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!