Date: Mon, 14 Apr 2003 22:48:56 -0400
From: Steve Griffin <knack6@hotmail.com>
Subject: Interviewing Ryan Seacrest 1

American Idol belongs to FOX and 19 Productions. Bachelorette belongs to
ABC, among others. Charlie Maher and Ryan Seacrest belong to themselves - if
I owned them I would be too busy to write these stories. Bill is fictional.
Aside from Bill, I am claiming no rights on these men or shows. This is not
speculation about their sexualit. This is fiction. Please don't take this as
reality, please don't read this if you aren't 18 or the age of majority in
your area. Please DO respond with feedback if you want to see another
chapter!

--

Charlie Maher fixed his tie as he stood in front of the California home.
Fresh off his success on "The Bachelorette", this 30ish stud and national
sex symbol had landed a job as an entertainment correspondent for a glossy
infotainment show. His latest assignment was to tour the home of "American
Idol" host Ryan Seacrest. Joining him was a large-bodied, genial,
African-American cameraman named Bill, his massive frame poured into
skintight jeans. Bill and Charlie had struck up a friendly rapport, even if
Bill did ogle him a bit openly at times. Charlie's gym-muscled body, thick,
wavy brown hair, and matinee-yet-manly looks had garnered him female fans
since long before he was ever on tv, but the attention had only escalated
since Bachelorette began. Two teenage girls groping and squeezing his crotch
in public had made headlines. What wasn't as well-publicized was how many
men had leered, made passes, or blatantly fondled Charlie during his daily
routine. Charlie had to admit he was very surprised. He knew he was a hunk,
he knew men liked to check their fellow rivals out, but weren't gay men more
interested in guys who were into fashion, who had a giddier public persona,
who liked to show off their bodies, men more like...

"Howdy!!" Ryan Seacrest smirked as he opened the front door.

Charlie bit back his own smirk at the timing, and instead flashed the
intense half-smile that he'd perfected for his tv debut. Ryan seemed
pleased..and very nervous.

"Charlie, right? Can I call you Charlie? This is one Ryan who is not your
rival, I gotta tell you. If I saw that Trista I'd smack her for letting you
get away! No, really! And Bill, get your butt in here! Doesn't that show of
yours have any other camera guys?"

As Ryan rambled on, Charlie sensed those very charming green eyes running up
and down his body, subtly, almost effortlessly checking him out, with
particular pause on his crotch. While Charlie squirmed on the inside, Bill
swaggered into the expansive living room, his cheeks jostling with every
step.

"I'm good at what I do." Bill said in his booming voice.

"You don't have to tell me that," Ryan chuckled knowingly. Snaking his arm
around Charlie's, they slowly walked in after Bill. Charlie could swear that
Ryan was checking out Bill's ass. Maybe the rumors were true...

As if he had read Charlie's mind, Ryan turned to directly face him, their
noses only inches apart.

"Don't believe what you read about me, by the way."

Ryan laughed again, but Charlie was still thrown. The casual contact was
very jarring to a standoffish, macho guy like Charlie. Many men resented or
even disliked him. Charlie was used to that. He wasn't used to such open
affection and intimacy from another man.

"Like my outfit?"

Ryan spun around a bit, like Cinderella after a sex-change operation. His
trousers were snug in all the right places. His shirt was transparent and
sticking to his skin in the warm LA temperatures. His nipples were large
visible hard through the sheer material.

"Sucks, man," Bill stated in his bass tones, reaching out to roughly twist
one of Ryan's tits into erection. Charlie stepped back. What the hell was
going on here? Whatever was, Ryan had no complaints.

"Keep your hands off the merchandise! Hey, guys, I'm gonna go change, I hate
this outfit."

Charlie checked his watch before looking around the tastefully decorated
living room. 'What are you looking for - show tune CDs and cock rings?'
Charlie chided himself. Maybe Bill would know. Bill and Ryan seemed close.
Sudden images of Ryan's thin lips slobbering all over Bill's huge black
donkey invaded his mind. Where did those come from? And why were his suit
pants suddenly so tight?

"I'll check on Ryan," Charlie said, more to himself than to Bill. When he
got to the bedroom, the door was half-open. With the sunlight filtering
through the blinds, he made out a tall, slim figure with spiky blonde hair.
Definitely Ryan. He lazily unbuttoned his shirt, taking his sweet time as
the material fell across his toned, tanned shoulders and huddled at the
small of his back while he undid the cuffs. While he pulled the thin fabric
through each arm, a single drop of sweat trailed down his unblemished flesh,
winding through the bronzed skin before sliding inside the crevice of his
tight slacks. Charlie leaned against the wall, his breath hot on his face
and hand. He felt like a pervert for watching this, but he couldn't stop.

Suddenly, two hands jutted from Ryan's sides. Two manly hands. He wasn't
alone in that bedroom. Shocked, Charlie knew he should leave now, but he
didn't. He lewdly, unconsciously rubbed his swollen bulge, gently tracing
his shaft from base to leaking head. Ryan's pants were getting lower and
lower, inch by inch of flesh exposed, until they fell to his ankles and
exposed a meaty bubble butt as tan as everything else on his perfect body.
Charlie wondered how that ass would feel in his hands, how sweet the insides
would taste...

Suppressing a moan, he brought his attention back to the display in front of
him. The man with Ryan was turning now, standing up to remove his own
garments. Charlie was shocked. The other man, Ryan's lover, was...

--

Who would you like to see as Ryan's lover (you can't say yourself, LOL)?
Tell me at knack6@hotmail.com