Date: Tue, 11 Apr 2000 01:05:37 EDT
From: Tony Idolatry <xxxidolatry@hotmail.com>
Subject: Zac Hanson, Boy Slut - Part 6 (t/t, celeb, con)

	This is a story containing sexual acts between consenting males. If you are
underage, or if this sort of material is in any way illegal where you live,
then turn back now! This story is, in its entirety, a work of FICTION. While
the characters do exist, this FICTITIOUS work is in no way meant to imply
anything about the actual sexual orientation of the characters. All members
of Hanson and those people in their immediate universe and any mentioned
celebrity for that matter are, unless we are told otherwise, real-life
heterosexuals. Sorry, guys! :) Also, words in this story that could be
considered derogatory are said in the heat of passion. Take them for what
they're worth: nothing at all. Enjoy the story!


Zac Hanson, Boy Slut - Part 6
Jealousy Corrupts


	In the weeks after Zac's mind-and-cock blowing orgy dream, he found himself
refocusing on the heated physical passion between himself and Taylor. As
long as Tay was there to sink his manhood into Zac's hungry hole every day
and night, Zac's need for outside stimulation was muted. The two brothers
had their fucking down to a science, but it was still as exciting as the
first time. Zac couldn't get enough of when Taylor took him doggy style,
feeling his brother's strong hands around his curvy hips, his cock driving
into Zac's warm rear passage with unbridled force, the sound of his two big
balls slapping against the small tan buns. The two never made any
extraordinary sounds as they fucked just rooms away from their folks. Zac's
mouth was always wide open as Tay slammed it home, letting out silent
screams of pleasure and an occasional string of drool. Taylor often had his
eyes closed as he pumped in and out, trying to focus on nothing but the
sensations from his dick. A good songwriter captures the essence of the
moment, and the essence in Zac's bedroom originated from Taylor's cock so
very often.

	Zac still blew his brother whenever he had time to spare, and sometimes
chowed down on a fresh load of spunk, but he now almost always preferred it
when Taylor shot off inside his ass. Zac could always sense when Tay was
close to the edge - the thrusts became harder and further in between. He'd
dig into the mattress with his small powerful hands, turn back towards his
brother and coax him along by hissing dirty little nothings. Taylor always
threw his head back as the first pulse of ecstasy wracked his bod, Zac's
face now firmly planted in the mattress as spurt after spurt of boiling hot
Tay-juice ran through his bowels. Zac had never experienced any closer bond
than this. Platonic love was powerful, and music could be magical, but
getting screwed so intensely by Taylor was an incomparable combination of
both feelings. Casual sex was fantastic fun, Zac thought, but it had nothing
on a solid physical and emotional relationship.

	 If Zac hadn't blown his wad yet, Tay would usually fellate him until he
was fully drained, and afterwards they would kiss for however long they
could, feeling each other's strong, nubile teen bodies and knowing, at least
as far as Zac was concerned, that it would be like this no matter what the
future brought.

	What the immediate future brought was the release of Hanson's second album
and a few concert dates - looser musical sets, in front of large audiences,
but not burdened with the scripted banter and pyrotechnics of a polished
100-city tour. The first concert was to be held at Denver's Red Rocks
Amphitheater. The already grueling schedule of publicity appearances had cut
Zac and Taylor's lovemaking down to a maximum of two trysts per day, always
short in length. Now they had to fit in rehearsing too!

	There were times when Zac just wanted to proposition Taylor about taking
the money and running off to some tropical island. Nothing but years of pig
roasts and pina coladas laced with their own yummy juices, with a
made-for-VH-1 reunion years later if they ever got bored of doing nothing
strenuous. Taylor, however, steadfastly maintained his devotion to the
music, a trait that once seemed admirable to Zac, but now hit him as oddly
disturbing.

	Halfway through rehearsals, whenever Ike's back was turned and Zac's cock
was ready, he'd give Taylor a stare that could only mean "call for a lunch
break and let's REALLY rock." Only once did Taylor ever give into the
temptation. Other times he'd sigh and hold up a finger, pleading for just a
few more moments to get the arrangement squared away, or - and this made Zac
feel utterly worthless - stare angrily and shake his recently trimmed blonde
locks in disapproval. Zac could understand Tay's perfectionist drive. At
least he thought he could. I mean, come on, playing a song for the
sixty-ninth time or sixty-nining each other - what the fuck was the dilemma?

	The hours before the Denver concert found Tay and Ike on pins and needles,
as usual, but Zac was nothing but horny. Drumming came to him so easily now.
He felt the only place he had things left to learn was in the sack. Compared
to music, fucking another guy was a sweet kind of learning, like teaching
yourself the lovely French language after committing the necessary English
to memory. The new album was met with good reviews and respectable sales.
What was left but to celebrate?

	Five minutes before the show started, with the other two going through
jitters in their own dressing rooms, Zac was still trying to find the
sexiest outfit to entice both Taylor and the audience throughout the set.
After modeling half a dozen outfits for himself and fondling his aroused
package countless times, Zac went with a gleaming, sleeveless blue leather
vest that bared his muscular arms and upper chest, and his favorite pair of
yellow leather pants, with simple black hi-tops to walk in. Whenever Taylor
looked back at the drumset during the show, Zac wanted him to think so hard
about pounding his little brother's ass in triumph after the show that he'd
forget the lyrics he was about to sing. Zac caressed his huge bulge once
more in the mirror before licking his lips and heading out the door to join
his brothers onstage, erect for thousands of fans to see.

	Zac saw that Taylor was wearing a white tank top that displayed his
developing upper body quite well, and a pair of tight, faded blue jeans.
Even the view from behind could be enough for me to lose the rhythm, Zac
thought with a horndog smile. He nudged Tay away from Ike just before they
were in the crowd's view and got in close to his ear.

	"You know, they say everything flies further in the Rocky Mountain air," he
whispered with warm breath. "Even cum." He managed to lick Tay's lobe,
difficult considering the older teen hadn't slowed his walk in the
slightest. "I want you to fuck me so hard tonight that I shoot my hot white
load across the fucking room. You want that?"

	Taylor managed to crack the slightest smile, which vanished as quickly as
it appeared. His face was solemn, his eyes fixed straight ahead on the
entrance to the outdoor stage, never once looking at his lust-filled
brother.

	Thunderous applause and grating shrieks met the trio as they greeted the
night air and walked towards their stage positions. All three were now all
smiles. The security that looked out onto the audience and lined the small
space between the stage and the front row allowed several obviously harmless
teenage girls towards the stage to shake Taylor's hand as the band fired up.
Zac watched each of Tay's admirers with close attention, knowing that this
was always part of the gig, but that it was happening for the first time
since the two boys  became lovers.

	Taylor smiled nervously, seemingly anxious to get back to his microphone
and start singing away, but he stayed to meet a dozen girls. Zac and Ike
were stuck in place, repeating the song's instrumental intro five times. The
last girl got Taylor to lean down. She seemed to want to say something, but
she kissed his cheek instead. Taylor giggled and went back to the mic.
FINALLY, Zac thought. But Taylor was still smiling, as if the experience had
buoyed him, calming his opening night fears. He began to sing with an
admirable level of confidence.

	The set was scheduled for a full 75 minutes, and by the halfway point
Taylor had shaken over fifty female hands, accepted a dozen different gifts,
from roses to candy boxes - one of which, unbeknownst to him, contained a
nude photo of the generous girl - and had been pecked on various parts of
his face by five more sets of lips.

	Taylor's exceptional singing had been matched step for step by Zac's
masterful drumming, but certainly for different reasons. Tay was confident.
Zac was angry. He had worked up a shimmering sweat that covered his exposed
bronze biceps and would make any horny human being faint dead away, but Tay
had passed no lingering glances his way, no winks to let him know that the
abnormally high number of mid-show meet and greets (more like MEAT and
greets) were all a formality of the event. Zac couldn't believe his own
intense feelings of betrayal, but there was no rationalizing the situation.
He had come into the night horny and in love, and was now horny and
neglected. Hell hath no fury like Zac Hanson scorned.

	Slowly, Zac began to pay more attention to the one guy in the audience who
was looking at him for some other reason than to turn to his daughter and
say "Forty years ago, when I was that feller's age, I used to play the skins
just like that."

	This guy was in the front row, almost directly in front of Zac's drum set,
and young, about 21, with short black hair, intense blue eyes and a
swimmer's build that represented to Zac a carnal heaven, even if it wasn't
shown off well in his collared white cotton shirt and simple black slacks.
Zac liked what he saw, and decided to blow off some steam by exchanging some
knowing stares with the gawking hunk. The guy had been giving each band
member an equal amount of visual affection, but now he focused only on the
drummer, looking down nervously whenever Zac would break the stare-off with
a radiant smile. For Zac, it felt good to know he could still make hot cocks
stand on end.

	The stranger was actually not a devoted Hanson fan, but an usher for Red
Rocks who almost always found a premium seat left empty after all other fans
had been helped. Pete Hobart had seen several great concerts since he'd
started ushering three weeks earlier, but frankly, he didn't consider this
Hanson set to be top-notch. Visual stimulation, however, was another matter
entirely. This trio was much easier on the eyes than the previous evening's
helping of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. And now he was making goo-goo
eyes with that nutty little drum kid. Not a bad night's work. He couldn't
wait to spank it after the show.

	The crowd's love affair with Taylor continued, much to Zac's displeasure,
until the night's very last encore. The crowd stood and screamed their
approval at the boys, while Zac stood and waved goodbye, seemingly to the
crowd, but actually right at Pete, before moving towards the stage exit. He
was frustrated with Taylor, but just as aroused as when he walked in. All
could be forgiven with a very aerobic fuck session.

	Zac was out of crowd view and into the dressing room tunnel when he was
stopped by a weary voice.

	"Hold up, Zac," Ike said. Zac turned back to the stage to see that Taylor
had been detained on stage. He was, at that very moment, laughing his head
off as he signed his name on the incredibly stacked chest of yet another
devoted young girl. Zac walked back to stand beside Ike, dying inside, not
knowing how to rein his lover in. Taylor finally bounded towards his
brothers, brimming with happiness. Zac quickly threw an arm around him and
guided him in the direction of the tunnel. He leaned in again to whisper.

	"Good show, baby. Meet me in my room in five..."

	"Wait!" Tay turned back towards the trailing Ike, and the brothers stood in
a close circle. "Listen to that crowd," Tay said, his voice almost giddy. "I
can't leave them yet. Let me do 'Every Breath.'"

	"Tay, c'mon," Ike pleaded. "Enough."

	"I wanna do it, Ike. It's no big deal." To Ike, though, it was a very big
deal. Taylor was referring to The Police's "Every Breath You Take." He had
recently debuted his solo, a capella version in rehearsal, which reeked of
an ego trip to the eldest Hanson. Zac knew the version had merit, but he,
too, was concerned with what it would mean for the band.

	"SON OF A BITCH!" Ike had finally had it, and stormed off to his dressing
room. Nobody heard the outburst but the three brothers, since security was
engaged elsewhere, controlling the boisterous crowd.

	Taylor looked to exchange a look of approval with Zac, but the younger
teen's eyes were dead. He was far too sexually frustrated and angry at his
brother's love of female adoration to fight Taylor's wishes. Hanson's lead
singer marched back on stage, entirely alone, to a whoooooosh of cheers.

	Zac had other plans. He walked ten feet further back into the tunnel, to a
door opening into the crowd, and softly whistled at the nearest security
guard. He told him who and what he wanted, and within thirty seconds, Pete
Hobart was alone in the tunnel with Zac Hanson.

	"Hi," the hot stranger barely got out before Zac pulled Pete's head forward
and slammed his tongue down the usher's throat. As Tay began to sing his
version of a classic, Zac worked on creating a masterpiece of his own. Pete
kissed back with equal lust and slid his hands down Zac's back to massage
his leather-covered bubble butt. Zac discreetly guided him forward so that
Zac's back was against the tunnel wall. They were about eight feet from the
open stage. Zac darted his left eye towards the stage as his tongue explored
the inside of Pete's cheek. He couldn't see any spectators from where they
were standing. There was only one person he could clearly see, and knowing
they were near a lightbulb, he was sure that eventually, that person would
see them too. He moaned softly from Pete's kinky ass-rubbing and popped his
tongue out of the stranger's mouth.

	"Great mouth you've got there, .....what's your name?"

	"P-P-Pete."

	"Well, P-P-Pete," Zac chided, reaching for his own fly. "I'm really
h-h-horny. You want my big famous cock in that great mouth of yours? Huh?"

	"Oh fuck, yes," Pete groaned. He didn't care anymore where he was and who
could possibly see him. He needed to suck this hot little fucker off.

	"That's right," Zac urged as he finally sprang his oozing tool from the
straining leather material. He stroked it a couple of times, all the way up
and down, as if he needed to convince Pete to do what he needed. "Look at my
beautiful meat stick, Pete." Pete couldn't move, couldn't take his eyes off
of Zac's perfect soft face. Zac laughed. "Come on," he giggled, lightly
guiding Pete to his knees. "We don't have all night, you know. Now suck it."

	As soon as Pete's cooler skin came in contact with Zac's fiery dick, more
pre-cum gushed forward and Zac involuntarily threw his head back, lightly
bumping the wall behind him. Pete pulled on the prod a couple more times
before Zac's low moans of "please, please, please," caused him to swallow
hard, lean forward and wrap his lips around the large, wet cockhead.

	"OHHHHHH, that's it," Zac groaned, turned on by the situation as much as by
Pete's gentle sucking style. He placed his hands on Pete's head and glanced
out towards the stage once more. Taylor was through the first verse, and his
guttural singing and stance of deep concentration was getting appreciative
cat calls from the crowd. He could piss on them and they'd cheer, Zac
thought quickly before turning back to Pete, trying to tell himself this
blowjob was because he wanted the mouth his cock was in more than anything.
More than anyone else.

	"I love this cock," Pete said, having pulled off and slapped the glans on
his chin five or six hard times. Zac gave him an anxious look and Pete went
back to work, taking it all, inch by inch, until the shaft was lodged in his
throat and Zac's balls were brushing against his wet lower lip.

	"Oh, suck it. Eat my big fat drumstick, you fucking gorgeous cocksucker."
Zac started thrusting off the wall, his eyes always inevitably returning to
Taylor's position on stage. The tunnel was getting steamy. Zac quickly
unbuttoned his blue vest and felt Pete's hands just as quickly drift upwards
to play with his hard nipples. Zac's stare stageward had just turned from
interest to "PLEASE look at me" when he finally got what he wanted: Tay
looked towards the tunnel. He had just finished the next-to-last refrain and
wanted to see at least one smiling brother in the wings. What he saw instead
was a stranger's mouth on the cock he had sucked every night, hands on the
ass he had fucked every day. His look of shock said it all, and so Zac
quickly turned forward, closed his eyes and licked his lips, trying his best
to seem lost in the imminent climax. Taylor faced his microphone again, his
heart coming up through his throat.

	"Oh can't you see, you belong to me," he commanded more than sang. He
looked back over at his thrusting, panting brother. "How my poor heart
aches, with every step you take."

	Zac heard the change in Tay's pitch, and it made him supremely satisfied.
He thrust as hard as possible and braced for an earth-shattering orgasm.

	"OH FUCK, I'm cumming."

	"MMmmmmmmmm! MMMMMMMhhhhmmmmmm!"

	"Take it, Petey! Take a sweet fucking load of Hanson jizm! Oh, baby,
fuckin' suck it. TAKE IT! OHHHH!!"

	The next morning's Denver Post would call Taylor's solo effort "a
revelation." As Pete Hobart's throat flooded with Zac's tasty sperm, though,
and Zac locked eyes with the brother he'd loved so hard for months, Taylor
found the real revelation in what music could give AND take away.

	Zac slowly withdrew his spunk-covered dong from Pete's lips, and rapidly
replaced it with his finger, mixing Pete's saliva with his own cum. He
brought the wet finger up to his mouth and sucked off the nasty mix of
fluid, all the while smiling at Taylor.

	"I'll be watching youuuuuuu," Tay concluded hauntingly, moving towards the
tunnel, but again finding himself a slave to the applause. Despite his
watery eyes, Taylor remained composed enough to bow, blow several kisses,
and weakly shake a few hands. By the time he reached the tunnel, Pete was on
his way to the restroom to beat off and wipe away his special milk mustache,
and Zac was in his dressing room, casually "reading" Rolling Stone. When
Taylor burst in, there was no use trying to remain dumb to the situation.

	"Zac, what the FUCK was that?"

	"You really don't know what they call it? We've done it enough times."

	"Cut the shit."

	"ME cut the shit?!?" Zac threw his magazine against the wall and leaped out
fo his chair. "Since when do you autograph tits?"

	"Are you fucking kidding me?" Taylor tried as best he could to lower his
voice, but it was no use. "Zac, it's JUST business."

	"You ENJOYED it!" Zac was close to losing his voice. "You don't see ME out
there letting some bimbos get close enough to sniff my crotch."

	"Of course you don't," Taylor hissed, going in for the easy kill. "No one
asked you to. You're just the goddamned drummer." Tay walked in a huff down
to his dressing room, and Zac moved to slam the door behind him. He cried
for three minutes, weighing the consequences, contemplating what, if
anything, could be done next. His eyes stung. His hands shook. His cock
twitched. His cock twitched again.

	Slowly, sobbing, Zac took the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and,
clearing his throat, dialed the number it revealed. Doing it didn't make
much sense, but Pete Hobart would find a very arousing message on his
answering machine when he got home. If Taylor Hanson would be leaving Red
Rocks a star, then, Zac thought, at the very very least, Zac Hanson would
not leave with nothing to his name. He would leave as a star in Pete's wet
dreams.


THE END....for now?


There you go, guys. Obviously, this chapter had much more plot and much less
sex than previous installments. I know, me likey sex too, but conflict can
bring about the best sex of all, so I hope you were entertained AND aroused,
and that you might be inspired to send along comments and suggestions.
xxxidolatry@hotmail.com   Thanks!