Date: Fri, 6 Dec 2013 01:16:09 +1100
From: Andy Darko <niftyandydarko@gmail.com>
Subject: Channing's Visit Part 11

This story will contain sexual acts between two adult males. I am not, nor
do I know the celebrities involved. I do not know their sexual preferences.
If you are not of legal age, please direct yourself to another site. If you
enjoy Nifty, please donate!

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Channing's Visit - Chapter 11
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Oh, buddy! I hope you guys are still reading, because I am not stopping any
time soon!

Thanks to Bryan, Carl and Sven for the e-mails!

One thing though: (and I'm sure I'll get a whole heaping ton of e-mails off
of this one!) Not too soon, but in the future, there will be
some... cameos. So, I'm going to put it out there and ask you guys who you
think would be a good guest in the series. Maybe as a friend, maybe as
competition, maybe sexually! But, along with a name, give me some reasons
why! Sell me on it! I certainly can't promise that I will add them all in,
but I will get a few and I'll always mention who suggested it and why I
chose! So let me have your hot male celebrities!
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	Channing and I were fortunate enough to catch a flight out almost
immediately, seeing as it was close to one o'clock in the morning on a
Monday. We slid through a private screening room for security, then boarded
shortly thereafter. Having been startled from sleep so suddenly, I curled
up with a blanket and fell asleep just as the plane was taking off. It was
a short flight, barely two hours, so when we landed it was still quite
early.

	Channing had remained relatively quiet since we left the house, the
only indicator of his mood being a constant tapping of the foot. I tried to
comfort him with a touch here, a small smile there, but his stress was
palpable. As soon as the wheels touched the tarmac in L.A., his phone was
out. Once he turned it on, it began a series of vibrations; texts, calls
and voicemails. He scrolled through the texts, then listened to the
voicemails. After a few minutes, his body visibly relaxed.

	"What's up?" I asked, undoing my seatbelt. He sighed and met my
eyes. "It was a false alert. False labor."

	"That's good, right?"

	He chuckled as he stood and pulled our bags from the overhead
bin. "Very. She's only at thirty-one weeks." We paused our conversation as
we exited the plane. I made for the baggage claim while Channing arranged a
car. Once we were all squared away, I reclined into the passenger
seat. "So... what now?"

	Channing patted my thigh as he turned onto the freeway. "Now, I'm
going to take you to my place and tuck you into bed so you can get some
sleep."

	"What about you?"

	"I'm going to go to the hospital and check on Jenna," he replied, a
degree of tension edging into his voice. "She's there with her parents."

	I wanted to offer to go with him, but the prospect of meeting his
pregnant ex-wife and her parents was daunting to say the
least. Fortunately, it was just a scare, I thought, and not the real
thing. I yawned widely and stared out of the window at the passing
scenery. It was shocking to me that I was in Los Angeles, but I couldn't
fully process it at my level of fatigue. There would be plenty of time to
explore later.

	I must have dozed off because I woke to Channing calling my name
quietly. "Reagan. Reagan, babe. We're here." I roused myself to find us
parked in a large garage and willed my body out of the car. I began to grab
my things out of the back, but Channing stopped me. "Don't worry about
that. Let's get you to bed and I'll bring the bags in."

	"But-,"

	He silenced me with a kiss. "Bed."

	I chose not to argue any further, but wrapped my fingers in his and
let him guide me into the house. In my lethargic state, I didn't take in
too much detail, but the house had a modern and simultaneously warm feel to
it. We made our way up the stairs and into a grand master bedroom. Channing
pulled my shirt over my head as I bobbed sleepily. "Lean on me, babe." I
did as he said and rested my arms on his shoulders. He undid my pants and
slid them down my legs. I took the liberty of sliding out of my shoes
before I threw myself onto the bed. A giggle escaped as Channing pulled off
my socks, his large fingers tickling the soles of my feet.

	"Do you want anything to drink before I go?" he whispered, laying
next to me. I shook my head and pressed my small frame against his. The
selfish part of me wanted to ask him to stay. The baby wasn't coming, so
why did he have to be there? But, I knew that was just me being
greedy. Channing had escaped from this life and found refuge, and a
connection, with me. Now, he had to return to reality.

	And, I wondered where that would leave me.

	"I don't know when I'll be back, but text me or call me if you need
anything, okay?"

	"Okay."

	His lips met my forehead tenderly as my eyes drooped. My fingers
held onto him, but my grip slackened as I slipped into sleep.  ~~~~~~

	I was awakened by my phone vibrating on the bedside table. I
reached to my right, as I always did, but hit pillows instead of
phone. Confused, I opened my eyes and looked around. My brain finally
caught up to me and I remembered that I was no longer in my house. I had
traveled to L.A. and was sleeping in Channing's bed. My phone was buzzing
insistently on the table to my left instead of where I was used to.

	I answered quickly. "Hello?"

	"What's going on, Blondie?"

	I chuckled. "Hey, Owen."

	"I just wanted to check in and see how your guest was doing," he
said. "I haven't talked to either of you since... well, since I dropped him
off."

	"You're so good at your job," I shot playfully. "But, actually,
Channing isn't my guest anymore. I'm... well, I'm his guest." There was an
expectant pause from the other end. I sighed. "I'm in L.A."

	"WHAT?! After how many years of me trying to get you out here?"

	"It wasn't something I planned, Owen. It just... happened."

	"Yeah, fuck all that noise. We're doing lunch."

	I spared a glance at the phone to check the time. It was only nine
thirty, so I had time to get ready. "Sure. Message me an address and let me
know when."

	"Noon and I'll text you. See you soon."

	He hung up without so much as a goodbye, something I found out to
be very common with him. My eye caught a small envelope on the bedside
table with my name on it. Inside I found a handwritten note from Channing.

	`Reagan, I'll be staying at the hospital for a while today. Had to
come home to grab some stuff for Jenna. Didn't want to wake you. Call you
around lunch. Miss you. Channing.'

	Although simple, the note made me smile. I took a moment to stretch
out on the plush bed before sliding out from the covers and making my way
into the bathroom. I was impressed with the clean lines, marble floors and
frosted glass accents. The shower and bathtub were elevated and enclosed in
a smaller room entirely in glass. The dual sinks were inset into a smoky
grey stone and placed in front of an elegant yet simple series of
rectangular mirrors. As I stepped forward onto a plush bath carpet, I found
another note on the counter.

	`Reagan, just wanted you to know that I wish I was in here
showering next to you. Channing.'

	I rolled my eyes at the cheesiness, but smiled again and jumped
into the shower. The water rained down on me from a sleek, chrome shower
head positioned directly above. I reached for the soap only to find a small
note mounted on the wall.

	`You look hot right now.'

	I shook my head, but couldn't erase the smile off of my face. It
was truly endearing to imagine him placing all these notes around the rooms
while I slept. I knew he was simply trying to make my first experience in
Los Angeles a nice one, even before I left the house. He was succeeding.

	After drying off and slipping on a pair of khakis and a tank, I
wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. I was initially dismayed at the
lack of a personalized note, but that feeling dissipated when I opened the
fridge. On the center shelf was another piece of paper.

	`Help yourself to anything you want. If you can't find anything you
like, have something delivered. We will go grocery shopping tonight.'

	In the end, I contented myself with the only thing that had
survived: some dry granola. I wasn't too put off by the lack of food. After
all, Channing had been absent for almost two months. Besides, I was due for
lunch with Owen, so I didn't feel the need to eat too heavily. I
entertained myself by exploring the house, from its lavish living room to
the fully equipped gym to the picturesque infinity pool and backyard. Of
course, with Channing's career, it was no surprise that his house was
decked out. I was mildly surprised at how fashionable and well-decorated it
was, no offense to Channing.

	I checked the address Owen had sent me and found it to be about
thirty minutes away, so I started to get ready. I coiffed my hair, shaved
and threw on a random tee shirt. I made my way to the garage and found yet
another note on the door.

	`If you want to go anywhere, use any of the cars you like. With the
exception of the Lotus. That's my baby.'

	I opened the garage door and scanned my choices, deciding on the
Mercedes Z4 convertible. I figured if I was going to meet Owen in his
territory, I might as well do it in style. I let the top down and backed
out of the garage, following the directions on the dashboard GPS. I managed
to avoid getting too lost and reached the restaurant only a few minutes
late. Upon entering, I spotted Owen sitting at a corner table and waved. He
was, unsurprisingly, on the phone, but returned the wave.

	My phone suddenly went off in my pocket, startling me. I answered
as I was guided to the table. "Hey, Channing."

	"Hey, babe. You doing okay?"

	"Yeah, I'm fine. Actually, I'm out to lunch with Owen."

	As I settled into my seat, Owen paused to whisper, "Order something
to drink. I don't have anything planned for this afternoon." I
chuckled. Owen had always been a bit of a party animal, a skill that I
supposed came in handy considering his line of work. "Thank you for the
notes," I said into the phone. "I don't know if I found all of them, but I
liked the ones I did."

	"I didn't want to wake you up when I got home, but I wanted to make
you feel welcome," Channing replied. "Sorry, I couldn't be with you. I
didn't expect to be here for so long."

	"It's no big deal," I assured him. "I got some sleep and took a
shower."

	"Okay. Well, have fun at lunch and tell Owen I said hey. I'm on my
way home now."

	"Do me a favor and take a nap. You need sleep, too."

	His rumble of a chuckle resonated through the phone. "Trust me, I
will. I'll see you soon, beautiful."

	"Bye, babe."

	I hung up just in time to order a martini and wait for Owen to end
his phone call. As soon as he did, he brushed his perfectly coiffed brown
hair back and energetically began conversing. "So, Blondie! You're in
L.A. finally! You hair isn't down to your ass! What's going on?"

	I shrugged as my drink arrived. "Nothing much, really. Just working
on some new pieces. Came out for a visit."

	"Oh, really? Just a visit? You show up, unannounced, with a new
look and expect me to believe it was just on a whim?" He leaned forward
over the table, swirling his drink like some villain in a movie. "Don't
hold out on me, you punk. What's the deal?"

	It was my turn to take a sip and glare at him. "Why does there have
to be a reason?"

	He eyed me suspiciously, then took a swig. "Fine. You're here for
no apparent reason. Let's say I believe that. How long are you staying?"

	I shrugged and picked put the menu, deciding quickly. "Not sure
yet. Eager to see me go?"

	"Not at all, Blondie!" he chuckled. "Quite the opposite! I'm
fucking excited to see you here. It's going to be an adventure. I mean,
obviously, we'll have to take you to get some new clothes. Maybe a suit
and-,"

	"Whoa, whoa, whoa... what do I need new clothes for?"

	We were interrupted by the arrival of the server. Our order was
taken and we resumed our conversation, albeit sans an answer to my
question. "So, I'll take you to my tailor today. We could have a suit for
you by Friday. And, he does amazing work. It'll fit you like a second
skin."

	I pursed my lips. "Answer my question, Owen. Why do you think I
need new clothes?"

	"Look, Reagan. It's L.A. You never know who you're going to run
into and it'd be good for you to get your name in people's mouths. These
people have money and they love art. You don't have to just relegate
yourself to New York old money."

	"I'll have you know that Joseph Gordon-Levitt has several of my
pieces," I replied smugly. Owen gave me a dubious look. "And, how would you
know that?"

	"Channing told me. And, so did Joey."

	Owen slammed down his drink dramatically, startling several tables
nearby. "Okay, there is something you are keeping from me. And, considering
our personal and professional history, I think that's fucked. Spill it. Why
are you here and why do you not know how long you're..." His face went
still before a look of understanding crept across his face. "Oh... shit."

	"What?" He continued to smile. "What?!"

	"You're fucking Tatum."

	I snorted into my drink, scanning the closer tables to see if
anyone had overheard. After wiping the gin off of my chin, I leaned
in. "What... what makes you think that?"

	"Oh, please. It's obvious. He brings you to L.A., you don't know
how long you're going to be here and the fact that you cut your hair?
You're taking it up the ass from Channing fucking Tatum. Are you screwing
or actually dating?"

	"Are you serious with that question?"

	"Hell yes, I'm serious," he shot back, smirking. "You two are
involved. I'm just curious as to how far you're involved." I reached for my
drink to buy some time, but Owen snatched it up and dumped its contents on
the floor. I, as well as everyone around us, gawked openly. "Don't
stall. Answer the question."

	I gave him the dirtiest look I could, both for the question and for
the lost martini. He shot me a challenging yet ambivalent look until I
relented. "You know I'm only telling you this because I KNOW that you will
keep your mouth shut. We are... sort of... dating."

	"SLUT!"

	He yelled the word so loudly that the entire restaurant turned to
face us. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I tried to hide my
face. "Can you lower your voice, please?"

	Owen switched to a hokey stage whisper. "Slut."

	Our food arrived at that moment and Owen took the opportunity to
order me another martini. "You had better keep your snide comments to
yourself," I growled.

	"Like what? Like the fact that the man JUST got divorced? Or the
fact that I'm sure he's been deep-dicking you on the daily? Or the fact
that you are a slut?" I responded by kicking him under the table. His grunt
of pain turned into a laugh as I dove into my plate, mildly amused by his
ribbing. "Obviously, this is not widely known fact, so you need to keep
this under wraps."

	"Oh, please," Owen snorted. "I've been in the business of keeping
secrets for almost six years now. You don't have to worry about anything."

	"Since we're on the subject, what exactly IS your job? It's
something we've never really talked about."

	He shrugged, mouthful of some perfectly cooked piece of steak. "In
old school terms, I'm somewhat of a fixer. I fix problems. Officially, I've
deemed myself a PR Consultant."

	"And, people believe that title?"

	"The people who need my services know exactly what I do," he
replied smartly. "Besides, I also help manage people's images. Clothes and
styling, getting them into events, meeting the right people." There was a
devious pause. "All the things I intend to do with you."

	"I am not one of your clients, Owen."

	That comment brought a smile to his face. "No. You're my
friend. And, if you're going to be in L.A., you're going to have to play by
our rules. Sorry about it." I set my jaw, but began to entertain the fact
that perhaps he was right. Even looking around the room, I could tell that
I stood out. Not that I looked sloppy, but I didn't have
that... polish. The haircut had been the first step. It would kind of be
silly not to go any further.

	"Fine," I sighed. "Let's go shopping."

	Owen stopped mid-chew with a look of incredulity. "Seriously?
Like... today. After lunch. And, you don't fight my advice."

	"Sure."

	"I'm talking casual, suit and tie, swimwear, everything. Total
overhaul."

	"If you say so."

	"Fuck yeah!" he celebrated. "Oh, this is gonna be good. Finish up
quick. I have to make some calls." He made a beeline for the door,
abandoning the remainder of his meal, and whipped out his phone in record
time. I shook my head in amusement. If I knew Owen, and I had for almost
ten years, he was about to go overboard.

	By the time he returned, I was done and waiting. Owen said nothing
to me, but settled up the bill before I had a chance to object, then
ushered me out of the door. "Okay. Tailor first. He has an appointment in
an hour, but he said he would squeeze you in. So, I'm thinking the
essentials: a gray, double-breasted. A black sharkskin, possibly with a
vest. And, of course, something lighter. For you, I'm thinking a powder
blue linen." I started to resist, but smiled as he ushered me into his
sleek sportscar. "Anything you say, Owen. As long as it looks good."

	Owen had always driven like an asshole and it was no different,
even in the L.A. traffic. We wove through cars and blasted through yellow
lights so fast that we reached the tailor in about ten minutes. Once
inside, I was introduced to Nathanael, a tall, slender African-American
with skin like pure chocolate. I was in awe of his chiseled features and
warm eyes. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks as we shook hands, mostly
because I could feel his eyes looking me up and down. I assumed it was
because he was imagining a suit on me.

	"Well, you'll excuse me if I skip the formalities as our time is
short," he said in a sonorous voice. "Do me a favor and take off your pants
and shoes. " I did as he asked, noticing his sly gaze as he gathered his
tools. Owen was moving around the showroom picking out suits he deemed
appropriate for my makeover. I snapped back to attention as Nathanael
approached. "Just stand naturally. I'm going to take your measurements and
we can go from there."

	I watched in the multiple mirrors as he made his way around me,
measuring lengths and widths, then marking them down on a nearby
clipboard. I could have sworn a small smile touched his lips as he said,
"Time for the inseam." Before he could kneel in front of me, I heard Owen
call out. "Keep it G-rated, Nat. He's spoken for."

	"I haven't the slightest idea what you're insinuating," Nathanael
replied, sliding the tape measure up my leg. A slight squeak hitched in my
throat as he bumped against my package. He stayed for an extra second
before shooting me a wink and recording the numbers. "Let's try some things
on and get an idea of what you're going for."

	"Ask Owen," I replied honestly. "He is the style guru."

	At that precise moment, Owen handed me a pair of sharkskin
slacks. As I slid into them, he spoke to Nathanael. "Look, Blondie has a
small frame. The sleeves have to come in, as do the pant legs. A good taper
on the jacket, maybe take some fabric from the shoulders and he'll be
good."

	"Are you presuming to tell me how to do my job?" Nathanael quipped,
inserting pins down the legs. "Because, you can always find yourself a new
tailor."

	Owen gasped dramatically. "I would never. I am merely here to
assist you in your artistic splendor. And, to humbly ask if you can have
this particular suit ready by Friday."

	Both Nathanael and I whipped around to look at him, speaking in
unison. "Friday?"

	"Yes, Friday," he said as Nathanael slid the jacket up my arms. "We
have a party to go to and, unfortunately, Blondie hasn't a thing to
wear. And, I thought it would make a monumental first impression if he
could show up in one of your finely crafted masterpieces."

	"Kiss ass," I muttered.

	Nathanael pursed his lips and glowered at Owen. After inserting a
few pins in the arms and folding the sleeve back over my wrist, he
spoke. "For you, and only this once, will I rush this suit. The others will
be ready in two weeks."

	"You are a miracle worker!"

	"Aren't the sleeves a little short?" I interjected. Nathanael
absently shook his head. "You want the sleeve to end just above the hinge
of the wrist. It allows the shirt underneath to peek out, forming a sort of
framework. Trust me."

	I took his word, then moved on to another suit while he and Owen
began arguing about what color shirts I would need. The debate continued
through the pinning of the grey suit and on through the linen. I remained
silent, save for the occasional chuckle at one of their comments. When all
was said and done, Nathanael patted me on the butt. "We're all finished,
beautiful. You can get dressed."

	After ironing out the details and payment, Nathanael approached me
as we exited. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I'm sure I'll see you soon."
He handed me a stylish business card, his fingers lingering on mine. "Call
me anytime."

	Owen dragged me down the street towards more shops. "What was that
all about?" I asked quickly, indicating the business card in my hand. Owen
chuckled. "What's there to explain? He thinks you're hot."

	"As if he couldn't get any guy he wanted. He's beautiful."

	Owen rolled his eyes and yanked me into a shoe
boutique. "Self-deprecation doesn't really fly in this part of the
world. You gotta have some confidence in yourself, Blondie." Our
conversation was cut short by the emphatic greeting of the two sales
clerks, apparently two more of Owen's friends. As we settled into our
transaction, meaning the three of them debating looks and options, I
thought about what Owen had just told me.

	I had never felt particularly attractive, being small-framed and,
well, a little feminine looking. But, if I wasn't even a little
good-looking, where was all the attention coming from? First Channing, then
Joey, now Nathanael. There had to be some truth to all of their words. I
felt a smile reach my face. Perhaps coming to L.A. would prove to be
beneficial after all.

	The rest of the afternoon was filled with accessories, fitted
jeans, V-neck tees, ties, skimpy underwear, short shorts and tiny
swimsuits. True to my word, I didn't argue with anything Owen suggested. At
least, verbally. Inside, my self-conscious inner me was screaming in
protest at almost every choice. Too much skin. Too tight. Too garish. But,
I bought it all. And, by the time we returned to my car, I had eight bags
and Owen was carrying five. We loaded it all into the backseat and I turned
to face him.

	"Well, Blondie, I am proud of you," he admitted as he leaned
against the car door. "True to your word, you didn't complain once. It
seems you've finally learned that, when it comes to these things, I am
right."

	"God, your modesty is overwhelming."

	"Modesty is not part of my skill set," he replied. "Now, don't
forget to pick up your suit on Friday. I'll text you the address of the
party. I suggest you get a driver as the drinks will be plentiful. And,
yes, you can bring Channing. I would bet he already knows about it anyway."

	"Special event?"

	"Nah. Just a bunch of people getting together. A good time for you
to start meeting the Hollywood crowd." At that moment, his phone rang and I
made my way to the driver's side. I knew that he would likely wander off,
not bothering to say good-bye. Sure enough, he turned, cast a half-hearted
wave off and headed towards his own car. Good old dependable Owen.

	I pulled into the garage a while later and began the task of
unloading my new purchases, trying to stay quiet so as not to disturb
Channing's nap. I left the bags downstairs and tip-toed upstairs. Fully
intending to crawl into bed next to him, I slowly opened the bedroom
door. I was greeted with a surprising and arousing sight.

	Channing was most certainly awake. He was sprawled out on top of
the sheets, naked and slowly stroking his eight inches. His eyes were
closed as he pleasured himself, one hand on his dick, the other gripping
his muscular thigh. There was a light sheen of sweat over him, making his
skin glisten as he moved. I felt my own piece stir in my pants as I stepped
fully into the room. "You couldn't wait for me to get home?"

	Channing eyes opened slowly, as if he was emerging from a
dream. His green eyes were glazed over with pure sex. His voice was raspy
when he spoke. "Come here." I approached slowly, drinking in the sight of
him. His right hand made lazy strokes as his left reached out for me. I
smiled and shook my head. "You just keep doing what you're doing." He
pouted, but resumed his stroking.

	I watched raptly as the muscles in his arm bunched and relaxed as
he played with his cock. His left hand slowly teased one nipple, then slid
down his toned abs, passed his engorged piece and cupped his hefty
balls. He spread his legs further apart to allow himself more room, his
breathing growing heavier. As his hand came in contact with his orbs, his
back arched and his eyes closed.

	I hadn't realized how turned on I was until that point. I had
apparently been biting my lower lip throughout this entire show and, when I
looked down, I noticed a growing wet spot on my khakis. I had leaked
straight through my underwear and pants. Still, I resisted the urge to jump
on Channing. I wanted to see this through.

	A familiar blush spread across his skin as he fondled himself. His
toes alternated between curling and flexing. His mouth gaped slightly, his
breathing ragged. Channing was close. The steady flow of precum coated his
dick in a sheen as his pace increased. Intermittent groans and whimpers
escaped his lips. My own hand gently caressed my erection through my pants.

	And then, he did something that surprised me. Channing drew his
knees up and planted his feet on the bed. Without opening his eyes, he took
his middle finger into his mouth and coated it with spit. Then, with no
hesitation, he reached down and buried his finger in his ass, right up to
the hilt. Apparently, that was all he needed. He released and animalistic
growl as his hand flew up and down his shaft so fast it was a blur. Every
muscle in his body tensed, then released as his orgasm shot through
him. His load was powerful and copious, landing on his shoulder, chest and
stomach. He was coated in it, cum dotting his entire torso. He jerked his
cock a few more times, squeezing out every possible drop.

	He relaxed, withdrawing his finger from his meaty ass, and lay
panting on the bed for a minute or two. I thought his carnal needs were
satiated, but he soon opened his eyes and fixed them on my crotch. I was
still painfully hard, but in awe of what had just transpired. He beckoned
for me to come closer and, as soon as I got in arm's reach, yanked my pants
open, pulled my briefs down and inhaled my dick. I clutched the headboard
with one hand and Channing's cum-covered shoulder with the other. His mouth
was voracious, like he was trying to suck the actual life out of me. There
was no way I was going to last any time at all.

	Between the show I had just watched, the smell of cum in the air
and the high-suction blowjob I was receiving, it only took a few minutes
before I felt my legs tingling. I squeaked as the sensation moved up to my
groin. My hand moved to the back of Channing's head as I felt my dick swell
then fire into his mouth. I must have twitched harder than I thought
because my cock fell out of Channing's mouth and, before either of us could
recover, painted his face with streaks of cum. As my orgasm subsided, he
leaned in and took me back in between those talented lips.

	I shook and shuddered from his oral manipulations until I had to
step back. Channing's body was covered in his orgasm and his face, at least
from the right side of his mouth up to his hair, was streaked in my
load. He wiped my jizz from his eye and smiled at me. "That was hot."

	I agreed and knelt next to the bed, kissing him passionately. I
could taste myself on his mouth as we made out, both on his tongue and his
lips. Once we separated, he smiled. "I tried to wait for you. What took so
long?"

	"Owen decided I needed a wardrobe makeover," I explained. "You'll
see all the bags downstairs." Channing kissed me again before jumping off
the bed. "Sounds like Owen, all right. Shower time for me. Join me?"

	"I'm okay. You get cleaned up."

	I relaxed on the bed and waited for him to clean up. About fifteen
minutes later, he emerged in a loose tank and shorts. Channing sprawled
across my body, kissing me gently, lovingly. Before we could get too
comfortable, the doorbell rang. He sprung up quickly without so much as a
word. Within minutes, I heard multiple voices downstairs.

	Curious, I made my way down the staircase and saw a couple guys
carrying in bags full of food. Guiding them was an absolutely stunning
Indian woman with raven hair pulled back into a perfect ponytail and a
dazzlingly fashionable outfit. From her subtle, but sparkling necklace to
her rose colored, suede Louboutins, she radiated order and efficiency. Even
her hug with Channing seemed measured. They made their way into the kitchen
and I followed.

	"You're free for the week, but, starting Monday, we've got to play
catch up," she was saying. "There are three scripts I need you to look at,
you've got meetings for 22 Jump Street and the producers want you to come
in and do some initial voice work for The Book of Life. Nothing
serious. Merely a test run, if you will." Channing opened his mouth to
respond, but she plowed on. "As to social aspects, there is the party this
Friday that you already know about. Jonah has asked if you would like to
join he and Dave for lunch on Saturday before shooting starts for 22. And,
advance notice, Cannes Film Festival is coming up in a month and a half. I
need to know how long you plan on attending and if anyone is going with you
so I can RSVP."

	As the last delivery person exited, she turned and caught sight of
me. There was a pause before she looked at Channing, her expression
blank. He smiled as he introduced us. "Reagan, this is my assistant
Naina. Naina, this is Reagan... my boyfriend."

	I blushed at the introduction, but Naina's reaction was
more... calculating. After a moment, she shook my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Then, in the same breath, she turned back to Channing. "I assume this is
not public information."

	"Not at the moment."

	"Mm. In that case, should I book two flights for Cannes? I'm sure
the one hotel room will be fine considering your... level of intimacy." I
felt my face grow even hotter, but it was Channing who cut the
tension. "Uh, Naina, I think we can talk about that later. Would you mind
making sure the delivery is taken care of?"

	"Of course."

	As soon as her heel disappeared around the corner, I wheeled on
him. "What the fuck? She is... severe."

	"She's efficient. And, extremely intelligent. And... a little
socially awkward. But, she's amazing at what she does and I wouldn't be
able to keep up with half of my stuff without her. So... yeah." He began
unloading the groceries onto the large kitchen island. I stood opposite him
and did the same. "And, outing us to her?"

	"Everything I do goes through her," he explained. "Every dinner,
every social outing, every flight, every transportation arrangement. She
was bound to figure it out eventually." I was slightly miffed that Channing
had outed me without asking my permission, but I supposed that he was
right. The Hollywood assistant was the most important person in a star's
career, the person who held all of their information and
secrets. Technically, I was one of those secrets.

	I was distracted when I pulled out a can of tomato soup. "Aw, hell
yes!"

	"What's so exciting about tomato soup?"

	"It's only one half of the best meal mankind ever created!" I
basically shouted. "Tomato soup and grilled cheese! Cheddar, not that fake
cheese slice crap. OH! I'm so excited. I know what I'm having for dinner!"

	Channing rolled his eyes as Naina returned. While they talked, I
continued sorting out the groceries. I tuned them out as I moved around the
room, considering they were talking about business. Before long, their
professional conversation had concluded and I had finished. There was an
awkward silence as Naina typed away on her phone faster than I had ever
seen a normal human being type. Channing looked at me helplessly before
beginning to speak. Without looking, Naina cut him off.

	"Am I confirming one or two for lunch on Saturday? Jonah is being
quite insistent."

	Channing looked at me questioningly. I, in turn, looked to
Naina. "Two."

	"Fantastic. I will send you the details. Is there anything else you
need at the moment?"

	"Whenever you get a chance, the bar could use some restocking," he
replied. Naina made a note on her phone, turned on her heel and left. I
wondered if anyone in L.A. actually said goodbye. "Just so you know, Owen
knows now."

	"I figured you'd tell him," he said, popping open a can of
Pepsi. "You guys are close. It's no biggie." I sidled up to him and wrapped
my arms around his waist. "I didn't tell him. He figured it out. But, I'm
glad someone other than Meagan knows. It's... it's a little relieving, but
still a little scary to tell people."

	He kissed me passionately. "Then, from now on, we will decide who
we tell together. Now, come show me some of those fancy duds you bought
today."

	The days whizzed by with Channing showing me around the sights and
landmarks of the city. We took pictures at the Hollywood sign, the Griffith
Observatory, the Hollywood Walk of Fame and TCL Chinese Theatre. Of course,
Channing spent all of his time in public wearing shades and hats to hide
his identity. We were fortunate to avoid any incidents even when we asked
strangers to take a photo for us. By the time Friday rolled around, I felt
like a seasoned tourist.

	Channing, or Naina rather, arranged for a car to take us to and
from the party which was being held at someone's chic Malibu
residence. Channing was donning a light green button up and grey, plaid
slacks. I, of course, wore my black tailored suit with a classic white
shirt, although I had substituted the jacket for a vest. Feeling the need
to be as dapper as possible, I complimented the look with a metallic red
skinny tie.

	My nerves must have been obvious because Channing ran his hand over
my leg as we pulled up. When the driver got out, he snuck a quick kiss
in. "Don't be nervous," he reassured. "You'll love everyone and they'll
love you. Okay?"

	I forced a smile, but my heart was pumping. "Yeah, okay."

	We approached the door and and I fought the urge to reach out and
grab Channing's hand in mine for comfort. "Babe, you haven't even told me
whose house this is," I said as the door swung open. Before he could reply,
there was a squeal and a dark haired woman flung herself at Channing. He
embraced her with a smile, spinning her around in the doorway. When he
finally set her down, I took in her face.

	"Channing! I haven't seen you in months!"

	He looked sheepish. "I know, I know. It's been... interesting. Oh,
Zooey, this is my friend Reagan Mauldwin. Reagan, Zooey." There was no
introduction needed. Zooey Deschanel and her body of work were well known
to me. I loved her quirky personality both on and off screen. She beamed at
me with her bright blue eyes. "I know that name. You're a painter, right?"

	"Y-yeah. How did-,"

	"Joey's talked about your work before," she said energetically. "He
showed me some of your stuff at his place. Very nice!"

	"Thank you," I said, sure that the blood was rushing to my
face. Before I could recover, she ushered us inside. "Well, it's awesome to
meet you. Welcome to my place. Everyone is out back, so make yourselves
comfortable. There's the bar and the caterers just put out some food. Have
as much as you like!"

	"Is Joey here?" Channing asked. Zooey shook her head. "He's doing
something for hitRECord tonight. Jonah just got here, though. He's over by
the pool. Ooh. I'll see you guys in a minute. I've got to make a call!"

	I looked around and felt an immediate sense of awe. Zooey's house
was full of stylish, cool actors and actresses. Among them, I spotted Jason
Schwartzman, Mindy Kaling, Joel McHale, Neil Patrick Harris, Emily Blunt,
David Krumholtz and the entire cast of New Girl. Channing snapped me out of
my reverie with a subtle squeeze of the arm. "I'm going to go get some
drinks. Gin martini, extra dirty?"

	"You know me so well."

	He smiled and slid through the crowd, occasionally exchanging words
with acquaintances. I shrunk back into a corner, but hadn't been alone for
ten seconds before someone crossed my path. I couldn't help but gasp
aloud. "Holy crap!" The girl in front of me chuckled as she turned, causing
me to backtrack, so I wouldn't look stupid. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Lawrence. I
didn't mean... I just... shit."

	"It's okay," she giggled. "And, call me Jen. You are?"

	I held out my hand. Shakily. "Reagan Mauldwin. It's a
pleasure. Sorry to spaz on you. I'm relatively new to..." I gestured to the
surrounding party. "This."

	"New to the area?"

	"Yeah. Just a visitor."

	"Well, you chose the right people to start with," she said
pleasantly. "Zooey keeps her parties very chill and relaxed. I've been to
some parties where the atmosphere is much less... civil." We had a laugh
and I felt the tension begin to ebb away. Jen's warm demeanor was soothing
and made me realize how human celebrities actually are. Well, celebrities
other than Channing.

	"So, may I ask who you came with?" she continued. "Or, are you a
friend of Zooey's that I've never met?"

	"No, Zooey and I just met all of five minutes ago.I'm here with
Channing. Well, not WITH him. Obviously. Because he's straight. I'm
not. Not that it matters. Fuck. I don't even know why I said that. I'm
sorry, I'm just a little-,"

	At that moment, Channing arrived. I snatched the martini out of his
hand and downed it. Both he and Jen looked impressed and scared. Once I
inhaled the olives, the two seemed to take notice of each other. They
exchanged introductions and turned back to me. "So, Reagan, are you an
actor as well?" Jen asked as we sat at a vacant table. I laughed. "No, not
at all. I'm a painter."

	"A GREAT painter," Channing chimed, beaming proudly. "He's shown
some good stuff in New York."

	I gave him a stern `please-shut-up' look before returning my
attention to Jen. "It's not that big of a deal. Really."

	"I'd love to see some of your pieces," she said, leaning forward
excitedly. "I'm actually looking for some artwork for my house. I mean, if
you don't mind." I pulled out my phone and brought up some pictures of the
stuff in my house. Jen scrolled through each one in silence. When she
returned my phone, her face was all smiles. "We have got to trade
information. I have to get my hands on one of those."

	"You're too kind." I was sure she was being polite, but she
pressed. "I'm serious!" she laughed, shoving me playfully. "That's amazing
work! Here. I'll give you my number." And, just like that, Jennifer
Lawrence was in my phonebook. "What's your Twitter and Instagram?"

	"Um... I don't... I've never used them."

	I expected shock, perhaps even condescension from this popular
Hollywood starlet, but there was none. In fact, Jen seemed excited. "Well,
let's start! I can show you if you want."

	"Oh... okay!"

	Channing patted my leg. "I'm going to grab you another drink. Jen,
do you need anything?"

	"Sure. Whatever white wine they have."

	He left for the bar and Jen sprung into action. While the apps were
downloading, she gave me the highlights of each program. By the time
Channing returned, I had created a handle for Twitter and begun following
Jen, Zooey and Joey, to name a few. I had a loose grasp on hashtags and the
whole word limit. Channing stayed only for a second, then squeezed my
shoulder and walked off to join some others. We moved on to Instagram.

	"Well, let's christen your newfound social media!" Jen
suggested. She leaned in and we took a picture, drinks poised. We laughed
as we debated over filters, then as she taught me how to tag her. "Always
add in some hashtags for good measure," she advised. I thought of a few
clever ones, then threw in `The Thirsty Games', evoking a hearty laugh from
Jen. Despite only meeting her half an hour prior, she was growing on me
with every passing minute. Maybe L.A. wasn't so bad after all.

	Jen guided me around the pool, introducing me to basically everyone
she spotted. And, with incredible finesse, she managed to bring up Twitter
and/or Instagram at every meeting. By the end of our lap an hour later, I
had at least forty followers on each and a plethora of pictures with a
whole slew of actors. Anyone who looked at my accounts would think I was a
Hollywood icon myself.

	Thanks to Jen, I felt myself coming out of my shell. Even when she
or Channing were otherwise preoccupied, I managed to introduce myself and
make conversation. I was still guarded when it came to my relationship with
Channing, however. When people asked, I merely said that we were friends
through Owen and Joey, which was a sufficient answer. I watched him as he
socialized and felt a smile each time I looked at him. He was charming,
funny and warm with every person he talked to. Not to mention gorgeous. I
couldn't help but admire his round ass in his pants, thinking back to
earlier in the week. I wondered...

	A sudden full feeling hit my bladder and I made my way over to
Channing who was talking to Jen, Zooey, Jonah and several others. I subtly
placed my hand on his lower back, getting his attention. When he turned, it
only took one look for me to know that he had been enjoying quite a few
drinks. His face was slightly flushed, he had rolled up his sleeves and the
top two buttons of his shirt had mysteriously come undone. "What's up,
little man?"

	"Where's the bathroom?"

	"I'll show you," he replied animatedly. "I've got to hit the head
myself." He downed his bourbon and guided me into the house. A few turns
and he gestured to an open door. I swept in and did my business, stepping
aside for Channing. As he made his way inside, I playfully smacked his
ass. For a second, I thought I felt something... hard, but dismissed it as
his wallet. "Hey, that hurt!" Channing whined as he closed the door. I
scoffed dismissively. "You're telling me that my tiny hand hurt you?"

	"Well, you hit the... never mind."

	I felt my face scrunch in confusion. "I hit what?"

	"I'm pissing! Stop distracting me!"

	I rolled my eyes and waited for him to finish. When he emerged, I
opened my mouth to speak, but he took my by the vest and pinned me against
the opposite wall. With a quick glance around, he pressed his lips to
mine. I started to object, but melted into him instead. I was weakened by
the way his muscled body enveloped my smaller one, the feeling of his body
flush against my own. I could taste the bourbon on his tongue as he
attacked, an undeniably masculine taste. Channing growled in our kiss and
gripped my neck in his hand.

	"Ooh, shit!"

	I reflexively shoved Channing back to see Jen standing at the end
of the hallway, eyes wide, smile across her face. I'm sure my own face was
a mask of terror and embarrassment. "Jen! It's not what it looks like!" I
screeched, realizing instantly how cliche and horrible that sounded.

	"Reagan, please," she snickered as she approached. "It's obvious
that you guys are dating." I traded looks with Channing, who seemed just as
confused as me. Jen took the silence as a chance to explain
further. "Seriously? You two bozos have been fawning over each other since
you walked in the door. The little touches, the smiles at each other from
across the pool? And, to top it all off, the personal delivery of drinks?
Totally obvious."

	"You can't say a WORD to anyone."

	Another laugh. "Like Channing here is the first guy I've met in
movies that secretly likes the D? I could tell you some names that would
blow your pretty little mind."

	My eyebrows shot up. "Really? Like who?"

	Channing whacked my shoulder. "Hey!"

	"I'm just curious!"

	Jen clutched her sides laughing. "See? You two are all about each
other!" She slid into the bathroom, singing as she went. "Reagan and
Channing sitting in a tree. F-U-C-K-,"

	"Jennifer!"

	"Don't make me laugh!" she cackled. "I'll fall in!"

	Channing pinched the bridge of his nose, but I could see a smile on
his face. Jen seemed like I trustworthy person, even though I had just met
her. I decided to take the whole thing in stride. One day, it would all be
a funny story. She rejoined us, her smile full of knowledge. With a glance
at Channing, she slid her arm in mine and pulled me a few steps ahead of
him. "I gotta ask. How's the sex?"

	"You remember in `Titanic' when they finally did it in the car and
it was all steamy?"

	"Yeah."

	"Multiply that by ten."

	She barked out a laugh, then looked back at Channing, then back to
me. "I hate you so much." When I peeked over my shoulder, Channing shot me
a playful wink which sent a pleasant shudder down my spine. We all rejoined
the party, obviously making our way to the bar first. Once we had beverages
in hand, we met up with the group.  Channing introduced me to Jonah, who
shook my hand emphatically.

	"Cool to meet you," he said. "I hear you're joining us for lunch
tomorrow."

	"Yeah, even though I have no idea who `us' is."

	"Ah, it's just me and Dave. No biggie."

	"Dave?"

	"Franco. Y'know. 21 Jump Street, Warm Bodies, Now You See
Me. James' little brother."

	I felt an unpleasant bristle, but said nothing on the
subject. Fortunately, the conversation continued without anyone
noticing. As did the party. It was another three hours before I even
thought to look at the time. In that time, I had spent time talking to so
many different people that I lost track. I was in the middle of a
conversation with Neil Patrick Harris and his partner David when Channing
weaved up to me. His hand snaked around my waist but I gently removed it,
although not before the guys exchanged a knowing glance.

	"What's up, Channing?"

	"Ready to go?" he asked, slurring slightly. "I have a surprise for
you."

	To the guys, "Excuse us."

	"Text me tomorrow," Neil called out. "Let me know about the
surprise! And, take pictures!"

	We snuck off into a dark corner where Channing wrapped his arms
around my slim waist. "Let's head home," he whispered sensually. "I'm ready
to have you to myself again."

	The sentiment brought a smile to my face. "Did you have something
particular planned? Or is this spur of the moment?" Channing's hand slid
down to my crotch, bringing a pleased sigh to my lips. "I already told you
I have a surprise." He gripped harder to emphasize his point which made me
grunt louder than I would have like in the public setting.

	"Call the car."

	"Already did."

	"Then let's say our goodbyes."

	In a matter of minutes, Channing and I had made a lap around the
pool and said our farewells to everyone we could. There were hugs and
handshakes and promises of lunches to be had. As we entered the house, we
found Zooey and Jen amidst a group. Channing made his way to Zooey as I
joined up with Jen. "We're heading out," I told her, my head swimming with
gin. She smiled and pulled me into a hug. "It was so awesome meeting
you. Don't hesitate to call or text me!"

	"I promise you will hear from me soon."

	"And, promise me you'll have some amazing sex tonight!"

	"I don't think I could break that promise if I tried!"

	Channing and I traded places, he with Jen and me with Zooey. She
hugged me tightly, then held me at arm's length. Although she didn't say it
out loud, I could tell that she had an inkling about my relationship with
Channing. Her big, blue eyes pierced into me knowingly as if I were a large
print book. So, of course, I played dumb. "What?"

	"Nothing," she smiled. "Just glad to have met you!"

	"And, I'm glad you had me."

	"Talk soon?"

	I smiled, knowing she was genuine. "Of course."

	There were a few more embraces before our car arrived. Channing and
I tumbled into the car, laughing and gabbing about the evening. I showed
off my pictures and newfound social media, which made him grin. "You're
becoming one of us!" he teased. Of course, I rolled my eyes.

	Our ride went silently and without incident until I felt Channing's
hand slide into my lap. I sighed at his touch, but said nothing so I
wouldn't alert the driver to our misbehavior. For a quick minute, he was
content with rubbing me outside of my slacks. I was rock hard in a flash
and biting my lip to keep quiet. Never one to be satisfied, I gasped when
Channing quickly and with superb skill undid my slacks and reached into my
briefs, gripped my dick and pulled it out into the open.

	I started to quietly protest, but Channing gently slid his fingers
over the tip of my leaking cock and effectively shut my brain down. His
digits ran circles over my slick piece. It took all my willpower not to
moan out loud and alert the driver to our illicit activities. I was saved
by our arrival at Channing's house. As the driver exited and moved to open
Channing's door, I hastily tucked myself back into my slacks. Before
sliding out of the car, Channing turned to me and luridly licked the same
fingers that had just been molesting me.

	I let myself out and quickly made my way to the front door in hopes
that my blatant erection would go unnoticed. Channing soon joined me, a
Cheshire grin on his face, and opened the door. I rushed inside and
basically ran up the stairs. By the time Channing reached the bedroom, I
had removed my shoes, vest and shirt. My boner hadn't subsided at all, even
in my embarrassment.

	Channing said nothing upon entering, but pushed me onto the bed and
basically tore off my remaining clothes. I lay there naked under his erotic
gaze as he stood over me, fully dressed. The sexual tension in the room was
palpable. I sat up and pulled him forward by his belt, leaning back until
he was forced to crawl onto my body. We wasted no time in locking lips, the
feeling of arousal amplified by the contrast of my naked body against his
clothed frame. Amidst our kiss, I began undoing his shirt, eventually
peeling it off of his muscular torso.

	When I reached for his pants, he stopped me. "Reagan, wait."

	The words were so unknown to me in this circumstance that I
immediately stopped moving. "Wh... what's wrong?"

	"Nothing," he chuckled. "I just... why don't we try something new
tonight?"

	"Like...?"

	His face took on the same shy expression it had right before he
told me he wanted to pursue our relationship. It was kind of like a kid
asking for a special present for their birthday. I remained silent until he
decided to answer.

	"I was thinking... we could... trade places."

	"Meaning what exactly?"

	"Like, maybe you could... be on top."

	I looked at him in confusion. "You mean you want me to ride you?"

	Channing huffed in apparent frustration. "No, Reagan! I mean... why
don't you be THE top." In my inebriated stupor, it took a minute or two to
register what he was asking. When the pieces clicked, my eyes bulged. "You
mean... you want ME to fuck YOU?"

	Channing's cheeks turned red as he plopped down next to me, his
hand gently massaging my rock hard piece. "I just think maybe we could,
y'know, mix things up. I mean, I'm fine if you want to keep things the
same. I love fucking you. I just thought I could... try."

	I could have read between the lines if I was blind. "Channing, have
you ever bottomed before?"

	"Well... no."

	"So... why now?"

	He shrugged and leaned his head on his shoulder. "I guess I
just... trust you. And, I see how much you like it." I ran my hand over his
solid chest, briefly teasing the nipple as I contemplated his words. As
much as I loved being on the receiving end of Channing's sexual prowess,
there was no way I could pass up this opportunity. "Okay," I said
finally. "Let's give it a shot."

	"Awesome," he beamed, eyes still glazed with alcohol. "I'm glad I
didn't prepare for nothing."

	"Prepare?"

	He blushed again, then slid off of the bed and shucked off his
pants. Underneath, he was sporting a fashionable and revealing
jockstrap. The straps hugged his legs and accented his pert ass. "I
wouldn't mind if you prepared like this every day," I chuckled, squeezing a
globe of flesh in my hand. I could see Channing's cock straining against
the fabric. He smiled. "That's not all I did..."

	"Oh?"

	Instead of responding, he stepped forward and guided my hand
towards his hole. I was expecting to encounter his hot hole, but instead
found something hard. My hand explored more as my brain caught
up. "Is... is that a butt plug? Have you had this in all night?"

	He looked sheepish as he nodded.

	"Fuck, that's hot!" I exclaimed. "Come here!"

	Channing's smile returned as he pounced on top of me, lips latching
on to my neck. I moaned loudly, my hands never leaving the foreign object
implanted in his hole. I pushed on it slightly which made Channing sigh
into my shoulder. I was mesmerized by his ass, unable to move my hands
anywhere else. He must have sensed this because he suddenly flipped around,
simultaneously taking my dick in his mouth and parking his backside over my
face. I finally laid eyes on his new toy, the bright red end of it
protruding from his hole.

	As Channing sucked and slobbered on my cock, I entertained myself
by twisting and tapping the butt plug. Each movement evoked a moan from the
lips around my piece. Intrigued, I gently tugged on the piece of PVC and
heard a gasp from Channing as its bell end emerged. Not wanting to totally
deprive him of anal stimulation, I chose not to completely remove
it. Instead, I moved the smaller end around in circular motions. I felt
Channing's dick pulse between us.

	Slowly, I pushed the plug back into him. As it popped past his
outer ring, Channing threw his head back and let out an appreciative
groan. "Oh, fuck, Reagan!" he panted. "I can't wait anymore."

	He swung himself around to face me, engaging in a sultry kiss. "So,
how should we do this?"

	"Probably best if you ride me," I replied. "That way you can
control the pace."

	"Have you ever topped someone?"

	I took the question indignantly. "Of course I have! I'm not a total
bottom!"

	"Calm down," Channing laughed. "I was just asking."

	I pursed my lips, then retaliated by pulling the toy right out of
him. He whimpered, but it was more pleasure than pain. I imagine after
having it imbedded in him for almost five hours that he was somewhat used
to the intrusion. My free hand found his hole open and waiting. As he
leaned in to kiss me, I slid a finger inside and found that he was
copiously lubed. He had though this out.

	"You ready?" I whispered.

	"Definitely."

	Channing gripped my cock in his hand and scooted back until our
skin touched. My skin bumped up as he pushed back onto my rod, tentatively
at first, then with more conviction. With a grunt, the head popped
in. Channing winced and bit his lip. In an attempt to alleviate the pain, I
freed his own hard cock from the side of his jockstrap and ran my hand over
the leaking head. The trick did the job. Both his face and his hole
relaxed. He hovered for a minute before continuing the descent. Suddenly,
and with a vehement moan, he sat squarely on my lap. I felt my jaw drop and
my eyes roll back.

	Channing's ass was hot, wet and squeezing me like a python. I
didn't know if this would be so much of a fuck as me exploding as soon as
he moved. My hands roamed over Channing's body in an attempt to distract
myself, my fingers moving from his neck to his buff chest to his flat
stomach. He sighed at the touch and ground his ass into my crotch. "How are
you doing?" I asked breathily. Channing ran his fingers through his hair
and slowly opened his eyes, staring down at me with an intense gaze. I
wondered if I had the same look when he was inside me.

	"It feels fucking great," he whispered, his hips moving in
circles. "I see why you like it so much." He leaned forward for a kiss and
the movement made him slide up on my dick. I took it as an invite, slowly
curling my hips to slip back into him. Even as our lips remained locked,
Channing whimpered. The pace was painfully slow, but I wanted to make sure
that Channing was comfortable and that I didn't pop early.

	We stayed like that for ages, our bodies meeting slowly and
erotically. It was Channing who took the initiative to speed up the
pace. His ass began clashing with my hips, creating a vulgar smacking
throughout the room. He huffed loudly, sitting back on my rod with the same
vigor that he normally fucked me. I, on the other hand, sat back and
enjoyed the sensations. Above me, Channing looked like he was on cloud
nine: he clutched at his thighs, ran his hands through his hair, threw his
head back in passion, bit his lips.

	Then, with no warning, he pulled off of me and planted himself on
all fours, his ass in the air. I said nothing as I jumped up behind him and
crammed my entire length inside. Channing howled in pleasure, his pucker
squeezing around my dick. I began fucking him in earnest, each thrust
making his gorgeous ass jiggle beautifully. From this perspective, I could
truly appreciate his backside. I kneaded the two globes of flesh in my
hands as I pounded him. Sweat covered his skin as well as mine, causing me
to slide. I changed tack and clutched him by the hips, pulling him back to
meet me.

	"Oh, god," he grunted. "Fuck me, Reagan..."

	"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" I growled, slamming into
him particularly hard. I felt the rush of power and dominance as he
submitted to me.

	And, I loved every second of it.

	Channing had long been reduced to guttural moans and grunts, his
arms stretched out in front of him, his chest to the bed. He looked like a
perfect power bottom. I couldn't resist giving him a good smack on his
ass. The contact seemed to wake him from a trance. "Mm, again." I did as he
asked, this time harder than before. His back arched as he sucked in air
through his teeth. "Goddamn it, that feels good."

	I agreed, but also realized that I wasn't going to be able to hold
off my orgasm for much longer. When I told Channing this, he slowly picked
himself up and pulled off my aching rod again. He moved sluggishly, as if
from stiff muscles, and rolled onto his back. The sight of him pulling his
knees to his chest and exposing his pink hole will be forever burned into
my memory, as will the words he said.

	"Fuck me until you cum in my hole."

	Without a moment's hesitation, I pounced, dick first. I plunged
into his asshole like it was the end of days, fucking him with all of my
might. Channing wrapped his legs around my waist and yanked me by my hair
into a sloppy, feral kiss. Between us, his dick slid around our stomachs
with no resistance, his rod drenched in precum. He snaked one hand in and
gripped his piece, stroking furiously.

	There was no mercy in my fucking. Much like our tryst in the car
back in Colorado, I gave him everything I thought he could handle. And, for
a first time bottom, he handled it like a champ. I wrapped one arm around
his neck and drew him impossibly closer. Our bodies met at every possible
point as I slammed him into the mattress. I was panting like a marathon
runner when the tingles started. I couldn't even vocalize my feelings as my
legs began to twitch. With one look at Channing's flushed face, his hand a
blur on his dick, his delicious ass wrapped around my piece, I rammed into
him and unloaded straight into his guts.

	I felt like I was being pulled inside out as I came, his tight ass
milking the life out of me. I was barely aware of Channing beginning his
own orgasm, the only indication being his hole twitching around my dick. We
were a shuddering, sweaty, jizz-covered mess: Channing covered from neck to
crotch in his load, me knelt over him with my load filling him up. It was
one of the hottest moments ever.

	When Channing pulled me into another kiss, it was different. It was
intimate, caring and gentle. His feet settled onto the bed as he wrapped
his arms under mine. We made out until my dick softened and fell out of
him, tongues wrapping around the other. Exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed
next to him. Channing reached into the bedside table and pulled out a small
hand towel. After wiping us both down, he chucked it somewhere across the
room and curled up next to me.

	Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Tonight was a
milestone in our relationship and, hopefully, something that would happen
again and again. Channing had trusted me enough to be his first and I was
confident that I hadn't disappointed. He kissed me again, his eyes already
closed. I switched off the lights and quickly slid into a light sleep. Just
as I was on the cusp of deep sleep, I heard Channing mumble in my ear.
Perhaps it was the copious amounts of drinks we had both consumed. Perhaps
I didn't even hear what I thought I heard. Perhaps Channing was just
mumbling nonsense in his sleep.

	But, I was convinced I heard him whisper, "I love you."

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