The Land Whore - 22. Chapter 22

July 10, 1973

Brad had been driving me nuts to go see Avery and hang out with him, so I dutifully got on the phone yesterday and talked to Jackie. She was less than thrilled with the idea, basically telling me that studio employees weren't going to babysit for me. Then about half an hour later she called back to say that it was OK for Brad to spend the mornings at the studio.

That afternoon Roger had gotten two surfboards and taken Brad out in the waves. Brad had never shown any major coordination, but he loved the waves, and it showed. He picked up surfing like it was nothing, much to Roger's chagrin, who spent most of his time wiping out. I pretended to work on the deck while I watched them and snickered.

An excited Brad sat next to me as we approached the studio gates. Jackie had arranged for me to get a pass so I didn't have to go through the third degree when I got to security. Plus the slick Mercedes helped to separate me from the normal tourists. We parked and headed to the design studio and I had to force Brad to walk at a reasonable pace.

Avery was waiting for him. They just greeted each other with a simple “hi” and sat down to work. Avery had already gotten a stool for Brad, so they just dived right in. Two introverts, I thought, smiling to myself. I went off to find Jackie. She was on a set listening to a director rant at one of her clients.

I watched her go into diplomatic mode and smooth things over like a pro. “You're pretty impressive. I did not know you could be so tactful.”

“Watch and learn sweetie. You drop the kid off?” I nodded. “I thought you were nuts, but one of the designers loves him. He's like a savant or something, and the last time the kid was here they put together some amazing animation.” I smiled. I was very proud of Brad anyway; this just made it that much better.

I spent the morning with Jackie, which meant I laughed most of the time. She invited me to a party at her house that night, and I promised I'd be there. I hoped Roger wouldn't mind the fast and loose crowd.

We left the studio at 1PM, with Brad whining and Avery looking sad. I promised he could stay longer the next day. Brad spent the afternoon surfing, and then I talked the new housekeeper, Consuela, into watching him that night. I helped Roger spiff up and we headed to Jackie's for his first Hollywood party.

It was crowded as usual, and everyone wanted to meet my hunky boyfriend. After we made our rounds I headed upstairs and walked to the end of the hall where the door was closed. I knocked three times and the door opened a crack. The guy at the door recognized me and let us in.

Roger took in the whole scene, shocked at first, and then he got a big smile on his face and started taking off his clothes. In no time at all he was stark naked and in the middle of the pile with John Bartlett's big cock up his ass. I'm not sure if this was good for him or not, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. I left him alone and went over to where Armand was and had a happy reunion with him before I stuck my dick in his ass. The boy was getting more and more skilled.

I blew a load in his ass and then rested, taking in the scene. Roger was taking all comers. His stamina was amazing. It was incredible how long he could take getting fucked without coming. I wandered over to him and lowered my cock to his mouth and pushed it in. He grinned and started sucking on it. I pulled it out and moved my ass over his face. “Eat it,” I ordered, and he used his tongue to drive me nuts.

“I want your ass,” said a hunky guy I hadn't seen before.

I smiled and moved over to him, our mouths met briefly but intensely, and then he turned me around and entered me. This guy knew his stuff. He worked me, keeping me on edge, and had me moaning like a whore. I glanced at Roger who looked at me with a weird expression, but this was the price he was going to have to pay for his own kink. The guy finally pulled me back to his chest and squeezed my nipples while sucking on my neck, moaning into my skin, and he pushed me over the edge. It was incredible sex.

Roger was the star of the party, the hunky, masculine guy who wanted to be fucked. I got bored and left him there, wandering around the party and greeting people, spreading cards and lining up business for Jason. I'd been at it for an hour when I ran into my hunky friend from before.

“We’ve not met yet, at least not formally,” I said. “I'm Stefan Schluter.”

His eyes were intense, almost lavender in color, matching perfectly with his light brown hair that had blond streaks from the California sun. He seemed older now, older than me, but that only made him seem sexier. “I'm Greg Anders.”

“I do not mean to be rude, but I do not know your name. Are you an actor?”

“It's OK, I hadn't heard yours either. I'm a producer.” Of course. Greg Anders, the hottest, most successful producer in Hollywood. He was like a child genius. “And what do you do?”

“I own a real-estate development company,” I told him and handed him a card.

“I've heard of you, now that I think about it. I may have some cash for you to invest for me.”

“I'd be happy to help out,” I said, flirting a little bit.

“Can I call you?”

“Sure.”

“For a date,” he said.

“Well, I have a boyfriend.”

“That's not a no,” he said with a leer that made my skin tingle.

“You're pretty smart.” And with that he walked off and I watched him, remembering how his body had felt. He was taller than me, but lanky just like me. I hadn't gotten to see his dick, but it felt about the same size as JP's, which would put it at about six and a half inches. He hadn't been muscular, but he had been strong and commanding. In charge. I liked that. He intrigued me.

I headed back up to the orgy room and Roger was still there getting fucked. God, he'd been at it off and on for a couple of hours now. I went over to him and sucked on his cock, setting him over the edge. He looked at me, pissed off. Guess I short circuited his fun.

I headed to the bar, needing some fortification, when I ran into Peter. “I did not see you upstairs,” I said.

“I was going to head up there shortly. I didn't know you were in town.”

“I just got here yesterday.” Roger walked up to us and I introduced them. It was interesting. At first they seemed agitated, but then they started talking and they ended up chatting away. I watched them out of the corner of my eye and saw them head back upstairs.

I was too curious not to follow, so I did. I know, spying again. They went into a different room, just the two of them, and I waited for a little bit and peeked in. Roger was flat on his back and Peter was working him, pounding his ass. I thought of all the guys that had worked for Peter, and how they were just “holes” for him. Roger was perfect in that role. Maybe with Peter to satisfy his need to have his ass pounded, we could find some equanimity in our own relationship.

I was about to head downstairs when I saw an exhausted Armand. He grabbed me and dragged me into his room, locking the door. “Those guys wear me out. Shit. I hate these parties. My ass always hurts for days afterward.” He was bitching and moaning, but he was also smiling.

“You love it,” I teased. “How's life Mr. Teen Idol?”

“It's better now that you're here,” he said, moving in to kiss me. This boy was just too hot for his own good, or mine. “Come to bed with me.”

“I thought you were sore?”

“I am, but you are not.” I giggled, and ended up naked in bed with Armand. He had been exhausted before, which had drained him and given him stamina. He made love to me slowly and lovingly, bringing me gradually to my third orgasm of the night.

“You have turned into one amazing lover,” I said. “I cannot believe how good you are at satisfying your partner.” He blushed at my ego strokes. “Most young guys are lucky if they can do anything besides jack off, but not you. You are incredible.”

“Thanks Stef. I had a good teacher.” He snuggled up to me and we fell asleep, our bodies linked together with our arms and legs, our lives linked together by our friendship.

It wasn't until much later that I heard a loud knock on the door. I got up to find a pissed off Roger. “I've been looking all over for you. Everyone has.”

I ignored his mood. “What time is it?”

“3AM,” he spat out.

“Let's go home,” I said calmly. He glared at Armand and followed me out of the house.

“I can't believe you just abandoned me and went off to sleep with Armand.”

“What did you do while I was gone?”

“Nothing, I just talked to some people.”

“I thought I saw you with Peter.”

“Yeah, but we just talked.” He was lying. Again. Why did he do that? I sighed and drove home, frustrated. I think he knew I was pissed because I didn't say anything and went straight to bed. He spooned up behind me and it was nice, but I was too irritated to really enjoy it.

I guess I thought that if we could party together, if I could find a way for him to satisfy his drives and needs with me that it would revolutionize our relationship. Yet we had done that and he still couldn't be honest with me. I didn't care if everyone in that house fucked him. Hell, they pretty much had. I did care whether he was open about it or not. Was he too damaged? I drifted off to sleep in a foul mood.

July 11, 1973

Jason bailed me out the next morning by taking Brad to the studio. I tried to wake Roger up to make love, but he was out like a light. Or pretending to be, I thought cynically. I got up and took a shower. Last night had made me feel dirty, and I needed to wash everyone off of me. Everyone except Greg, I thought.

As if on cue my phone rang. It was Greg.

“I know that this is short notice, but I've got the afternoon free and I wondered if you wanted to grab lunch and hang out.”

“That sounds great,” I said. “Where should I meet you?”

“I live in Malibu colony,” he said.

I laughed. “I do too.” Turned out he was three houses down. I left Roger a note and the car keys and walked down to see Greg.

He was on the phone when I got there so he just motioned me in. I went to the bathroom to make sure I looked my very best. By the time I got back to the living room, he was off the phone and waiting for me.

“Stefan, I'm going to be honest with you. You were an amazing fuck, the best sex I've had. Ever. And I thought that if we were alone, just you and me, it would probably be even better. So that was my plan, to lure you over here with the promise of food and then try to get your pants off.”

How refreshing it was to be around someone honest. “You're telling me that you called me to come down and fuck you?”

“Yeah. You up for it?”

“Hell yes,” I said. He led me upstairs to his bedroom. It was huge, with a great view of the ocean. We were naked in no time at all. He led me to his bed and showed me how good he could really be. He reminded me of Marc, with the way he stimulated me and then backed off, and kept up the excitement and the tension. He brought out the best in me; our bodies moved in sync so well it was like a dance. When I finally came I think I blacked out.

He smiled at me. “That was the most amazing sex I have ever had,” I told him honestly.

“Me too,” he said as he stroked my chest with his hand. “Can I call you again sometime?”

“Yes, you can call me sometime. Can I call you?”

“Sure,” he said, but looked pensive. “I want you to know, though, that I'm not a one man kind of guy. I'm kind of a slut. I like sex. I just don't want to lead you on.”

I was laughing hysterically, so hard that he was getting pissed at me. “I'm sorry. It's just that I always say the exact same thing and I usually get a lot of shit from guys. No one seems to understand me. But you are just like me.”

“Really?” he said with a smile. “That's cool. A kindred spirit.”

“Yeah, well I better head home. I will see you around stud,” I said as I left. I found that I was so giddy walking was a problem.

Roger had finally gotten out of bed and was scrounging for food. “Where were you?” he asked.

“I went for a walk. It's a beautiful day outside.” I figured that it was pretty much true. Besides, why should I be honest with him when he lied to me?

“Peter called. He wanted to know if we wanted to come up and see him tonight.” I stood there pondering my next move. I knew that Peter didn't want me there and neither did Roger, but if this was going to work, I'd need to be there.

“Sounds good to me.” He looked disappointed, but only briefly.

I talked to Consuela and arranged for her to watch Brad again. She didn't complain as soon as I offered her major cash for her efforts. I grabbed a quick bite to eat and we headed up to Peter's.

“Stef,” he said, greeting me warmly. “I'm glad you came.” That told me that I wasn't expected. He showed Roger around his house and Roger headed straight for Peter's bedroom and stripped. He lay on his back, his ass in the air, begging Peter to fuck him. Peter raised his eyebrow and followed suit.

I moved up behind Peter, playing his body like I knew how, gently working his hole and ultimately entering him while he fucked Roger. Peter went nuts. He didn't let many people fuck him, but when he did, he totally loved it. I worked his chest with my hands, tweaking his nipples, until he finally blew a major load in Roger.

Roger looked pissed off, but he tried to hide it. He wanted it to go on, to last, and my stimulation of Peter had made him blow much sooner than he wanted. “I want to head home and check up on Brad. If you want to stay, maybe Peter can get you home later on,” I said.

Roger looked at Peter hopefully, but Peter wasn't too thrilled with that. He'd blown his wad, and he was done for now. Roger's look changed to pleading, his big dick still throbbing, so Peter finally caved.

I hung out with Brad that night and had a great time. We found a miniature golf course and he beat me, fair and square. Three games. When we got home Roger was still gone. I didn't expect him to get home that night, and I was right.

July 27, 1973

Roger, Brad, and I boarded the plane back to San Jose and none of us were happy. Brad was pissed off that he had to go home when he had thoroughly enjoyed himself with Avery, and with his newfound passion of surfing. Roger was pissed because he'd been getting drilled constantly, usually by Peter. I was pissed because I got Roger to fuck me daily, but he wasn't really all that into it. That and Greg had managed to vanish, so I hadn't gotten to see him after our initial round of great sex.

I pulled out the latest Time Magazine and tried to catch up on the news. There was a lot of stuff happening, but the biggest news was once again Watergate. John Dean and Richard Nixon had pointed fingers at each other but neither could produce proof to back up his statements. Then, Alexander Butterfield, a former White House Aide, told the Senate Watergate Committee that the President had secretly recorded many of his conversations. If those tapes could be found, one of them, Dean or Nixon, would be proven to be a liar.

France had pissed off Australia and New Zealand by doing some nuclear tests in the Pacific. Idiots. Today we were launching Skylab 3, the third attempt to fix the fucked up space station. The news just made me crankier.

We landed to find Rafael waiting for us. A silent trio rode back to Escorial. Almost as soon as we got back, Roger said he wanted to go back to the winery. I called his bluff and offered to go with him, and then he changed his mind and decided to stay. Asshole. We stayed at Escorial for exactly one night, and then he was beside himself, anxious to get back to LA. His appointment with his therapist had apparently fallen by the wayside.

I was about to dig my heels in when I got a phone call from Greg.

“Hey Stef, sorry I haven't called. I've been off on a shoot.”

“It's no big deal Greg. We have no commitments. But I did miss you.” I could feel his smile across the phone line.

“Anyway, there's a premier showing of American Graffiti tomorrow night, and I wanted to know if you'd go with me?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I am. But it's black tie. Think you can swing that?”

“But of course.” I went off to find Roger. “I need to get back to LA. You want to come along?”

“Sure,” he said. “What's going on?”

“I've been invited to the premiere of American Graffiti, that new movie everyone's raving about.”

“Who invited you?” he asked.

“Greg Anders,” I told him, and smiled inwardly as he seethed with jealousy.

“Yeah sure, might as well go.” He was an idiot if he thought his nonchalant act fooled me.

Another quiet flight back to LA, and a drive to the house in Malibu. I resolved that that was the last plane ticket to LA I was buying him. If he was going to keep on being a whore, he could fund it himself.

July 29, 1973

I stared at myself in the mirror, pleased at the reflection. I was wearing black tie and it suited me. Black suits everyone, but I had gotten my hair to be perfect tonight, it was long and slightly feathered back on the sides. I saw Roger watching me from the bedroom.

“You look good,” he said and kissed me. Now that I was going on a date with Greg he'd gotten all lovey-dovey and actually made an effort at sex this afternoon. It was the first good fuck we'd had in weeks.

“Why thank you. I will probably be out late if there's an after-party. What are you going to do?”

“I'm kind of tired, so I think I'll just crash.” I knew he was lying. He'd be with Peter or someone else, but I just ignored him. Let him do what he wanted.

I strolled down to Greg's house and was slightly disturbed to find that he looked better than I did. “You are being rude,” I told him after I broke off our passionate kiss. “You are not supposed to look better than your date.”

“I'm not. That's why I invited you.”

“You are a sweet talker. Are you not worried about being seen with me in public?”

He laughed. “You're used to hanging around with the front men. I'm not an actor, so it doesn't matter if I'm gay or not. I don't flaunt it, but it's common knowledge.”

I put my arm through his and followed him to the waiting limo. What a thrill to be out and about with someone and not have to hide. He was a horn dog in the limo, so I gave him a quick blow job before we got to the premiere. That didn't slow him down. The entire movie he kept leaning over and nibbling on my ear, or nuzzling my neck. I was hard the whole time.

As we left there were several flashes. “You'll be famous now,” he joked. “Greg Anders’ new boy toy.”

“You are so vain. The headline will read that you are Stefan Schluter's boy toy.”

“There's an after-party if you want to go.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked him, flirting.

“I want to go home and rip that tux off your body.”

“Let's go,” I said.

Greg must not have had much sex on his shoot, because he was really wound up. He fucked me until I was so close I thought I would have to cum, and then he backed off and really surprised me. He lubed himself up and asked me to fuck him. He was no JP, no one is JP, but he was close. I flooded his ass.

“Spend the night,” he said, more of a command than a request.

“If I do you will think I am easy.”

“That is true, but unlike most people, I think of that as a compliment. What about your boyfriend? Won't he be jealous?”

I looked into his eyes as I moved in to kiss him. “I do not really care.”

I got home the next morning around 10am. Roger wasn't home, he'd already gone out, although how he did that I didn't know. I kept my car keys with me now. He could get his own fucking car if he wanted to drive anywhere.

I decided to head up to see Peter. We hadn't talked in a while, and now that we were just friends, I was enjoying him more and more. The fact that he was spending lots of time with Roger didn't really bother me. I got to his house and strolled in. No need to knock, I decided that I was beyond that.

I heard moaning in the other room and peeked in to see Peter with Roger. Only this time it was different. This time it was Roger fucking Peter. That really shocked me. First of all, Roger has a big dick and Peter isn't used to that. Still, from what I could see he was certainly enjoying himself. Second, it surprised me because I didn't think he could let someone fuck him, and then get fucked by him.

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” Roger cooed. Peter moved away from him and turned Roger around, entering his ass slowly.

“You like it when I fuck you don't you?” he said.

“Oh yeah Peter, you feel so good.” What the fuck was this? He'd never been able to express himself like that with me. I was pissed, not pissed enough to make a scene, but pissed enough to join their private party.

I stripped off my clothes and walked into the room and right up to Peter. I wrapped my arms around him. He was shocked for a second until he realized it was me. “Hey Stef. What a great surprise,” he said. Roger looked pissed, furious.

“Hey baby,” I whispered in his ear. Then I looked down at Roger. “Fuck him harder Peter.” Roger was red with rage but he loved it at the same time.

“My turn,” I said and Peter pulled out. Roger tried to stop me but I rammed my dick into him. His ass was loose, the loosest I'd ever had. I fucked him hard and angry, slamming into him while we glared at each other. I felt Peter behind me, entering me, and that just completed the picture. I'd never fucked someone violently, but I did now, smashing into his ass. His glare changed and his eyes rolled back into his head as he shot his load all over himself, string after string of cum. I pulled out of his ass and stroked my dick to orgasm and mixed my strings with his. He looked like a cum covered slut. It was hysterical. I maintained my rhythm until Peter blew too.

“Thanks boys,” I said, and put on my clothes. Then I headed to my car and back to Malibu without a word to Roger. He didn't come home that night, which was just as well. The locks were changed so he wouldn't have gotten in the door anyway.

I wandered around my house. Jason was gone, and so was Consuela. I was alone and bored. I wanted to walk down to see what Greg was doing, but I thought that might be too forward. Then again, he was a lot like me. What would I say if he showed up to fuck around? I'd be thrilled. I strolled down the street to his house. I stared at it, contemplating whether to knock or not, and then I decided that I was being stupid. The worst he could do is say he was busy. I rang the doorbell.

I heard footsteps and I expected his housekeeper to answer. Instead, he answered the door himself. I was almost quaking in my shoes until I saw the big smile on his face. “Stef! Come on in.”

“I'm sorry for just dropping by,” I said.

“Fuck that. You come by anytime you want. If I'm busy, well, you can always join me.” I giggled.

“So did you come over here to watch movies?” he teased.

“No, I came over here to fuck.” He laughed and led me up to his bedroom. I hadn't really gone there for sex. I'd gone there because I liked being with him. But I knew if I said that it would probably freak him out, so I went with the baser emotion.

Not that I minded the sex. He was terrific, just terrific. When we had sex it was more like a dance than an erratic stabbing of part A into part B. But when it was over and I got to lie there with him, running my fingers through the hair on his chest, staring at his long, handsome face with his straight nose, looking into those violet eyes....then I got to just be with him.