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The Hollywood Agency Book -1-
Chapter 1: "Openers and Beginners!"
John Meyers’ agency was one of the premier agents for models and actors in town. At least, that's what the ads for ‘JM Modelling Agency’ said. The founder, CEO and most prominent figure of the agency, John Meyers himself, liked to be on talk shows and seemed to be always in the spotlight of the cameras. He himself had come up with the name ‘JM Modelling Agency’, but he liked to hear the name the headlines had used so often by now: ‘The Hollywood Agency’.
The offices of ‘JM Modelling Agency’ were unprepossessing and the male secretary in the front office, obviously the person anybody had to talk to get an appointment, was a frilly queen named Troy.
If a potential new client, walking into the office for the first time, was a good looking young man, Troy did not hesitate to tell him things like “Sit your your pretty ass down” and Mr. Meyers would be with him "momentarily."
John Meyers evidently trusted the young assistants judgement, and if Troy declared a new face to be "interesting", the Boss talked to the potential client in question, no matter what.
The good looking young man who today had shown up at the door of the agencies’ office suite used the name ‘Callum Masters’. It could be his real name, or it could be a name that he had given himself as he ran away of his parent's house, out of the clutches of an overprotective Mom or an abusive Stepdad.
It was not really relevant to Troy, and he just checked the young man's driver license to find out his age. As he started to set up the new clients file, he copied the ID and driver license, and took three quick snapshots with a digital camera.
It was highly convenient that the young man just wore tight jeans and a t-shirt, so formfitting that the sexy outfit clearly showed the boy's very muscular upper body.
After having taken the pictures Troy, making little noises with his tongue, told Callum to sit “on his pretty ass” and wait.
Callum glared at the faggot, but he did sit down. For a moment, he had a twinge of doubt. Had he really had chosen the right agent? But then the door opened and he saw the Boss, Mr. Meyers, who immediately ushered him inside.
It took only a few minutes for the man to put all of Callum's fears to rest. It had never been so easy for Callum to talk about himself. Mr. Meyers wanted to know his story, and he had the air of a ‘Father knows best’ that made Callum wish this man was his ‘real’ father, not the man he had to call Dad, his Mom’s second husband. He told Mr. Meyer the whole story, and the man seemed more than interested.
Callum remembered one phrase vividly: “Fucking loser” The epithet echoed in his mind, as he angrily slammed the door and barrelled down the front steps of his childhood home. Callum figured that if he'd had ten dollars for every time he heard those words from his stepfather he'd never have to go to work again.
The young man realized that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he wasn't stupid either.
He knew he needed an education or some type of formal training if he was going to avoid the dead-end type of job his old man was mired in. But, despite all the shit he took trying to get his stepdad to understand that, it was only because of his Mother's dogged insistence that his father had finally agreed to let Callum attend community college.
Of course, his Stepdad couldn't resist telling everyone that it was just going to be a waste of time and money – the ‘fucking loser's’ time and his hard earned money.
School came hard for Callum, though he tried, despite what his Stepfather might think. He mastered most of his classes at college, even if he had difficulties following some of the lectures. He'd learned some useful things. Particularly in the Fundamentals of Business Theory class he was taking during Spring semester. Sure, a lot of the graphs and the most of the mathematical mumbo-jumbo had eluded him, but there was one principle he had managed to grasp:
It was a quote his Professor liked to tell everyone: “Individuals, like businesses, needed to accurately assess their strengths and their weaknesses and pursue a strategy that exploited their strengths and minimized their weaknesses”.
Thinking about this after the lecture was over, Callum decided to do just that.
Later that night, as he wrote a personal assessment, it was pretty obvious where his strengths lay: He might not be a heavyweight in the brains department, but he was surely one hot looking dude.
Mr. Meyers had followed his new prospective clients narrative with interest, making all the right noises to help the naive man-boy in front of him to open up and trust him. The young man had great potential, and the agent knew perfectly well he could have a great career, if only monitored, trained, and managed by the right agent.
He sat back as Callum talked, and drank in the young man's features.
Just over six feet tall, with large hard pecs and the most prominent nipples, down to a ripped six-pack and two big, heavily muscled arms hanging down from wide shoulders, muscle-packed thighs and calves and two round, meaty buttocks, Callum stood out from the crowd and cut quite the figure as he strode down the street.
Adding to this was a classically symmetrical face with sea-green eyes set off beneath a shock of dark brown hair and it wasn't surprising that he was used to having girls turn around to get a second look as he walked by. He often used to take a quick glance at himself in any mirror, and Mr. Meyers assured Callum that it was obvious that he should be aiming at a career that exploited his looks.
Hearing this just boosted his trust in the man. Callum had already decided he would love to have Mr. Meyers as his agent, and as the man asked him to describe his goals, he told Meyers he ultimately thought he'd like to get into acting, but he figured he'd need some minimal training for that and he knew his old man would never pay for Callum taking acting and drama classes.
Besides, those classes were filled with fags, and Callum sure as hell didn't want to be associated with those freaks.
If Mr. Meyers was the least offended by that open display of homophobia, he did not show it. Callum never realized how he talked down to the man's trusted Assistant Troy, and the Agent never showed what he felt. He had already decided he wanted to manage the dumb young muscle hunk, and if this meant teaching the boy manners, Meyers would be just the teacher to do it.
No, Callum needed some other way to get in the public eye. Meyers had already figured out how the promising young man had to be promoted, and he figured that once that was accomplished he'd shoot up like a rocket. But how to do it? That was the question. And the more he thought about Callum's present situation, the more he realized that, whatever path he chose, it had to be one using the boy's most prominent assets to make some money right away.
Meyers sat back and enjoyed Callum's features, while the boy went on telling him what he had done before he reached the big city and saw the Agencies’ advertisements.
He had already gotten his mid-terms back and it was unlikely that he was going to pass the majority of his classes. If he flunked - make that, as soon as he flunked - he knew his old man would insist that Callum needed a job, but the young man wanted to get a job that gave him a future, not flipping burgers in a fast-food joint.
He knew this was the type of job his Stepfather had in mind, matching his skill levels.
Mr. Meyers still listened to the young man's story as the door opened and Troy walked in, or better, he swayed in, moving his hips like the most beautiful female secretary would have done in a stereotypical movie. He served the coffee he knew his Boss would take by that time, and smiled behind Callum's back as he winked. Meyer knew the cup for Callum was spiked.
Callum took a sip of the hot beverage with the creamy light brown foam on top of it, and he saw the smiley face the assistant had painted into that brown foam. The coffee tasted like nothing the aspiring actor had ever tasted. Strong and sweet, full of cream it seemed, nothing like the thin black liquid his Mom brewed since his Stepdad, Mr. Masters, never drank it any other way.
Mr. Masters would have simply refused to drink the beverage Troy had served. He always said he would never drink the “homo – brew” that the “damn gays” drank in those fancy coffee shops.
And Callum had heard enough of his Stepdad’s rants to believe them. He had quite the hard time to stay calm and sip the “Cappuccino” as Troy had called the coffee he'd served, some fancy Italian stuff they served at eight bucks in a fancy place Callum could not afford.
Mr. Meyers did not show how amused he was as he drank the perfectly brewed cup of coffee.
Troy's open display of the most over exaggerated “gayness” he could bring up had been hilarious, and it was nothing but a test for the new model the agency wanted to sign up.
By now Callum, totally oblivious, was still explaining what had made him leave home.
Uncertain of what he should do, he happened to catch a trailer for a Mark Wahlberg film. It was like a light-bulb had gone off inside his head. Wahlberg was a fucking huge star now but, from what Callum had once read, early on in his career the actor had done a stint of male-modelling. Sure, he had been in a boy-band as well, but then ‘Marky Mark’ definitely got himself major exposure as an underwear model for Calvin Klein.
And that was just the type of exposure Callum was looking for. The model ‘Marky Mark’ had been just one step for Wahlberg, so Callum had figured this would be just the right first step for him, too.
Of course, Callum realized that he couldn't expect to start out modelling for Calvin Klein. He'd probably have to start some place lower in the pecking order. But male modelling seemed to be the ultimate way to go. He had to exploit his strengths.
The only problem Callum saw were the fags in the business. Maybe as many fags in the modelling business as in acting. Everyone knew that, he openly told Mr. Meyers. By now he already fully trusted the powerful, manly man who had listened to Callum's story for the last 30 minutes.
Meyers did not show what he thought as Callum went on with a real homophobic rant:
Hell, some of those creeps might think that Callum was a fruit just like them, even though he was nothing like those pansies, some might even come on to him. Well, if any fucking faggot made a pass at him, Callum would set him straight real fast – beat the crap out of the little fucker , he almost spat out, full of disgust.
Meyers still maintained a straight face.
Callum explained that he was pretty confident he could handle himself around faggots, but a lot of the people who weren't in the modelling business might think he was a fag just because he was a model and Callum wasn't sure how he felt about that. He nervously talked a mile a minute, unable to stop himself.
He looked at Mr. Meyers for advice, but for now the man all but prompted him to open up more and tell him all he needed to say. After all, Meyers confirmed, they needed a trustful client-manager-relationship so the agent would find just the right jobs for the young promising model.
John Meyers was at least forty, Callum guessed, but he had kept himself in a good shape for an older guy. He had a full head of dark brown hair, flecked with gray, and while he certainly wasn't in Callum's league, he was good-looking enough that Callum could imagine that he had modelled himself when he was younger.
Mr. Meyers also sported a wedding band on his ring finger which helped to alleviate one of Callum's fears. By now the young man was relaxed enough to go on and open up, telling the man he wanted him to be his Agent and Manager and told Meyers’ all he thought he needed to tell him.
And Meyers? He sat back, relaxed, listened to the young man's story, and silently considered how to put him through his paces, market him, make the most of the annoying homophobe the guy was. He drank his coffee and gave no sign of his true feelings and the lewd traps he already laid out for the dumb muscled jock.
Callum confirmed that he worried for awhile about all he just had told Mr. Meyers before he realized that the exact same thing must have happened to Wahlberg. A lot of people probably thought that he was a queer too when his picture was plastered all over billboards, him wearing only skimpy tighty-whiteys.
Meyers spoke up and said just what Callum had figured out as well: It hadn't hurt ‘Marky Mark's ‘ career. Fuck, man, nobody thought Mark Wahlberg was a queer boy now. He was a big, macho, alpha-star. And that's just what Callum wanted to be. Male-modelling might just be his ticket to success.
He sat back in his chair and took a last sip of his coffee. His face changed once again as the last, overly sweet but also a little salty and bitter liquid ran down his throat. Mr. Meyers sat in front of him, showing all the signs he wanted to project, the signs Callum needed to build up the trust to go on, to tell even more of his inner fears and thoughts.
Meyers knew he would use all of it later, while handling the young man, leading him trough a trivial crisis that would inevitably occur some day. The whole interview was filmed, with several perfectly hidden cameras, and Meyers knew the day would come to use the rants this boy spouted to tighten the reins on him.
In open, relaxed, liberal Hollywood you could piss off many important influencers with an openly anti-gay point of view, and if Callum was once painted as a MAGA moron, his career would be over.
Meyers drank in the sexy athlete and started to imagine what he would do to him. Callum would be a lot of fun, and would make Meyers a lot of money.
Callum, oblivious of all of that, sat the cup back on the desk and went on with his story.
He told Meyers that he had made up his mind to give male-modelling a try, but realized that he didn't have the faintest idea how to get started.
One thing he did know, though, was that everyone in the modelling business seemed to either work for an agency or have a personal agent and he figured he needed to get himself one, too. So he decided to do just that.
And, as things now turned out, it was not only incredibly good luck but a hint of fate that he had landed such a great agent on his first attempt.
Callum had heard that John Meyers was one of the premier agents for models and actors in town.
At least, that's what the ads for JM Modelling Agency said. Callum knew you couldn't trust everything you saw in print, but he figured that you couldn't put up a claim like that in the on-line yellow pages if it wasn't true. He called Mr. Meyers' office just a week after his Business Theory class and Mr. Meyers was able to see him the next day. Callum should consider himself very fortunate, the officious secretary informed Callum on the phone. A previously scheduled client had no time for a photo shoot, and they were able to squeeze Callum in. Otherwise it would have been at least a month before Mr. Meyers would have found time to meet with him.
Callum was more than thankful Troy had been able to fit him in, so the aspiring model at least tried to be nice and civil to the office clerk.
And now, feeling more and more relaxed and openly telling Mr. Meyers all he wanted to tell, Callum was on the right path.
The powerful Agent thanked the young man for his trust and told him to make another appointment for the next morning. As the man watched the sexy model walk out, he had to adjust his cock in his trousers.
He needed a break, and a friend had told him were to get the distraction he needed now.
Meyers took his shiny, almost new Bentley Convertible and drove down Hollywood Boulevard.
Someone had told him he had seen a sexy little hunk right at the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Edgemont, near the BuffBoyzz Strip Club.
His friend had shown him a picture he had taken with his phone, and Meyers decided to take his chances and look for the boy in question.
Slowing down, he saw the boy for real. This hunky little athlete was flaunting his goods so openly that Meyers wondered why Vice had not already arrested him. The boy looked pretty young, maybe just 18, and must have been any cheerleader's wet dream at home in the small town high school he attended.
Every inch of the boy looked like a hard working, corn fed Midwestern farm boy, with muscles from toiling in the fields and in the barn and with a bulge that looked like at least one sock had been pushed inside the teasingly small cut-offs the boy flaunted.
Meyers stopped the car at the curb, pretending to check an email on his phone, and the boy took the bait like a fish, Hook, Line and Sinker.
His hands were on the door of the expensive car as he leaned in, showing a pearly white perfect smile, asking innocently: “Would you give me a ride, Sir?”
He knew the man would like what he saw, and so the boy did not wait for an answer, but hopped in. His bare chest and very short, very tight cut-off 501s did show the goods he had to sell, and Meyers was open to buy. He simply started the car and sped off.
“I'm Dylan, and you?” the boy asked.
He must have heard about the strategy to prepare a good deal, and wanted to lead the talk, it seemed. His legs were spread, as if his nuts needed the space and Meyers drank in the smooth, caramel coloured skin of the fresh young man. His pecs were round and topped with nipples that had seen toys before now, sticking out like pencil erasers. The boy's abs were tight, almost an eight pack, and his arms were well formed and muscular. Meyers had seen the boys long, muscled legs, perfectly presented by the work boots and white socks he wore, and he actually carried a helmet with him, maybe to pretend he was a construction worker on lunch break.
He seemed to be a clever little whore, and Meyers smiled at him as he answered: “I'm John”
He drove right back to his office building. A nice little apartment with a private elevator was on the top floor, right next to a studio they used for the Agency as well. As he drove into the parking garage he parked at a lot with no extra markings, and as they entered the private elevator, Dylan was impressed enough to be basically putty in the hands of the rich man.
Meyers walked into the Penthouse, followed by an almost overwhelmed young man. He offered his guest a soda, and Dylan seemed to be picky as he chose a still originally sealed can of soda to be sure nobody would drug him. A boy had to be careful.
He had no idea that Meyers was much more influential than the naive boy could imagine. Meyers knew someone at the local soft-drink bottling plant, and these guys had added a special ‘secret recipe’ to the mix before the cans were filled and sealed. Meyers had several beverages in his icebox, like Coke, Sprite, and water, all well prepared to be served to young guests. Dylan had chosen one of several, and drank without any suspicion.
Meyers had poured himself a cup of coffee and watched the sexy young man he had lured into his trap.
The signs were obvious. Dylan's heart rate went up and provided the extra power needed to fill all those veins with enough blood to pump them up deliciously. The boy looked ripped, his nipples hard and sticking out even more, and his dick formed a thick tube in his small cut-offs.
Meyers saw that he had underestimated the boy's dick. No extra sock was needed to form his huge bulge, the kid was hung like a bull.
Meyers knew the signs, and now asked simple questions. The boy's brain was already nicely drugged, horny and open for suggestions, but too dumbed down for any sophisticated discussion.
“Why don't you take off your boots, kiddo?” Meyers suggested to test the waters. Dylan reacted with wide open eyes, a slightly open mouth, and the clear signs of mental overload.
Meyers smiled broadly as he started again, in even simpler words: “Take of your shoes, boy, and get naked!”
This time the boy did understand, and kicked off his work boots, while he opened the buttons of his much too tight jeans cut-offs. Meyers watched him wiggle as he pushed the jeans down, since his round ass was as much in the way as his already fully erect dick.
Naked, the boy took another long drought of his spiked soda, and giggled like a little boy as the bubbles seemed to explode in his nose.
“Follow me!” was all the boy needed to follow Mr. Meyers to the next room, the playroom. Meyers opened the door and switched on the light, together with several hidden, high quality video cameras. He wanted to get his rocks off, that much was clear, but the little hotty was much to good to be wasted. He needed to be filmed, and later sold of to a porn studio or maybe a rich client.
Another short order was all Dylan needed to climb into the sling. He held his arms and legs open without prompting, and just moaned as the man cuffed his wrists and ankles.
“Suck my dick!” was the next short command, after Meyers had lowered the upper part of the sling down. His dick was perfectly lined up with the boy's full, red, inviting lips. The young rent boy sucked the man's dick deep into his mouth and showed his training.
Meyers felt the boy had been trained well, maybe since he was much younger, by a loving stepdad, an uncle or a devoted coach. The Agent silently thanked the unknown men as he face-fucked the sexy athletic boy, while he worked the nipples to their full size, making Dylan grunt and moan.
He carefully watched the boy for the signs of the drugs he had taken with the spiked soda, and the boy showed them all. He almost panted, his face was red, the veins on his dick and his muscles were bulging from high blood pressure, and his cock itself was almost bursting, being swollen to a size of nearly 9 inches.
Meyers pulled his dick out of the boy's willing mouth, leaving the boy alone for a short moment. He saw Dylan's tongue stuck out and licked thin air, and he knew the boy was looking for a dick to suck like a baby was looking for a pacifier.
It took the man only a minute to fetch what he needed. He wheeled a cart over, opened drawers, and took one of several clear plastic suction pumps out. The boy moaned as the man lubed his dick up and jerked it up and down for a few times, before he slid the cylinder over the dick. The first was almost too small, only ten inches long, but the next, a solid twelve inch device, fitted perfectly.
Meyers connected the cylinder to the pump, using a plastic hose, and switched the pump on. He also put some little suction cups on the moaning boy's nipples, and connected them as well.
Admiring his handiwork and the grunting, moaning boy, he slowly pushed his dick into the young muscled man's asshole.
Meyers knew the procedure needed fifteen minutes of preparation and several injections of an experimental serum, designed to replace lymphatic fluid in human tissue. The company sponsoring the procedure was also the developer of Meyers' sex drugs and never ceased to amaze the Agent.
He knew that the boy's dick would get much bigger than before the injections, and it would stay nice and meaty for good. He would still have some growth in it when getting hard, but it would never go under seven inches soft, with the goal of a solid ten incher when fully erect. The only 5' 7'' big boy would be hung like a freak, but this would just help his aspiring career.
Dylan grunted as his dick almost burst out of the cylinder. Fully filling the twelve inch cylinder for now, and surely aching, his dick needed the next stage of the procedure.
Mr. Meyers had done it before, and he wanted no witnesses. He injected the boy' cock as well as his nipples, and he watched the boy' s heart rate go down slowly while the drugs wore off.
Meyers' assistant Troy walked in without paying attention. He took the boy's possessions and snapped a few digital pics. His friend in the police department would check the computer and find out any known facts about the boy.
Troy asked his Boss: “You mind?” and Meyers knew the full question was 'if I fuck him' and he just nodded. He liked to watch his virile, sexy assistant, and the young man had a hard dick and loved to fuck hard.
Troy had a surprisingly huge dick and simply rammed it into the ass of the moaning boy. Dylan started to wake up again, and by now it made no difference any longer since he was tied up and the procedures were done. He looked up and moaned: “Wassup here?” as Mr. Meyers once more pushed his dick into the boy's mouth and started to fuck his face.
Meyers needed to unload his pent up cum shot to be able to calm down again and make some calls. Dylan needed to be taken care of, and Meyers knew the right place for the sexy, dumb, and super hung boy.
Meanwhile Troy still fucked the boy's ass. His phone rang and he answered without missing a beat. The man on the phone was Troy's contact in the Police-force.
Soon he hung up again with a report about the boy, the boys’ name, home address and his age.
Dylan had heated up the interest of his pervy clients and spiced up the negotiations about the price of his services by cheating about his age. He pretended to be tender sixteen, and by looking even younger he played a real jail bate.
He was turning on the lowest instincts of the clients, but without taking any risk.
He had turned eighteen a few months ago.
Troy now knew that Dylan would be able to play in porn for the open market from the start.
After Troy had told his Boss, he started to really ream the boy's ass, fucking him hard and deep, while playing with the pump on the kid's cock. Dylan grunted in pain and Troy was almost delirious with lust as he tortured the boy’s ass with his thick dick and rapid and deep moves.
Meyers still watched them fuck as he called an old friend, a former porn star and now owner of a studio, Brent Everett.
Born in 1984, the retired star was still good looking, but nowadays concentrated on production.
Meyers had pushed several of his young stars into Brent's focus, and both men had made millions.
Troy had streamed the video they had taken of Dylan to the server of Brent's studio to promote the young hustler.
Meyers joked, after Brent had confirmed he watched the live-stream: “He looks almost like you as a young gun, and he's young enough to be the son you never had” The silence on the other end of the line was almost deafening. Meyers knew that Everett by now had thought about the raw cut video taken some minutes ago, checking the boy out for size and blemishes. Everett only used the best looking boys.
After a minute of consideration, Brent chuckled into the phone: “I will take him. His new screen name will be Dustin Everett! I will fly over to meet and test him as soon as I can!”
After they hung up, Meyers giggled. Everyone knew Brent Everett's real first name was Dustin. His idea to market the sexy newcomer as Brent's son seemed to be intriguing.
As Brent Everett arrived at LAX, the airport for Los Angeles, he saw the familiar face of John Meyers, accompanied by a good looking young hunk. The former porn star and now owner of a famous studio knew the boy must be the new talent, Dylan, who would be marketed as Everett's 'son', Dustin Everett.
Everett's studio had already worked on a series of well prepared fake news stories to be launched by the usual 'well informed sources' and to be refuted by Brent himself. The gossip factory would brew up even more theories, a perfect advertising campaign free of charge.
As soon as Brent's alleged 'son' started to work for the studio, for the time being as a model for the underwear line and merchandise, learning the ropes of the trade, everyone would believe the fresh young man was the long hidden son of Brent and an anonymous women. Both Meyers and Everett smiled as they discussed the possibilities. Brent Everett, married to his husband for years, maybe a hidden heterosexual? Brent might have been raped by a woman? Brent has donated sperm to make a living in his early years?
John Meyers had quite some fun explaining what his Agency could do for Triple X Studios, Everett's company.
One 'source' even told the press that the woman had sadly passed away, and that Dustin had
only
found out about his Dad in a letter his late, beloved mother had left behind.
Meyers and Brent still grinned as the Limousine drove away from the airport and to Meyers' house in Beverly Hills. Dylan, or Dustin as he would now be called, knelt between the men on the spacious floor and alternated working on their huge hard dicks.
Brent's hands were in the hair of his 'son' as he forced the head of the cocksucker down on his fat dick. He did not care if anyone saw them, maybe even took pics, since this was all for promotion.
The sexy boy had already aroused the men too much to close their trousers over their cocks.
Brent Everett, still tight and sexy and well muscled as ever, wore stretch-jeans that highlighted his round ass and muscular legs, and left nothing to the imagination.
Even when his dick was soft it was huge, but now he had no chance of getting the massive hardon back into his jeans.
Meyers was equally endowed, and since his chauffeur, Troy, had parked the limousine right inside the huge garage of the mansion, no prying eyes could see any of the men.
Dustin, already naked, led the two men into the house, using their impressive dicks as handles to make them follow him. By now he knew were the playroom was.
Meyers had made clear that he wanted Dustin to work hard and impress his 'Daddy' Brent enough to sign a contract.
“Follow me!” was all the boy needed to say to Mr. Meyers and Mr. Everett to make them walk right into the playroom. Meyers opened the door and switched on the lights, together with several hidden high quality video cameras. He wanted to get his rocks off, that much was clear, but the little hotty was much too good to be wasted, Meyers knew. He needed to play his cards just right.
Dustin had to be filmed and later used as leverage to make Brent sign the contract.
If this didn't work out, they could always sell the footage of Brent Everett fucking his own son on cam to a true fan of his or any other rich client.
Meyers ordered Dustin to climb into the sling. The eager boy held his arms and legs open without thinking, and just moaned as the men cuffed his wrists and ankles to the chains holding the sling.
“He likes to suck dick!” was a comment Meyers gave to Brent Everett, “Just like you!”
The films of Brent sucking dick were legion, and he still looked good wrapping his full lips around a fat shaft. This would be the trademark of the newborn ‘Dustin Everett’ as well.
Meyers' dick was by now perfectly lined up with the boy's mouth, and it slid into Dustin’s throat without resistance. The sexy boy let the Agent's dick slide deep into his mouth and showed his training, while Brent Everett already lined up his cock and pushed it into the moaning boy's ass.
Brent had no idea that his already usually strong libido was even stronger tonight, as Meyers' limousine had some drugged sodas in the little icebox, and both Brent and Dustin had one each on the way from the airport.
Meyers fucked the boy's mouth like many other men since Dustin had started to sell his goods, and grunted as the boy's throat expertly massaged his cock. The Agent silently thanked the unknown men the boy had serviced before as he face-fucked the sexy athletic young man, while his friend and business partner fucked Dustin's ass, grunting profanities like “Take my cock, son, take your Daddy!” while he worked the boy's nipples to their full size, making the boy grunt and moan.
Dustin's dick was almost bursting, being swollen to a size of nearly ten inches, the same size as his “Dad's” dick, thanks to the powerful drugs and the size-enhancement. They really did look alike, and Meyers recalled the times he had fucked a much younger Brent, a boyish looking piece of smoldering hot fuck-meat.
Brent bred Dustin within ten minutes of a frantic fuck. He shot his load almost entirely into the boy's tight ass, pulling out for the last money shot, even hitting the boy’s sexy face after the sprayed his semen over the tight abs and the hard pecs of the muscular youngster. Brent always had been famous for his powerful cum-eruptions, and he didn’t disappoint now.
Meyers pulled out of the boy's mouth and took over his ass, while Brent slid his dick deep into Dustin's throat, groaning in lust, while his fat, legendary dick never went soft. Meyers watched Brent hold the boys head up as he started to fuck his soft lips and wet mouth. Brent raped the boy’s throat in a vengeance, giving John Meyers right what he wanted.
The footage of Brent Everett abusing his 'son' was priceless.
Meyers could not hold back, and as he came over the boys abs and pecs just like Brent had done before, the tanned skin of the sexy kid was coated with white cum, a perfect contrast to show on the video.
They shared a shower, soaping up each other, fucking the boy standing, making him kneel to suck their dicks, bending him over or making him do a handstand to suck and get sucked in all the wild positions a porn director can come up with. In the end, Everett was as spent as Meyers, and they shared Meyers bed, spooning the boy in their midst.
Brent and Dustin spent the night in John Meyer's huge bed, and much to Troy's delight they fucked the boy once more before breakfast, giving the spy cams even more footage.
The Everett's left the city in the morning for Brent's studio.
Another business deal well executed, John Meyers thought.
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