Date: Sat, 23 Dec 2006 23:49:11 -0500
From: Jeff A <parrafan@ureach.com>
Subject: Dreams of Stardom

Disclaimer: This story is for use by adults only. Even though some of the
names, places and things you find in it may seem familiar to you, they are
all made up. Really. If there are any celebrities who have the same names
as my fictional characters, I imply nothing about their sexualities. Keep
material such as this out of the reach of children. All of the events
described herein are complete fiction, and not to be construed as any kind
of recommendation for behaviour. Especially the unsafe sex parts.

Dedicated: To every boy actor who diligently slept his way to the top. And
to some helpful and gracious guys from the niftywriters chat room, Dru and
Kip (hope I remembered your names correctly). And to Kent, of course. And
Mr Malaprop.

* * *

Dreams of Stardom

a story by parrafan

"You're not seriously going to insert **this** in 'Gaiety', are you?",
Pierre exclaimed in his most incredulous voice.

'This' referred to the piece of paper he was now waving strenuously in
front of my face, as though it was alight and he was attempting to shake
off its flaming tongues . In fact, the sheet of paper simply contained the
typed copy for my new advertisement, already lodged in the latest issue of
the actors' trade magazine 'Gaiety'.

"Why not?", I responded with a forced calm. "What's wrong with it?". I
really did not need this on a Monday morning.

"What's wr-! What's-!" Pierre's power of speech appeared to have
temporarily deserted him as he choked on his own exasperation. "This
advert! It's...it's..."

"It's what?" I replied mildly, hoping my careless attitude might soothe
Pierre's excited temper. It didn't.

"It's positively obscene, that's what it is!", he shouted, sounding much
like a grandmother upon inspecting her granddaughter's new bathing suit.

Pierre strode up and down the sound stage in a fury, waving his arms and
brandishing the sheet of paper like an indictment. I made his mood worse
when I blithely admitted that the ad had already been placed in 'Gaiety'.

"You mean to tell me that they accepted this...this...pornography?!" he
exclaimed dramatically.

"Oh, come on, Pierre. Stop acting like a horrified maiden aunt and tell me
honestly and plainly what you don't like about my copywriting", I sneered,
getting tired of his theatrics.

"All right, I will", he countered, flourishing my sheet of typescript to an
imaginary audience. He began to read from the page:

	" 'Boys 9 to 12 years wanted for feature-length production, approx
15 weeks duration'

Well, I suppose that bit isn't too bad", he sniffed. "But what about this:

	'Prefer slim build, unbroken voices; acting experience not
essential'

It reads like you're looking to populate a boy harem!", Pierre shrieked.

"No it doesn't", I drawled dismissively. "Those are stock standard phrases,
readily found in other 'Gaiety' adverts."

Pierre was not mollified. "What about this then?

	'Must be open-minded and flexible in outlook; some incidental
nudity may be required.  Several principal roles available.'

You might as well say we're filming a skin flick full of little boys!"
Pierre groaned.

My associate producer's negative attitude was beginning to try my patience.
"Look, Pierre, every single word in that advertisement was cleared by our
lawyers. Now, I admit, the way you read it out made it sound like there was
more to it than I put into it, but I'd rather tell all the aspirants up
front what we can expect from them. Better for them to know before they
audition, than for us to find out three weeks into shooting that the boy
won't bare his bottom on film".

"It's a bit more than a bare bottom, isn't it?" Pierre simpered. "A flash
of boy butt I could cope with. But I seem to recall from reading your
script outline that there's also a skinny dipping scene, a bedroom scene, a
spanking scene, a bathroom scene for goodness' sake, some ball grabbing and
oh, yes, let's not forget the boy-on-boy kissing. How much of this movie do
you think will be left after the MPAA get done making their suggested cuts
to get a 'Suitable for All Audiences' rating? Ten minutes? Or maybe just
the credits?"

I scowled at him. "Come off it, Pierre. You're making way too much of
this. The advert was published in 'Gaiety' today, I expect the portfolios
to start rolling in as early as tomorrow. The keen ones will deliver them
by hand or courier this afternoon".

"And that's another thing", Pierre continued his rant, "why aren't we using
a casting agency like we did on 'Island of Gold' - the kids that Melstein
Associates got for us did a fair job on that, didn't they? Why do we have
to reinvent the wheel on this one?"

"Agencies are fine, and Melstein's one of the better ones, but when you use
an agency you only get the kids that are registered with that agency", I
reasoned. "Maybe if I was pressed for time, I'd use Melstein again. But for
this project, I wanted to cast the net a bit wider, maybe get a few boys
that aren't already convinced they're the next Culkin".

"Who's going to weed through the portfolios - assuming we get any?", Pierre
scoffed. "You?"

"Why not me?" I argued haughtily. "Maybe if none of my movies go down in
history, at least I might find lasting fame as the director who discovered
the next James Dean. Besides, it might do me good to take more control over
the process, get a strong grip on the project from the outset. I say 'bring
'em on!' ".

"Bring on a migraine, more like", Pierre muttered. He would have continued
his tirade, I have no doubt, but just then my secretary buzzed with an
announcement.

"Courier's here, Mr Howerd. Looks like about twenty parcels", her nasal
voice sounded over the speaker.

"Thank you Miss Hatherway, I'll be right there", I yelled towards the
squawk box. I stood up and gave Pierre my brightest smile. "Time to earn a
crust", I joked weakly.

"An early grave, Don, is where you're sending me. Early!", Pierre added,
stalking back to his own office.

* * *

The lines at the bottom of my advertisement in 'Gaiety' that my longtime
friend and colleague Pierre omitted to mention were "Apply in writing to
Don Howerd, Ganymede Productions. Include colour headshots and full body
(bathing suit), brief resume, no portfolios returned". That put the
obligation on the child actor (or more usually, his mother) to send me the
most daring photo they could, knowing that they were not going to get it
back. Some movie moms were known to send pictures of their sons fully
naked, little cocks rampantly erect, in the hope that their precious
offspring might be able to fuck their way to a starring role, followed by a
glittering career. The advantage of not sending portfolios back (apart from
saving on postage) was that I could simply deny that I ever received any
pornographic photos. As a result, I had amassed quite a collection of
candid snapshots, carefully stored in my trusty floor safe at home, to keep
me amused in my old age.

But my dotage had not quite arrived as yet, and now I had nineteen express
delivery parcels awaiting my attention. No doubt they were all in response
to the 'Gaiety' advert - movie moms were nothing if not quick off the
mark. I sorted the stack of parcels into "thick" and "thin" piles.

I started on the "thin" pile first. I guessed that it might contain
portfolios of newcomers to the acting game, boys who might not have been
around long enough to accumulate large volumes of photos of their acting
credits.

The first parcel contained a folder from a ten-year-old, Sunshine
Matthews. Honestly, what sort of a life would parents condemn a boy to,
calling him 'Sunshine'?. Might as well have named him 'Punchme'. Sunshine's
headshot showed him to be a curly-headed blond (what a surprise) with blue
eyes and plenty of well-tended teeth. Sunshine had two years of dance under
his belt, and one year of acting class, which had resulted in precisely no
actual acting jobs to date. He had received a few assignments for catalogue
modelling, but no genuine time in front of a movie camera as yet. He looked
very innocent to my jaded eyes, and he had full, sensuous lips, so I put
him in the 'maybe' pile. Who knows, he might have an undiscovered talent
for dick sucking.

The next two boys were too old for the parts I had in mind - one had the
shadow of a moustache on his upper lip for god's sake, and the other
sported a prominent Adams' apple. Obviously their parents were clutching at
straws. If a boy hasn't got a speaking part before his first shave, he's
got no chance as a child actor.

The fourth portfolio made me stop and take notice. Taren Jamieson's
declared age was thirteen, but he could have passed for a ten year
old. Seven photos were supplied, along with the written bio. Five of the
pictures were standard headshots and casual beach wear, but the last two
were keepers. The first showed Taren stretched out face down on a white
bedsheet (on a double bed - probably his parents') wearing a French style
pair of pale yellow Speedos. His right hand was dragging one side of the
bathing suit down to expose a nice portion of buttcheek, and his face was
turned to the camera with what I can only describe as a "Please lie down
here right now and fuck the daylights out of me" look.

The final picture completed the sell job the photos were obviously designed
to achieve. It showed Taren standing at a window, silhouetted by the
daylight pouring in. He was leaning on the windowsill, slightly bent
forward, looking towards the sunlit outdoors. He wore an oversize
sleeveless t-shirt which reached to mid-thigh, with big droopy armholes,
and apparently, nothing else. The light had the clever (and quite erotic)
effect of turning the garment almost transparent. The cleft of his bottom
was clearly visible, as was the side of one large brown nipple. He might as
well have had a speech balloon coming out of his mouth saying "I wish
someone would sneak up behind me and lift the hem of this shirt and ream my
little ass for me". Taren's portfolio went onto the 'definite' pile.

The next eight parcels contained unremarkable collections of prosaic
snapshots and humdrum resumes, none of them worth a second glance. They
were all tossed onto the 'unlikely' pile. I wasn't really sure what I was
looking for, but I was confident that I'd recognise it when I saw it. And I
was pretty sure I saw it when I opened the folder belonging to Ryder
MacLane. (Honest to god, the kid's name is Ryder. How I long for a few good
old Jimmys and Franks and Joes - I am so thoroughly sick of Dakotas and
Rivers and even Macaulays).

Ryder was eleven years old, had never taken an acting lesson or a dance or
voice class in his young life, and only supplied four photos, along with a
brief handwritten note. The photos were enticing enough: Ryder barechested,
in very short cutoff jeans and riding a horse; a head-and shoulders showing
Ryder leaning on a football goalpost showing his smooth underarms; a
full-length swimsuit shot from behind, Ryder's dark blonde hair plastered
to his head, boardshorts fashionably low on the hip with about two inches
of crack showing; and finally a full-length frontal with Ryder wearing only
blue satin boxers and drinking a glass of milk, some of which had spilled
onto his bare chest and dribbled down to his innie navel. But it was the
note that got Ryder into the 'definite' pile: it was a masterpiece of
innuendo. Written in an adult's hand, it made me salivate like a horny
hounddog: "Ryder is available anytime for you. He is very responsive and is
quick to grasp most anything. !
 He would love to be under the Director of 'Island of Gold', and learn all
the ins and outs. He is a hard worker, and he can bone up all night if need
be. I'm sure he can pull it off if he wants to, he just needs the right
person to take him in hand. Feel free to use him in any position you want
as he is very accommodating and flexible." It was signed C MacLane (Mrs).

I fought off the desire to find a box of tissues immediately and relieve
myself, placing Ryder's folder on top of the 'definite' pile. I made a
silent promise to my dick that it would soon be thrusting up Ryder's
bottom, so it should let me get on with my work, and it grudgingly
conceded.

The 'thick' pile beckoned. A thick folder tended to indicate that the boy
had already acted or modelled in some movie or magazine or catalogue, and
his doting mother made sure every single camera angle was included in her
son's portfolio. Next time I'll put something in the advert like "Put your
six best photos on the top of the folder - all others will be disregarded",
but it probably won't save any trees.

First on the thick pile was a boy of mixed parentage. He was definitely
cute, and judging by his resume he was also talented and experienced, but I
didn't want to confuse the messages in my film by adding any element of
race. So, into the discard pile you go, Nguyen. Following him into the
discards was a boy whose mother clearly did not read the section of my
advert that said "prefer slim build". Did she not realise that 'prefer'
means 'must have'? Am I filming a remake of "Laurel and Hardy meet Fat Boy
Slim" here? Hello?

I skimmed through the rest of the stack with little interest. I really did
not want a boy who had picked up bad acting habits from earlier
assignments, even if they were only K-Mart catalogues.

"Miss Hatherway?" I buzzed my secretary. "Can you contact the mothers of
the boys whose folders are in my blue tray please? Set up a time on Friday
morning, both boys at once is fine, I'm taking the afternoon off, maybe
going to the health club. See you in the a.m."

* * *

Tuesday morning's mail was, as I predicted, full of parcels from eager
young hopefuls attracted by my advert in 'Gaiety'. Most of these would find
their way into the discard pile by this afternoon, but I diligently looked
at every one. I was hoping that some screen mothers took the phrase from my
advert seriously about 'some incidental nudity', and included a nude study
or two or their sons. I was not disappointed.

The very first parcel was bulky and irregularly shaped because it included
a VHS tape, unlabelled, which I slipped into the VCR, my curiosity having
gotten the better of me. Immediately, a boy's face filled the screen, as
though he was standing only a few inches from the camera. "Hi!" the head
said cheerfully, showing a big toothy grin. "My name's Eben, an' I wanna be
an actor! Come see my room!" The shirtless body of Eben took off up the
stairs of a comfortable-looking suburban house, with the cameraman (who
might have been Mom or a friend) struggling to keep up.

"Here's my room!" Eben declared rather unnecessarily, a little out of
breath. "That's my dog Jack", he explained, pointing to a Jack Russell
terrier lying on the bed. It was a typical preteen boy's sanctuary, model
planes hanging from the ceiling on fishing line, oversized posters of
popular musicians on the wall (I was surprised to see Michael Jackson among
them), homework-related clutter all over a desk, clothes piled up on top of
a chest of drawers, a bookshelf with DVDs of the Harry Potter and Simpsons
series stacked alongside a pile of DC and Marvel comics.

The camera panned all around the room while Eben jumped on the bed and
wrestled with Jack the dog. Eben then jumped up and yelled "Let's go
outside, I wanna swim!" The boy pushed past the camera operator, bumping
his or her arm so that the picture jolted before focussing on Eben hurtling
down the same staircase and through an open glass double door onto a
sheltered patio.

"That's our pool! Neat, ain't it!" the boy declared, pointing to a
kidney-shaped in-ground model. With that, he skinned down his shorts to
reveal no underclothes but an all-over tan (his back still to the camera)
and raced over the small lawn to leap into the cool water. Turning to face
the camera, armpit deep in the now disturbed water, he yelled "We're
nudists! Mom's nude too but she's got the camera! Hi Mom!"

A blurry hand appeared briefly waving in front of the lens, presumably
Mom's, as Eben thrashed about like a drowning man in the pool. "I loved
'Island of Gold'! I seen it four times!" Eben yelled to the camera. "I
woulda liked to play Jamie in that. Sometimes me an' my friend Chris act
out the movie. I play Jamie an' he plays Captain Rogers! Hope I get an
audition! Bye!" The movie faded to black with Eben enthusiastically waving
and jumping about in the water.

Now, normally I frown on this kind of blatant toadying. And by 'frown' I
mean it earns its author a quick trip to the discard pile. But a nudist boy
(complete with nudist Mom) opened up some interesting possibilities. The
role from 'Island of Gold' (an earlier film of mine, for those who aren't
following the story) that Eben referred to was that of the principal child
actor, Jamie Farrows. Imagine 'Lord of the Flies', plus a healthy dash of
'Peter Pan', if it had been written by Robert Louis Stephenson, and you get
the flavour of it. Captain Rogers is the bad guy who falsely befriends
young Jamie in an attempt to steal the eponymous gold for himself, but
Jamie outsmarts him (of course).

Toadying notwithstanding, Eben did earn some credit for researching my
earlier work (and for having a cute build). I placed his tape back into his
envelope and put it into the blue tray, for Miss Hatherway to phone later.

Before I could pick up the next envelope, Pierre breezed into my office. He
grimaced at the stack of mail, and couldn't resist aiming a barb at
me. "Today's batch of Shirley Temples?", he sneered, hoping to imply
something about the sexuality of any boy who would answer my advert. He was
a fine one to talk, having lived in a stable relationship with a man his
own age for the last eight years. I was an equal opportunity employer - I
didn't care who my employees and work colleagues slept with, as long as
they accorded me the same freedom and privacy.

"Some of them look pretty good", I countered. "I'll keep an eye out for a
boy with a rich widowed mother for you, if you like?"

"Ha...ha...ha", he drawled sardonically. "I suppose you'd better tell me
the big secret then, if I'm going to be of any use at all around
here". Pierre referred to my habit of keeping the script (which I usually
wrote myself) close to my chest until shooting was about to begin. I had an
irrational fear that someday I would wake up to find that some other
director had already filmed my movie.

"Remember that 90's flick 'Milk Money' - about a couple of horny preteen
boys who save up their pocket money so they can get a hooker to put on a
strip show for them? Only the hooker ends up falling for the father of one
of the boys?", I began.

Pierre put on his painful 'I'm thinking' look. "Sounds vaguely familiar. Ed
Harris played the dad?"

"That's the one!", I agreed, glad that my colleague at least knew what I
was talking about. "I take a similar starting point. Only in my movie, the
boys discover the father's gay porno stash, and, this being the 21st
century and everyone is open-minded, they decide to fix up dad with a nice
boyfriend. Only the boyfriend prefers them a bit younger, and falls for
sonny boy instead".

"Jesus H Krishna!" exploded Pierre. "Now I know why you wouldn't let me see
the whole script sooner! Is there anything else, or is that the worst of
it?"

I regarded him disdainfully. "There's a couple of subplots. A neighbour boy
has a crush on the son...and when the two boys find the porno stash,
they...er, fool around a bit...oh, and a local councilman is trying to get
the dad kicked off the school board, so the son, er, seduces and then
blackmails him". I said the last part in a rush to get it all out before
Pierre interrupted me with another cartoonish expletive.

"You can't have kids deliberately using their sexuality as a weapon against
adults. You just can't. No way will we be able to screen this anywhere in
this country, even if you were able to finish it", Pierre warned.

"There are some precedents. What about 'The Crush'? A fourteen year old
chick steals an older guy's used condom out of the garbage can and smears
his jizz on her gash, then goes crying to the cops that she's been
raped. Poor bastard doesn't have a leg to stand on", I recounted.

"At least that's female/male blackmail. Anyone could understand
that. You're talking about a boy, a preteen boy, having sex with an adult
male so he can threaten to expose him or else. It'll put ideas into a
million young heads!" Pierre complained.

I was not about to be swayed. "So, maybe we won't screen it in this
country. Europe has been making movies like this for decades. No-one over
there gives a hoot if they see some little kid's dick hanging out. Look at
'Barnens O' - it's got an eleven year old boy's stiffie in full view! And
another boy boner pops up in that Italian/French flick '1900'! And those
are just the mainstream movies - I could name a hundred more."

Pierre's reply dripped with scorn. "So, you plan to make a European style
coming of age slash comedy of manners type film, using American actors
speaking with American accents, and then sell it to Europe? Why should they
buy it? And who have you got lined up to play the father, anyway? Oh, no,
don't tell me - oh god - you wouldn't dare - !" Pierre gasped, realisation
dawning on him.

"Why shouldn't I?" I demanded. "I know the role backwards, because I wrote
it. I have a natural rapport with boys. And, it will save the company
money. Eastwood does it all the time. So does DeNiro".

"Maybe, but the good directors never appear in front of the camera", Pierre
sniffed.

"What about Hitchcock?" I parried, sending Pierre off in a huff. He hated
having his idols used in evidence against him. I continued working my way
through the stack. I was sure Pierre would come around; he usually did.

Three more applicants made it into the blue tray. Much to my delight, one
of them did provide a side-on nude shot showing the boy, in silhouette,
with a straight-arrow boner. It was quite artistic, really, although you've
never see it in any art gallery in this country. Thank god for digital
cameras and home printers.

* * *

Now that I had begun, I was anxious to start auditioning the boys, even
though more applications might come in tomorrow's mail. I was impatient to
get something happening, some chemistry to inspire me, and hopefully, some
boy sex.

"Miss Hatherway", I buzzed, "One of this yesterday's applicants, a Chayse
Matherson, did you get a contact number for him? Good. Call his mother, see
if they want to come in this morning, around 10 will be fine. Thank you."
Chayse (I cringed every time I saw it written down) was twelve, blond, and
had a background in gym and dance, but no prior acting nor modelling. His
photos showed a lithe boy in a leotard, a happy boy wrestling with his dog
in a suburban back yard, a studious boy in a Hallowe'en Harry Potter
costume, and finally a beach shot of the boy running through shallow water
with the aforementioned dog.

Miss Hatherway buzzed me back. "Mrs Matherson and Chayse will be here in
twenty minutes, Mr Howerd".

"Thank you Miss Hatherway", I responded politely. I paced up and down my
converted warehouse/studio while awaiting the boy and his Mom. The spider
waiting for the fly. I had a sudden inspiration and scurried to the
Properties (props) room. In addition to a sound stage and a couple of
offices, my revamped warehouse has all the necessary doings for a small
budget production. If I need interiors (realistic-looking insides of homes)
I just get a month's lease of one of the dozens of vacant mansions around
the City. I laid out a couple of boy-sized leotards on the costumes bench
and returned to my office just in time to greet Mrs Matherson and her son
Chayse, who were being ushered in by Miss Hatherway.

"Welcome, and thanks for coming in so soon", I greeted them
effusively. "Miss Hatherway, please draw up a cheque on the Number 3
account for five hundred dollars for Mrs Matherson's travelling expenses
this morning. Then can you prepare the paperwork for the release and
confidentiality agreements, please?" She nodded and turned to go as Mrs
Matherson protested feebly about being paid.

"Not at all", I reassured her. "I don't believe a young aspiring actor's
family should have to be out of pocket just because a director calls him in
for an audition. Just don't expect every studio to do it, that's all", I
added jokingly, and she enjoyed a laugh along with me. Now that I had
relaxed Mrs Matherson a little, I took the opportunity to cast an
appraising eye over Chayse.

The boy was turned out like a junior version of a successful business exec
on his day off: beige sports jacket over pastel polo shirt, light grey
slacks, black leather shoes. Just as I had hoped. I invited Mrs Matherson
and Chayse to follow me out of my office and into the body of the
warehouse, where I had a few comfy chairs, a coffee machine and a
mini-bar. "By the way, did my secretary mention to you that I wanted Chayse
to show me some movement this morning?" I asked Mrs Matherson
innocently. Of course I had told Miss Hatherway no such thing. "I'm
guessing she didn't, judging by the way he's dressed. It seems a pity for
you both to have come here but not be able to show me what Chayse is
capable of". I paused for a moment to allow Mrs Matherson to begin the
inevitable profuse apology, then interrupted her with my 'sudden
inspiration'.

"Wait a minute - maybe we can work something out", I suggested, offering
the desperate Mrs Matherson a lifeline. "I'm sure you'll find something
more suitable for Chayse to wear in our props room! It's at the other end
of the building, you can't miss it. Meanwhile, I'll go see what's holding
up that paperwork". With that, the grateful movie mom hustled her son down
to the properties room while I made small talk with Miss Hatherway. I
suppose I could have set up a hidden camera, or a two-way mirror to watch
the boy undress, but I have found that playing it cool gets the best
results.

Mrs Matherson practically pushed Chayse at me when they returned after a
few minutes. It was clear that she found the leotard I purposely left out,
and had made Chayse change into it. It was cut in a boy's style, armless
but with ankle length legs, in a metallic silvery colour rather like a
cross between a pair of biballs and a tight space suit. Very light
material, clingy, and so thin that I could immediately see that there were
no tell-tale underwear seams showing through. Hmm - I wondered was that
Chayse's idea, or his Mom's, to leave off his undies. I felt a momentary
pang of regret that I had not set up that hidden camera.

"Ah, yes, that's much better", I congratulated them. I waved Mrs Matherson
into a chair and offered her the coffee machine or the mini-bar (she took
the latter), then asked Chayse to walk up and down like a catwalk model for
me. He aimed a quizzical look at his mother, who was sipping a rum and
coke, then began a rather effeminate sashay up and down in front of me,
arms akimbo.

"Now with your hands on your head, please Chayse", I called out, and the
boy dutifully put both hands up, making the swivel of his slim hips even
more pronounced. I could see a small bump, like a pubescent girl's nipple,
pushing out the crotch of the leotard about an inch, making me keen to give
it a grope.

"Okay, Chayse, just step over to the foam pit and stand with your back to
it. When I tell you, fall back into the pit like a statue toppling over", I
instructed. The foam pit was one of my favourite installations in the
warehouse. A pool of water was too high-maintenance, so I use a sunken pit
about 6 feet deep and full of blocks of foam rubber, much as you might find
at an indoor athletics venue. Most boys find it a heap of fun, and you
don't get wet or injured. Chayse obliged, even adding a salute as he keeled
over into the blocks of soft rubber. Mrs Matherson meanwhile helped herself
to another drink. Time for me to get some action. I walked over to the pit
and helped pull Chayse out by the hand.

"Looking good so far, Chayse", I complimented him. His shy smile showed he
was loosening up a little. "This time, I'm going to throw you into the pit,
but half way, in mid-air, I want you to yell out and wave to your
mother. Okay?" He nodded his understanding, so without waiting, I
positioned him alongside the pit, slipped my hand between his legs from
behind, and lifted him up, tossing him into the foam rubber. The surprised
look on his face as I grasped his crotch through the thin material of the
leotard was priceless, but he was enough of a trouper to do as I asked, and
yelled "Hi Mom!" before gravity took over and he flopped into the foam.

Mrs Matherson gave a confused half-smile in response, preoccupied as she
was with her third rum and coke. I assisted Chayse out of the foam pit
again, and led him by the hand to where his mother was seated. "Doing well,
Chayse", I commented. "Now I want you to imagine you are a snake, and
slither all over this seat next to your mother".

Chayse's response was to look confused, first at me, then at his befuddled
Mom. "First thing to remember in this business, Chayse, and I'm sure your
mother will back me up here, is that an actor always does what his Director
tells him", I advised him sternly.

" 'Sright, Chayse. Do what th' d'rector sez", his mother slurred. Chayse
gave a little shrug of the shoulders, and began slithering. Every edge and
corner on the chair rubbed his little crotch, making his little protrusion
show out a little more each time. Time to cop another feel.

"Okay, Chayse. I'm going to carry you to the pit, and throw you in. On the
way, I want you to imagine I'm a giant, tossing you off a cliff, so I want
whimpering and struggling, but not too much, since you realise your
position is hopeless". Right in front of his mother, I lifted Chayse up in
the crotch grip again, his stiff little tool now between my fingers, and
carried him slowly to the pit. His squirming was half-hearted, as I
requested, and only served to grind his little package into my palm.  To
reinforce the lesson about actors following directions, I set him on his
feet and flexed my hand as though it was sore from the effort. Chayse stood
waiting submissively for me to pick him up again, which I did, trapping his
skinny, stiff prick between my fingers and holding it there for a few
seconds before heaving the wriggling lad into the pit. He had the presence
of mind to give a convincing, but short, wail.

I gave the boy a hand out of the pit again, then led him again to where his
increasingly besotted mother was seated. Positioning him with his back to
his mother (so I alone could feast on the sight of his stiffy pushing out
the front of the silver leotard), I suggested he sing me a song. "If you
can't think of any, just sing The Star Spangled Banner - every boy knows
that one", I added.

Obviously unused to singing in front of strangers, Chayse blushed a pretty
shade of pink, but bravely stood to attention, cleared his throat and began
a shaky, high-pitched warble. I felt sorry for him by the time the twilight
had gleamed its last, and motioned for him to stop. Relieved, his hands
drifted to cover his crotch, a posture I wanted to prevent.

"Okay, Chayse, I want you to put your hands up to your shoulders and hug
yourself. Imagine you are kissing a supermodel. Eyes shut, I want to see
passion in your face". Embarrassed again, the boy flushed brightly but did
as he was bid, caressing his shoulders and forearms while puckering his
lips and kissing the air. His boy boner pointed straight at me. When his
hands reached his waist, I stopped him. Mrs Matherson was staring, glassy
eyed, at the ceiling. Time to pick up the pace, I thought.

"Mrs Matherson, does Chayse have any scars I should know about? You will
recall the advert mentioned incidental nudity. Tasteful, of course", I
hastened to add.

"Shcars?" the boy's mom slurred. "He got his 'pendix out two years back. I
guess that left a scar. Show Mr Howerd yer 'pendix scar, Chaysey", she
ordered. The poor boy gave her a pained look but complied, slipping the
right shoulder strap of the leotard off, and pulling his elbow out to lower
the right side of the shiny suit down far enough to expose his appendix
scar. Unfortunately for the boy's modesty, the material of the garment did
not stretch far enough to allow it, so I beckoned him to come closer. When
he was within reach, I slipped the left shoulder strap off, pulling the
whole garment down to his waist. Chayse made a feeble grab for the
material, but I was faster. Pulling the leotard down past his bony hips, I
gathered it to just above his crotch. There was the scar, just above his
right groin, barely visible. "Ah, yes, that will be no problem", I smiled
at him.

The material of the leotard was now bunched all around Chayse's lower
belly, giving him the relief of concealment. But not for long. Before he
could pull the straps back into place, I innocently asked his mother "No
scars or blemishes on his bottom?". She just waved a hand, so I pulled the
flimsy garment down to mid-thigh, making Chayse gasp. His little pecker
turned out to be circumcised, a fact which I had suspected from my earlier
observations. His hairless scrotum was tight against his body, balls barely
discernable. Chayse's embarrassment did not extend to his little cock,
which stiffened under my attention, bouncing up proudly as I held the boy's
hips, swivelling him around to check his bottom for any unsightly markings
(not that I cared).

"Might as well check his thighs and legs while I'm here", I remarked to his
mother, who gave an I-could-care-less toss of her head. "Boys are always
skinning their knees, aren't they", I chatted conversationally to Mrs
Matherson as I pulled her son's borrowed garment all the way down to his
ankles. He tried to cover his little package with one hand, so I pulled
both his hands away from his body and continued my conversation with his
mother.

"I see you've had Chayse circumcised", I observed, making it clear to both
of them exactly where I was looking. "Doctor did a fine job, too, from what
I can see", I added, to rub it in.

"Did it in hoshpital, er, hospital, when he was born", Mrs Matherson
slurred. "Easier t'keep clean".

"Yes, you're right, Mrs Matherson. And they don't feel it so much when
they're babies, either, do they", I concurred, fondling the exposed knob of
Chayse's little pecker. He still had his back to his mother so she could
not quite see what I was doing.

I pushed a little further. "And Chayse's balls haven't dropped yet, that's
a good thing", I enthused, tweaking the boy's scrotum as I did so. "It
means his voice won't be breaking for some time yet. Nearly ruined the
first Potter movie, you know", I whispered to Mrs Matherson confidentially,
still groping Chayse's package like a greengrocer feeling a tomato. Her
eyebrows raised with interest, keen to hear some insider gossip. "Oh, yes,
when Dan Radcliffe's voice broke three weeks into shooting they nearly
canned the whole thing. Just between us", I leaned in towards her, lowering
my voice (but still rubbing Chayse's tool) "Dan was very good
**off-camera**, if you know what I mean". Mrs Matherson sniggered, then
fell back in the chair grinning widely.

I decided it was time to raise the stakes. "Well, I've seen all I need
today, thanks both of you for coming along. No, it's alright Mrs Matherson,
I'll take Chayse down to the props room to get him dressed, you just stay
right there", I added, as Mrs Matherson made a feeble attempt to get out of
the deep-cushioned chair. I slipped the leotards off Chayse's ankles, then
took his hand, walking the naked boy back to the properties room.

Chayse's clothes were laid carefully on the bench where I had put the
leotards, but there was no sign of underwear. "Where's your undies,
Chayse?, I asked, releasing his hand.

"Mother put them in her handbag", he replied, reaching for his
trousers. That confirmed my decision to proceed.

I put my hand on his arm to stop him from picking up his slacks, then sat
in an old armchair. "Would you like to give me a blowjob?", I asked
conversationally, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Chayse's neck and face flushed pink, and he scowled at me. "I'm going to
tell my Mother what you just said", he declared in a low growl, starting
for the door. When he reached for the handle, I played all my cards.

"Sure, tell your mother if you like. It will be your word against mine. But
ask yourself this: what do you think she'll say? What did she say when I
put my hand between your legs and carried you to the pit? What did she say
when I pulled down your leotard to look at your bottom? Did she tell me to
stop when I touched your balls and cock? Right in front of her? Have you
had enough time to think about why she made you take off your undies before
putting on that leotard? And which do you think she'd expect you to do?
Give up a promising acting career before it starts by being a tattle-tale?
Or would she say 'It's no big deal, just suck some dick Chayse' ?. You know
her better than I do, Chayse. And you can bet no studio is going to want a
tattle-tale...a crybaby...a squealer, a boy who runs to Mommy every time
some director asks for a little head. It's only sex, after all, I'm not
asking for a lifetime commitment here. Who knows, you might like it. And if
you do me, I'll do you!
  right back. Whattaya say?"

Chayse's dick, which had softened on our walk to the props room, answered
for him. On hearing I would blow him back, it pumped up to its full length
of nearly three inches in a couple of seconds. Still scowling, but now with
shoulders slumped in resignation, Chayse walked away from the door and back
to me. He knelt on the floor between my knees, frowning furiously.

"Now remember Chayse, don't do this unless you want to. I bet there's
plenty of boys in this town wanting to become actors, who would blow me
willingly. So I don't want a half-hearted effort. Remember where you Mother
put your undies - she wouldn't have done that unless she had a pretty good
idea of what we were going to be doing in here, would she?" Actually I had
not a clue why Mrs Matherson put the undies in her bag - but I was betting
Chayse didn't either. I pulled my sweats down in the front to release my
dick. With one last look at me, Chayse opened his lips and bowed his head
down to swallow my knob. I must say, there are few better sights in the
world than the top of a boy's blond head bobbing up and down in one's
lap. I think this was Chayse's first time, with a grown-up anyway, judging
from his amateurish performance. But it was pleasurable enough for me, and
hey, we could work on it. After only a couple of minutes I lifted his head
up carefully with my hands unde!
 r his jaw and told him I was going to cum.

"I'll be shooting my jizz soon Chayse, so swallow it all down, that way we
won't make a mess", I lectured him calmly, before lowering his head back
down. Ten seconds later I bucked my loins upwards and squirted into
Chayse's mouth. He obediently swallowed, licking around my knob to get the
last drops, then stood up. I was delighted to see his boner still rigid.

"Good boy", I praised him. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Not the end of the
world, eh?", I chided. He blushed again as I said "Now your turn. Take my
place", I explained as I got out of the chair and swung Chayse's skinny
body into it. I pulled his legs forward so he was slumped down in the large
armchair, then without fanfare I engulfed his pencil-sized dick in my
mouth. Chayse jerked on first contact, then sighed deeply as I settled in,
tonguing and bobbing.

Without breaking my rhythm, I eased my hands under his bottom, which was
hanging half over the edge of the chair, and lifted it upwards slightly in
time with my sucking. Chayse's hips soon got the message, first flexing,
then pumping, then bouncing on my hands until the boy arched his back and
stifled a groan, his cock drumming against my swirling tongue. I let his
buttcheeks down slowly back to the cushion, then helped the boy to his
feet.

Unexpectedly, Chayse stood up on the armchair's seat and threw his arms
around my neck and hugged me, sobbing a little into my neck. "Hey, it's
okay, Chayse, I like you too", I comforted him. "You'll have plenty of
chances for sex, with me, and with boys your own age, if you continue in
this business. Enjoy it while you can". I gave him a peck on the cheek, my
hands cupping his bottom. He pecked me back with a shy smile, then hopped
down off the chair and grabbed his slacks, quickly dressing while I
watched, smiling encouragement. We walked back to Mrs Matherson together,
who looked blankly at us as though we had never left.

"Chayse is all set now, Mrs Matherson", I assured her jovially. "Here's my
card, with my home address and phone number on it, Chayse can call me if he
wants to learn more about the business. Meanwhile, my secretary will be in
touch with you when filming starts. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to find a
part for Chayse".

" 'Swunnerful news, juss wunnerful", Mrs Matherson slurred as she rose
unsteadily to her feet. Chayse smiled ruefully at me as he helped his
mother to the door. Just before it shut on the pair, Chayse blew me a
silent kiss. I smiled back, hoping that I would hear from him soon.

* * *

Combining the roles of producer and director makes for a busy week. The
days just fly by. Before I knew it, Friday was upon me, which meant three
more boys to audition: Taren, Ryder and Sunshine. They all arrived before
the set time, which meant that my modest foyer, where Miss Hatherway ruled,
was filled with three boys and three screen Moms well before the ten
o'clock audition time. I wandered out a minute before ten a.m., saw the
expectant faces and invited them all through.

"Greetings one and all!" I declared, trying to win them over with my
charm. "Please, ladies, find seats; boys, to one side please, you won't
have time to sit down". One of the mothers chuckled a little at this, which
encouraged me to continue.

"Coffee machine to your left, ladies, mini-bar on your right. Please help
yourselves, but no alcohol for the minors, I beg you!" That got another
chuckle. "First of all, thank you all for coming along today, I know that
everything is always busy, busy, busy when you have a son who wants to
act". I stepped over to the door and called out "Miss Hatherway, please cut
three cheques for travel expenses for Mrs Matthews, Mrs Jamieson and Mrs
MacLane, five hundred dollars each, thank you". The ladies looked at each
other to try to decide who was going to argue with me, but none of them
did. They all smiled, though, maybe imagining what they would do with their
windfall. The boys stood patiently off to one side, not speaking to each
other. Time to remedy that.

"Okay, gentlemen, your hour has come", I addressed the boys. "The purpose
of this audition is so I can find out if you have the right stuff for my
movie. I'll be asking you to do a variety of things, and I expect instant
compliance. Your mothers will be sitting in these chairs, watching all of
you, as will I. Some of the things I will ask you to do relate to the
movie, and some are just so I can see what you're capable of. None of the
roles has been definitely cast as yet, so you're all in with a chance. It's
up to you, what you make of it". Not quite the Gettysburg address, but it
would have to suffice.

I summoned up my courage, addressing the mothers as much as the boys. "To
begin - the first pivotal scene in my movie involves a kiss between two
boys".  Two of the mothers shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, as I
continued. "Now I appreciate some of you boys might find this a bit
confronting, but I'm asking you to think about your craft. Heath Ledger
kissed a guy in Brokeback Mountain, and the universe didn't
collapse. No-one in the business thinks any the less of Heath because of
it. So I want you boys to forget any schoolyard nonsense about 'gayness',
and think about 'gay-ning' a part in this movie. First, can I have Ryder
and Taren". The two nominated boys shuffled forward, sneaking a glance at
each other as they did so.

"Good. Now I know it's hard to relax when you have to kiss another guy, so
I'll try to make it as painless as I can. Ryder, put your hands on Taren's
shoulders, and give him a peck on the cheek, please". Without a glance at
his mother, Ryder did exactly as I asked, bussing Taren's face and smiling
at his mother afterwards.

"Well, now" I exhaled with relief, "the world didn't come to an end, did
it?". Nervous chuckles from the mothers, and the boys relaxed a
little. "This time, I want Taren to kiss Sunny. On the lips, please Taren,
but you don't have to prolong it. Just a brush of the lips will be
fine. See how you go". I didn't want to expose Sunshine to ridicule by
saying his full name, so I abbreviated it in the hope that the other boys
wouldn't pick up on the unusual forename. Taren didn't let me down, giving
Sunshine a little hug and rubbing lips with him for half a second.

"You're doing great boys, well done so far. Ladies, did I mention the
coffee bar and the mini-bar?All of the drinks are complementary, the
company pays for it in some kind of complicated tax dodge that I don't
quite understand, so don't feel you are robbing me. Tuck in". A giggle from
the mothers as they stirred themselves out of their seats to get their
drinks. They had obviously decided that nothing inappropriate was going to
happen while they were present, so they lowered their collective
guard. Leaving me my opening.

"Great stuff so far boys. Sunny, I think it's your turn, but before you do,
I'd like you all to take off your shirts. In the actual scene, the two boys
are in their bathing costumes. Is that alright with you ladies?", I
enquired, turning towards the three mothers.

Mrs MacLane was helping herself to a whiskey and soda, and assumed the role
of spokesperson for the group. "Sure, why not", she asserted. "Ryder never
wears a shirt around the house. And they're only boys, what harm can it
do?".

"Okay, shirts off, fellas, Sunny, I want you to give Ryder a smooch on the
lips, only this time, when your lips touch, I want you to hold that
position until I say 'Cut!', okay?" Sunshine and Ryder both nodded, Ryder's
dark blond hair shaking like a lion's mane as he did so. That sight put
some lead in my pencil, I can tell you.

"Ready fellas? ...and...Action!" I directed. The two boys embraced, lips
lightly touching. Ryder was a few inches taller than Sunshine, so he had to
bend his neck a little to put their lips on a level. The boys were holding
on to each other's shoulders, so I stepped behind Sunshine and dropped
Ryder's hands down to Sunshine's waist, then stood behind Ryder and did the
same to Sunny's hands. "And...Cut! Well done, boys. Taren, I hope you were
watching, because you're next with Ryder. This time, I want you close
enough so your chests are touching, got it?" There was no real need to ask
Taren if he was watching - his eyes were glued to the scene of two boys
kissing like it was a pot of gold.

I could hear the three mothers chattering a few feet behind me, all three
talking at once as women are wont to do, so I thought it was time to get a
little action for myself. "Sunny, come here, please. Stand on this box", I
ordered, motioning toward a rigid plastic milk crate I had dragged over to
the group of boys. "Now this kissing scene is vital to the whole movie. I
have an idea in mind of how it should look. I'm going to demonstrate on
Sunny how I want it to go, then you two should follow what I do. Got it?"
Ryder shook that delicious mane of his, Taren also nodded, and before Sunny
could object I wrapped my arms around him and plastered my lips onto
his. My hands moved slowly up and down his back as I rubbed lips in a dry
kiss with a surprised Sunshine. "Okay", I declared, releasing Sunny from my
grip. He seemed a little reluctant to let me go, I might add. "Now you two
try it".

Taren and Ryder kissed with a modest improvement in passion on their
previous effort. I broke them up after a minute of dry snogging and chaste
groping. "Not too bad, boys, you're getting there. Taren, here to the box
please. Ryder, you're with Sunny. This time I want eyes open and looking
into each other's eyes. Remember, you're not kissing your mother here". All
three boys made a nervous giggle at my feeble joke. I stepped up to Taren,
who had already mounted the milk crate (a little eagerly, I thought), took
the boy in my arms and joined my lips to his, pushing my tongue straight
into his mouth. Taren's eyes flew open in shock, staring at me, so I stared
right back, sloshing my tongue all over his teeth and gums, prodding at his
smaller tongue and stroking his back, grazing over his jean-clad bottom a
few times.

Before Taren could regain his senses I reversed the suction to draw his
little tongue into my mouth. His eyes, already wide, opened still further
as I sucked and prodded his dainty tongue, swirling it around in my
mouth. My wandering hands gave his bottom a gentle squeeze each time they
passed, once even wandering into his denim-covered crack. Our lips parted
with a small pop as I released the boy, who seemed to swoon for a moment,
so I helped him off the milk crate. "Thank you Taren, very well done", I
praised him. Sunshine and Ryder had finished their kiss, the mothers paying
us no attention at all, so I led the boys over to the pit.

"Now, boy, I want to see some throws. Has anyone seen a pit like this
before?"

"I have, Mr Howerd", piped up Taren. "It's used in gym, for soft
landings". The boy smiled up at me, very anxious to please, it seemed.

"Spot on, Taren. Would you like to show the other two boys how it work by
jumping in?' I thought it an appropriate reward, and it wouldn't hurt to
encourage friendly feelings in the boy. He grinned and threw himself into
the foam rubber pieces, then climbed out of the pit, laughing.

"Now boys, don't be embarrassed", I explained, "but I need to know if you
are all wearing underpants. Doesn't matter what kind they are, boxers,
briefs, coloured, white, I don't care. But the next activities are a bit
vigourous, and I see two of you are wearing tailored slacks. They might not
stand up to this treatment. If anyone isn't wearing any undies, no problem,
I can get some shorts from the props room for you".

"I got boxers", declared Ryder.

"Me too, Mr Howerd", added Sunshine.

"I've got briefs, Mr Howerd", chimed in Taren.

"Excellent, lads. Run over to your mothers and slip your trousers off, fold
them neatly, shoes and socks off too please, then back here on the
double. Chop chop!" I ordered. The boys scampered to their Moms to follow
my instructions and undress down to their undies. I did not detect any
protests from the mothers, so to cap it off I called out to the seated
women "Just a quick wardrobe change!". The ladies giggled, and as I had
hoped, the mini-bar was doing its job.

The three boys returned almost simultaneously, panting a little, ready for
the pit. I smiled broadly at them, each boy now dressed in next to
nothing. "Now that Taren has demonstrated how harmless - and fun - the pit
is, I want to see each of you be thrown into it. I'll give you a bit of an
idea of what I'm looking for...let's see...er, Taren, can you be my first
model?" Dressed only in powder blue briefs with a white waistband, the boy
eagerly ran to my side. Obviously, my kissing ability had won me a
heart. "Very good. Now I'm going to lift you up and toss you into the pit,
and I want you to make it as spectacular a dry splash as you can. Got it?"
The boy nodded like a frisky puppy, standing with legs slightly apart so as
to allow me to employ the 'crotch grip' once again. Taren felt somewhat
underendowed in the genital department to my grasping hand as I hoisted him
up to my waist, then hurled him into the foam rubber blocks.

"Cowabunga!", the happy boy shrieked in his high voice as he sailed into
the pit. The other two boys needed no further prompting, but they couldn't
decide who would be the thrower and who the throwee. Ryder's more masculine
build settled the matter as he lifted Sunshine with the same grip I had
employed on Taren. The two boys clambered out, Sunshine immediately
grabbing Ryder to get revenge for the first throw. Taren looked at me a
little sheepishly, so I beckoned him over.

"This time boys, try to lift like this", I demonstrated on Taren, taking
hold of both his narrow hips like a ballet move and lifting him straight up
before releasing him to gravity and the pit. Taren seemed a bit
disappointed that I didn't grope him, so I decided to remedy that on the
next throw. Sunshine and Ryder were roughly equally matched, so it probably
helped matters that I stuck with Taren.

"One more throw each, boys, we've got more activities to get through yet",
I advised. I saw Ryder trying to climb onto Sunshine's shoulders to get
more height into his jump, so I called Taren over again. "Looks like you
and me, Taren. One last throw?" I asked, expecting him to comply.

The boy grinned widely and stood in anticipation on the edge of the pit,
legs quite spread apart. I approached him from behind and traced my
fingertips down his back first, making him shudder. My other hand felt
around his chest and tummy, as if to locate the ideal position for
launching a throw. This time, instead of cupping my whole hand on his
package, I just used four fingers. Twisting my thumb around, I lodged it
right in the middle of Taren's crack, pressing on what I calculated was his
hole. He gasped, so I pulled my hand away, but he frowned in dismay so I
returned my hand to the same position, applying a little more pressure with
my thumb. I could hear Taren's breath coming in little pants, so I picked
him up and asked "Ready?". He nodded, waiting for the throw. "Are you sure
you're ready?" I asked again, increasing the pressure of my thumb on his
hole. He nodded again, so I gave an almighty heave and hoisted his body to
sail into the pit.

All the boys were starting to tire from the physical exertion (as was I),
so I led them over to their mothers for a water break. As they sipped
chilled water from little paper cups, I chatted to their mothers, making
small talk, mostly about the movie industry. I brought up the subject of
disfiguring scars, asking the group whether their boys were blemish-free in
the areas presently covered by their undies, explaining myself by reminding
them of the 'incidental nudity' clause in the 'Gaiety' advert. Mrs MacLane
surprised me by taking the initiative.

"Ryder's got no scars, that I know of", she declared confidently. "Come
over here, Ryder", she ordered her son, who stepped over to where we four
adults were seated. "Turn around and drop your shorts, Ryder", she
commanded, in a tone that left all of us in no doubt that she would be
obeyed. Ryder turned and dutifully pulled his boxers down to his knees,
showing two quite impressive pristine globes.

"No scars there, Mrs MacLane, thanks for that", I remarked, mentally filing
the sight of Ryder's bottom away for future reference. There followed an
awkward pause of about a second and a half before Mrs Matthews called out a
little more demurely "Sunshine! Come here please".

Ryder and Taren looked at each other as though they weren't sure whether to
burst out laughing or not, but I averted any possible faux pas by
interjecting "We've been calling him Sunny, for short, I hope that's okay
Mrs Matthews?". She nodded, taking hold of her son's hips and swivelling
him around in front of her so that his back was towards her, then pulling
his boxers down to mid thigh. Clearly, she didn't trust him to do it
properly himself, a curious fact which I similarly filed away. Sunshine
displayed a skinny, almost straight-sided bottom, not rounded like Ryder's,
but still free from any disfigurement. After all the mothers and I had
inspected Sunshine's derriere and declared it unscathed, Mrs Matthews
pulled up his boxers and gave him a little slap on the bum to send him on
his way.

Taren surprised me for about the fourth time that day by obviating his
mother's call, positioning himself in front of me, facing away, and telling
his Mom "It's okay, Ma, I can do it". He pulled his blue briefs down to his
knees and pushed his tiny bottom out towards my face. Unlike the posture
adopted by the other two boys, Taren's exaggerated pose had the effect of
spreading his cheeks a little, so that I could clearly discern a fading,
pale yellow bruise radiating outwards from his hole, the unmistakeable sign
of sexual activity. I reached out and turned Taren's hips a little so that
the mothers could not see what I could see.

"Looks fine, Taren", I assured him, slipping his undies back up his legs
and giving him a pat on the bottom as I had just seen Mrs Matthews do. Mrs
Jamieson gave me a little smile of thanks, leaving me with only one task -
to tell the boys that they were all under active consideration for a role
in the movie. Many smiles and much sighing with relief followed, I passed
around my personal cards, the boys dressed themselves (except for Sunshine,
whose mother helped him dress). I ushered the six of them out the door, my
hand on Taren's shoulder as I did so. "Call me", I whispered to Taren just
before the door shut on the chattering group.

* * *

Pierre dropped in for a visit that afternoon. I sensed he had been waiting
for me to get rid of the young starlets and their mother hens. "And do we
have a title for this flick as yet? Or shall I wait to see it in lights?",
he taunted. Honestly, if he wasn't the best associate producer I've ever
known I would have kicked his ass out the door long ago, friendship or not.

"I haven't decided yet. What do you think of 'Getting Evan With Dad' - it's
a pun on the Culkin/Danson movie? It could work, if the second lead's name
is Evan", I suggested.

Pierre sneered. "Maybe 'A Series Of Unfortunate Script Choices' might be
appropriate?", he simpered.

"Come on now, Pierre, be positive. How about 'Marrying Dad' ? It's got the
virtue of simplicity, and it's a bit intriguing as well".

"Trying to attract the redneck audience now, are we? How about 'My Son The
Matchmaker' ?", Pierre suggested, starting to get serious.

"Not bad, not bad", I responded, "but it gives away too much in the
title. We need something... enigmatic! What do you think of 'Misplaced
Affections' ?"

"Hmm. Sounds a bit girly. You might have a lot of twenty-something females
turning up expecting a chick flick. Would they be in for a surprise!",
Pierre noted. "No, I think if you're genuinely going after the...(ahem)
alternative lifestyle demographic-"

"You mean the gay audience?" I interrupted.

"As I was saying, a film such as this maybe should have the word 'boy' in
the title somewhere to tip everyone off that it's a...well, an avant-garde
slice of modern mores", Pierre explained.

"You mean it's a gay film so maybe it needs...er, a French title - like La
Cage Aux Folles, or Ma Vie En Rose? Hmm. That might attract the indie crowd
as well. It's got possibilities, Pierre, well done. Now I know why I keep
you around", I smirked. "The French word for 'matchmaker' is 'le
marieur'. How about we go with that for now? Until you come up with
something better?"

"As you wish, Don. It's your show", Pierre conceded, although I think he
was secretly pleased by the French title. I cleared my desk and locked up
the warehouse to head for my home in the hills.

* * *

Toast and breakfast coffee were respectively burning and bubbling in my
kitchen when the squawk box for my front gate sounded. Like most of the
homes up here, mine had a strong set of security gates guarding a long
driveway. Puzzled as to who on earth would be buzzing me at (I checked my
watch) Ten After Eight! I pressed the answer button. "Yes?"

"Mr Howerd? Is that Mr Howerd?" I heard a crackly female voice over the
intercom.

"Is that...Mrs Matherson?" I hazarded.

"We're sorry to call so early, Mr Howerd", the scratchy voice of Chayse's
mother continued, "but-"

"It's all right, Mrs Matherson, come on up. The gate should be opening
now", I cut in, not wanting her to have to explain herself while standing
at my front gate. I opened my front door to greet her, only to find both
Mrs Matherson and her son Chayse walking up my driveway. I guess I just
assumed they would be in a car.

"I left the cab...waiting outside...the gate, Mr Howerd", Mrs Matherson
explained, out of breath from the walk up my drive. "I know it's short
notice, but you did offer...Chayse wanted to visit you and discuss the
movie...I hope we haven't been too presumptuous....the cabbie is going to
take me to a medical appointment - it's nothing serious...I'll ring before
I come back for Chayse...probably this afternoon, if that's alright?"

I was flabbergasted. Mrs Matherson was willing to leave her son with me for
most of the day? Chayse had already stepped inside the door, carrying a
small valise, and had turned to farewell his Mom, who was already
disappearing down the driveway. Bizarre. I turned to Chayse.

"Well, lad, have you had breakfast yet?" He shook his head in the negative,
so I led him to my kitchen, after closing the front door. The valise was a
bit of a worry. I decided to let Chayse know where he stood from the
outset.

I sat on a kitchen stool and called Chayse to stand in front of me. "So,
are you wearing underpants today, Chayse?", I enquired. He blushed and
lowered his face. I lifted his chin so I could see his eyes. "No place for
shyness here, Chayse. Say what you think. Did you want some breakfast, or
would you rather have my cock in your mouth again?" I deliberately
confronted him so he would be an active participant in whatever we might
get up to, not a docile follower.

Full of surprises, Chayse raised his chin off my hand and said "Both! But
not at the same time!"

Laughing, I hopped off the stool and warmly squeezed him in a quick hug. I
lifted him onto the benchtop and leaned my face close to his, lightly
kissing his cherry lips. "Okay, food first, then sex. Excellent", I
declared, gathering the ingredients for a quick omelette.

* * *

Mid-morning had come and gone before I was able to think rationally
again. A naked Chayse lay curled up on my bed alongside me (also naked),
one pale skinny leg thrown over my thighs, a tiny hand resting on my bare
chest. I traced my fingers up and down his knobbly spine. I'm yet to find a
boy that doesn't find that exhilarating, and Chayse was no exception. He
stirred into wakefulness, glancing at me several times as if to reassure
himself that the last two hours actually happened.

"You're a sexpot, that's what you are", I teased him. "Honestly, I might
need to start taking Viagra to keep up with you".

Chayse blushed, something he had done a lot of recently. "You're the one
that's sex mad", he countered, "licking my bumcrack like that".

"Did you like it?", I nudged him. "It sounded like you did, from all that
moaning".

"I loved it. I hope you do it again, and soon", Chayse replied gamely. He
stretched like a cat, giving me the opportunity to stroke his flanks all
the way down to his knees.

"We've missed morning tea, but maybe you don't need any, judging by how
much of my jizz you swallowed", I tormented him, but he just smiled at me.

"You only gave me three loads, old man. I sucked you dry", Chayse declared,
rubbing my hairy belly before letting his hand stray down to my tumescent
dick. I let him fondle my tool for a minute before continuing our
chit-chat.

"Which did you enjoy more?", I enquired, "when I sucked your toes, or when
I fingered your tight little bumhole". I felt Chayse's body give an
involuntary shiver when I mentioned my intrusive finger, so I let my hand
linger near his crack, waiting for his answer.

He looked me square in the eyes. "I loved the feel of your finger. But you
give a pretty good toe suck too, for an old guy. Maybe I need more
experience before I-" Our post-fellatial banter was rudely interrupted by
the squawk box next to my bed, announcing a presence at my front gate. What
the hell was going on? Not even noon on a Saturday, and I have a second
caller? Don't people have any sense of propriety any more?

"Yes?" I answered brusquely.

"Uh, Mr Howerd, it's me, Taren. Taren Jamieson? You said I could call and
see you? Only Mom's already driven off. Can I come up? Please?" the crackly
voice pleaded.

I buzzed him through the gates, fixing my gaze on Chayse. "Taren's another
boy I'm auditioning for the movie", I explained. "I'll be friendly to him,
and I expect you to be as well. If you're feeling jealous, get over it, and
fast. He's another up-and-coming actor, just like you. I suggest you get
dressed, like I'm going to do, and when he gets here, treat him like a
long-lost brother. There's enough of me for you both to share, just as I
plan to share him with you. Got it?"

"Better put your pants on, old man, he'll be here before you know it",
Chayse chided, showing a newfound maturity. "It'll be good to meet someone
who can keep up with me in bed". I cuffed him over the ear lightly,
chuckling as I did so. Boys. They always manage to surprise you.

I settled for boxers covered by a robe, but Chayse pulled on shorts, slacks
and a shirt. I met Taren at the door, and damned if he didn't carry a
valise as well! Did I have some kind of secret sign at the gates saying
'Waifs With Luggage Welcomed Here', or what?

"Hello Taren, I wasn't exactly expecting you, but I'm glad you're
here. This", I stood aside to reveal a shyly smiling Chayse, "is another
young actor who's trying out for my movie, Chayse Matherson. Chayse, why
don't you take Taren out into the yard, have a look around, and I'll catch
up with you shortly, these breakfast dishes won't wash themselves".

Chayse took the older (but smaller) boy's hand and practically dragged him
across the spacious open-plan room to my side doors, which were glass
sliders. "Hey, Mr Howerd!" Chayse yelled. "You got a pool! Can we go in?
Can we? Please?" The two boys, Chayse still holding Taren's hand, were
hopping excitedly on the spot, so I quickly relented.

"Well, boys, there is a skinny dipping scene in the movie, so I guess now
is as good a time as any to find out how well you can manage it. Run
upstairs then, Chayse, you know which room it is, get undressed, fold your
clothes up neatly- Neatly! - and you can come back down for a swim. I'll
bring some towels out for you when I've finished up in here". Grinning
insanely, the two boys scampered up the stairs (still holding hands) while
I fussed with the debris of breakfast which I had previously ignored in my
eagerness to get Chayse into bed.

I was bent over, stacking the dishwasher with plates and mugs, when the
boys stampeded back down the stairs, through the side doorway and out into
my yard. It didn't bother me that I missed Taren's nude debut; I was
confident I'd be seeing all his charms pretty soon. The tinkling sound of
boy laughter, mixed with splashing, assured me that all was well outside. I
slipped upstairs to my bedroom, taking the two valises with me. The boys'
clothes were neatly folded and stacked in two piles on my unmade bed, which
pleased me. I dropped my shorts and added them to the bed, but kept my robe
on, then descended the stairs to catch up with the boys.

I considered opening the glass doors quietly, lest I disturb the boys, but
I saw instantly that I need not have worried - an explosion would not have
distracted them. Chest deep in the shallow end, the two boys were wrapped
in a passionate embrace, completely oblivious to my approach. I spread the
towels out on the grass under a shadecloth awning, then carried a folding
chair over to the side of the pool nearest the boys.

Chayse was the first to see me. "Hi Mr Howerd", he greeted me cheerfully,
breaking his liplock with Taren. "We were just practicing the kissing scene
again", he explained cheerfully. "Weren't we, Tarrey?" The smaller boy
nodded shyly, with a look on his elfin face that suggested he couldn't
believe his luck.

"I should have asked you both if you can swim, before letting you go in
here", I scolded myself aloud. "But you look okay to me. Just to be sure,
you can show me how well you swim by racing to the far end and back, quick
as you can. Before you start, do either of you mind if I join you? I'm
nude, like you guys".

"Sure you can! It's your pool!" Chayse laughed. "That's cool, isn't it
Tarrey? This old guy won't gross us out, will he?"

Taren giggled. "Not me! I seen worse".

"Okay boys, you can push off from the wall. Set? Go!" The two water babies
took off in a flurry of flailing arms and legs, allowing me to slip off my
robe modestly and edge into the water. The level of water at the shallow
end came up to the boys' nipples, but was only waist deep for me. I had not
quite gotten over the shock of the cold water, when Taren and Chayse
completed their race. I sensed that Chayse held back a little to ensure an
even finish. He was impressing me more and more, that boy.

Chayse waded over to me and gave me a hug around the middle. He glanced
over and saw Taren hanging back, so he let go with one arm and waved the
smaller boy to join us in a group hug, which was another nice thought from
him. Grinning at me mischievously, Chayse asked "Now we're in a real pool,
can you throw us like you did at the pit?"

Taren also looked at me pleadingly, like a stray puppy, so I had choice but
to relent immediately. "Okay, but only a couple of throws. I'm an old man,
remember", I joked.

"You go first, Chay", Taren suggested. He still seemed a bit reserved, even
though Chayse was doing his best to include him and bring him out of his
shell. I turned Chayse around into the optimal position, then reached
between his legs for the crotch grip. He gave a happy squeal, then a louder
one as I catapulted him upwards and into the deeper end. His little pecker
was not affected by the cold water, I guess it must have stiffened up when
the two boys kissed.

Taren had the same condition, I noticed, when I picked him up, feeling his
smaller (but just as stiff) tool as I lifted him into the air. He gave an
ear-splitting screech of happiness, cut off only when he hit the water. Two
more throws for each boy tested the limit of my endurance, so I drifted to
the edge and hauled myself out of the water. "Can you boys join me under
the shade so we can plan our day?", I invited them. A flash of
disappointment flitting across his face showed that Chayse wasn't finished
having fun in the water, but he obediently got out anyway, helping Taren as
well. The two wet, naked boys sat with me on the towels.

"First off", I began, "I want to see whether your kissing practice in the
pool just now has led to any improvement in your technique. Chayse, you
first", I nominated, pulling Chayse to me before he could argue (not that
he would). I turned our bodies deliberately so that Taren could see me
swapping spit with Chayse, running a hand up and down his wet body,
including between his legs. Taren stared at us, open mouthed, nervously
squeezing the end of his little stiffie. I broke off the kiss and Chayse
moved aside to give me some room.

"Very good, Chayse. Now you, Taren", I ordered. Adopting the same policy, I
was sure Taren was aware that Chayse could see exactly what we were doing
as I first cuddled him, then invaded his warm mouth and tongue-duelled with
him. I reached down with my spare hand to fondle his boner, humming into
his mouth as I did so. I felt him moan back, so I pushed his inner thigh a
little to see whether he would open his legs wider. He did, permitting me
to tickle his shrivelled balls as well.

Breaking the kiss, I kept hold of Taren and pecked at his lips a couple of
times. Each time, he brought his lips closer to mine, as if he wanted
more. I stopped my kiss game and looked into his dark hazel eyes. "Taren,
would you like Chayse to give you a blow job while I kiss you some more?",
I asked, smiling. Chayse didn't even wait for Taren's answer, he edged
closer to us and dived onto Taren's now exposed dick like a seagull on a
sick prawn, pushing his thighs wider apart to get in closer. Taren let his
eyes fall shut. I planted my tenderest kiss on his lips, then pushed
through with my tongue. The boy relaxed in my arms, so I decided to put
part two of my plan into action.

I have this theory, you see. My theory is that calm, affectionate sex, when
used on boys, makes an excellent truth serum. There was some information I
wanted from Taren, so I had guided the proceedings towards this moment to
extract it. Among my many weaknesses is a fondness for boys who are already
sexually active. I don't much care for virgins - I hate being the one to
rob their initial innocence, but I'm not above taking a slice from a cut
loaf. Fact is, I found Taren's anal bruising, which I saw at his audition,
a huge turn-on, and I felt a compelling urge to find out how it arose.

I pulled my lips away from Taren's, and lightly stroked his cheek with the
back of my hand. He seemed to revel in my touch. "So, Taren", I whispered,
"is Chayse giving you a good suck? Feels nice, does it?"

"Uh huh", he whispered back. "It's my first one".

"Is it? Well, congratulations. It won't be your last one today, bet on
that. Do you like Chayse?"

"Uh huh", came his reply. "He's nice".

"He sure is", I agreed. "And he sucks really good, too. He gave me a great
suck before you arrived this morning. I gave him one back too. Maybe you
might like to give him one back later".

"Uh huh", Taren murmured.

"Taren, I want you to tell me how you got the bruise around your bumhole",
I urged, willing him to open up to me. Chayse's tongue did the trick.

"It was at school", he whispered. "I needed to pee, so I went to the
bathroom. I get nervous at the, you know, the trough thing, so I went into
a toilet stall, the sit down part. I didn't sit down, though, I just pulled
down my pants. I must have forgotten to latch the door, 'cause next thing I
know, a boy, a big boy, Tommy is his name I think, he's fourteen I guess,
he pushed the door open and yelled at me".

"You're doing great. Keep going. What did Tommy yell?", I cajoled.

"He said 'Why's your door unlocked? Only faggots leave the door open! You a
faggot?' I didn't know what to say, he just kinda barged in. Then he said
'I guess you must be, lettin' someone else in the toilet with you'. Then he
unzipped his pants and- and-"

I continued stroking Taren's face. He wasn't crying, but he wasn't far off
it. I could see by his eyes how vivid this memory was for him.

"How long ago did this happen? When Tommy fucked you?", I breathed. Chayse
kept sucking.

"The first time was two weeks ago. When I got home I found some blood in my
undies, so I hid them in my cupboard. Next day, one of Tommy's fr-friends
d-did it to me", Taren sobbed. I soothed him some more until he could
continue his sorry narrative.

"I saw them coming toward me so I ran into the bathroom to hide, but I saw
Tommy send one of them in after me. He found me and pulled me into the
stall and shut the door. H-he pulled my pants down and p-put his c-cock up
my bottom. It hurt some at first, but then the pain went away. I tried to
stay out of their way after that, but they still got me a couple times. The
last time-"

"Go on, you're doing great, Taren, let it all out", I consoled him.

"The last time was on Thursday, the day before I came to- to the
audition. Tommy and his two friends found me in the corridor, and they just
grabbed me and walked me to the bathroom. They were laughing, and they
s-said they were going to take t-turns. They got me in a stall, and got my
pants down, but before they could start, the school janitor, Mr Mendez,
heard them laughing and told them all to get out or he'd start breaking
arms and legs. They all ran and left me".

"So, you were rescued. Excellent!", I encouraged.

"Mr Mendez pulled my pants up, and took me to the utility room, you know,
where he keeps his mops and buckets and stuff. He sat me in his lap. I- I
cried a bit. Then he said he wanted to check my bottom, see if it was ok. I
said he could, so he pulled my pants down, all the way off, and my shirt
too, until I was naked. Then he got a funny look on his faced and just
hugged me. Then he started kissing me, you know, like you did at the
audition. It was nice. He- he touched me everywhere, and I liked it. Then
he unzipped his pants and- and pulled me onto his lap again, only this
time, he- he-" Taren's voice faltered.

I interrupted to let him gather his composure. "Mr Mendez fucked you? After
rescuing you?" I asked, somewhat bemused.

"No, no, it wasn't like that!" Taren insisted. "It wasn't like when Tommy
and the others did it. Mr Mendez was gentle, and nice. It felt...awesome!
He cuddled me and kissed me the whole time, and after, he cleaned my bottom
with some tissues and kissed me some more. I went back to his room after
school, but he had gone. A sign on his door said he- he wasn't coming
back. Ever. The next day we had the audition, and when you kissed me like
Mr Mendez did, I thought- I thought you...might...be nice to me like he
was. And then this morning, Mom was cleaning my room and she found the
undies with the blood. She made me pack a bag and took me to the bus
station. She was sending me to my dad's place in Nebraska. But I hate
him. So I came here instead".

"You walked- what, five miles? From the bus station?" I gasped.

"I had your card, with your address. It only took two hours to walk here".

Chayse left off licking Taren's scrotum and piped up. "He's a smart kid, Mr
Howerd. And a great kisser, too! And he's got a nice dick! Hey, I know! Why
don't you let Mr Howerd lick your hole, Tarrey? He's really good at it. He
did mine this morning, it feels way cool!"

Taren looked at me with that pleading look again. Not like he needed to
twist my arm, but I had to be sure it was what he wanted. "Would you like
me to lick your hole, Taren? Right here, in front of Chayse?" I asked the
boy in my arms.

Taren smiled and nodded his head. Normally, I prefer a more definitive
request for sex from my boy partners, but I was willing to relax my rule in
Taren's case. He needed some healing, not the physical kind, but the
emotional sort. Chayse surprised me again by offering to let Taren lie on
top of him, while they practiced their kissing some more, thus elevating
Taren's bottom to a convenient height for my lips.

"Good idea, Chayse, I like the way you think. But it might get a bit
uncomfortable for you, and besides, Taren offered to suck on your
dick. Let's try this way". I laid the two boys side by side in a
conventional sixty-nine position; they needed no further urging and began
sucking dick and stroking buttcheek straight away. To complete the
three-way, I lay behind Taren, but reversed, so my head faced his cute
buns. Chayse helped by pulling Taren's cheeks apart, once he worked out
what I was doing.

Much sighing and groaning ensued. It didn't take Taren long to get off ,
because of all the previous oral attention he had received from Chayse. I
was the only one missing out, but I felt it was an investment. I gave his
hole a thorough licking, even making my tongue pointy and poking it inside
a short distance. I think that might have triggered Taren's first climax -
I hope so.

I heard Taren's high voice give a long sigh, which suggested he'd finished
sucking Chayse's dick (for now), so I took the initiative and suggested to
the boys that a bite to eat might be nice about now. They didn't need
asking twice, jumping up immediately and shaking the towels, wrapping them
around themselves so they looked like diminutive Roman citizens returning
from the Baths. We headed inside, relishing the cool of the indoors after
our heated activities under the shadecloth.

I was still a little concerned about Taren, so I questioned him gently
while making sandwiches for all of us.

"So, Taren, whereabouts does your dad live again?" I began.

"In Nebraska", he responded unenthusiastically. "Columbus".

"Uh huh", I replied. "What does he do?"

"He drives a truck. Sometimes he's away for days and days. I think that's
why him and Mom broke up. He lives with Grampaw now".

"I see", I ventured, even though I didn't, really. "I guess I was kind of
wondering what was going to happen when the bus from here gets there and
you're not on it. What do you think will happen?"

"Dunno", Taren answered listlessly, showing the sandwich more interest than
our conversation. I got the impression that he was afraid that if he gave
out too much information, he would make it easy for me to send him away.

"And where did your Mom go after dropping you at the bus station?", I
pressed.

"She said she was going to visit her sister in Carson City for a few
weeks", Taren supplied, but there was a hint of doubt in his voice. Chayse
picked up on it too, because he gave me a knowing look.

"Okay, Taren, it looks like you're stuck with me for the time being, and
I'm pleased as Punch to have you here. Chayse's Mom is going to call by
later this afternoon to pick him up, but we'll be seeing him again when
shooting starts. So it'll be just you and me after that, for a while. Say,
do you think we should phone your Dad, tell him you're okay and not to
worry. I know I'd feel a lot better if we did", I added, hopefully.

Taren shrugged, and after finishing his sandwiches and milk wrote down his
father's name for me. I was surprised to note that Taren didn't have his
father's last name, but I don't think Taren saw my surprise.

I used my cell to call the operator. "Hello? Yes, good afternoon, ma'am, I
wonder if you could find the number for Robert Joseph Orensdoerfer in
Columbus, Nebraska? Sure, I'll wait....Um, yes, could you connect me
please? Thank you ma'am, you're a treasure....Hello, is that Mister
Orensdoerfer? Mister Robert Joseph Orensdoerfer?....oh, that's your
son....Yes I'll wait....Hello, Mr Orensdoerfer? This is Don Howerd, calling
from Los Angeles, I'm a movie producer, I've got your son Taren with
me...yes, he's fine....no, she didn't tell me anything....she did? Well,
Taren said that she told him she was going to visit her sister in Carson
City?....no, Taren didn't want to go to Columbus....I guess so....no, I
didn't get that impression.....you do?....really?....well, that's mighty
nice of you Mr Orensdoerfer....yes, I've noticed Taren is a bit, er....yes,
he is....uh huh....well, I sure will....like he was my own boy, Mr
Orensdoerfer....sorry, er, Bobby....yes, I'll be sure to do !
 that....thank you Bobby....did you want to speak to him?....okay, that's
fine.....yes, we'll be in touch....thanks again, Bobby. Bye".

I looked at Taren with a mixture of happiness and amazement. That he could
have flourished under parents like he had was simply astonishing. Taren was
eyeing me with suspicion - I'm sure he thought the jig was up, and he'd
soon be shipped off to Nebraska like some inconvenient return-addressed
parcel. I held my arms open to him. "Looks like I've got a new son", I said
simply. Taren squealed loudly enough to shatter glass and leapt off his
chair, the towel falling off in the process as he threw himself into my
embrace. Chayse watched us, genuine affection in his eyes.

Letting Taren go after a good long hug, I picked up his towel and handed it
to him, suggesting that the two boys might like to go upstairs to practise
their kissing some more, then maybe get dressed in case Chayse's Mom came
by soon. Chayse grinned and grabbed Taren by the hand, practically dragging
him up the stairs. I watched the two happy boys, smiling. One wearing a big
white bath towel around his waist, the other wearing it draped over his
shoulders. I called my lawyer on my cell and gave a succinct account of
Taren's circumstances. He agreed that some paperwork was needed from Mr
Orensdoerfer, and promised to get it started. I cleaned up the lunchtime
dishes.

It occurred to me that maybe I'd better not be wearing only a towel around
my waist when Mrs Matherson arrived to collect Chayse, so I wandered
upstairs to have a quick shower and get dressed. I was not too worried when
I heard grunting and moaning coming from my bedroom, nor was I overly
concerned when I reached the doorway to be welcomed by the erotic sight of
Chayse kneeling on my bed behind Taren (who was on all fours), fucking him
vigorously. My shower could wait.

I sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at Chayse, who was pumping his hips
feverishly, in short rabbit pokes to ensure his dick didn't fall out. He
licked his lips, keeping up his stroke rate as he turned towards me. "Taren
thought up this role-play game", he said, almost out of breath. "He's
playing himself, and I'm playing Tommy, the boy from his school. It was his
idea, honest", he panted, holding Taren's hips and rocking the smaller boy
back and forth as he plunged and withdrew, plunged and withdrew.

Chayse's hair was plastered to his forehead with perspiration. "I already
came once, but he wanted me to fuck him again", he puffed, grinning at
me. "Good thing I don't make sperms yet, or Taren either, or your bed would
be a mess! Jeez, I'm, urgh, coming...again!", Chayse gasped, pulling out of
Taren's bum and falling back on the bed.

"Go get a shower - I'll take over", I whispered. Taren's bum was waving
back and forth, as if looking through its one blind eye for the pole of
meat that would make it whole, complete again. I crouched behind him and
ran my fingers down his back. "It's Mr Mendez, Taren. Mr Mendez", I
whispered, leaning close to his left ear.

"Mr...Mendez? Is that you?" he whispered back, his bum pushing back to try
to touch me, satisfy himself that Mr Mendez was really there, not just a
voice in his head.

"Yes, Taren, It's me, Mr Mendez. Have you been a good boy, Taren?" I
whispered. This kid is either a brilliant little actor, or seriously
mentally disturbed. It suited me to believe the former.

"Oh, yes, Mr Mendez. I...I've been good, but...Tommy, he..." the boy
moaned.

"You let Tommy fuck you again, didn't you Taren?" I whispered, now rubbing
my free hand all over his shoulders, back and bottom.

"He...he wanted to, and...and I..." Taren whined.

"You liked it, didn't you Taren?" I pushed, my hand still roaming all over
his back, bottom, and between his thighs. "You like it when Tommy fucked
you, didn't you?" I whispered seductively in his ear.

"He...he made me...I didn't....I was frightened, I...it hurt", he
whimpered.

"It hurt at first, when he put his cock in your tight little hole", I
whispered next to his ear, now concentrating my stroking in the region of
his bumcrack, "but after that, after you had his cock inside you, after you
felt it moving inside your asshole, it felt good, didn't it, Taren".

"It...I...couldn't help it...it felt so...good, so....full, and
alive....I...let him do it", Taren stammered.

"Then, that day when I took you to my utility room, you wanted me to fuck
you, didn't you, Taren? You let me take all your clothes off, and you were
naked, and I touched you all over, touched your bottom, and your stiff
little cock, didn't I", I continued murmuring in the boy's ear.

"I...you...I wanted...", the boy panted.

"Are you hard now, Taren?" I whispered close to his ear. "Is your little
cock hard for Mr Mendez?". In a demonstration of his lust, the boy spread
his knees apart a little further so that my roving hand, which until then
had been tracing lines up and down his inner thigh and crack, could reach
through and feel his prick, which was indeed rigid and throbbing.

I sensed a presence behind me. Chayse, clad in a white fluffy towel, had
returned from his shower and stood in the doorway, grinning at the
spectacle of a man seducing a willing boy. Can the willing actually be
seduced? Hmm - might make a good storyline for a movie. I gestured with my
eyes towards the low set of drawers alongside my bed. On it sat a tube of
lubricant. Chayse caught on right away, and picked it up, gingerly edging
around the bed towards me so as not to disturb Taren (whose eyes were shut
anyway). Instead of simply handing me the tube, which I expected, Chayse
unscrewed the lid and squeezed a glob onto his fingers. Then, in an act of
pure unselfishness, he carefully applied the gel to my cock, slavering the
slippery stuff all around it. I was about ready to burst, from the sheer
erotic intensity of the situation, and from Chayse's gentle application of
the lube.

Chayse nodded towards Taren's butt, and I returned the nod. I switched my
free hand from between Taren's legs to around his waist, and leaned my hips
forward. Chayse lined up my cock and Taren's hole with one hand, pushing my
bum slowly with the other.

"Oh!" Taren squeaked, when my knob made contact with his rosebud. "Ah!" he
sighed, as my dick's head was slowly engulfed by his elastic little
opening. "Unh!" he moaned as I pushed forward a couple of inches, my tool
being swallowed by his back passage. His next noise was a kind of whiny
gurgle as my cock bottomed out in his ass, Chayse pulling his guiding hand
away just in time. It was one of those perfect moments when you hope time
would stand still, as I let my prick soak in Taren's hot, snug tube. The
other reason I hoped for time to stop was my unmistakeable feeling that I'd
be climaxing in only two or three strokes, and I didn't want this
particular fuck to end. Added to that, Chayse's towel had fallen from his
waist (by accident, of course) and he was relieving the tension in his own
swollen pricklet by frantically jerking off not a foot away from where I
was kneeling lance-deep in Taren.

Instead of stroking in and out, I strained to keep my loins still as I
reached around for Taren's stiffie and started rubbing his foreskin over
the knob end. I had heard that there were some boys who have a series of
anal contractions when they climax; if Taren was one of them, we could both
orgasm together. I could simply let his rectum bring me off. Still
supporting my weight with one hand on the bed, my other hand frigged his
dick with an increasing momentum, making the boy pant like a puppy. Before
too much longer, the thin body under me shook like a jelly all over as
Taren's orgasm took hold. His ass sucked at my dick, bringing me over the
edge with him. I collapsed forward, rolling to the side lest I crush my new
lover, pulling him to my warmth, spooning him.

Chayse, who had finished himself off, dressed himself then leaned over me
with a giggle. "I get that next time, alright old man? - when you recover!"
he smirked, pecking me on the cheek. The squawk box chose that precise
moment to screech noisily. Chayse's Mom had returned. "You stay, I'll go
down. I'll tell her you're having an afternoon siesta. She already thinks
movie people are weird, so no big deal. Don't forget - you owe me a fuck!"
He left me to doze off. If there was any boy likely to make me break my
personal vow to zip up around virgins, it was Chayse. Taren backed in to
me, snuggling closer, pulling my arm to his chest.

* * *

We dozed for a couple of hours, during which time my cock softened and
plopped out of Taren's ass. Recovering consciousness, I mentally compared
my coupling with Taren to assignations with other aspiring boy actors that
I had fucked over the years. He certainly was the most enthusiastic of
them, his lovemaking quite inventive. I half hoped that today was not a
one-off, just another boy trying to sleep his way to a plum role.

I tickled his ear with a finger, trying to annoy him into waking up. After
brushing his ear a few times to dislodge my finger, he groggily said "All
right! I'm awake!" in his high voice. He rolled over and smiled at
me. "What's for dinner?" he asked. Boys! Always hungry!

"How about we take a shower together, then I'll take you out to a nice
restaurant and show you off", I offered. Taren's smile widened, and he
jumped up off the bed, yelling "Race you!" I didn't have time to wonder how
he knew where the bathroom was, but simply followed his bare buns down the
hallway. Our combined shower was uneventful, except that I remarked on
Taren's small size, for his age. He just gave a shrug and a wan smile. "Mom
once told me I should try out to be a jockey. Only I don't like big dumb
animals"

"That lets me out, then", I riposted, eliciting a giggle and a gentle punch
in the arm from Taren. We dressed, Taren pulling some fresh clothes from
his valise.

I took Taren to a nice restaurant, one that I knew had semi-private
booths. They do a nice meal for kids there, an open burger with fries. I
had a steak. Just before the dessert trolley came by, Taren knelt up on the
bench to give me a hug (we were both seated on the same side of the
booth). "I have to tell you something, Mr Howerd", he whispered in my ear.

"Oh?" I replied, interested. "You really **do** want to be a jockey instead
of an actor?"

"No, silly", he giggled and punched me on the arm again. "It's about what I
told you this afternoon. About Tommy. And the other boys. And Mr Mendez".

"I'm all ears", I replied, pulling my ears outwards to amuse him.

Taren smiled at my joke, then began his tale. "Some of what I told you was
true, sort of. I did get, uh, fucked, by a boy called Tommy, only he wasn't
any kind of bully. He was a real shy kid, in my class, and I had to
practically drag him into the bathroom and force him to do it to me. I had
seen his big dick in showers after gym, and I just, well, I wanted him. It
wasn't blood Mom found in my undies, it was Tommy's, er, jizz".

"I see, I think", I replied, evenly. "And Mr Mendez?" I prompted.

"He was my class teacher in sixth grade. I had the hots for him so bad, but
he was happily married. No matter what I tried, he never laid a finger on
me. He's my favourite fantasy, whenever I get really horny I imagine he's,
er, fucking my brains out. I use this rubbery thing I stole from Mom's
room, it's a, kind of..."

"A dildo?", I finished for him, guessing what he meant."Or a vibrator, if
it's got batteries", I added.

Taren's face lit up. "They come with batteries now? What a world we live
in!", he sighed, forcing me to tickle him mercilessly. "Anyway, you were so
nice to me, I had to tell you the truth. I didn't before, because I didn't
want you to think I was a...a...er, what's the word for a slut who's a
boy?"

I blinked. "I'm not sure that there is one. Maybe we could make one
up. What about a 'tarrey'?" The boy scowled good-naturedly and tried to
tickle me back, but I was too quick for him and managed to pin his hands
behind his back. He was panting with the exertion of trying to free himself
when the dessert cart finally arrived, laden with tortes, cakes, pastries,
eclairs, puddings, and all manner of toppings and sauces, along with ice
cream (of course). We looked at each other, then burst into laughter as we
helped ourselves to our favourite sweets.

I could honestly not recall a more pleasant evening out, than I had enjoyed
that night, in Taren's company. It's a brilliant feeling, knowing you're
out on the town with a boy you like, and who likes you, knowing that you're
going to fuck him when you get home, and that he's going to be as eager for
it as you are, a boy who wants to be fucked as much as you want to fuck
him. No need to try to seduce him with money, or professions of love, or
promises of acting jobs. No pretense about what you're going to be doing
later, just walking hand in hand from the restaurant back to the car as
contented as a couple of newlyweds.

We did fuck that night. Quite a bit, really. I wasn't sure whether Taren
would be up for it, given what we had already done that afternoon, but
Taren would not be dissuaded. He even decided the position. He wanted me to
do it to him in the missionary position (the first time), with him on his
back, his arms around my neck, his legs around my waist (they weren't long
enough to allow him to lock his ankles in the small of my back), me
crouched over him, resting my weight on my elbows, see-sawing my cock back
and forth in his well-lubricated hole as he sighed and moaned in-between
deep kisses which left him gasping. I was beginning to have strong feelings
for this boy, which left me puzzled about what I felt for Chayse.

* * *

We showered together the next morning, chastely again (except for some
kissing while drying Taren with an oversized fluffy towel). I suggested
that as it was a Sunday, we had no need to get dressed, we could just laze
about the house for a few hours naked, before deciding what to do with
ourselves. Taren grinned his approval of that idea, even giving my
half-tumescent dick a little kiss as I stood towelling myself off.

At the breakfast bar, omelettes were again the popular choice. The ones I
make are quite light and easily digested, a good start to the day. Taren
suggested, after insisting that he stack the dishwasher, that a swim might
be fun, maybe energise both of us. My counter-suggestion was that we might
spend the day (or part of it) at the beach. I knew an unofficial nude beach
in the area that was reasonably safe for kids, quite a few families
frequented it.

"I've never been to a nude beach", Taren observed pensively, then
brightened up a little as he wished aloud that Chayse could come with us.

"Give him a call", I prompted. "He left his number and address by the
phone. Tell him we're going to a nude beach, and we'll drop by and pick him
up if he wants to come too". Taren grabbed the phone gleefully and called
Chayse's number. It sounded to me as though Chayse might have been waiting
by the phone, judging by the speed of his reply. Taren's squeal of delight
told me Chayse was successful in obtaining his mother's permission, so I
loaded a backpack with bottled water and cold meats and fruit, and
suggested to Taren he might like to wear shorts and a shirt in the car, at
least.

"Can you come upstairs and help me get dressed?" Taren pleaded in his most
winsome voice. The lustful way he licked his lips, wriggled his bare bottom
and fluttered his eyelashes at me indicated he had something else on his
mind than selecting clothes. I vaulted the stairs hot on the trail of the
squealing boy, who reached the bedroom ('our' bedroom) just before
me. Without ceremony he took my dick in his hand and led me to the bed,
pushing me backwards till I fell full stretch on top of the sheets.

"I never got to suck on this yesterday, or last night", he explained,
giving my hardening cock a few pumps. "Chayse told me it was good fun, and
that you like it a lot. Plus, I don't want you to get embarrassed at the
nude beach if you pop a stiffie, so I'll take care of him now". Taren
didn't explain any further, mouthing my knob and testing how much of the
shaft he could accept comfortably. I recalled that he had some practice
yesterday on Chayse's compact dick, and he was putting that practice to
good effect right now.

"It's funny, but on the..urghhh...nude beach, aaah, it's not really a
sexual thing, to walk around... uhhhh....naked, so you, ohh, don't get the
same...mmmmm....impulses you might get...ugh... otherwise". I was trying to
explain to Taren that the problem of erections on nude beaches did not
'arise' as frequently as non-nudists believe, but his raspy tongue on my
knobhead was proving to be an irresistible distraction. He locked his lips
behind the ridge of my glans and hummed, while pumping my shaft, and that
did me in. Resisting the urge to hold his head, in case he wanted to avoid
a mouthful of semen, I grabbed two handfuls of sheets, arched my lower back
and shot my hips upwards. Taren held on bravely, swallowing my whole load,
milking the last few droplets out manually. He licked his lips and grinned,
making me keen to continue, but Taren wisely advised that we promised
Chayse we'd be at his house in twenty minutes.

"You can make it up to me later, Mr Howerd", the boy offered. "Now let's go
get Chay and find that beach!"

* * *

There a few sensations as exhilarating as walking along the sandy shore of
a nude beach, naked as a jaybird, holding hands with a boy on either side,
who are equally naked, with the gentle sea breeze wafting around one's
masculine equipment. Beats drugs any day. And yet, as I tried to explain to
Taren earlier, it wasn't necessarily erotic. Sensuous, maybe, but in the
way that a backrub can be sensuous without being sexual.

Chayse summed it up as only a boy can. "This is way cool, Mr Howerd. Thanks
for inviting me. I never been to a beach like this before", he chatted.

"It was Taren's idea to invite you, actually, but I'm happy to claim the
credit because it was my idea to come here in the first place", I
joked. "Now, I think we need another application of sunscreen, followed by
some frolicking in the water, then food", I proposed, although by the time
I finished my sentence I was talking to myself as the two boys let go my
hands and raced each other to our beach umbrella and began slopping
sunscreen all over each other's nude bodies. Darn! I wanted that job!

After our swim, the three of us sat under the umbrella and demolished some
cold roast chicken and strawberries and peaches, washed it all down with
bottled water, then packed up our camp and headed back to my car. Chayse
advised us that his Mom didn't expect him back until dinnertime, so Taren
suggested we could swim some more at home. That pulled at a heartstring,
hearing the little guy refer to my house as 'home'. "And maybe Mr Mendez
might drop by for a visit", I joked with Taren, who blushed and
grinned. Chayse chimed in with "Yeah, and Tommy, too!".

* * *

I brought Taren with me to work on Monday morning - well, I could hardly
leave him at home all day, and it was school vacation time now anyway. On
top of my desk I found the FedEx parcel that my lawyer sent over. A quick
glance confirmed it was the temporary guardianship documents from Mr Robert
"Call Me Bobby" Orensdoerfer, giving me some relief from fears of a
kidnapping charge.

I had several plans for the day, and for the week. I felt an implacable
urge to get moving on the project. Movies don't film themselves; in fact,
they are very inert creatures, resembling comatose elephants both in scope
and reluctance, and they need constant prodding. I wanted to see Ryder
again, and maybe get my hands on that cushiony ass of his; I wanted to feel
Sunshine's thick lips around my cock; and I wanted to take Taren back home
and fuck him all day long. But, that's a grown-up's lot in life - making
choices between equally desirable alternatives, prioritising. Pierre minced
in and disturbed my reverie.

"Good morning Don. And I see we have one of the new young stars with us
today', he smiled expectantly at Taren, so I obliged.

"Taren, this is Pierre de Leon, my associate producer and right-hand
man. He's the one who has to keep the wings of my flights of fancy glued
on", I explained. "Pierre, meet Taren. He'll be playing the neighbour boy".

Taren hopped off his swivel chair and walked over to the doorway where
Pierre was still standing, awaiting my invite to enter. "Please to meet
you, Mr de Leon", he greeted Pierre formally. "That means 'lion', doesn't
it?"

"By name, but not by nature, I'm afraid. I'm more of a pussycat", Pierre
joked, shaking Taren's hand limply. Releasing it and turning to me, he said
"Can we talk, Don?"

"Taren's Mom left him with me for a few days", I responded to the implied
question underneath Pierre's spoken question. "He'll be helping me around
here as well. I don't have any secrets from him". I didn't want Taren to
feel that he was excluded from the 'grown-up's world', and in any case,
whatever affected the movie affected him, too. He surprised me by stepping
around Pierre and climbing onto my lap, as if to say to Pierre 'you might
be a pussycat, but I'm HIS pussycat!' Pierre flinched a little, making some
mental adjustments to accommodate the new balance of power, then continued
his briefing.

"I've thought over your concepts for the project, and I think I can see a
way forward. It'll mean a few changes, but they're essential", he started,
all business, and not at all bothered that I was stroking Taren's
hair. This was what I employed Pierre for, after all - to mould my ideas
into marketable celluloid realities.

"First of all, which boy have you settled on for your son? I don't want to
be calling him 'the son', I know how you hate it when I do that", Pierre
asked.

"That would be Chayse", I smiled. Taren settled himself into a more
comfortable position in my lap.

"Fine, and were there any other boys, apart from Taren of course, whom you
think will have lines?", he continued. 'Lines' meant a speaking part, not
just a face in a crowd.

"In order of preference, I hope we can find something for Ryder, Sunshine
and Eben. That reminds me, I need to audition Eben pronto. Miss Hatherway?"
I pressed the 'talk' button on the intercom.

"Yes, Mr Howerd?" came her prim reply.

"Did you manage to contact Eben Wishevsky about an audition yet? And I need
you to get in touch with Mrs MacLane and Mrs Matthews about callbacks for
Ryder and Sunshine, please", I ordered.

"Already done, Mr Howerd. Eben and Mrs Wishevsky are arriving at ten this
morning, and Ryder and Sunshine, along with their mothers, will be here at
eleven". I should have guessed that Miss Hatherway would have anticipated
my requirements - any personal assistant that can't read the boss's mind
needs to look for other employment.

Pierre picked up the ball and started his run. "I think the movie will work
if it is simplified, but without taking out the germ of the original idea",
he explained. "We need to make it more comfortable for
U.S. audiences. They're the ones who fill cinemas, after all. They want
drama, sure, but they also want 'nice', without too much confrontation. If
it also works in Europe, that's a bonus. We have to lose the blackmail
angle; you don't need that. We need to tone down the boys' kissing. And I
think we should separate the idea of the boys finding the...er, adult
magazine stash, from the matchmaking idea. Since Taren is going to be the
neighbour boy with the, ahem, unrequited love for Chayse, I suggest we make
**him** the matchmaker. He'll be trying to get his divorced Mom hooked up
with you, so that he and Chayse will become brothers. Or step-brothers,
anyway. And we soften the...ah, interaction between the boys, Chayse, Ryder
and Sunshine, and maybe Eben, when they find the!
  magazines". He finally took a breath, waiting for my response.

I picked Taren up under the armpits to move him to a more comfy spot on my
lap, then lay my hand carelessly on his chest, slowly stroking him with my
fingertips. He purred softly, smiling. "Go on, Pierre. I think you're onto
something. It would mean a bigger role for Taren, of course", I observed.

"I'm sure you would not have selected him if he was not up to it", Pierre
declared gallantly. "Most of your original idea is marketable. The whole
project will be, if you can accept these changes".

"How does Taren actually get me and his Mom together? What's his angle?" I
probed.

"I've been thinking about that", replied Pierre. "I envisage a series of
devious little ruses by the boy, er, sorry, by Taren, such as making his
Mom's car unserviceable somehow so she has to ask her handsome and clever
neighbour - you - to fix it".

"Handsome and clever, eh? Do you think I can pull that off, Taren?" I asked
the lad himself.

"No probs, Mr Howerd", he replied sleepily.

"Okay, Pierre, what else?", I asked.

"Well, next, Taren might smuggle some frightening animal or insect into the
house to scare his Mom, who will obviously need you to rescue her from its
clutches. Or its feelers, or whatever they might be", he added.

"Hmm. Handsome, clever AND brave? I might need to cast a more believable
Dad for this role. Pity Steve Irwin's permanently unavailable", I mused.

"No way!" Taren spoke up, twisting in my lap, wide awake now. "You're my
Dad, and that's final! In the movie, I mean - uh, my stepdad-to-be,
anyway", he added, a little too late to conceal what he honestly meant.

"Okay. I like what I'm hearing. But how do I explain my stash of gay porn,
if I'm going to be making cow-eyes at Taren's Mom?", I wondered aloud.

"Well, would it be a crime if it was straight porn?", Pierre reasoned. "I
mean, we would also have to explain how a person who keeps gay porn has a
son in the first place. I think audiences might more easily accept the
concept of: straight dad, happy marriage, one beloved son, loses wife
tragically, boo hoo so sad, resorts to straight porn for understandable
relief, neighbour boy (with Mom but no Dad) envies your relationship with
Chayse, decides to horn in by bringing you and his Mom together, badda
bing, badda boom, ninety three minutes of film, box office success!"

I tried to act unconvinced, but deep down I knew Pierre was right. "Isn't
it a bit formulaic? It sounds so familiar. Patty Duke made this movie about
seventeen times playing opposite herself as her own twin, didn't she?"

Pierre sighed. "The good thing about formulas is they work. They're
reliable. Put the chemicals together and you get the reaction. Every
time. People don't want unpleasant shocks. Well, maybe the few dozen who
watch Art House movies do, but the ones who pay their eight bucks fifty at
the Plaza Theatre don't. Let's make this movie, Don, not the one you want
to make but could never screen anywhere on this planet. Please?" Pierre
awaited my decision, but I suspect he already knew it.

"What do you think, Taren?" I asked the boy in my lap. "Keep my original
idea, or make Pierre's Disney version?"

Taren looked pensive, as though weighing up the options. "Mr de Leon's
movie sounds good. I'd go and see it. Your movie, well, it'd be fun to
make, but, you'd probably get arrested if you ever tried to show it
anywhere", he opined. "That's why you keep Mr de Leon around, isn't it, to
turn your crazy ideas into regular movies?"

I smiled broadly, accepting the truth of what he was saying. "Crazy ideas,
huh? I think you might need a good talking-to from Mr Mendez later", I
threatened.

"Promises, promises", Taren giggled as he squirmed in my lap.

Pierre butted in. "Who is this Mr Mendez? Anyone I should know?"

"That's going to be my character's name in the movie. Don Mendez", I
replied, ruffling Taren's hair. Miss Hatherway buzzed that Eben and Mrs
Wishevsky had arrived.

* * *

I didn't need to sweeten Mrs Wishevsky with a five hundred dollar 'travel
expenses' cheque in order to get Eben out of his clothes without complaint
- he shucked them off as though they were on fire, when I brought up the
subject of disfiguring marks. I still asked Miss Hatherway to draw one up
though, because all screen Moms gossip among themselves when they get
together. The rest of the audition went as smoothly as with the earlier
boys, Taren making the valuable point that his character should also be
friends with Chayse's friends - after all they were neighbours, it wasn't
so unlikely.

Eben impressed me with his open-mindedness - he kissed Taren without
hesitation, he frolicked naked in the foam-rubber pit as if it was his
backyard pool, and when I suggested to Taren that he take Eben to the props
room to 'see if Tommy was there', the two boys skipped off happily, one
nude, the other soon to be, I was sure. I made small talk with Mrs
Wishevsky about the challenges of raising children in the naturist
lifestyle for ten minutes, then excused myself to 'check that the boys
weren't up to mischief'. I didn't enter the props room because I could see
through the glass insert in the door that they were busy. Taren was laying
back on a chair, his ankles on Eben's shoulders, while Eben, kneeling
facing the chair, rapidly pumped his thin cock in and out of Taren's
ass. From the looks of pure lust on both their faces, I'd say the boys were
delighted with their new friendship.

By lunchtime, the MacLanes and the Matthewses had also come and departed. I
had to rely on Taren to fill me in later how events took the course they
did, curled up on my lap in 'our' home.

"It was awesome, Mr Howerd, a really fun morning", Taren enthused, laying
in my arms and wearing one of my black mesh T-shirts. On Taren, it was well
oversize. When he came downstairs wearing it I nearly came in my shorts at
the sight. At the bottom of the stairs, he said he found it in my cupboard,
and asked if it was okay if he wore it because it felt nice and smelled
like me.

"Just come over here and I'll give you an instant demonstration of how okay
it is", I had growled sensuously. He had stepped demurely over, teasing me,
pretending to be timid. Just before he was within the reach of my arms, he
paused, did a half turn, and lifted up the back hem of the droopy shirt to
reveal a beautiful bare bum cheek.

"Oops!", he squeaked coquettishly, index finger holding up his chin. "I
seem to have forgotten my knickers, tee hee hee!"

His teasing had the desired effect. I lunged for him, grabbing his hips
before he could skip away, and pulled the boy onto my lap, kissing him a
little more fervently than I had the previous day. The hand that wasn't
holding up Taren's back was inching its way between his legs, up his inner
thigh, searching for the boy's cock. When my hand reached it I began
lightly squeezing the end of it, as I had seen Taren do to himself.

I broke our kiss for a moment. "I read somewhere that boys kiss a whole lot
better when their peckers are being played with", I whispered breathlessly
to him, continuing my fondling of his dick.

"Really?" Taren gasped, straining to push more of his cock between my
fingers.

"Oh yes. I have it on the very best authority, an impeccable source", I
spoke softly next to his ear, nuzzling my cheek on his.

"Huh?" he replied.

"I saw it in a book once. Truly. I think the title was 'The Life Story of
Taren Jamieson, the Most Beautiful, Sexy, Fuckable, Horny Boy In The
World'. Some guy called Mendez wrote it, I think". I licked Taren's ear,
making him squirm. "Now, you were going to tell me what happened with you
and Ryder and Sunshine this morning. I have the strangest intuition that
you were behind that whole thing. That it was you who somehow got Sunshine
to suck my dick".

Taren smiled. "I got a theory of my own", he smirked. "I reckon if you get
blown by other boys now and then, you'll realise how they aren't as good in
bed as me, and you'll always keep coming back to the best. Me!" he
giggled. I kissed him again for that, grazing my lips on his face and
making him search for my lips with his.

"Your theory has much to recommend it, Professor Jamieson", I mused,
putting on my Freudian accent. "Although it may need more extensive
scientific testing, with, er, numerous field trials for ze purpose of
verification". Taren giggled again and began his yarn.

"Okay. So you remember how you got Ryder's and Sunny's Moms together at the
coffee machine, and you were sitting with them?" Taren recited.

"Yes", I recalled. "I told the Moms that your Mom was out of town, but you
had agreed to come in and help with the rehearsal. I got the three of you
to strip down to your boxers and gather around the box of TV Guides,
pretending they were porno".

"That was when you told us to move over onto the carpet square, for
comfort", Taren interjected. I had a 12 foot square of deep shag pile
carpet located not far from the foam rubber pit, but just far enough that
the boys' voices did not carry back to their Moms. Or me, for that matter.

"Yes, that's it. I was regaling the Moms with coffee and some offscreen
gossip about Elijah Wood, I think, and making some quite smutty references
to his very appropriate surname, as I recall".

Taren continued. "Well, we prob'ly spent about two minutes looking at the
TV Guides, making out that we were looking at hot chicks when Sunny, er,
Sunshine, asked us what is porno anyway. Me and Ryder looked at each other,
but we didn't laugh, and I said it was pictures of men and girls doing sex
stuff. Ryder said it was fun to look at, but Sunshine said he couldn't
understand why anyone would want to. So I said, well, it was a lot more fun
to do it than just look at pictures of it, and Sunshine said, what do you
mean, do it?"

"Were you getting the impression by then that he'd led a bit of a sheltered
life, Taren?" I asked.

"Boy, was I ever", Taren grinned. "Turns out Sunshine is home schooled, has
never had a Dad at his home or any uncles, no friends his own age, and got
no idea about, um, sex stuff. So I made up this story about how boys at
schools are always giving each other blowjobs all the time, every day, just
like shaking hands, and how it was a pity he missed out on it because he
was home schooled. I gave Ryder a wink, and he played along".

"Sunshine asked us what a blowjob was, which I kinda expected he would, so
I told him, and his face went all funny, like he just bit a lemon. Don't
knock it till you tried it, I told him. Watch, I said, I'll demonstrate on
Ryder, and he can tell you exactly how it feels. Ryder was sitting with his
back to the mothers, so they wouldn't be able to see what I was doing. I
pulled down the front of Ryder's boxers and showed Sunshine Ryder's
stiffie. It's pretty cute, like Chayse's only a bit bigger. Then I went
down on it while Ryder told Sunshine how great it felt".

"I'm sure Ryder didn't have to pretend", I observed, and Taren giggled.

"I didn't go all the way with Ryder 'cos I didn't want to make the Moms
suspicious, in case he yelled out or something. But then Sunny asked if
grownup men like blowjobs too. Sure they do, I said. Me and Chayse already
gave Mr Howard a coupla blowjobs, he loved 'em, but girls don't do it much
'cos they're so stuck up. They don't even like talking about it, so that's
prob'ly why your Mom never told you", Taren recounted. "Sunshine then said
he had been looking for something nice to do for you, such as maybe get you
a bunch of flowers or write you a poem, seeing as you'd been so nice to him
an' all, giving him this movie part. I said, like, flowers and poems is for
girls, or Moms. If you wanna thank Mr Howerd, why not ask if you can just
give him a blowjob? You got nice big lips for it, I'm surprised you haven't
been asked for a blowjob by lots of men".

I smiled at Taren's on-the-spot invention. He certainly had a storyteller's
gift for it. "What happened next?" I prompted him, still manipulating his
foreskin.

"Well, Sunshine said his mother took him to the Art Gallery once, and when
he went to the bathroom a man there had also told him he had nice lips for
a boy, and would he like to wrap them around something hot and hard, but he
didn't know what the man meant, so he just finished his pee and left. There
you go, I told him, that man was just asking for a perfectly normal
blowjob. So Sunny said he thought he might ask if you'd like one, and I
told him, sure, go ahead".

"Then the three of you came over to the coffee machine for a water break,
and Sunshine asked me to show him the props room", I filled in the next
detail.

"Well, I had to figure some way of getting him away from his Mom, and
getting you out of there as well, so I remembered what you said about
'looking for Tommy' when Eben was there before", Taren explained.

"Well, it sure worked a treat", I concurred."No sooner had we got in the
properties room, when Sunshine turns to me and says in his sweetest voice,
'Mr Howerd, you've been so nice to me, can I give you a blowjob, please?' I
nearly shot off in my pants when he said it, especially since I was still
horny from watching you and Eben earlier. I let him unzip me, then I sat in
the same chair you and Eben used, and he licked me up and down a few times
before engulfing my knob completely. In fact, I sensed some similarities
between his technique and yours. I take it you gave him some tips?"

Taren smiled demurely back at me. "He's a quick learner. He picked it all
up from when I practiced on Ryder. Now, by the way, I seem to remember
something about a talking-to from Mr Mendez that someone threatened me with
this morning? Or are you too tired out from Sunshine's little thank-you
poem?"

"I'll show you tired", I growled, standing up and picking him up in the one
movement, throwing him over my shoulder like a sack of chaff. "I'll show
you what happens to boys who talk dirty and wear sexy T-shirts and no
undies around here", I continued, walking to the bottom of the stairs, one
hand holding Taren's legs to my stomach, the other slipped under his shirt
and feeling his bottom. "Sunny was a delicious entree, but you, my boy, are
going to be the main course!". I began ascending the staircase.

Taren beat on my back (gently) with his little fists, shrieking "Help!
Help! A big strong handsome stranger is going to have his wicked way with
me! Over and over! He's going to lie on his bed and make me sit on his big
hard cock, and make me bounce up and down until he squirts his hot juice in
my little bottom! Then he's going to turn me face down on his bed and prop
my hips up with a pillow and ravage me again! Oh dear! Then he's going to
suck on my little balls and pecker until I scream! Oh my! Then he's going
to spoon me and leave his big hot dick up my ass all night! Oh goodness!"

"Are you done?" I enquired, smiling, as I reached the bedroom doorway. "Or
do we need to down and back up the stairs again?"

"I'm good", he smirked, as I eased him off my shoulder and onto his
feet. And indeed it was true. He was good. Very, very good.

* * *

Making feature films isn't all fucking little boys' asses- some actual
cinematography must inevitably take place, and that's where Pierre's
strength lay. He was also a whiz at organising all the other people who
come together to make a movie - electricians, costumiers, stuntmen, boom
operators, clapper loaders and suchlike.

For me, it was as though "Le Marieur" was already made. I could see it
playing on a wide cinema screen in my mind. Pierre turned my mind's vision
into an hour and a half of wholesome family entertainment, replete with
dashes of humour and some teary scenes. My five boys, Chayse, Ryder,
Sunshine, Eben and of course Taren, put in seven weeks of hard work, on and
off screen. Taren even made some dialogue suggestions to Pierre, to turn
sombre scenes into amusing ones, and Pierre was gracious enough to hear him
out without condescension, eventually incorporating two of Taren's ideas
into the final cut.

I ran a closed set on several scenes so that the boys could misbehave a
bit. When you see "Le Marieur" at the cinema, you won't see any of the good
bits that I had to cut out, but you can be sure they never hit the cutting
room floor - they're on my Director's Cut reel, a quite different movie,
which also lives in my floor safe at home.

I promised the boys I'd look out for them when my next project is ready to
begin, and also keep an ear to the ground for other directors wanting just
the **right** sort of boy actor. They didn't have many years left as child
stars, after all, and they had to cash in while they were still
bankable. Ask Haley Joel how many scripts he gets invited to read nowadays.

At our cast party on the night of the last day of filming, I got to plunder
Chayse's virgin ass. Taren put me up to it - Chayse had been waiting and
willing for weeks. Taren returned Chayse's original favour by lubing me up,
but he wouldn't let Chayse sit on my dick; that was his reserved position.
I took Chayse from behind, after licking the length of his knobby backbone.
Taren stood by the bed giving suggestions, stroking and patting both of us
for encouragement, finally kissing Chayse as I came inside his bottom. I
think my next project might be to locate a country on this crazy planet
that allows men to marry thirteen-year-old boys. And make movies.

End

parrafan