DISCLAIMER: This story has absolutely nothing to do with reality. This is a completely fictional story. The words that make the story that follows is not intended to imply anything about Justin Berfield's, or any other celebrity's true sexuality in any way shape or form. I do not personally know any of the celebrities listed or know of any details of their personal lives.
Please send all feedback and suggestions for future celebrities to degobln@yahoo.com.
Justin Searching By Gabriel Leven Chapter 2
The rest of this story takes place in the present, thought really started last weekend. I was in Long Island for some P.R. thing, in New York all alone I felt a bit lost but then again it was a catch in the point that it was good to get away alone. My cell phone had died and internet access in my hotel was down, so I was stuck without any means of communication and I couldn't be happier.
Arriving late to the small, yet very popular club, I had to make a mad dash for the door in the midst of a New England down pour. Opening the car door, I took one look at the entrance to be sure the way was clear, jumped out, tucked my head down and ran through three rows of cars before almost reaching the door. I made it in without incidence and hurried myself to the bathroom with a shirt to change into.
On entering I heard a male's voice talking, but none other was responding. I shrugged it off as a cell phone conversation and this being evident when I saw feet pacing in the three foot area of one of the enclosed stalls.
I commenced to placing myself in front of the mirror and removing my shirt.
"...well what the hell do you want me to do?" The male's voice demanded to an unknown answer.
Pulling a pullover over my head, I decided to listen further. This voice had a ring of familiarity to it but I did not think much of it since we all sort of sound alike.
"...I asked you if you wanted to come, you said no, was I supposed to sit at home just because you were?" He again said through a pissy voice.
"Oh...Oh...Oh!" He exclaimed as if saying "oh" when the other person tried to talk.
I found more to do in front of the mirror though their was nothing left to do. I have to admit I just wanted to hear how this ended.
"What does it matter if Frankie's here?" he again asked this time seeming much angrier then before.
"What do you want me to do, you know, you always pull this shit," he continued to complain.
"No, I came out here to have fun, I gotta go now," he announced to the person on the other line.
For the first time I faintly heard the other person's voice. It was a female, and on the guys last words, she seemed to bitch a fit.
"Well okay then, I gotta go now," he announced over her protests then hung up on her.
He quickly came out of the stall and I ran the water in an attempt to seem busy in washing my hands. He stepped to the sink on my right and like me before him, fixed the hot water.
I looked up at the mirror, first at myself, then slowly I looked at his mirror, to look at him.
"What the hell are you looking it?" He calmly asked these words already looking at me through the mirror.
"Nothing," I said with a fast pace about looking the other way.
But it was then and only then that I knew what I was looking at, or rather, who I was looking at. Shorter then me, with beautiful bronze skin, some body fat that perfectly blends with his defined muscles, false blue eyes that are blue by way of colored contacts, hair to soon for it's time. I recognized the voice, and have secured my thoughts by putting it to a face.
"What are you looking at?" I grew balls and asked him, noticing that he was still staring at me through the mirror.
"I know you from somewhere," he said not taking offense to my question, "like I seen you on t.v. or something."
"Yeah, I'm on Malcolm in the Middle," I said.
"Oh yeah, you play that dumb kid," he said with a slight laugh at his own cheap joke.
"Yeah, well, what about your show?" I asked him.
"What about it?" He questioned me.
"For one, reality t.v. is a menace to this society, for two, just because of who you are, and who you're family is, I am not impressed." I returned an insult for him calling my character-the dumb kid.
"Oh no...I'm so upset...you don't like me," he took offense to what I said and sarcastically said this with both hands in the air and while making a face he always makes on his show.
"I never said I didn't like you," I responded to his minor fit.
"Yeah...well," was his only response.
He went back to fixing his hair, I grabbed my wet shirt and left the bathroom.
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"So have you run into anyone interesting yet?" Frankie asked me after he called during the middle of this party.
"No, well sort of," I vaguely answered him.
"Who?" He asked.
"I was in the bathroom and I overheard John Gotti arguing with some girl," I gave him further details.
"John Gotti?" he questioned.
"Yeah, and I offended him," I added.
"You offended John Gotti?" Frankie asked with an air of disbelief in his voice.
"Yeah," I responded.
"Nice knowing you," Frankie said giving into common stereotypes.
"Okay, well I gotta go now," I announced having enough of what little of Frankie's banter I already had to deal with.
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The rest of the night went bye uneventful, I drank a bit, but not much, talked to a few people I did not know, that's about it.
It would not be until after the party, when the night truly would begin.
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Approaching my car I saw from a short distance that something was off about it. It leaned a little bit to the right and the front. The rage filled within me when I saw that I had a flat tire, and the rain had begun to fall-again!
"Shit!" I said aloud.
I came to a quick decision that though I had no idea as to what I was doing, I had little choice in the matter, either change the tire, or lie down and die. So I found myself with what I thought were the proper tools and set out to do something I knew nothing about. I crouched down in front of the tire and put the "jack" underneath the car. I knew I had to jack it up so I started to place the metal rod into the hole to jack it up.
"Wait you'll fuck up the frame," a male's voice called from behind me.
I turned in the warm rain to see John Gotti standing behind me, and stood to my feet.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I shamefully admitted to my ignorance of my own car.
"Well if you jack it up their you're gonna mess a lot of stuff up," he informed me.
"Where should it go then?" I asked.
He bent down to where I previously was crouched and looked underneath the car before carefully placing the jack so that it met his satisfaction. Then he felt the metal part of the tire and the screws.
"You didn't even loosen the lug nuts yet," he said sort of making fun of me.
"I really have no idea as to what I'm doing," I admitted again.
Without asking, or saying so, he began to work on my tire. The warm and very slight rain fell on both of us as I stood their and watched him, on his knees on the pavement. Watched him fix my tire. He busted off his shirt to reveal him wearing a white tank top underneath which by this time was soaked as well.
Instead of fixing part of it, or showing me how to do it, John Gotti, for no apparent reason went through the painful task of changing my tire for me.
He was so hot, as he worked hard, his muscles being put to full use. His hair got wet and the gel ran from it leaving it naturally curly in all of it's light brown beauty.
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"Is their anything I can do for you?" I asked him in an honest attempt to pay him back the debt of gratitude I now owed him.
"Yeah are you hungry?" He asked.
"Yes," I sort of lied.
"Good then come get something to eat with me so I don't look like a total weirdo sitting by myself," he asked.
I thought for a moment on whether or not I should, then my libido got the best of me and I decided it best to be in his presence tonight.
"That's cool, but I gotta stop back at my room to change first," I agreed to go with him.
"Okay," he agreed also.
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"Make yourself comfortable," I invited him to have a seat in the sitting room of this suite.
"Hey wait," he said catching my attention before I disappeared into the bedroom.
"What's up?" I turned to see what he wanted.
"Do you have a clean t-shirt I can wear?" He asked making a motion towards his wet attire.
"Yeah, just give me a minute and ill bring one out," I responded.
I quickly got dressed in dry clothes and found not only a clean orange t-shirt for him to wear, but a pair of dry cargo shorts as well.
I returned to the sitting room and handed him the clothes.
"If you want you can go..." I was about to suggest using the bathroom off of my bedroom for him to change in.
Instead of him leaving the room to do so, he did it in front of me.
First he pealed off his wet over shirt, leaving him in just the white tank top, his hardened nipples exposed through the fabric. Then he undid his belt, button, and zipper, then proceeded to pulling down his pants. He wore black boxer briefs which were not altogether to wet. I could see his perfect form through what little clothes remained. Then he took off his tank top, exposing his beautiful skin and bare chest, with little to no body hair.
"You like what you see don't you?" he asked me, not once looking at me.
I was completely caught off of my guard by this question.
"What are you talking about?" I asked him pretending to be ignorant of my staring at him.
"Duh, I'm not that stupid, I saw you looking at me," he said to me.
"Well...I was just..." I started to explain myself.
"It's ok," he interrupted me.
I felt so embarrassed, so I made it obvious that I was looking away. I did not immediately know as to why he still stood their just in his underwear, but would soon find out.
"So you didn't answer my question," he broke the silence.
"What question?" I asked playing dumb.
"You like what you see don't you?" he asked again, the very question that started this whole thing.
I did not know what to say, how to respond, what to do. In thinking this, I decided to act on impulse for a change, even if it were not the right decision.
"Maybe," I answered his question with as little information as possible.
"What's Maybe? You either do or you don't!" He demanded a real answer from me.
"I do," I quickly came back.
"Good," he said.
Then without reason as to why he rubbed his hand down his slightly defined abs, to his waistline and down his underwear to play with his dick. For a moment I stood in shock of his actions, and held my breath in disbelief as to what was really going on before me.
"Well what are you waiting for? Are you going to come over here or not?" John asked me as if he were confused to my frozen existence.
I did not respond with words, but instead walked over towards him, knowing what was going to happen, but not really knowing what to expect.
"I'm sort of new to this," I admitted to him.
"Yeah well I'm not gay," he replied to me saying this.
I did not argue, or point out the obvious, I just gave into his ideas and decided to let him take control.
I imagined that if Elijah took such advantage of me, John would be no different, probably much worse then Elijah. I was very wrong...though no love were involved, John is definitely a lover, very passionate when in the throws of sex.
He started it all with a soft kiss on the lips, full on tongue action. He was never rough with it. He was not rough either when his hand snaked it's way up my shirt and found my own hard nipples. Carefully he helped me get undress. First came the shirt I just put on, then my pants until both of us, stood almost naked, me in my boxers, he in his boxer briefs. I put my hand on his chest and followed his abs down until I reached his waistline. Instead of going under I went over and swiped my hand across his hard dick placing my hand over the clothed balls.
"Mmm," he moaned as I began to rub them with my fingers.
He then started to suck on various parts of my neck...with each change of place he made me jump a bit to the excitement of his mouth feeling out my neck. In return I went beneath his boxers and grabbed a hold of him in my hands. He did not seem to be to big, about six and a half inches compared to my seven and a half, but he did seem quite thick. I began to rub his head, which seemed rough until his precum acted as a sort of lubrication. With this he came back to kissing me on the lips, and with his hands carefully and randomly squeezed my ass through my boxers. I removed my hands from rubbing the beating head of his dick and began to grind myself into him, which he did the same to me.
We made our way to the bed room and sort of fell over on the bed, with him being the more dominant one and on top of me. He lay on me as a comfortable weight, still kissing me as passionately as he had this whole time. He only stopped kissing me to work his way downward, kissing my chin, my neck, then my chest, then my stomach, then stopping to nibble at the elastic waistline of my boxers.
My own hard anatomy came to rest, poking at the bottom of his chin, and I honestly must admit I did not expect what he would do next. With both hands, fingers hooked beneath the line, and pulled my boxers down. Instantly I felt something I never had felt before, someone going down on me. He wasted no time with any more foreplay, he went to work on sliding up and down. One moment nibbling at my head with drives of great pleasure, the next he had me all inside, attempting to deep throat.
The whole time, I ran my hands through his messed up curly hair. I felt his shoulders and his face, I clutched the blankets and then, I did it all over again. His tongue twirled around, as if liking what it tasted, and the feeling was great as if nothing ever again would top this. Getting caught up in the mood, I started to thrust forward into his mouth as he went down for another round. Over and over, it seemed to last for eternity, but was just a short period of time, before I knew it, I was cumming in the sense, in and out of John's mouth, the whole time he continued to work me over, almost making the pleasure unbearable.
"Stop, stop," I panted as the pleasure shot straight up my back.
He pulled off of me, white smears on his face, and looked at me as if a being of absolute innocence. I brought him up towards me, and Kissed him again. We lye still for awhile, I wanted to go down on him, but he refused it.
For some reason, which I am sure I knew, he left without a word, and that was the end of that. Irony is that with all the manliness, taking charge and strength he possessed, he seemed very considerate, yet guilty for who he was.
I knew that I was fond of him, but he would not have whatever it was that I sought.