Date: Sat, 10 Mar 2007 23:32:35 -0500 From: James Branson <email@example.com> Subject: American Idol 6 chapter 2 See part 1 for disclaimers. Thanks for the kind feedback I received. Many of you have the same ideas that I do. It's so nice to know that others out there besides myself think some of these guys are such hot pieces of ass. Please keep writing and tell me if you like what I did. I appreciate your suggestions and comments. - Just as Blake was in the closet, alone after a hot session with Nick Pedro, his nimble fingers pleasuring themselves in his full, firm ass, the door opened. Blake whirled around, his fat 8 inches smacking against his cotton shirt. "I knew you'd be in here - I know a slut when I see one." Blake smirked and cocked his head to the side as Ryan Seacrest quickly began unfastening his slacks. "Yeah, I bet you know a closet when you see one too." Cutting the jokes short, Ryan roughly slammed Blake against the wall, crushing their mouths together as their naked lower halves collided and coincided. Their heavy shafts kissed as hungrily as their mouths, their hands explording each other's half-naked bodies. Even with a shirt on, Blake could tell Ryan didn't have an ounce of body fat. There was something more forbidden, dangerous, and hot to Blake about his quick tryst with Ryan, that they were in such a hurry, and so horny, they didn't even bother to take their clothes off. Just as Blake was about to sink to his knees again, Ryan did so instead. Blake couldn't see much in the dark closet, but he could feel Ryan's eyes on him. His knees buckled as his tumescence was quickly and very expertly deep-throated. Blake had imagined Ryan was a pretty good cocksucker, this being Hollywood and cocksuckers being aplenty, but he didn't realize just how good Ryan would be. Ryan's tongue lapped at his veiny, plump shaft and ever so briefly made contact with his mushroom head as Blake facefucked him, Ryan quickly going from savoring only the head to devouring all 8 inches, back and forth, back and forth. His fingers cradled Blake's low-hangers, kneading them and squeezing them occasionally to feel how full and fat they were with his upcoming load. Ryan squeezed his bubble butt several times, almost like he was exploring everything he could on Blake, making a memory and feeling out Blake's strengths and vulnerabilities. Soon, Blake bit sharply into his lip and blew his heavy load down Ryan's practiced throat. Ryan was up and gone before Blake could even catch his breath, much less make a comment. Blake had no idea whether they'd have this chance again, but as the closet door quickly opened and closed, he detected a brief, lewd wink from Ryan before Seacrest Out(ed) himself from the dark space. ------ Some days passed, and the competition continued. The guys were repeatedly told by the judges that they weren't as good as the girls, and although the guys didn't keep too close of an eye on the press or the fans, they knew that was the general opinion. Blake had his own personal low in the competition so far when Simon Cowell, the acerbic British judge, slammed him as "copycat". Blake felt like he was being knocked down a peg for reasons other than his performance, and he wondered why that was the case. Simon, with that unholy gleam in his eye, and those daddy features (beefy body, hairy chest), went into Blake's jerkoff fantasies as Blake imagined fucking that meaty, smug British ass right on top of the judges' table. Another guy in the competition, Chris Richardson, had a high point that second week of the semifinals, as the judges praised him heavily. Chris, like Blake, sang R&B and hip-hop and modern pop, and both men knew they shared a fan base. While that could prove costly later on, Chris was such a sweet guy that he couldn't really hate Chris. Indeed, Blake and Chris were amused to find out that some fans thought they were a perfect couple and called them "Cake". Blake could see why they felt that way. Chris was dark to Blake's light - he had a crewcut with big greyish eyes, a thin, expressive face, like an eager puppy. He had a tight, thin body, since he'd lost about 40 pounds over the past few years. On results show night, Chris was devastated because his best friend, AJ, was unexpectedly eliminated. They shared a lingering hug that turned Blake on, although he kept that to himself. Blake and Chris then became roommates. Blake kept to himself, not wanting to intrude on Chris' sad moment, but finally by the end of the night, Chris' big sorrowful eyes moved Blake to say something. "Sorry, man." Chris looked up at him from the bed he was sitting on. "I-I just...I know it's every man for himself, but he was so good this week and he tried out so many times and he really wanted to be here. I feel like I should've gone instead." That fueled Blake's competitive fire all the more, and before he could stop himself, he grabbed Chris up from the bed and shook his shoulders. "Fuck that shit! I mean, just fuck it, Chris. You're here for a reason just like he was. I know AJ would want you to stay. It's not like he died or anything." Chris nodded, but the words didn't seem to be getting through. "I know what you're trying to do, and I appreciate it cause I know a lot of those guys would just tell me to quit." Blake shook his head. "That's a punk way to play this game. I want to beat the best. And you're the best. Hey, you can't make Cake without Chris, right? Then it would be Ake, and who wants to vote for Ake?" Chris chuckled. He'd almost forgotten about that cheesy fan name for him and Blake. The idea of them as a couple - of them naked and sweaty and writhing in ecstasy - flashed through his mind, and he began to get hard. He hoped Blake wouldn't notice. He wished he could confide in AJ. AJ was, like him, not straight (AJ was gay - Chris wasn't entirely sure what he was), and they could talk to each other about things no one else would understand. "Man, I really miss AJ." Blake, unbeknownst to Chris, DID feel the swelling in Chris' jeans. He realized then just why Chris and AJ were so close. Now Blake started to get hard, and instinctively, he pressed his burgeoning erection against Chris' own dick. Blake lifted Chris' chin with a slightly shaking finger. "I think I know how to take care of you now." Blake gently pulled Chris in for a kiss. Chris, who hadn't actually been with a guy in a long time, allowed Blake to take the lead. He'd forgotten how hot it was to be with someone as strong as he was, someone who wasn't soft and sweet and feminine. Someone he could lose himself in. He opened his mouth, sucking on Blake's greedy tongue. Quickly, Blake pulled Chris's sweater vest over his head and began fumbling with the buttons of Chris white dress shirt. Chris helped him, the two men out of breath and laughing like nervous schoolkids as Chris was revealed layer by layer. They stepped out of their shoes, Blake pulling his shirt over his head as Chris went to work on their pants. "You first, Richardson." Chris looked nervous as he slid out of his pants. He didn't like to wear underwear, and his half-erect 7 1/2 inches quickly hit his flat stomach as his pants fell to the ground. Blake whistled. Chris was pretty thick in girth, looked like quite a mouthful. Gently, he turned Chris around, looking at Chris' tight, taut ass. Unable to resist, he smacked the tasty little cheeks. Chris turned around again in full blush mode, now fully erect. Blake, also not wearing underwear, showed off his very impressive 8 inches. Chris was more interested in the other side, and spun Blake around. "Damn! That's what they call a ghetto booty!" Blake just smiled as Chris ran admiring hands up and down the bubble butt. Chris pulled him in close and they began to kiss agian, lovingly, their hands on each other's rear ends, Blake's hands moving up Chris' spine slowly to massage the slight fuzz at the back of his neck. The kiss was long and affectionate, not one of a cheap thrill, but of a slow, building bond, a friendship, a trust, mixed with passion and lust and release. Reluctantly, Blake broke the kiss, grabbed Chris' hand and led him to the bed. He had some lube with him, just in case, but he really wanted to taste Chris' ass, so he buried his face in Chris' slender, supple set of buttocks. Chris was on all fours, his face against the pillow. Soon, Blake turned him onto his back, and they began a 69, Blake eating out Chris' ass while Chris got Blake's big dick wet and ready for invasion. Chris hadn't blown any guys in a while, but it was kind of like falling off a bike. When Blake had his nose so far up Chris' hair-dusted, pungent yet surprisingly tasty hole he thought he was going to suffocate, he finally came up for air. He stopped straddling Chris and chuckled as he put Chris' legs over his knees. Chris' mouth was all red and puffy. His eyes were shining with hope, and lust, and fear. "You look like such a dork." Blake said, as he slowly, but forcefully slid into Chris' hole. Chris didn't have any smart comebacks. He was lost in another world. A world of pure pleasure and bliss and yet tension and trepidation. Blake seemed to know just how to work Chris, every sweet spot, every nook and cranny. That total knowledge, how easy it was for Chris to give everything he had to Blake, made Chris nervous. Yet, he'd never felt better in his life. They truly were a good match. All too soon, the smashing of the bed came to an end, and Blake, with a moan, came inside Chris' tight ass. He jerked Chris off to orgasm, smothering Chris' load all over Chris' smooth stomach and chest. The two men kissed some more, and gazed into each other's eyes, and then went to sleep, Chris in Blake's loving arms. They knew this night was never going to last, but they planned to enjoy every single moment while they could.