Date: Sun, 8 Mar 2009 23:58:17 -0600
From: Avy MacGregor <avymac@hotmail.com>
Subject: Backstage Tryst

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction based in homo-eroticism, so if you
are not of legal age, or if this type of content might offend you, please
move onto something else.

For everyone else - ENJOY!

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	I rubbed nervous palms across the thighs of my blue jeans, trying
once more to exhale the breath which remained stuck in my throat, unable to
escape. Questions cascaded, like waterfalls of trepidation: What would this
be like? How would he react? What the hell was I even doing there? It
seemed I had lost the final vestiges of my mind...and yet there was nowhere
I would have rather been at that moment than right there in the theatre,
watching his performance.
	The curtain fell, and as the deafening applause of the audience
jolted me back to reality, I realized that the show had ended. I wasn't
even certain how we'd gotten there - everything had become a a bit of a
blur. After several standing ovations and repeated bows from the
performers, the curtain fell a final time and the crowd began to disperse
in a wave of excited whispers. I knew that the time had drawn near and that
soon I would be facing him. Talking to him. Standing in his presence.
	The theatre patrons began to flow up the aisles and disappear
through the doors of the ancient theatre, allowing the fresh air to waft
down and stave off the stench of cologne and expensive perfume which
permeated everything. "It's time," I mumbled to myself, shuffling out to
the aisle and beginning my journey down the steps to the stage. I traveled
against the upward flow of people, and although some were clearly
aggravated, I ignored their silent protests and continued down, focused
solely on the burgundy velvet curtain looming before me. My heart started
to race. I half-expected to see him peek out through the draped opening
with a mischievous, knowing grin, his voice calling out to me. But there
was only one lone usher standing at the edge of the stage, talking with a
young, curvaceous woman in a tight blue dress.
	"Excuse me," I said as I approached the man. He glanced at me
briefly, decided I wasn't worth a response, and resumed his conversation
with the young lady. "Excuse me," I spoke again, louder. "I'm wondering if
I could get backstage."
	Both usher and girl stopped talking to look at me.
	"I have a friend," I continued.
	"You have a pass?" the usher asked.
	I shook my head. "No. It's a surprise, he doesn't know I'm here."
	The usher shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry. No one back there without
a pass." He made to continue speaking with the young woman, but I stepped
forward and said, "He'll want to see me. He has no idea I'm in town, but
he'll want to see me, I promise." Then, for added effect, I implored,
"Please."
	He looked at me for a moment, as if sizing me up, and then he
exhaled loudly and said, "Hold on." He disappeared behind the curtain. The
young woman smiled warmly at me and stepped forward, her auburn hair
lightly falling across one eye. "Will he really be surprised?" she
asked. "This friend of yours?"
	"Oh, I imagine so," I replied. I shoved my hands in my pockets,
suddenly feeling as though the room was closing in on me. There was no
doubt in my mind that he would be surprised...but whether it was positive
or not was another question.
	"So you've traveled far?" she inquired, moving a step closer.
	"Yeah," I replied. "Drove up from Colorado."
	"My," she crooned. "That's quite a journey...to see a friend."
	I nodded. "It certainly is..."
	I realized that she was hoping for conversation with me, but I
simply wasn't in the mood. I was too nervous. Too distracted. My thoughts
had already flown into the great unknown. When the usher returned and
invited me to follow him, I was relieved. I bid a farewell to the girl, and
she gazed at me with that same warm smile. "Good luck," she said sweetly,
brushing her hair back with a sweep of her hand.
	I hopped up onto the stage and slipped through the opening of the
curtain that the usher held aside for me. He pointed to the right, where a
throng of people had gathered.  "Most everyone's over there," he commented.
	"Thanks," I muttered.
	"And I didn't tell you you could do this, okay?" he added sternly,
almost threateningly, his eyes narrowed. "I don't want any trouble."
	"No trouble," I assured him, thanking him once more. I made my way
across the wide stage, dodging the stage hands who had already begun
removing scenery. My apprehension had heightened; shivers coursed through
me as I entered into the crowd, trying to immerse myself, hoping not to be
noticed, feeling so completely out of my element that it was difficult to
stay focused. People were milling about in excited conversation, peeling
off costumes or posing for photographs. My eyes searched expectantly
through the crowd, looking for any sign of him, craving that first glimpse,
wanting it more than anything. But after a time of futility, I began to
wonder if he'd already disappeared into a dressing room.
	"You look lost," a voice spoke.
	I turned to find a petite woman dressed in burlesque attire smiling
up at me. Her blood-red lips revealed pearly white teeth.
	"I'm looking for someone," I replied. I explained my predicament to
her, and without hesitation she took me by the hand and steered me through
the crowd, keeping me close until we reached a long corridor at the rear of
the stage. There she pointed to a cloister of actors. And, standing there
with his back to me, was the man I had traveled well over a thousand miles
to see.
	"Thank you," I spoke to the girl, giving her hand a tight
squeeze. She smiled and said, "You're welcome, handsome. Hope you're
planning on sticking around for the after-party..."
	I barely heard her as I began to make my way down the corridor. I
refrained from immediately approaching him, choosing instead to linger back
a distance and lean against the wall, trying to appear casual despite the
uproar of emotions exploding within me. I needed to calm down. I needed to
find a balance of sanity.
	But when he eventually turned, laughing at a joke someone had
shared, I knew that there was no balance of sanity left within me.
	His entire body drew up stiff as a board when he realized I was
standing there. Color drained from his cheeks despite the makeup covering
his lean face. The room spun into a vacuum. Time stood still. I grinned and
pushed off from the wall, mustering a simple "Hi," trying to keep my voice
steady.
	"H-hi," he echoed.
	I felt as though I was visibly shaking. Could he see it? I shoved
my hands into my pockets to keep them quiet. "I made it," was all I
stated. It was what I had rehearsed the entire drive north - all two days
of endless highways and sleep deprivation.
	My statement was impacting; tears welled in his eyes. "So you did,"
he whispered.
	The cacophony of the corridor slowly seeped back in. A young woman
threw her arms around his shoulders and stood up on tip-toe to whisper
something in his ear, but without a word, he disentangled himself from her
and slowly approached me, his eyes transfixed. I pulled my hands from my
pockets and met him in a firm embrace, our arms wrapped so tightly around
one another that it was difficult to breathe. He felt just as I'd imagined,
tall and lean and muscular, his body melding into mine as he leaned in even
closer. He smelled of makeup and wool and sweat, and I inhaled him, feeling
my cock tighten within my jeans.
	"I can't believe it," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.
	"Yeah," I muttered. "I thought I'd never get here, you live a
million fucking miles away."
	He chuckled and took a step back, his hands tightly grasping mine,
an infectious smile spread across his chiseled face. "I was wondering what
was taking you so damn long."
	"I was wondering that myself..."
	We stood staring at one another, drifting into silence. Then,
without warning, he jolted me forward, twirling me around and leading me
towards the circle of people he'd just been conversing with. "Everyone," he
shouted, his voice booming against the walls, commanding immediate
attention. "This is Avy." He threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me
close. "Avy...this is...everyone."
	It was a brief, simple introduction. I smiled and uttered hello,
but before any conversation could further commence, I was propelled down
the corridor, introduced to another dozen or so actors and musicians, and
then pushed through a doorway into a dimly-lit dressing room. The door
slammed closed and he grabbed me around the waist, turning me around to
drown me in a kiss. It was exactly how I'd imagined it would be...well,
fairly close to how I'd imagined it...except that in my prediction, it had
been ME shoving HIM through an open doorway into a darkened room. But the
details became inconsequential as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled
him close, sliding my tongue with his and pushing our hips together...

* * * * *

	It was difficult to say precisely how I'd gotten there - my legs
pushed back, my ass exposed, his hungry mouth devouring my hole. We'd
sipped champagne briefly while he'd wiped his makeup away and stripped off
his layers of costume, and then suddenly I'd found myself moaning and
squirming on the hastily-cleared dressing room table, using one hand to
steady myself and the other hand to push his face further into my bare ass,
wanting his tongue to go as deep as it could possibly go. It had been a
long time since someone had rimmed me...even longer since someone had
fucked me...and yet I craved it from him more than anything else at that
moment.
	He gave me a final swirl of his tongue and then gently probed me
with a finger, pushing knuckles past my quivering sphincter until I exhaled
and commanded breathlessly, "Fuck, just give it to me..." The words barely
escaped my lips before he was shoving another finger in, scissoring his
digits and turning and sliding, turning and sliding, slowly prying me
open. As soon as his fingers rubbed at my prostate, I groaned and tossed my
head back and managed to smack it straight against the mirror. The pain was
startling - the sound even worse - but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered
outside of what he was doing to me. He hesitated for a moment as if
concerned, and I whispered sternly and impatiently, "Come on, stud, get
that fucking dick in me already..."
	But he wasn't someone to be rushed. With fingers still shoved
inside of me, he snaked his tongue up my perineum and lapped vigorously at
my ball sac, sucking one, then both of my heavy testicles into his mouth,
allowing them to nestle there while his tongue slid back and forth across
the sensitive skin of my pouch. A wave of intense pleasure coursed through
me, and I mumbled something about his mouth being damn near fucking close
to heaven, and he chuckled deep within his throat and started humming. The
vibration against my balls was almost more than I could bear, and I felt an
orgasm swiftly approach despite my cock going completely untouched. I
started to stroke myself, but he slapped my hand away in irritation and
released my testicles from his mouth. "Not yet," he commanded, running his
tongue up the length of my erection, slowly rolling over every pulsing vein
and stiffened ridge until he reached my piss-slit, where he proceeded to
lap up the stream of precum that had overflowed from me.
	I tried my best to contain my impending eruption, concentrating on
banal thoughts like frisbees and whitewater rafting, but he didn't allow me
much time for meditation; before I knew it, he'd spit on his cock several
times and was already demanding entrance into my still-moistened hole.
	"Jesus..." I exhaled loudly, grabbing for something to cling to in
preparation for his invasion. But all I found were makeup brushes and
hairspray bottles, all of which went clattering to the floor as soon as his
large cockhead popped through my sphincter. I cried out, not caring if the
entire theatre and all of its patrons lingering outside heard me. His mouth
instantly clamped down upon mine, quashing everything except for the
guttural groans emanating from deep within me, like the muted yelps of an
animal.
	I could taste my precum and ass on his lips and tongue as he deeply
kissed me, his cock pushing its way ever deeper inside of me, stretching me
open until all eight inches of his length were wedged in my chute, his
balls gently slapping against my ass cheeks. I moaned, writhing beneath
him, trying to get comfortable. I'd forgotten what it felt like to have a
huge cock lodged inside of me, and although I knew that eventually it would
feel fucking amazing, for the moment the slow burn in my ass was
excruciating.
	He noticed my grimace and pulled out a fraction. "You okay?" he
whispered.
	I nodded and pulled his face down, kissing him longer and harder
than ever, my fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. I spread
my legs wider and scooted down farther, and in so doing managed to swallow
his cock back up deep inside of me again. We both groaned, and he moved a
hand up to brace himself against the mirror as he slowly began to take my
ass, his thrusts slow at first but increasing with speed as each moment
passed. My initial reaction of discomfort eventually turned to something
far better...my cock hardening to full length once more, my precum flowing
like lava all over my hand as I stroked it in time to his fucking. Every so
often he managed to nudge my prostate, and the sensation was like a
waterfall of pleasure washing over me, bringing me closer and closer to the
edge. There was no point in trying to contain my orgasm any longer; I
simply didn't have the capacity, or the desire, to postpone it. I wanted to
explode, I wanted to flow freely, I wanted to wash both of our chests with
a load of hot cum, and I wanted to do it while he was fucking my
almost-virgin ass.
	But he held me off, stopping his assault, standing over me with
beads of sweat covering his brow, his eyes intense and full of heat. I
recalled conversations we'd had...nights of fantasizing together...and his
confession of fondness for long-lasting, all night fucks. I knew he'd stave
off my orgasm, bringing me close to the edge but never allowing me to
release until he was good and ready for it. It was a strategy I practiced
myself...a common thread among tops...to be the one dictating the ebb and
flow of the lovemaking. I acquiesced to his plan and lay beneath him, eyes
locked with his, my chest heaving.
	After a long, saliva-filled kiss, he lifted my right leg up and
over his head to rest it on his left shoulder and then entered me once
more, the intrusion now welcoming, his cock easily gliding past my loosened
ring. His thrusts became long and deep, his large cockhead rubbing against
my lovenut, his flesh slapping noisily against mine, grunts filling the
air, sweat flying from our naked bodies. He leaned down and nibbled on my
shoulder, and, much to my eternal gratitude, finally started to stroke my
cock. Within seconds my balls inched up and I started shooting - so hard
that I couldn't speak, couldn't see, couldn't breathe. My whole body curled
and gyrated, and I grabbed the edge of the table with an outstretched hand
as ropes of cum shot up, hitting my chin, my neck, my upper chest, even my
hair and the mirror behind me. I was moaning like a sick puppy, and he
suddenly turned relentless on my ass, pounding me so hard that the entire
makeup table shook, cosmetics clattering to the floor, everything bouncing,
including me.
	"Fuck," he grunted. And then suddenly he was out, leaving me
quivering and grieving his absence. He prompted me to turn onto my back and
hopped up onto the table, squatting beside me while his hand furiously
jerked his thick member. Eager to taste his seed, I cupped his sweaty,
cum-laden balls in my palm and licked at his engorged cockhead. It didn't
take long for him to explode - and although much of his hot cum shot onto
my tongue and down my throat, a large portion of it landed on my face and
into my hair, converging with my own.
	His breath was ragged and he shuddered as he struggled to
recover. I took his cock into my mouth and coaxed the last drops of his
load out with my tongue.  "Fuuuuck...." he moaned. I released his dick from
my mouth and looked up at him, and he noticed as if for the first time the
blanket of cum covering my face. "Goddamn," he mumbled. "You're fucking
beautiful like that."
	I wiped a glob of semen from my cheek and licked it from my
fingers, reveling in the powerful taste of our combined orgasms. He sat
watching me for a moment, his eyes glazed over, his bangs matted to his
forehead, sweat dripping down his chiseled face. I couldn't believe how
quickly I'd become a cum-loving bottom for the man; how all of the standard
conventions of my sex life had completely vanished the moment I'd stepped
backstage and found him. No one had accessed my asshole in a million years,
nor taken such control, bringing me to the brink of sexual madness and
leaving me deliriously satiated. I looked forward to reciprocating the
intensity when the next opportunity for us to fuck arose - hopefully sooner
than later - and the chance to take his sweet, virgin-like ass in the same
manner he had just taken mine presented itself.
	He hopped down from the table and leaned over me, gliding his
tongue across my forehead and down to my chin, licking the sticky mess away
and then sharing it with me in a deep kiss. I held fast to him, fervently
returning the kiss, and we remained like that for awhile, neither of us
caring about the incessant knocking on the door until a voice shouted,
"What the fuck are you doing in there? We're headed out, man, get your sexy
ass in gear!"

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To be continued...

Feedback welcome! avymac@hotmail.com