Aspen Easter Week

Aspen Spring Week

Former porn star meets current rock star

This is a totally fanciful story. I had prepared it last year for an Easter submission, but things got too busy. (I'm still working on the series I started a few weeks ago.) All characters and places are fictional, despite any resemblance to real figures (assuming that any entertainer is "real"). All characters engaged in sex (even if they self-ignite from the passion) are over 18. © Copyright, Brunosden, 2025. All rights reserved.

1

This story is true--or at least as true as any other story you read in the International Enquirer. It tells how I spent one of the most exciting weeks of my life, and how it set my life on a new course. Aspen is still talking about the non-X-rated aspects of the tale. If only they knew the whole story.

It was Easter Week in Aspen, and Easter was late this year--mid-April. Typically this week signaled the end of the ski season for our famous resort, but given the lateness of the holiday and the unpredictability of the impacts of climate change, even the snow-making equipment found it difficult to keep even a small amount of new snow on many of the slopes. Fuck, it was 70 degrees at the base of the mountain at mid-day!

This is a very busy time--with a combination of college spring break skiers and family time, spread over a few weeks as the various school vacations permitted families to travel together. But, this was the peak week, and the hotels were all jammed; the restaurants, all booked; the rentals, all full.

At City Hall, I was fielding emails, txts and calls--as though I controlled the weather! Aspen had more than 5000 visitors (assuming the day skiers from nearby Denver or Colorado Springs decided to stay home thanks to the conditions on the mountains). They wouldn't be able to ski; there were only a few arcades; really no museums; and only one movie theatre that held up to 400. Spring break college students and families didn't typically spend their days shopping in the expensive shops that lined the small downtown streets. If I didn't do something, we were going to lose a lot of money and we might lose their future patronage--and the hotel owners and merchants were calling every five minutes to ask, "What the hell are you going to do?"

Did they think I was God? I've been called that by many of my partners in the heat of a fuck, but they didn't really mean it, I assume.

On the other side of town, in a large rental property, ten UColo students were equally perplexed. They had come to ski. The last week of the year. The two late night pan-sexual dance clubs downtown were an added draw for them--but only after ten. And they all realized upon arrival that they should have watched the conditions more closely. There was no snow. What the fuck could they possibly do in this expensive little place? They had brought booze and weed for a week of après-ski, but hadn't planned for whole days off the slopes. They were all members of the CGMSC (Colo Gay Men's Ski Club)--better known as the "Gay Poles." Sexual activity was a given--but it needed to broken up with at least some skiing! Somehow, I thought they'd survive. Maybe they'd invite me to help.

I'm new to Aspen--Josh Reynolds, City Manager. This is my first ski season in the job. My family was originally from Old Virginia stock, but my father had moved to California in the 70s, after college, joined the counter-culture, ultimately married Mom and got a real job, and moved to Orange County where I was raised.

I graduated a few years ago from UCLA with a double major. I started in city management studies. Then, after appearing in a production, added drama, music and dance courses. I was going to try my luck at hitting it big on the screen or possibly the musical stage. Like so many others, I had taken on multiple minimum wage jobs while I auditioned for role after role, all unsuccessfully.

I did get one "break" of sorts (that is, a specific part of my anatomy): I had an anonymous 20 second stand-in "bare ass" double for my namesake. (It took well over an hour of filming for those seconds. And yeah, I could pass as a twin for the other famous Reynolds so there was a good deal of ogling. I think there were a few surreptitious photos taken to be sold as "celebrity porn.") They offered me a permanent slot dubbing for him, "butt" I didn't see the future. Maybe if they had also shot my dick.

I was in debt, sleeping on couches in friends' living rooms--rotating among them so as not to wear out a welcome, borrowing from the folks now and then. I was desperate.

Finally, there had been a breakthrough of sorts--my workouts, grooming and natural attributes paid off. I was invited to audition at Bad Boys' Club Films--a porn film producer. At first I had refused--not because I'm a prude, but out of fear that a porn appearance would destroy my "legitimate" career. Fuck, what career? But a month later, hungry and at the end of my rope, I had called and scheduled an audition, realizing that I'd have to get naked and fuck or be fucked to have any chance of getting a job. At the time I was bi, and not getting much action from either side of the aisle. But, nudity and sex were never an issue for me.

I was right on both accounts. Both the "director" and the cameraman managed to plug me. The screen tests--with me as both top and bottom--were returned a few days later, and preliminary audience testing suggested potential porn stardom. In other words, gays liked my bod.

God has really blessed me with looks, presence and charm. I've got what they call "wholesome cowboy good-looks." I'm just under six feet, gym-toned, with a squared symmetrical face that the camera loves. Dark "smoldering" eyes set in a perpetually tanned face. Shaggy dark hair (typically barbered at the kitchen sink with grocery shears), thin lips and a five o'clock shadow that appears at 11 a. m. And, yes, I'm hung, a shower/grower, uncut and groomed. In short, a gay dream. A man's man that takes and gives cock with equal attitude. I come on with boyish innocence and finish with take-charge athletic sex. I can play a top or a bottom with equal enthusiasm and success. If necessary, I can pound away for 20 minutes or so without cummin.

Over the next two years, I had performed as Slade Dagger in more than fifty porn flics, several of which had won AVN awards, the Oscars of Porn. Although I had a huge following on social media, the audience was narrow, and the film life of a porn star is limited. I was nearing the end of that part of my career--having appeared with several dozen of the other porn stars of the moment. Gay porn is very fickle. In one rear, out the next--so to speak.

I had always been an avid skier--although post-UCLA, I had little money to pursue that passion. One of my (Slade Dagger's) fans had learned of my passion and invited me via Grndr to a weekend of skiing at Aspen where his folks had a condo. I paid for the weekend with my ass. He was a good skier, but not as good at sex as he thought himself to be. It was an incredible weekend of athletic skiing, and, if the truth be known, not really so bad après-ski. My host was a really good guy--a pro football hunk, but he was predictably a professed top. He assumed I was his willing boy-bottom. He found out before we left that he also really enjoyed being under me (or riding me). He was really vers, a bottom for the right cock.

While there, I had met Kirk Matthews, the middle-aged tourism manager for Aspen, who also was gay, (and a DILF). We talked and danced at The Caribou Club's late gay night.

Kirk and I hit it off. We danced a bit--and thanks to the relaxation of the dress code on our night, after midnight, most of us were bare-chested and few were in knit boxers or even jocks or g-strings. Several guys invited me back to their place--including Kirk. But, I demurred from an assignation while there with my California fan. In my view, you go home with the guy that brought you.... That only made Kirk more interested. So he had persisted and I had accepted a return visit invitation in a week or so.

Kirk incidentally is about twenty years older than I, a trust fund kid, a "Daddy" type, but fit, reasonably endowed, total bottom and cock slut, and very appreciative of a really rough fuck. The return was a wonderful weekend on the slopes--and in his bed. Kirk turned out to be a power bottom with far more stamina than his age suggests. I also learned that he owned eight VRBO houses in Aspen, a restaurant, and actually was one of the political players in the little resort town.

Three weekends later, Kirk had dropped my resume (leaving out the film credits, emphasizing my management degree and experience) for the City Manager's slot. And, as they say, the rest is history. I moved to his bed for several weeks as I read into the job. Kirk and I still have a regular session now and then. But we've never clicked as a couple. Kirk, of course, knew of my past--and potential. But I never dreamed that a porn past might be an asset in this environment. I guess that's particularly true when the local political puppeteer is gay, wealthy and likes younger guys to fuck him.

So enough introduction. Back to the problem at hand....

2

How could we rescue spring week? Aspen had already erected a large tent (typically used during the summer months for the music festival on the grassy field near the river. It wasn't heated of course--and wouldn't withstand the snow's weight on the tent top--but the conditions were spring like--snow was not a likely danger; heat, if needed, could be handled with a few portables.

But we had only planned a few evening shows--a comedy, a jazz quartet, and the local chamber orchestra--probably non-starters for most of the younger crowd.

So I called in a few favors and within 24 hours, Kirk and I had conceived the "Aspen Easter Festival" during an unusually athletic encounter in Kirk's king. He was skeptical of my idea, but like always, I was able to convince him with twenty minutes of ass-pounding sex that turned him to mush.

The tent would hold about 800 guests. The local theatre company was currently doing a raucous, risqué comedy. They would perform one night. They also could provide some actors and musicians for a few other nights. A few out-of-work actor-singers from LA would fly out in a day, stay with Kirk, and perform for minimum AE stipends as the "Aspen Tenors"--and backup if we found a headliner. But we'd need a week's worth of performances, some pop-up food trucks and a relaxation of the city rules on drinking outside.

I decided we also needed a headliner--maybe a rock star. Or someone with Broadway cache. Or both. I called my assistant to begin the preparations for the installations in the tent--we would need to upgrade the lighting and the sound. Then I called Kirk to ask, "Who's in town this week that's famous--not necessarily rich, but famous? Someone who might be persuaded on a moment's notice to perform--without a large compensation package, but maybe a few promised perks--mountain passes for future years or even sexual favors. Someone who has broad appeal to young audiences.

Minutes later, Kirk brought me a short list of four names. All men. Two over-aged rockers--who could do backup but not headline. A dancer. And Ricki Lopez! Knowing me, Kirk bent over my desk, his ass within reach of my hand, as I perused the list. He had provided head-shots and provided a non-stop description of backgrounds as my hand spread over his butt and gently massaged. I always read and think better when I've got a hand on someone's ass or dick.

I liked one of the rockers, but Ricki was a current phenom--a Puerto Rican soft rock star that had captured like a billion 13-something young girls, then went international, and finally had become a gay icon when he had come out as radically bi. It was said he had over ten million Facebook followers; and, he had several platinum albums and three world tours already--and he was only 25. "Do you think we could get Ricki?"

"We'd be shooting for the moon. But, we'll only know if we try. If anybody can do it, you can, Josh. Maybe two shows--one aimed at the kids; one aimed at the 'adults'--that is, the gays. He's capable of doing both. I think over half my houses are filled with gays this week. In the future I think Easter week in Aspen is going to become Rainbow Week in Aspen. They are so many of us in town."

"Does he have some backup with him?"

"I'll try to find out."

"Set up a meeting if you can, Kirk. I'm headed home to get ready. Let me know what happens asap." By then, he had sat on the desk; I had extracted his dick from his jeans, inhaled it deeply, used my talented tongue, and sucked him off while a finger played with his hole. "Make this happen and there's more where that came form." I certainly knew how to get the best from my employees.

I went home to shower, douche, and change into one of my sexiest and most appealing outfits. I tousled my hair into the bedroom do that had worked so well on film. We're not talking LA, South Beach or a New York runway: tight worn jeans that whiskered my basket, a polo that I should have retired years ago--treadbare and tight, and a jock--to keep me a little hard, upright. I knew I still looked good, really good. But, I also wanted to look poor--and needy. I was putting on the boy-in-need act.

My physique, face and personality had never failed me before. The fact that I'm hung, really hung, didn't hurt either. I needed all the charm I could muster this round. I doubted that Ricki knew me or had seen any of my flics. But I was taking no chances. I was going to turn on the charm and take any of the consequences that he might throw at me. Let's see if the stories about him are true. I was ready to top or bottom. Whatever he wanted.

3

I appeared at Little Nell, picked up the house phone and called Room 4-C, one of the penthouse suites. "This is Josh Reynolds, City Manager of Aspen, for Mr. Lopez."

Ricki had answered his own phone. This was looking promising. He apparently wasn't surrounded by publicists and managers who would try to talk him out of a small audience gig. And it would definitely be easier one on one. "Yes, Kirk Matthews has introduced us. Come on up, Mr. Reynolds."

Seconds later I approached the door which was unlocked and cracked open. I knocked. "It's open, come in."

I entered and a smile lit up my face. I had home-court advantage and was already add-in. I turned and slid the lock in place. This was going to be easier and far more enjoyable than I had ever imagined. The suite was empty save one lightly muscled Latino. He was naked, kneeling provocatively with his arms on the back of the soft chair, staring out at Aspen Mountain. He had thoughtfully covered the damask with a large terry towel. His ass--oh fuck, what an ass, round and full, unblemished, naturally tanned and without a hair--was arched up in invitation. Shaved clean, silken. Holy shit. I hit the jackpot. World class. Even though he was presenting mostly ass, I realized and knew that he was beautiful--mocha skin and lightly muscled, loose balls hanging like the Bells of Adona between his spread legs. Seconds later, I also noted that he was hung and uncut with a professionally cut trapezoid of curly pubes. I knew his sultry bedroom face from the ads for his tours. Fuck, he WAS Latino volcanic sex, threatening to explode at any second. This was the stage image--and now it was the persona being offered to me. Ricki was one of the sexiest men alive--according to Entertainment Weekly--and now me.

Without registering recognition, Ricki began in a melodic teasing voice, "I'm looking out at all the snow that's not there, Mr. Dagger. Kirk tells me that you've got something to talk about and something to ask--and that you've got a proposal to make. I'm disappointed, really disappointed, not to be on the slopes. I was getting ready to leave Aspen. But, Kirk says you'll make it worth my time to stay. I know who you are and your reputation. You're going to have to soften me up first, Slade. I'm waiting."

I decided to skip the preliminaries and the denials. He knew who I was. My strategy was set. I was going to fuck the shit out of Ricki Lopez--so thoroughly that he'd be begging me to allow him to headline three nights in the tent! Maybe I'd even agree to back-up and service him at intermissions.

I moved to a spot in the room where he could catch my image in a large mirror and began to strip. I could see the smoldering looks, the tension and the expectation in his eyes as I slowly removed everything, lingering over the orange nylon jock that showcased my best feature. I pulled it down and slid it under my balls for effect, before pulling it off, ostentatiously smelling it and throwing it toward him. I stretched to pop my pecs, fluffed my near-erection, bounced my balls, and moved slowly behind him. He had watched it all with hot, watery, hooded eyes. But then, as I stepped toward him, his response was to bend his head into a submissive pose and arch his ass up higher. Ricki was a total bottom. Hungry for cock. Or maybe it was an act. His position suggested the opening scene in one of my more famous porn shots. He had obviously viewed at least some of them. I guess he knew my typical script and how to replay it.

The positioning was perfect. I moved in tight, slid my cock between his legs and poked his low hanging balls. I reached under and cupped his tits, grasping both nipples firmly until they popped and he groaned. He was gym hard--as I molded my chest to his lightly muscled back. He whimpered, actually almost like a kitten's mewling. Fuck he was so ready and so sub! My head moved to his shoulder where I nipped his delts, nape, then an ear lobe--leaving no telltale marks. He was a stage-star after all. Fuck, he was so hot, he was going to explode into flame. My right hand moved to his throat where I could control his breathing. I pushed his face to the side and took his lips, sucking and tongue-thrusting. He opened easily. Kissing Ricki was like sucking on the hungriest, sweetest mouth in the world. Our eyes were inches apart. I don't think I had ever taken a man who looked so hungry. Who was so ready to be dicked! We should have this on film! No it would burn up the film.

We necked for a few minutes as my hand alternated between pressing on his windpipe, pinching his nipples and stroking his long, hooded cock. Finally, he gasped, "Fuck me, Slade. Put that fuckin' parola deep inside. I don't want our first time to be a solo. I'm gonna cum."

"Not quite yet, Ricki." I released, and he groaned. I circled and squeezed the base of the shaft. Then I squeezed his balls and yanked them down from his crotch. He swore a series of unintelligible Latino curses and squirmed, trying to push his ass onto my cock. These were the classic hip moves that had made him an icon on stage. But I had him under control. Finally, he quieted. By then, my hands were already on his mounds, pulling them apart, exposing the dark rose that he had already lubed--and presumably prepped with some toy. He was already open. My tongue circled the rim and plunged inside as my hands held him steady. His response was immediate and dramatic: his ass pushed forcefully into me, wanting it deeper. I continued to eat, as he continued to moan.

"Oh fuck. That tongue feels so good. But, enough. Put it in. Por favor. Put it in."

At that second, my porn talents kicked in. I could finish this boy in less than a minute. Plunge, pound, crowd the nut, fist his shaft. And he's done. I wasn't sure whether that would get me what I wanted--a commitment to perform. But, those same porn talents had taught me how to prolong the "shoot." I backed off, wrapped and lubed. Then the head found its way to the tunnel of passion's gate. I paused, relishing the next few seconds when my cock would find another chute to stretch, conquer and own. Every new guy was a challenge and a treat. JR had never failed me before. This afternoon was no different.

But Ricki was obviously not a newbie. No sooner had I positioned when he backed violently into me and impaled himself deep enough to punch the nut. He sighed. "Fuck, right there, Slade. Right there. I've got you at the center of my being. Right where you should be. Leave it right there and let me enjoy your throbbing cock mating with my love nut. They dance really well together. They're in love already. You are so fuckin thick. And so fuckin hot."

I knelt at the edge of the chair and pulled him up into me, using a hand on his throat. Automatically, his head turned and our lips met again. It was the classic pose of total smoldering surrender. Should I ask him now? Maybe that's just too much. This guy is so hot that he's not going to be satisfied with one. I'm going to enjoy this. Then we'll talk--and I'll do him again if he cums through. I pulled out, and he moaned loudly enough for the entire hotel to hear.

I walked him to the bed, spun him around and dropped him on his back. "I wanna see that famous face writhing in ecstasy, Ricki. I'm about to do you as you've never been done before, boy. You are the world-class heartthrob singer. But, I'm a world class top."

"Yes sir. I like my fucks to be doms. Anything you say, Slade." He pulled up his legs and vee-d. I rolled him a bit and positioned again, stretching my arms out to hold him in a tight jack knife. With one thrust, I was deep, bottoming and stretching his chute. "Oh fuck. Si bueno. Now I know why I lusted after your film shots. Maybe your films even turned me."

I pounded for several minutes, reaching deeper and stretching his chute wider, as Ricki darkened and squirmed, trying always to bring me deeper and hold me there. Finally, he released his legs and used the heels of his feet to pound my ass, holding me tight. Then he came. Wow, did he cum. His whole body tensed. His anal muscles contracted like vises around JR. I felt the deep massage. Then I saw the flames ignite in his eyes. His gut trembled and contracted into a deep concavity. Until he spasmed, dry, then with creamy spurt after creamy spurt, covering our chests with his dulce de leche. He must have been saving for days. The room now reeked of his Latin musk. And I do I think the gob of cum on his chin was a nice touch. I moved down and licked it off.

It was enough for me. I released and filled the bulb with a huge load and fell onto him. Then his hands went into motion. They held my face to his as his tongue invaded my mouth. Then they moved to my sweet little ass and held me deep inside, reveling in the hardness which I had always been able to maintain.

Minutes later. "I think we just made an epic porn flic, papi."

"I agree, Ricki. That was really good--and really intense."

"Too bad my fans will never witness this. They should give awards for monumental fucks. That would sure get one. Now, let's have a drink. Now that you've softened me up, I'm ready for your pitch--but only if you promise me a flip whatever my response."

(Ah. He wasn't just a bottom. Very interesting.)

"I think I can handle that, Ricki. You are some hell of a fuck! I'd make a film with you anytime. And I'm pretty confident about my persuasive capabilities."

He smiled, very sure of himself. "I hope that's not your request, Slade. A porn flic is not in my future--even if it's for strictly private distribution."

He was a hot bottom fuck, but I've had others. We are not into comparisons. And much as I'd love to spend some time making a film with him, not today. I had a mission--he needed to perform for our festival.

4

We moved from the bed to the sofa. Ricki handed me a drink and sat beside me, reeking of our recent testosterone exchange. Both of us were still sporting semis, occasionally breathing in deeply the musky aroma that surrounded us. I set the drink down and pulled him into my lap and settled my semi threateningly in his crack. I wanted to maximize my assets.

"So what is that you want me to do, Slade--other than having you in my bed for the rest of the week? Incidentally, that's a given, whatever we decide if I stay in Aspen."

I explained the concept--two or three concerts, spontaneous "pop-up" in style, one a matinee for his teenie fans and at least one other for "adults"--perhaps with a club-style party following for a selected few. No video; no big time critics; no recording. Just casual, intimate fun.

At first he outright refused. "I'm not on tour. And I don't do freebies--except maybe in bed."

"This is really important to me Ricki. What do you want to make this happen?"

He went silent for a few seconds. I could see the wheels turning. So I reached between us and gripped his semi and started to stroke. "Suppose I move in here--or invite you to my place--for the rest of the week? Will that do it? You can have my dick--or my ass whenever you want them."

He went silent again. Then he hit me with the trademark smile that lit the room with his charisma. "Oh shit. Okay. Here are my conditions. You move in with me this afternoon--and you don't leave this suite until the end of the week. Incidentally, I tested last week. How about you? I don't like condoms."

"I can't do that. I've got a festival and a city to run. And I am tested regularly. It came with the territory when I was Slade Dagger."

"I didn't mean every second. So long as we sleep together, wake up together--and you appear to do me before drinks. And any other time that I feel bored..... And, I'd like to have you on stage with me. Somehow I think there might be some chemistry."

"I'm definitely not doing this on stage. They think I'm somebody else here in Aspen. Fuckin' on stage would end my all-to-brief career as city manager, I'm sure."

"I didn't meant that."

Then, it was his turn. He backed off my lap, knelt into my spread, grabbed my cock, and within seconds his lips were sucking me to hardness.

"You are a very persuasive young man, Ricki. I think we've got a deal."

"Not so fast. I want to taste you. And then I want to fuck you. But, my manager would kill me if I agreed to perform with a major payment. What can you pay?"

"How about it if we did it as a charity gig? There are many Aspen charities that would welcome an infusion. We can provide all the publicity you want. It'll last for months."

"We get requests like that all the time."

I lifted my ass from the sofa and went into his throat. They I drew back and deposited some precum on his tongue before pulling out. Again his eyes lit. "Yes, I think that might work. But, I'm getting at least some of the infusions--starting right now. Your cock, Slade should be in the Guinness Hall of Fame." The he renewed his efforts in my crotch and inhaled my dick which quickly rose to the occasion.

He slurped, swirled, sucked, massaged, barely cuming up for air. Christ, those big fat pillowy lips were perfect for blowing. They held a suction like a fuckin Dyson and drew me into a hardness that I had rarely achieved. He tried to deep-throat and take it all, but came up coughing. I used that interlude to pick him up from his knees and to push him on his belly on the sofa. I slapped his perfect globes a few times each, forced his thighs apart and dove in. His ass rose from the cushion, and, as he voiced a few lines from one of his more suggestive love songs, he swayed his ass provocatively before me, hypnotizing me into plunging yet again. I've done a lot of very good sex scenes. But, this was better by far. I understand his success. He's got the most engaging, hottest, most suggestive face and body in the world. And a world renowned bubble that has hypnotized teen girls and gay guys for years. And here I was feasting at the trough.

It was time. He pushed me off and pointed to the bed.

"Belly down?"

"For this time, yes. I've got a silicone version of your dick which I love, but I'm really drooling over that ass."

I moved to the bed, gripped the brass-piped headboard and spread. His lips were engaged immediately. Fuck, those big soft pillowy lips came into play again.

After several minutes, he backed off and pulled me up onto my knees. His hands--yes it took both of them--gripped my shaft and held me as he plunged and bottomed. Normally, given my background, I can take dick fairly easily, provided it is lubed, and I'm turned on by its owner. But Ricki was big, thick, and long with a piece of purple fruit at the tip that was perfect. When he plunged, I felt it. He scraped the chute repeatedly. It was a pleasure to be filled again. So few guys can do it. Ricki was indeed a star performer.

He kept up the pace with long hard plunges and short jabs at the prostate for maybe five minutes. He was like a fuckin machine. Relentless, hard, strong. But, from the heat his chest was generating and transferring to my back, I assumed he was getting close. Then, he reached under and cupped my balls, rolling them between his fingers, exciting my little swimmers to move. That was my cue. I felt it deep inside. I started to vibrate. My toes curled; my fingertips tensed around the brass bar, my gut pulled in. Fuck, he was going to bring me off with a full blown anal orgasm. This round was long enough to make it as a porn flic. But, so often those long sequences are fake--filmed over minutes with breaks to bring down the fever. Not this time. Ricki plunged one last time and entered through my inner ring to the secret chamber. That pushed me over. Oh fuck. Nobody goes there. Nobody. I started to spurt--and when I did I automatically contracted around his dick.

He moaned deep and long. Then I felt the repeated spasms of his shaft and the hot Latino liquid--dulce de leche--filling me up. Ricki was breeding me--for the first time in months. And it felt so good.

His weight fell on me and plugged his spunk inside. A hand went to my throat and turned my face. His lips sought and found mine as we soul-kissed. Finally, he moved to the side and spooned me.

"I'm ordering room service. You're here for the night. That was just my warm up act. I've got more where that came from. By the way, do you prefer Josh or Slade?"

"Hard choice. You remind me of my best days as Slade. But somehow, I think I'm going to be Josh for you."

"Josh, it is." Then, I realized he was already hard again and that he was carefully stroking me to yet another erection. I moved my right thigh forward and opened up to him. He was there immediately.

This week was going to be a real pleasure--and real sloppy. Both of us were big cummers and we weren't wrapping. And I think I may need a body-double before long. This guy is some hot performer. I'm pretty much out of condition for such intense fucking. I've got a job to do. I wonder if my namesake is interested in subbing in? Who am I kidding? I haven't had such prolonged and terrific sex in months.

He could have been a great porn star--but I'm sure it didn't pay a fraction of what he earned on stage and from recordings.

5

Kirk went into action the next day. Enough backup band and dancers were located. The tent was modified. Word went out by the local press and social media. It was billed as a "pop-up tour extension of two performances" for the benefit of the children's programs funded by the local United Way. He claimed it was Ricki's idea and praised his philanthropic offer.

He even worked out a very clever way to allocate tickets to the two planned performances without scalpers or international intermediaries snatching up and reselling the few tickets: each person who currently was residing in the city limits (resident, hotel guest, VRBO guest) and who could produce a current or recent ski pass was entitled to one ticket. Even with those precautions, the 1600 tickets were gone in less than a day. So the small Aspen Isis Cinema agreed to close circuit the event (giving us another 800 seats, 400 each night)--and to guaranty that there would be no recording of the event. The Caribou Club pronounced Thursday night, after the "adult" concert, to be Ricki Lopez Night--and to donate the gate and all liquor profits to the United Way.

The whole town was abuzz with the surprise--and a few merchants arranged for express delivery of thousands of items of Ricki Lopez paraphernalia. His photo appeared on every shop window. Little Nell comped his entire stay. And I ceremoniously presented him with a golden key to the city. (When I did so, he whispered--"I'd rather have you in a cage with the only key. I'd really like to take you with me on tour, Josh.")

We had been together for only two days at that point. But, he was without any doubt the best lay that I've ever had in my life. The hottest top that has ever done me; and the hottest bottom that I've ever done. Going on tour didn't sound all that ridiculous.

Ricki quickly adapted a tour program, and we scheduled rehearsals--while still planning to have the other nights and a few afternoons available for other performances. I was to be backup with a few others, some simple dance moves and vocals. And then, he asked me to do a duet--obviously for the "adults-only" show. We both understood that it was risky--maybe he was outing himself. But, he explained he had done it before with women and men.

And we found a way for me to meet my end of the bargain. The GM of Little Nell provided me with a special pass key to enter via an unknown door and ride a service elevator to his floor. I explained that there were many details that had to be worked out. And I noted that I was involved in all of the finalized arrangements and needed frequent and easy access to Ricki's suite--but Jerry Hall knew me (and my past), and didn't say a word. I guessed that, at least among close friends, Jerry would regale with stories of the Little Nell's hosting a world famous celebrity and an award-winning porn star at the same time. The maids were leaving several extra sets of sheets every day! And the suite reeked of hot male on male sex. He'd have cocktail party anecdotes for years.

The highlights of the week were, of course, the Lopez concerts. They were great, and everyone loved the intimacy of such a small venue. Ricki played himself to a tee--singing love songs to the teens one night, and more suggestive lyrics (amplified by body language) to others the second night. I noted that the first rows were all filled with college students--male and female--and guessed that there was going to be a good deal of action after Ricki left the stage. Seemingly he thoroughly enjoyed himself both times. Both were quintessential Ricki Lopez happenings that will be long remembered. But without the elaborate sets and giant stadiums that separated him from the fans whose adoration he soaked like a sponge. They were intimate and special. And, with me!

(Later friends told me that there was a great deal of discussion in the audience about my appearance. Was I going to be a new addition to the act and the tour? Only a few recognized me as the City Manager. The others were all left to wonder what my relationship was with their icon.)

The intimate duet that we pulled off was legendary. Too bad we'd never record it.

The night at Caribou was something else. Upon my request (a request from the City Manager who holds your license in the palm of his hand is a little more than a request), cells were checked at the door. No photos. No selfies. I wanted Ricki to have some fun. And it seems that inhibitions went with the cells. All night long--and it was all night long, until six a. m.--there was a line at the door. So it was a slowly circulating and renewing dance party--with Ricki as the host.

He danced with dozens of women and guys. His dance routines were built on classic hot numbers, but uniquely his. And then, after midnight, when most of the couples and women departed, the guys took to the floor. Everyone it seemed wanted to get a hand or two on Ricki's hot body, particularly after he had lost the shirt. I stood back and let it happen. He deserved it. But, I wasn't exactly alone. Kirk does a pretty good lap dance. By the end of the evening, I told Kirk that I was taking a day's vacation. I was the lucky one taking Ricki home. And my Latin lover and I were primed for a full day in bed.

6

As the week ended, and our marathon of sex was nearing its apex and climax, the weather changed suddenly. It turned cold, and Saturday it started to snow. It snowed for nearly 24 hours, blanketing the town and the mountains with tons of snow.

That's when Ricki announced that he was extending his stay for three or four days to get in some skiing. Apres-skiing with me in his bed was assumed. We had three glorious days on the mountain as the temperatures held, but the sun glistened off the blue-white new snow. I showed him some special spots that were not well-known. And of course, we continued to burn holes in the mattress every night. I had never before met a guy who was so consistently hot--and so consistently ready to fuck, top or bottom. He was insatiable. I'm surprised that he didn't burn up his costumes when he performed.

We were having dinner on his last night--at my house. I had called in a favor and got a caterer to drop off a gourmet dinner. I wanted to show him my place and add a little change to our scenery.

He arrived about 30 minutes late--which I assumed was typical for a Latin. But, I was wrong. After a perfunctory hug--well not entirely perfunctory--he had his hands on my butt under my waistband massaging away as we necked, he moved away. He was really quite upset and went immediately to my kitchen-counter bar to pour a long shot of iced tequila. He gulped it; then poured another and followed me into the living room where I had set a nice fire.

"I know I'm late. The last hour has been pretty intense. I've been on the phone with my manager. He is really ticked that I didn't consult him about the shows last week. I knew that if I called him, he'd be here in a few hours, trying to convince me not to do them. It seems that there are many on my staff and under contract who are entitled to work every show I give--and of course they didn't do this one. Their contracts call for payment anyway. So the shows are going to cost me about $50K. I can afford it. So that's not the problem."

"But, Rafi, my manager went on and on about how I don't appreciate him, that I was typical young Latino star in love with myself, inconsiderate, etc., etc. He got himself in a real fucking lather--it sounds hotter in Spanish, let me tell you. The argument got hotter and hotter. And then I had had enough. I exploded, told him to shut the fuck up. 'I'm the meal ticket, Rafi.' Then, I fired him. Told him to go fuck himself. He threatened to sue, and I'm sure he will. He's done this before. Somehow I think he believes he's the star."

He stopped for a breath and downed another Tequila shot. "Incidentally, in case you're wondering, Rafi and I never got it on. He's a total macho hetero, criticizing me all the time for "pandering" to gays. I know he lusts after my cock, but he'd never admit it. He's just too macho. I'm pretty sure that he'll probably be back on the phone within a few days, trying to patch things up. But, Rafi and I are over. I've had it. And if he sues, that's why I have a lawyer--actually several of them--on retainer. That was the end. Period."

By then, Ricki himself was in heat, darkening, almost sputtering. So I reached over and pulled him into my lap. We were in deep lip sync within seconds as our tongues fought for dominance. I tasted the tequila, and from his mouth, it tasted very, very good. Then, he backed off for just a few seconds and whispered, "Fuck me Josh. Take me now. That's the only way I'm going to get down and enjoy dinner with my boyfriend."

He didn't have to ask a second time. Dinner could wait. I walked him into my room and slowly stripped his clothes, caressing and kissing every part of his body as I did. His nipples were hard, dark and erect. He was a furnace, holding back his passion like the true professional he was. Then I carefully laid him out and climbed on top. We rolled, wrestled, massaged and fondled. Then, I lubed and entered, plunging over and over, deep and hard, punching the nut. No holding back. He was so fuckin' hot and so fuckin' tight. Until we both exploded and grasped each other in a tight embrace that neither of us was willing to break.

Several minutes later, Ricki turned toward me and began to speak in that seductive voice that most find to be irresistible. "These last few days have been incredible, Josh. I'm ready now to head out for my next world tour--three months, 72 gigs in two dozen countries. And, I've decided. I want you with me--as my manager, and my lover--and maybe I'll even let you on stage from time to time. Let's keep them guessing about us. Other pop stars have their gay lovers around and running their careers. Why not me? You are without any question, the best sex I've ever had in my life. You've got a voice that, with coaching, will make you a very good partner on stage. And what's more, I actually like you!"

I had no idea what to say. And so I said nothing. "Let's get some dinner. I need a little time."

"Take all the time you want. Say, an hour or so while we have dinner? We can have some incredible time together, Josh. We can have a little fun on stage. And, I've watched the last few days as you put my shows together with logistics. I've got a big staff--and they'll be happy to work with you to teach you what you don't already know. So you can be officially my manager. I'll double your present salary--and you won't need it anyway. While we are on tour, everything is covered--hotels, meals, transportation, even wardrobe. And then we can be together. I think you'll like Coconut Grove for the weeks between tours. And you're gonna love my new place there." As he finished his pitch, he reached over and fisted my semi. He was ready to go again. And I knew that if we did, my other brain would answer for me. He rolled me on my belly, spread my cheeks and dove in for his appetizer.

"Stop. Let's have dinner."

"Are you sure?" he mumbled as he continued to thrust his tongue.

"Yeah." I pulled away, threw a robe at him and pulled one on myself. He let the robe fall to the floor. His lips formed the classic sexy sulk. He fluffed his balls and stroked his already hard dick. "I don't need that. I'm sure I'll be warm enough. I always am when I'm with you, mi amor."

I pulled the various heated dishes from the oven and set them on the small glass dining table--which the caterer had already set with china and silver. Then, I opened a bottle of Far Niente Chard and poured. "Dinner is served."

He walked up to the table, pulled me into him from behind and speared me with his cock.

"Don't you want to eat?"

"Yeah, of course I do." Then he latched on to an earlobe.

"Ricki, please...."

"If we must...."

We sat and ate the terrific food which Sal's Catering had prepared--veal parm, salad, pasta. And I can say without any doubt that it was one of the more interesting settings that I've ever experienced: Ricki was sitting across from me, starkers, his semi leaving pre-cum deposits on the underside of the glass table. He is a very sensual eater--in fact, he's a very sensual everything! Dinner was very much a postlude to our recent athletic sex and a prelude to our upcoming night together in my bed. The tiramisu would have to wait for another night. Ricki was already warming up.

It turns out that he is an incredibly persuasive guy. Later that night, as he held me at the edge for nearly an hour, I agreed to take a month's leave of absence from Aspen and try out a month on the road with Ricki--starting in just ten days.

When he left the next morning, he had only a few words, "Are you sure you need two weeks before you can join me? I'm not sure I can get through even a day, let alone two weeks, without being inside you--or having you in me. You won't regret it, Josh. That month you've agreed to is going to become a lifetime. Here's to us. Here's to skiing together in Aspen in the future! And sleeping together in some of the hottest beds in the world."

BD