Haven’t written in a while; gotta do some catching up!
Well, this little boy from Nebraska got a real
Hollywood break. Got my first job eight months agoon a
Kazan film! “A Streetcar Named Desire,” with Leigh and
Brando. Grunt work mostlychanging bulbs, untangling
wires, etc. But it was a foot inand a chance for me to
see the Marlon Brando strut around bare-chested and
sweaty as hell. My hots for him go back a long way. So
Marlon was kind of a bastard on set, which he’s known
for. Just being gruff and domineering, just like you’d
think. Pissing people off. Never dealt with him myself,
though. Until the wrap party last night.
The whole cast AND crew was invited to a shindig at
some bigwig’s house, I don’t even know whose. The place
was crazy! Guys and girls dancing around everywhere,
booze flowing for free. Big names everywhere you
looked. I even got a tux, even though most didn’t
bother. Brando didhe looked delicious, I tell ya. As
my grandma would say, “he cleans up real nice.”
And I noticed that he seemed to be looking deliciously
at me. I mean, sure. Most people know Marlon swings
both ways, but I just thought it must be all the
champagne getting to me. I was getting real drunk real
quick. And it was pretty obvious he was getting blotto,
maybe not even knowing where he looked. But when he had
a couch to himself he motioned me over. I went and sat.
“So,” Marlon slurred, “I wanna know whatcha’ been
lookin’ at me for all this time. Since the fuckin
picture started, you just stare at me. Why?”
I feigned innocence. “Mr. Brando, I haven’t been
staring at all. Just doing my job, is all.”
He laughed loudly, then leaned in close. I noticed that
his pupils were bigger than they should be; it wasn’t
just Jack Daniels he was high on. “Kid, if your job’s
drooling over another guy’s cock, you’re doing swell.”
Marlon didn’t give me a chance to fake being offended
before he just mumbled, “C’mon,” and headed for the
marble stairs. I almost didn’t go; what if just wanted
to get me up there to kick my teeth in? But I knew I’d
always wonder, so swaying I went after him.
I caught up with him in the master bedroom. There was a
round satiny bed with the guests’ coats all piled on,
and big windows overlooking the drive. He stood with
his back to them, facing me. “Shut the door,” Marlon
said. I watched him take off his jacket and pull down
his suspenders. “Now get over here,” he growled. I got
directly in front of him; he put his hands on my
shoulders and rammed me down hard on my knees. He
unfastened his pants and let them drop, sliding off a
pair of silk shorts (funny, a tough guy like him
wearing blue silk shorts!).
Marlon was big, all right. It was as big and gorgeous
as the rest of him, but I managed to get my mouth
around it and start sucking for all I was worth. He
reached down and grabbed the back of my head with both
hands, pulling me back and forth on him. So there I
was, kneeling on the floor blowing a sexy movie star in
some producer’s bedroom. With the door unlocked and
right in front of those big windows. Granted it was
dark inside, but still!
I had my eyes closed, but I could feel and hear Marlon
taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. I looked
up in time to see him peel his white strappy undershirt
off. It still gives me chills to think of how rock hard
his hairy chest looked, and how flat and firm his
stomach was.
Suddenly he pulled away. “Okay, kid. Pants off.”
Frenzied now I jerked my rented pants down with my
plain Y-fronts. My own cock sprang up, all stiff and
drippy. “Shoes too,” Marlon added, “I’m not gonna get
kicked by those clodhoppers.” I kicked them across the
floor.
He sat me on the edge of the bed, fur and camel’s hair
at my back. Those massive arms guided my legs high up
in the air. The kinky bigwig had put a round mirror
over the bedI could see myself splayed out and Marlon
getting ready to rip me apart. He spat into his hand
and rubbed it on himself, poking his dick against me to
find the right spot. Gripping my ankles he crammed
himself in me, and it took everything I had not to
scream because it hurt. After two or three jabs,
though, it was smoother sailing.
I just kept looking straight up, watching Marlon fuck
me like no one ever had. He bent down over me and
shoved my legs back more; I could see the muscles in
his back and ass working as he pumped. The tux pants
and silk shorts were puddled down by his wingtips,
still on. His face was close to mineall the whiskey on
his hot breath mixed with his Old Spice aftershave to
make the manliest smell I’ve ever come across. The fur
coats bounced and brushed against me.
Marlon snorted and muttered under his breath, stuff
like “oh yeah little bitch, you like it huh you pansy,
yeah, big man like me all up in you, all up in your
ass, oh take it take it HARDER.” I jerked on my own
throbbing cock; he said, “That’s right, you play with
it. Play with your gay little prick, you little bitch.”
Looking at Marlon Brando, all sweaty and panting and
muscley and shoved up in me, it didn’t take long before
I blew, a big load all over my tux jacket and shirt.
A couple minutes later he started moaning so loud I was
afraid every one of the 200 people downstairs heard
even over the brass band. He pounded me harder, so hard
a glass figurine shook off the nightstand and broke on
the rug. Abruptly he bent and pressed his full lips
against mine, thrusting his tongue around in my mouth.
He came as he kissed me, grinding slowly and making
almost girlish whimpering noises as his juice squirted
in my ass. Once finished he quickly jerked his head
back, seeming embarrassed. He pulled himself out; what
felt like cupfuls of spunk dripped out onto the bed’s
satin sheets and the minks.
Silently Marlon got up, grabbed his clothes, and walked
to the open door of the bathroom. His chiseled body
gleamed in the moonlight streaming in. He dried his
cock on a hand towel that he left on the rack, then
pulled his clothes on. Checked himself in the mirrorI
swear, not a hair out of place! As he put on his tie he
snorted, “Kid, you’re in the wrong business. Sell that
ass and you can retire a millionaire.” With that he
stumbled back out into the hall and shut the door.
I lay there for a minute, my pants around my ankles and
my jizz sprayed all over me. My ass hurt like hell, but
I had to make myself crawl into the bathroom and clean
myself up. We’d been in there for less than 15 minutes
but I felt like I’d spent a week getting butt-fucked by
a Louisville Slugger. But man oh man, was it worth it!
I went back to the party, knowing that I looked a wreck
but not sober or sensible enough to care. No one really
seemed to noticeall pretty loaded themselvesand I had
some nice chatty conversations. But a few peoplethey
looked at me in a really sly way, like they knew. Not
the peons like me, but the stars and the star-makers.
They seemed to know.
I spotted Marlon from time to time, usually chatting up
some busty girl in one corner or another, a drink in
his hand and a suave smile on his face. But he didn’t
so much as glance my way for the rest of the two hours
I stayed. Went home and soaked in a steaming hot tub
before falling into bed, but every muscle in my body
still feels twisted today.
Long story short? I think I’m gonna try and get work on
Brando’s next picture. Granted he’s sort of a pain in
the ass to work with, but I think with a little more
experience I can handle these Hollywood types a little
more easily…
