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