NOTE: This is a previously published work. The title, author, and/or publisher may have changed.
Nasty Boys- previously published in Chasing the Dream Anthology
Firefighter by day, sex god by night, ‘Clyde’ chased his dream in Hollywood to be the top gay male porn star in West Hollywood. What Clyde didn’t expect was a little help from a pretty-boy superstar. ‘Blaze’ lights this fireman’s world on fire!
Firefighter by day, erotic dancer by night, he was living his fantasy. The change in music signaled the next phase of his routine. Clyde grabbed his crotch and humped his palm, lowering the brim of his hat down his forehead seductively. He could see the first few rows of standing men pushing against the stage as the whole room was on their feet, dancing and cheering him on. His image was on monitors, which played on each side of the room so the people in the back could enjoy the action. Being on film was an even bigger high.
Clyde lowered his black briefs, showing his shaved pubis. The men in the audience pumped their fists and demanded to see all. They chanting changed from "Clyde! Clyde! Clyde!" to "Cock! Cock! Cock!" until it was just an echoing noise in Clyde's ears.
With his left hand he rolled his palm over his ripped abdomen and chest muscles, touching his right tit. He pinched his nipple, getting it hard, making it jut out. With his right hand he dug inside his briefs and felt his cock swelling from the thrill.
Slowly, as he continued to thrust his hips in time with the music, he inched his package out of the material. The more he showed of his cock the louder the reaction from the drunken mob.
Clyde exposed his dick, tucking his briefs under his balls, and continued dancing. The exhibitionist in him was riding high. He flapped his dick up and down as it engorged from his excitement.
Men began reaching up to the stage, luring Clyde to let them touch him. Clyde stepped closer, thrusting his hips towards them. A few stretched up to reach, touching the head of his dick as it wagged up and down from his dance moves. The contact not only made the crowd insane, it drove him nuts. He tossed his hat to the side of the stage and dragged the tiny briefs down his thighs, spinning around and showing off his ass. Sweat poured out of him as he danced, like this was a gym workout. He kept reaching and pumping his arms, stepping side to side and up and back like an aerobics instructor.
He bent over, hands on his thighs and swayed his ass around, hearing the men going berserk behind him. Clyde licked an index finger and poked it into his rim, looking over his shoulder to see the reaction.
The elation from the crowd made him laugh. Clyde pivoted to face front again, dragging his briefs farther down his legs, all part of his rehearsed act. He yanked them off his ankles, and spun them on his fingers, pushing his crotch forward and making his nine inch cock wave at the crazed men. The routine was nearly over, but Clyde wanted to end with a bang. He wanted these men to remember him, not only for this contest—he wanted them to ask for him by name wherever they went.
Everyone was chasing their dream in LA. Clyde wanted to be famous, to have men shout to him on the street, watch porn videos of him, and make him the number one gay icon in West Hollywood.