Star Trek and all characters from the series and movies are trademarks of
and copyright Paramount Pictures Corporation.

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*     WHEATON    *
*by Matt Dawnstar*
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I've been a Star Trek fan for most of my life.  Ever since the original
series back in the sixties.  And now this New Generation comes along and
turns out to be really great.

Because of the new series, I started going to the Star Trek conventions
around the area.  What a gas they are.  And can you believe, I actually
won one of the door prizes at one of these conventions.  This was a
looloo, too.  I got an all expense paid trip to visit the set of the Next
Generation and get to watch a taping.

Troy, Picard, Crusher, Worf, Ricker, Tasha, Data.  They would all be there
and I'd actually get the chance to talk with them.  Oh yes, and let's not
forget Wesley Crusher.  Cute kid.

Now this was back during the shooting for the second season.  This just
gives you a frame of reference for what is to follow.

So anyway, I show up, all a jitter with excitement.  My favorite show, and
I was really there to see how they did what they did.

The morning was fabulous.  I got to talk with all of the major characters.
All but Wil Wheaton.  He was off with his tutor and was not to be
disturbed.  But I was promised that I'd get to meet him after the lunch
break.

So I watched intently all of the goings on.  All the takes, all the
different angles from which they shot each scene.  And the highlight was
when Patrick Stewart offered to give me the grand tour of the Enterprise
bridge.  It lasted nearly an hour.  I got to play with a few of the
control stations and see what the cast got to play with on a daily basis.

I was simply overwhelmed by the courtesy and friendship that the cast and
crew showed toward me.  I was let in on every detail of the day's
activities.  Hell, I even got to eat lunch with the cast! It couldn't have
been a better day.  Or so I thought.

It was about one o'clock when one of the crew came up and led me to one of
the cast trailers and told me that Wil Wheaton was now free and had asked
if I would come to his trailer.

I knocked on the door and the reply was instantaneous.

"Come in."

Yep, that was Wesley Crusher's voice alright.

He was sitting at a makeup table in the middle of the trailer, wearing a
bathrobe and, it appeared, little else.  Wil was cute as could be at
sixteen.  Clear complexion and just the nicest kid.  He brought out a
couple of sodas and sat on the couch with me and we chatted about the
various episodes that I'd liked and that he'd been particularly fond of.

I noticed during this conversation, that Wil was wearing mostly nothing
under the robe.  I could just make out a pair of red bikini underwear.
But I couldn't make out anything else.  Besides, I was having too much fun
just talking about my favorite subject, Star Trek.

After about half an hour, Wil got up.

"I guess I should probably get ready.  Give me just a second to get into
my uniform."

Now these trailers were small and there really wasn't anywhere to change
in private.  So he unashamedly shucked his robe, his back to me, and
reached out to grab his uniform pants.  And that was when I saw the marks.

"That's a nasty rash you got there." There was a red rash about three
fingers wide running from under his bikinis to just above the ankle.

"Oh, that's not a rash.  I got scraped up yesterday during one of the
scenes." He looked around his side at it.  "I'm glad you mentioned it
though.  I've got to put some of that ointment on it before I get into
these pants."

He started to apply the ointment, but wasn't doing a very good job of it.
He missed all kinds of spots.

"You're missing quite a few spots with that stuff."

"I never was very good at putting this stuff on.  Would you be willing to
give me a hand?"

Would I!!! But I was cool and nonchalant with my response.

"Sure.  Why don't you come lay on the couch where the light's better and
I'll be sure to get it all."

As he turned toward me, I discovered that despite what may be seen on the
TV, this boy was fairly well packed in the crotch.  About seven or eight
inches of cock and a fair set of balls to accompany it.  Nice.

He handed me the ointment jar and lay on the couch.

I took a bit into my hand and noticed that it was a little cool, so I
rubbed it between my hands to warm it up.  Then I placed my hands on this
leg, just above the knee and began to work the ointment into the bruise.
I took the opportunity to caress every inch of his body that I could
safely negotiate.

It took three handfulls of the stuff before I had finally worked my way up
to the leg of his bikinis.

"If you want me to get it all I'll have to get under those sexy bikinis of
yours." I was taking a hell of a risk, wording my statement the way I did.
But by this time, I had a raging hard-on and was less concerned with the
possible consequences than I was with the prospect of getting my hands on
those small, tight buns of his.

He never flinch or gave any indication as to his response to my remark.
He simply lifted his but in the air and held it there.

"You might as well finish what you started."

Yeow! I didn't waste a moment.  I reached up and took hold of those sexy
drawers of his and gently pulled them down his legs to just above the
knees.  I noticed as I gave the initial pull that there was some
resistance from the front of his body.

`Could it be?' I thought.  `Could this boy have a hard-on?' It was just
too good to be true.

But I went on about my business as though I'd noticed nothing.  I fondled
and caressed those tight teenage buns as much as I felt that I could get
away with, in the interest of applying the ointment.

When I'd gotten all of the buise that I could find, I was reluctant to
quit.  But I had more than enough sensory information about this boy that
I'd be able to really pound my pud that night.  So I placed the ointment
jar on the table at the head of the couch.

"Well, that's all of it.  There's nothing more that needs to be done."

"Yes there is."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Wil rolled over, revealing his hard eight inch tool.  There was a small
damp area at the head of it that was ample indication that he had really
enjoyed the rub down.

"I think that since you are the one responsible for this situation, that
you should be the one to fix the problem."

I looked into those eyes and could detect no hint of joking or anything
other than sincere desire to be touched.

Well, I'm not one to deny the wishes of a big hollywood star, so in I
plunged.

I grabbed that teenage tool and began stroking it to renewed life.  It
grew even bigger in my grasp.  And then the precum started to flow with a
vengeance.  Puddle after puddle had to licked up by my tongue.  And each
time I licked the head of that beautiful cut meat, he shuddered with
delight.

I soon felt his hand on my crotch where he began rubbing my hard meat
through my clothes.  Oh I desperately wanted to rip off my clothes so that
he could touch the real thing, but I was too involved with what I was
doing to really care about it.

I worked that cock until Wil was really breathing heavily.  His balls
began to pull in close to his body.  I just had to have all of him.  So I
leaned over and swallowed that luscious dog.  All the way to the base.
And then I pumped it over and over again.

I could feel myself getting nearer and nearer to the bursting point.  The
excitement of what I was doing and the rubbing that he was doing had me so
close to the edge that there was just no way that I was going to stop it.

And then it happened.  He arched his back and pumped his juices down my
throat.  And just as he let loose, so did I, right into my clothes.

We both came for what seemed an eternity.  And when we had both finished,
I made sure that he was good and clean and then released his slowly
softening cock, and he removed his hand from where it lay in my lap.

"Oh, thank you," he replied as he reached down for his shorts.  "It's been
nearly a week of hard shooting, and I haven't been able to get free long
enough to spend any time with my girl."

This shocked me.  And it must have shown.

"No, I'm not gay.  But hell, a blow job is a blow job, no matter who
delivers it.  And I could tell by the way you were trying to get a peek
inside my robe that you were interested."

"And the ointment?"

"Oh, that really was medicine.  But I wasn't due for another application
until this evening."

Sly kid, this Wil Wheaton.

"You're not mad, are you?" he asked.

"Not a bit," I smiled.  "It was a treat and a pleasure to have been able
to help you out.  I enjoyed it."

"Good!" he said as he got up from the couch and headed for his uniform.
"Now I'll get dressed and I'll go show you the rest of the sets.  The
medical lab is great!"

And that was that.  Not a word was spoken nor any hint given that anything
had happened that day in the trailer.

But as I have watched that show since, Wesley Crusher always seems to
enter the scenes naked as a jaybird, his cock hard as a nail, winking at
me as the adventure continues.