

It'd be dumb to let a big cock get me killed, I reasoned. But his hand came out of his bag holding a giant-economy-sized tube of KY.

"Thought we might need this," he said with a sexy smile. "It's a big one, isn't it." He meant his cock, not the KY tube. It was a statement, not a boast. He knew what he had. It didn't require explanation. World-class cocks never do.

"Yeah, but give me that purse, man. If ya need somethin' out of it, let me know." I threw the bag down by my feet. This was too much. I had to hold the gun, and his "gun," and deal with the condom, and worry about the bag and about his movements. And, shit, it was too much.

"Let's go somewhere else. I don't like being out in the open with you if there's a killer lurking around," I told him.

His eyes got very big. His expression told me he was scared just by the thought of it. It also told me, once and for all, that he wasn't the killer.

"We could go into my cabaña."

"Okay. But don't make any sudden moves. I'm nervous. I don't like guns. So take it real slow and easy."

We got up. I realized the concrete had been hard on my knees. His whole body must have felt it. He walked slowly in front of me and I quietly removed the clip from the gun. And the bullet from the chamber.

Inside the fancy little cabaña, which was almost the size of Jason's whole house, I was led to a large bedroom. It was something out of a Valentino movie, with draperies and cushions and mirrors and oriental rugs - a real fuck-pit - everything except those two boys who stand in those movies with those fanned feathers on poles wafting them at you to keep you cool. But we didn't want to keep cool. Todd had let his little bikini fall off as we walked, and now he was on his knees in front of me, helping me strip to the buff. As he unveiled my little soldier his eyes grew wide.

"Man," he said, huskily, "it's as big as mine!" He was impressed, and surprised. And delighted. He grabbed me and we rolled around together on those comfortable rugs, trying to choke each other with our tongues.

"Lemme suck it," he cried and went down on me. It felt great. He twisted around and suddenly I found myself with a big cockhead pointing me in the face. It looked great. I didn't hesitate. I sucked it in and we enjoyed a terrific sixty-nine. He was good and so was I. Suddenly, he pulled back, coming off my cock.

"I want this in me, man," he said panting with lust. "It's been too fucking long since I've even seen a decent sized cock. I want it in me, man."

So much for the director's size, I deduced, he likes 'em big but isn't himself.

Reluctantly, I let the big cock in my throat slip out. It was really suckable, and I was enjoying it. But he wanted some service, and I was going to give it to him. I peeled down the condom over my wet cock, opened the lube and took a dab, and aimed my finger at his ass and lubed him. He spread his legs wide for me.

"Oooh! Do it!" he sighed, and I slid right in. Now, I've been to Carlsbad Caverns, and I ain't sayin' he's that big, but I think Will and I and two of our cousins could have shoved our cocks up there simultaneously. You meet men like this, sometimes. It's like they've been fucked so often all the elastic's run out of their body cells.

But he looked great, and felt good, with his calves up on my shoulders, so I started to hump away, hoping my disappointment wouldn't interfere with our enjoyment. But then something inside him clamped down on my meat like a vice-grip. All of a sudden, he rotated his hips, drew in his stomach, tightened his muscles, and massaged the shit out of my cock, causing my expression to change to amazement. This kid could fuck! Was trained to fuck! And we started banging into one another, jarring his balls, snapping mine against his ass, and really fucked. I mean fucked! Like champs! And the sight of his angelic face, his handsome build, and manly features helped put me over the top and I came. And came. And came!

"Sit on this," he said excitedly, wagging the big weapon at me. I knew he was close to orgasm, himself. I rolled a condom onto the huge shaft and sank down upon it. It was like punching myself in the stomach. I can handle big ones, but this one was immense. Much thicker across than most. It really filled me up. I gave him what he wanted, rising up and sliding down that great pole as I worked every muscle I could to make it memorable.

"Gee, this feel's great, Butch," he sighed. "An ass with some animation, for a change." His asides didn't flatter his boss.

We stayed that way for a while, but he got more and more excited. Then, he reached up, pulled me down, rolled us over, and decided to give me the fucking of my life. He grunted and groaned, pumped and humped, banged and bumped, and fucked me six ways to Sunday. It was heavenly. But at this pace, it couldn't last much longer. His eyes crossed, then closed; his entire body stiffened; and with sobs and grunts, he spurted out his enjoyment. Spurt after spurt. It was wonderful!

Afterwards, having cleaned up and dressed, as I got ready to leave, I asked, "Anything else you know that might help me?"

"I don't know if it'll do any good, but last night I overheard someone mention a club. Club Tantalize. On the Strip. It might mean nothing..." he trailed off.

"Hell, it's a start. Thanks."

"Can I have my gun back?" he asked calmly.

"It's on the sink in the bathroom. The bullets are in one of the cabinet drawers. But do me a favor, will ya?"

"What's that?"

"Leave that fuckin' thing where it is. You're gonna kill someone with it and then regret it 'cause it'll be the wrong guy. Lock yourself in here till I get back. Talk to no one. That way you'll be safe."

"You're coming back to me?" he asked all innocent and excited like. It's like it was the only thing he had heard. What a slut.

* * * *

I hate the Strip. Parking's a bitch. Crowds annoy me. Pretty boys distract me. Everything's so laid-back fucking phony. But I found my way into Club Tantalize, a rundown sleaze operation if I ever saw one. Dark. Much too dark. And smokier than L.A. on a bad day.

I stumbled to the bar and ordered a seltzer. The large bartender scowled but returned with my drink and a bill for four gallons of the stuff. I paid right up and left a quarter for a tip. I figured a quarter was the right tip for a drink of water.

As my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I noticed the place had more women in it than men. And most of the women looked like they were in show business. Like they were all made up for the stage. Then a spotlight hit the small stage and an entertainer started to sing and the whole thing fell into place. I should have known. It was a transvestite joint.

I looked around. No redheads. I decided to mosey around, heading towards the toilets to see what I could find. No one seemed to pay any attention to me, so passing the can I opened one dressing room door after another until - there she was! The big redhead! When she spotted me, she bolted for a back door.

Twice in one day I made a flying, horizontal tackle. And me, I'm no football player. But I got her good, high up, and we bounced to the floor and struggled and wrestled, and her voice got lower and lower, and her body felt stronger and stronger. And I got worried. And out of breath.

Suddenly, as I grabbed at her face, it fell off! I'm not kidding. Her whole goddam face came off in my hand. It was, well, revolting. But there was no blood. As I looked up I found I was staring into the face of one of the most popular young leading men in Hollywood. The face of the star of a string of moneymaking movies. His face was in every magazine, on all the tabloid covers. Rumor had it he was filming in Africa, or China. But here he was, on the floor with me in some dump on the Strip. With a wig falling off, and dark red lipstick on those famous heartthrob lips, and an expression of fear in his eyes.

"Christ!" I whispered.

"Oh, shit!" he groaned.

"Put your face back on, man," I suddenly commanded, "and let's get the fuck out of here. If I found you, there'll be a posse following at any moment."

He hesitated.

"Move your ass, man! I ain't kidding. We're both in a lot of trouble if you're found like this."

"You'll help me?" he asked in amazement.

"Fuckin' A! Get your ass in gear. Now!"

I helped him to his feet. It dawned on him I was going to help so he hurried. With my assistance, we put him back into order. We reapplied the clever makeup. A clean, modest dress. A demure wig. Sunglasses. A scarf. Gloves and purse. He looked like little miss prissy. How anyone could mistake him for a girl was beyond me, but I had to admit the makeup was effective. We sneaked out the back before anyone came looking for me.

* * * * *

"I don't believe it!" I told him bluntly.

"Ya gotta believe me, Butch, it's the God's honest truth." It sounded like he was saying lines from some cheap script he'd read somewhere. I'd heard bullshit in my line of work, but the story he'd just spun, as we drove up into the hills, was a corker.

"So Jason was nude when you arrived and wanted a blowjob to keep quiet about you," I repeated sarcastically.

"Yes! It's the truth!"

"And you, the love of every woman, and gay man, in America..."

He interrupted. "My appeal is broader than that. I'm popular worldwide."

Just like fuckin' actors! Egos out to here! "...Yeah, whatever. You gave Jason a blowjob."

"It's true," he insisted.

"And he knew who you were."

"Yes, of course. That's why he was so insistent."

"Well, I gotta tell ya somethin'," I admitted. He nodded. "I examined Jason after he was shot."

"Yes?" He was curious. I heard it in his voice. He wondered where this was leading.

"I found lipstick."

"I told you it was me. I'm wearing lipstick." He sounded elated to be confirming this clue.

"Well..." I said slowly, hesitantly, "...he had a big cock..."

"That's for sure," he said earnestly.

"The lipstick..." I said and paused for effect, "...was at the base of that big cock. Someone with a whole lot of talent put it there."

"I put it there, Butch, believe me, and if you had a cock as big as Jason's I could prove it."

"My cock's at least as big as his," I offered.

"Oh!" he said. I heard both surprise and interest in the way he pronounced that little word. I looked over at him. His eyes shown brightly despite the bizarre makeup. It made me realize I was one of his many fans that he'd fooled completely.

"So the killer took you for a prostitute and told you to get the fuck out of there, is that right?" I asked continuing my interrogation. I'd get back to that particular proof in a minute.

"Yes, and Jason used my fake name, Nancy, to tell me to get out. He protected me. I never thought he'd get shot. Believe me. If I had thought that, I would have stayed to try to help him. But he made me think he wasn't in any danger, so I snuck out the back, just like I'd snuck in."

"Why were you in drag in the first place?"

"Jason had phoned me. He told me Bruno had been killed."

"So?"

"Well," he said sheepishly, "He knew Bruno and I used to be..." he paused.

"Lovers?" I asked. I was amazed.

"Yeah. Jason thought someone might be after me, too. It scared me to death, so I got a makeup artist I know to help with this disguise."

"So tell me, godamit, who was the killer?"

"I don't know."

"Wadda ya mean, you don't know. You saw him, didn't you?"

"Sure. But I don't know who he is. I didn't recognize him. I never saw him before."

"You know the director I'm doing this job for, don't you?"

"Sure. He directed one of my best films. You must have seen it. It was..."

Now he was his own publicist. Egos! What shit! "Yeah. Yeah," I interrupted. "You're telling me the guy who shot Jason was not the director. You're not covering up for him, are you?" I was getting annoyed.

"No! I swear. I never saw the guy before."

"What did he look like?"

"I'm not sure. You gotta remember what I was doing when he came in. It was sort of embarrassing, getting caught that way. You know, my reputation. Publicity. My fans."

"What did he look like?" I repeated. It was like trying to deal with a conceited girl, for Christ's sake.

"I don't know. Tall. Older, but still handsome, in a way. I can't remember any details."

"Did Jason call him by name?" A suspicion was growing in the back of my mind. (Have you figured out who it might be, yet?)

"Well," he said slowly, drawing out the word as he thought about it. "Wait! As I was leaving I heard Jason say something like 'Henry' or 'Harry.' Oh, I don't remember."

"Concentrate. Think about it."

"It was..." he paused. It seemed that he was really trying to remember. I liked that. I was starting to trust him. Then he said, "It was that movie name..."

Before he could continue, I picked up the car-phone and called Will.

* * * * *

"Well, I guess you're a hero, now," the movie star was saying. He had started to remove his makeup by first tearing off the rubber facemask. "Your cop buddy must be real happy about catching the killer." Then, as I watched, somehow getting aroused by his activity, he used tissues to wipe off the eye shadow and eyeliner after he'd removed the false eyelashes. I saw that he was just about ready to remove the lipstick.

"Hold it!" I demanded. He looked startled. I had nabbed his attention. "I'm still not convinced you're the one who put the lipstick on Jason's..."

He was quick to catch on. His hand darted over to my crotch and before you could call out "Lights! Camera! Action!" he had my fly open, my cock tugged out, and my erection halfway down his throat.

Jesus! I thought, Look who's goin' down on me! Oooh, he's good! Oooh, he likes it! Aloud, I said, "Yeah, take it. Suck my cock, man. Yeah, that feels terrific. What a cocksucker! What a handsome cocksucker!" Talking dirty to this year's most popular screen idol. It was great. It was over-stimulating. I think I came before he could give final proof and make it all the way to the base of my wanger. But I no longer cared. Coming in him was enough of a reward for me. Enough proof that he was one of us.

"Fuck! That got me hot, man! Look at this," he cried sitting up, raising the modest dress he was wearing and, pulling down dainty little panties, he revealed a nice, handsome erection, leaking lube. It was then, in that instant, I realized why he had not recognized Harvey, who turned out to be the director's jealous ex-lover, as the killer. His dick was average sized. I realized that once the director had seen it, and he probably saw it during their filming on location together, he would not be interested. No size queen worth her salt would be.

Well, size queen or not, I take my pleasures in any sized packaging. I know a good cock when I see one! And I needed no second request to go down on the cock of this, the handsomest, sexiest man in Hollywood!

* * * * *

I phoned Todd and told him the news. He begged me not to tell the director about our afternoon's little tryst. When I asked, "What little tryst?" he sounded very grateful.

Then I phoned Will. He was all excited. The capture and confession had gone very smoothly. The Captain congratulated him and, as an afterthought, said, "Tell your little dick friend he's off the hook, for now." We laughed.

Then Will said, "I'm just getting off work now, little dick friend."

"Meet me at my place. I'll give you a good meal," I offered.

"I could use something to eat," he said huskily.

"I got plenty of meat.

"Yeah, I know. So do I! I'll be there by eight."

It was just another day in L.A. But being a private dick here does have its moments!

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