Bridging the Distance - 1. Backstage Tryst

I rubbed nervous palms across my denim-covered thighs, trying once more to exhale the breath which remained stuck in my throat, unable to escape. Questions cascaded, like waterfalls of trepidation: How would this turn out? What would his reaction be? What the hell was I even doing there?

I felt as though I’d lost the final vestiges of my mind... and yet there was nowhere else I would rather have been than right there in that theatre, watching his performance.

It seemed I’d barely blinked before the heavy curtains closed across the stage. As the deafening applause of the audience jolted me back to reality, I realized that the show had ended. I wasn’t even certain how we’d reached that point - everything was a bit of a blur in my clouded mind.

After several standing ovations and repeated bows from the performers, the curtain fell a final time, and the crowd began to disperse in a wave of excited whispers. I knew that the time had drawn near and that soon I would be facing him. Talking to him. Standing in his presence.

The theatre patrons began to flow up the aisles and disappear through the doors of the ancient theatre, allowing the fresh air to waft down and stave off the stench of cologne and perfume which permeated everything.

“It’s time,” I mumbled to myself, shuffling out to the aisle and beginning my journey down the steps to the stage. I traveled against the upward flow of people, and although some patrons were clearly aggravated, I ignored their quiet protests and continued downstream, focused solely on the burgundy velvet curtain looming before me. My heart started to race. I half-expected to see him peek out through the draped opening with a mischievous, knowing grin, his voice calling out to me. But there was only one lone usher standing at the edge of the stage, talking with a young, curvaceous woman in a tight blue dress.

“Excuse me,” I said as I approached the man. He glanced at me briefly, decided I wasn’t worth a response, and resumed his conversation with the young lady. “Excuse me,” I spoke again, louder. “I’m wondering if I could get backstage.”

Both usher and girl stopped talking to look at me.

“I have a friend,” I continued.

“You have a pass?” the usher asked.

I shook my head. “No. It’s a surprise, he doesn’t know I’m here.”

The usher shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. No one back there without a pass.” He turned his attention back to the young woman, but I stepped forward and said, “He’ll want to see me. He has no idea I’m in town, but he’ll want to see me, I promise.” Then, for added effect, I implored, “Please.”

He looked at me for a moment, as if sizing me up, and then he exhaled loudly and said, “Hold on.” He disappeared behind the curtain.

The young woman smiled warmly at me and stepped forward, her auburn hair lightly falling across one eye. “Will he really be surprised?” she asked. “This friend of yours?”

“Yes, I imagine so,” I replied. I shoved my hands in my pockets, suddenly feeling as though the room was closing in on me. There was no doubt in my mind that he would be surprised. But whether it was positive or negative remained to be seen.

“So you’ve traveled far?” she inquired, moving a step closer.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Drove up from Colorado.”

“My, my,” she crooned. “That’s quite a journey... to see a friend.”

I nodded. “It certainly is.”

I realized that she was hoping for conversation with me, but I simply wasn’t in the mood. I was too nervous. Too distracted. My thoughts had already flittered into the great unknown. When the usher returned and invited me to follow him, I was relieved. I bid a farewell to the girl, and she gazed at me with that same warm smile. “Good luck,” she said sweetly, brushing her hair back with a sweep of her hand.

I hopped up onto the stage and slipped through the opening of the curtain that the usher held aside for me. He pointed to the right, where a throng of people had gathered.

“Most everyone’s over there,” he commented.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“And I didn’t tell you you could do this, okay?” he added sternly, almost threateningly, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“No trouble,” I assured him, thanking him once more. I made my way across the wide stage, dodging the stage hands who had already begun removing scenery. My apprehension had heightened; shivers coursed through me as I entered into the crowd, trying to immerse myself, hoping not to be noticed, feeling so completely out of my element that it was difficult to stay focused. People were milling about in excited conversation, peeling off costumes or posing for photographs. My eyes searched expectantly through the crowd, looking for any sign of him, craving that first glimpse, wanting it more than anything. But after a time of futility, I began to wonder if he’d already disappeared into a dressing room.

“You look lost,” a voice spoke.

I turned to find a petite woman dressed in burlesque attire smiling up at me. Her blood-red lips revealed pearly white teeth.

“I’m looking for someone,” I replied. I explained my predicament to her, and without hesitation she took me by the hand and steered me through the crowd, keeping me close until we reached a long corridor at the rear of the stage. There she pointed to a cluster of actors. And, standing among them with his back to me, was the man I had traveled well over a thousand miles to see.

“Thank you,” I spoke to the girl, giving her hand a tight squeeze.

She smiled and said, “You’re welcome, handsome. Hope you’re planning on sticking around for the after-party...”

I barely heard her as I began to make my way down the corridor. I refrained from immediately approaching him, choosing instead to linger back a distance and lean against a wall, hoping to appear casual despite the uproar of emotions exploding within me. I needed to calm down. I needed to find a balance of sanity.

However, when he eventually turned, laughing at a joke someone had shared, I knew that there was no balance of sanity left within me.

His entire body drew up stiff as a board when he realized I was standing there. Color drained from his cheeks despite the makeup covering his lean face. The room spun into a vacuum. Time stood still.

I grinned and pushed off from the wall. Mustered a simple “Hi,” while trying to keep my voice steady.

“H-hi,” he echoed.

I felt as though I was visibly shaking. Could he see it? I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep them quiet. “I made it,” was all I stated. It was what I had rehearsed the entire drive north - all two days of endless highways and sleep deprivation.

My statement was impacting; tears welled in his hazel eyes. “So you did,” he whispered.

The cacophony of the corridor slowly seeped back in. A young woman threw her arms around his shoulders and stood up on tip-toe to whisper something in his ear, but, without a word, he disentangled himself from her and slowly approached me, his eyes transfixed. I pulled my hands from my pockets and met him in a firm embrace. Our arms wrapped so tightly around one another that it was difficult to breathe.

He felt just as I’d imagined, tall and lean and muscular, his body melding into mine as he leaned in even closer. He smelled of makeup and wool and sweat, and I inhaled him, feeling my cock tighten within my jeans.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “I thought I’d never get here, you live a million fucking miles away.”

He chuckled and took a step back, his hands tightly grasping mine, an infectious smile spread across his chiseled face. “I was wondering what was taking you so damn long.”

“I was wondering that myself...”

We stood staring at one another, drifting into silence. Then, without warning, he jolted me forward, twirling me around and leading me towards the circle of people he’d just been conversing with. “Everyone!” he shouted, his voice booming against the walls, commanding immediate attention. “This is John.” He threw an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “John, this is... everyone.”

It was a brief, simple introduction. I smiled and said "Hello," but before conversation could further commence, I was propelled down the corridor, introduced to another dozen or so actors and musicians, and then pushed through a doorway into a dimly-lit dressing room. The door slammed closed and he grabbed me around the waist, turning me around to drown me in a kiss. It was exactly how I’d imagined it would be. Well, fairly close to how I’d imagined it, except for the fact that, in my prediction, it had been me shoving him through an open doorway into a darkened room. But the details became inconsequential as I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, sliding my tongue with his and pushing our hips together...

*   *   *   *

It was difficult to say precisely how I’d gotten there - my legs pushed back, my ass exposed, his hungry mouth devouring my hole. We’d sipped champagne briefly while he’d wiped his makeup away and stripped off his layers of costume, and then suddenly I’d found myself moaning and squirming on the hastily-cleared dressing room table, using one hand to steady myself and the other hand to push his face further into my bare ass, wanting his tongue to go as deep as it could possibly go. It had been a long time since someone had rimmed me... even longer since someone had fucked me... and yet I craved it from him more than anything else at that moment.

He gave me a final swirl of his tongue and then gently probed me with a finger, pushing knuckles past my quivering muscle ring until I exhaled and commanded breathlessly, “Fuck, just give it to me already.”

The words barely escaped my lips before he was shoving another finger in, scissoring his digits and turning and sliding, turning and sliding, slowly prying me open. As soon as his fingers rubbed up against my prostate, I groaned and tossed my head back and managed to smack it straight against the mirror. The pain was startling - the sound even worse - but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered outside of what he was doing to me. He hesitated for a moment as if concerned, and I whispered sternly and impatiently, “Come on, get that fucking dick in me already...”

But he wasn’t someone to be rushed. With fingers still shoved inside of me, he snaked his tongue up my perineum and lapped vigorously at my balls, sucking one, then both of my heavy testicles into his mouth, allowing them to nestle there while his tongue slid back and forth across the sensitive skin of my pouch. A wave of intense pleasure coursed through me, and I mumbled something about his mouth being damn near fucking close to heaven, and he chuckled deep within his throat and started humming. The vibration against my balls was almost more than I could bear, and I felt an orgasm swiftly approach despite my cock going completely untouched.

I started to stroke myself, but he slapped my hand away in irritation and released my testicles from his mouth. “Not yet,” he commanded, running his tongue up the length of my erection, slowly rolling over every pulsing vein and stiffened ridge until he reached my piss-slit, where he proceeded to lap up the stream of pre cum that had overflowed from me.

I tried my best to contain my impending eruption, concentrating on banal thoughts like Frisbee toss and whitewater rafting, but he didn’t allow me much time for meditation; before I knew it, he’d spit on his cock several times and was already demanding entrance into my still-moistened hole.

“Jesus...” I exhaled loudly, grabbing for something to cling to in preparation for his invasion. But all I found were makeup brushes and hairspray bottles, all of which went clattering to the floor as soon as his large cockhead popped through my sphincter. I cried out, not caring if the entire theatre and all of its patrons lingering outside heard me. His mouth instantly clamped down onto mine, quashing everything except for the guttural groans emanating from deep within me, like the muted yelps of an animal.

I could taste my pre cum and ass on his lips and tongue as he deeply kissed me, his cock pushing its way ever deeper inside of me, stretching me open until all eight inches of his length were wedged inside my chute, his balls gently slapping against my ass cheeks. I moaned, writhing beneath him, trying to get comfortable. I’d forgotten what it felt like to have a huge cock lodged inside of me, and although I knew that eventually it would feel fucking amazing, for the moment the slow burn in my ass was excruciating.

He noticed my grimace and pulled out a fraction. “You okay?” he whispered.

I nodded and pulled his face down, kissing him longer and harder than ever, my fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. I spread my legs wider and scooted down farther, and in so doing managed to swallow his cock back up deep inside of me again. We both groaned, and he moved a hand up to brace himself against the mirror as he slowly began to take my ass, his thrusts slow and measured at first but increasing with speed as each moment passed. My initial reaction of discomfort eventually turned to something far better... my cock hardening to full length once more, my pre cum flowing like lava all over my hand as I stroked it in time to his fucking.

Every so often he managed to nudge my prostate, and the sensation was like a waterfall of pleasure washing over me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. There was no point in trying to contain my orgasm any longer; I simply didn’t have the capacity, or the desire, to postpone it. I wanted to explode, I wanted to flow freely, I wanted to wash both of our chests with a load of hot cum, and I wanted to do it while he was fucking my almost-virgin ass.

But he held me off, stopping his assault, standing over me with beads of sweat covering his brow, his eyes intense and full of heat. I recalled conversations we’d had... nights of fantasizing together... and his confessions of fondness for long-lasting, all night fucks. I knew he’d stave off my orgasm, bringing me close to the edge but never allowing me to release until he was good and ready for it. It was a strategy I practiced myself... a common thread among us alphas... to be the one dictating the ebb and flow of the lovemaking.

I acquiesced to his plan and lay beneath him, eyes locked with his, my chest heaving.

After a long, saliva-filled kiss, he lifted my right leg up and over his head to rest it on his left shoulder and then entered me once more. The intrusion was now welcoming, his cock easily gliding past my loosened ring. His thrusts became long and deep, his large cockhead rubbing against my lovenut, his skin slapping noisily against mine. Uninhibited grunts filled the air and sweat covered our naked flesh. He leaned down and nibbled on my shoulder, and, much to my eternal gratitude, finally started to stroke my cock. Within seconds my balls inched up and I started shooting - so hard that I couldn’t speak, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. My whole body curled and gyrated, and I grabbed the edge of the table with an outstretched hand as ropes of cum shot up, hitting my chin, my neck, my upper chest, even my hair and the mirror behind me. I was moaning like a sick puppy, and he suddenly turned relentless on my ass, pounding me so hard that the entire makeup table shook, cosmetics clattering to the floor, everything bouncing, including me.

“Fuck,” he grunted. And then suddenly he was out, leaving me quivering and grieving his absence. He prompted me to turn onto my back and then hopped up onto the table, squatting beside me while his hand furiously jerked his thick member. Eager to taste his seed, I cupped his sweaty, cum-laden balls in my palm and licked at his engorged cockhead. It didn’t take long for him to explode - and although much of his hot cum shot onto my tongue and down my throat, a large portion of it landed on my face and into my hair, converging with my own.

His breath was ragged and he shuddered as he struggled to recover. I took his cock into my mouth and coaxed the last drops of his load out with my tongue. “Fuuuuck...” he moaned. I released his dick and looked up at him, and he noticed as if for the first time the blanket of cum covering my face. “Goddamn,” he mumbled. “You’re fucking beautiful like that.”

I wiped a glob of semen from my cheek and licked it from my fingers, reveling in the powerful taste of our combined orgasms. He sat watching me for a moment, his eyes glazed over, his bangs matted to his forehead, sweat dripping down his chiseled face. I couldn’t believe how quickly I’d become a cum-loving bottom for the man; how all of the standard conventions of my sex life had completely vanished the moment I’d stepped backstage and found him.

No one had accessed my asshole in a million years, nor taken such control, bringing me to the brink of sexual madness and leaving me deliriously satiated. I looked forward to reciprocating the intensity when the next opportunity for us to fuck arose - hopefully sooner than later - and the chance to take his sweet, virgin-like ass in the same way he had just taken mine presented itself.

He hopped down from the table and leaned over me, gliding his tongue across my forehead and down to my chin, licking the sticky mess away and then sharing it with me in a deep kiss. I held fast to him, fervently returning the kiss, and we remained like that for a while, neither of us caring about the incessant knocking on the door until a voice shouted, “What the fuck are you doing in there? We’re headed out, man, get your sexy ass in gear!”

He dropped back and grinned at me. Gave my hip a slap and said, “How about it? Want to go to this after-party with me?”

Clumsily hoisting myself up from the table, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and was pleasantly shocked by just how well-used and fucked I appeared. “I think I’d better clean up a bit first,” I replied, running a hand through my sweaty hair.

He pulled me into a tight embrace and nuzzled his face into my neck. “Still can’t believe you’re here," he whispered.

Running fingertips across each notch of his spine as he held me close, I whispered, “You're worth every single mile of pavement I crossed, babe…"