But he had met Ron and Julie Feldman and they'd said no. The highly sexed Bowie image was still too strong for his particular audience – the teenagers, the little girls who would feel the first tingles of excitement in their pussies because of him. Sex would be his gimmick, but nothing as strong or as blatant as a David Bowie. Perhaps more like Mick Jagger…
He saw himself on a stage – Madison Square Garden, the Forum in Los Angeles, McCormick Place in Chicago, the Olympia in Paris, hell, the WORLD! He dreamed of getting up there in a white pair of pants, a shirt opened to his waist, grabbing that mike – holding it just like he held his cock when he beat off – and starting to sing. Then, Television. Then, movies. The WORLD!
It was quite a dream for a nineteen-year-old boy from the Midwest. Straight out of high school, he had packed his bags and come to New York. His suitcases were full of pictures of himself battered sheet music, movie star magazines and a few pieces of clothing. Somehow – with luck – he got a job singing in a little club in the Village. It didn't last long because the place was largely filled with homosexuals every night, and Terry wasn't ready to handle that. But the night before he quit, Ron Feldman walked in.
Terry met Ron and Julie the next day for dinner. They were impressed. They believed in him. They seemed to love him. They signed him to an exclusive contract to represent him in all fields. In a few weeks, Terry Peerce's picture appeared in a teen magazine – captioned as the "Upcoming Star of the Year." The picture and ad cost Ron a lot of money, but he figured it was worth it. Terry was their ticket to millions.
And now three months had gone by three months of hard work, without the chance to meet new people, without the chance to enjoy himself. Three months of lessons and recordings and pictures and coming home to an empty apartment.
Terry got up from his desk and turned on one of his demonstration records. He took off his clothes as he sang along with himself. "Walking in the sunshine, holding your hand in mine, happy in the sun, happy in the fun…" It was bubble gum crap, but it was a possible seller.
He stepped into the shower and soaped his body. He started playing with his cock, but stopped suddenly. If he planned on masturbating, he was going to do it right. He rinsed and then washed his long, shaggy hair. He dried himself as the song played for a third time, and then he finally shut it off and sat on the floor in front of the mirror and dried his hair.
As he held the hair brush in one hand and then comb in the other, he thought of Lindy Travis. He'd never met her, but, of course, he'd heard about her. He remembered seeing pictures of her in the newspapers and gossip magazines – pictures of her at the hospitals after her mother's famous suicide attempts, pictures of her with her many stepfathers, pictures of her at her mother's funeral. Susan Travis had been almost as big a star as Judy Garland. Now her daughter was ready to take over for Mama.
Ron told Terry he'd meet Lindy soon – and when he said it there was a glimmer in his eye, something sexual. At least that's what Terry thought. At nineteen he was still a virgin, and hadn't had a sexual experience since high school. And he didn't care to remember that – some jack-off sessions with the guys and an aborted attempt at fucking the high school slut when he was drunk and couldn't keep an erection. She'd wanted him badly, too – he was the best-looking boy in the whole school and every girl was after him. And when she saw the size of his cock she couldn't stop. She came at him like gangbusters, at a party, which frightened him and caused him to worry about this first screw even more. It didn't work. And he never tried again.
He wasn't afraid of sex, he was just green. He didn't have time – his career was the most important thing in the world. Besides, he wasn't attracted to anyone. Yes, he felt a great love for Ron and Julie – he realized Julie was a gorgeous woman and there was something about Ron that turned him on, too, but he pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind – but assured himself it was purely a kind of parental love. He was their new child. The only other person who turned him on was Lindy Travis.
Lindy, Travis! I've never even met her! He clicked off the dryer, shook his head so his hair fell into place, and looked down at his hard cock. It was looking back up at him. He had a stiff erection and he knew he had to do something about it. It was the story of his life – masturbation. It was his only real pleasure…
He loved the sensation of coming. Everyone did, he knew that, but he was addicted to it. He had to have it more than anyone he'd ever read about or any guy back in high school who talked freely about sex. He loved doing it in strange places – in bathrooms in the New York subway, in a dressing room at Bloomingdale's, in a crowded subway car. He'd fill his undershorts with cum, he didn't care. Even in the window of his apartment. There was a streak of exhibitionism in him – there had to be. If he wanted to get up in front of thousands of people and sing and show off his body – and it manifested in little quirks like these. He pretended not to know he was looking out the window, so anyone watching him – he was never sure anyone could actually see him from the building across the way, or even cared to – would believe they'd discovered him there, that he had either forgotten to pull the drapes or he thought he was out of view. Terry always liked to think there was a sweet young girl looking at him with her fingers stuffed between her legs, and the image in his head would cause his balls to tighten and his cock to shoot his load across the room.
He stood up and took his cock in his hand. It was very big, especially for his body, which was tall and slim. He sat down on the bed. And spread his legs. Then he fell back and kicked his feet in the air, moving his other hand down over his balls.
"Oh, man," he whispered, as his fingers crept down to his asshole. He played around there and then pressed directly on the opening and gasped again. He always liked anal stimulation best – it did something to him nothing else did. The shivers went up his spine and he closed his eyes tight and moaned. Then he pushed his finger into his anus and stopped at the first knuckle.
He started stroking his cock, making sure his fingers stimulated the thick rounded head. He thought of Lindy Travis lying naked on a bed. Ron Feldman stood above her, unzipping his pants, leering. Lindy reached up and pulled Ron's cock out of his pants. It was big and hard and she took it into her mouth for a minute, wetting it, and then she fell back again and opened her pussy lips with her fingers…
Terry pushed his finger farther up his asshole. He felt the exciting stimulation on his prostate and he moved his legs farther apart, rubbing his balls with the bottom of his wrist, twisting the finger up his asshole. He thought of Lindy poking her finger up Ron's asshole, of Julie sticking her whole hand up Ron's asshole as he shouted in pain, beating his cock.
Terry pulled his finger out of his ass and jumped off the bed. He opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a magazine from under his shorts. He turned to a familiar page, his favorite page. There, in living color, was a picture of a girl who resembled Lindy Travis. She was sitting on a stool with her legs spread wide. Her pussy was pulled open by her fingers and cum was dripping out of the folds. On each side of her stood a good-looking young man. The one on her right had his cock resting against her shoulder, a drop of cum still on the tip. Terry imagined he had just fucked the girl, since his cock was very red and swollen. And to her left stood a guy with his cock stuffed down her throat. Cum was streaming out of the corner of her mouth and there were tears in her eyes.
He stared at the picture a moment, then set it on the floor and stooped down in front of it. He moved his hand down under his asshole and pushed his finger up into it again this time as far as it would go. He wriggled it around and gasped. He looked at the girl – the huge cock stuffed in her beautiful soft mouth, breaking her jaw, filling her throat with jism – and took his cock in his hand and started pulling on it, making sure to aim it away from the magazine. He didn't want to get cum on the picture.