OPH-267 Christopher Superstud

Excerpt

I sat in my room, twisting the Scotch and water around in my fingers. I had poured it some time ago and hadn’t ever tested it. The TV was on-“The Carol Burnett Show.” I was staring at it but nothing was registering. My favorite portion, “As The Stomach Turns“, the spoof of daytime soap operas, was convulsing the studio audience but leaving me cold. Monday night after a barren week end, a week end of contemplation and soul-searching-to use a cliche.

So I had fucked the boy. And goddammit! I liked it! My experience with my own sex was limited to two encounters-one in a men’s room of the Independent subway (a timid little man who sucked my cock as I watched for interested strangers or the men in blue); the other at a party, an orgy, where after screwing the hostess (a prominent TV actress and mother of four), I staggered into a bedroom to find two males—the handsome, dashing and masculine lead of a TV series about two boys who cover the country in a sports car and another actor currently starring in a Broadway musical based on the life of an old-time vaudevillian—so engrossed in each other’s cocks that they couldn’t care less who joined them. I started to back out, my prick having gone soft at the sight, when they both stopped and asked me to join in. I shook my head at first and then decided, why not? I don’t remember the details. Or is it that I don’t want to remember the details?

Anyway, that was it. Now I could add another experience. An experience I was not in the least bit proud of. Bud was a good kid and had more than his share of hang-ups. And what was the genius of an acting coach doing to help his budding student? Why, fucking him, of course! Rotten stupid son-of-a-bitch!