“Private
Rehearsal”
by Bix
We started playing around with one another during the second episode of “The Drew Carey Show.”
Back when we started on the show together, the little things we did with each other didn’t really consist of much of anything. Ryan and I had grown quite comfortable together by the time we shot the second show, and our behavior became a kind of an in-joke among the cast and crew, not to mention that it kept the audience guessing. Without his ring on, no one would’ve guessed that Ryan had a wife at home; I never mentioned my girlfriend on the set, either, so the people that came to watch us work immediately suspected…
Well, I have to admit that we kind of led them towards that conclusion, mostly for our own amusement.
In the mornings, we made a point to sit close to one another, whisper things in each other’s ears, and maybe reach out and stroke each other’s backs from time to time. As the day progressed and the tension of filming began to creep up on us, we took greater risks. He would lean in to whisper something, and his lips would come within inches of my own. My hands would roam down his long torso and my fingers entangled themselves in his belt, and we would move our hips closer and closer each time; his breath used to tickle my upper lip as he leaned in. We never quite kissed and we never quite pressed up against one another, but we came close enough to it to make the audience mutter in astonishment.
It started out as play—a harmless distraction around the studio that kept us entertained and make those around us stare—and it pretty much remained a joke for the next seven years. Eventually, we ceased to do things altogether. Incidents from our personal worlds crept in to dominate our lives, such as my marriage or the birth of Ryan’s son, and we decided to drop the ruse after a while.
At least, back then it had been a ruse.
That all changed for us in late November, when we started rehearsing a new episode called “The Morning after the Night Before.” In it, Lewis and Oswald wake up together, naked and in Lewis’s bedroom, after a night of heavy drinking. They have no clue as to what (if anything) they did together, and the whole episode consisted of their mutual fear of their implied homosexuality. Of course, everything got explained at the end and it turns out that they slept with a woman that night rather than each other.
In the usual manner of television shows, everyone got together for the initial script reading and we tossed around ideas for this and that, altered lines that wouldn’t work, and rewrote certain scenes to play them up for laughs. Ryan referred to them as “extended bullshit sessions,” but he usually came up with his best stuff in those meetings; his improv background really showed whenever a new idea came up. When we had the script 70% to 80% there, the group broke up and we went off to rehearse our lines in private.
Ryan and I had other ideas. I knew that he intended to quit “The Drew Carey Show” and focus on “Whose Line is it, Anyway?” and as a result, both he and I began to grow closer again as the end of his tenure on the show drew near. We resumed the same playing-around that we’d done in our earlier years, except this time we only did it in private and with much less restraint than we’d exercised before.
He preferred to mess around in my trailer, where photos of his wife and kids didn’t stare down from the walls in quiet condemnation for his clandestine actions. He loved them deeply and we took every precaution not to let our make-out sessions become known, so that neither of our families could be hurt by gossip. At the same time, his sex drive ran as high as my own, and his desires couldn’t always be met by his wife; just as he couldn’t say no to me, I couldn’t find the strength to say no to him
Nothing significant happened between us until that afternoon. The kisses, the caresses and the caring words that we shared felt as natural to us as anything, but we still held back when it came to any genuine sexual contact… at least, until that day.
It started innocently enough, or at least the circumstances had a façade of innocence about them. At the end of the day’s shooting, I went back to my trailer and took a shower, then got dressed and went over to Ryan’s trailer. I had to knock several times before he finally opened the door. His damp blonde hair (dyed to a sandy blonde to hide his encroaching gray hair) hung over his forehead, and he waved me in with one hand while he kept the other against the towel around his waist.
“Oh, sorry,” I apologized as I stepped in. “I thought you’d be dressed by now.”
Ryan closed the door and shrugged. “I would’ve been, but I had to go and take care of some things with the other show. Then I got back here and had to call Pat, since it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to make it out of here for a while.” He pushed his damp palm against his forehead to comb back his hair, then gestured towards the refrigerator. “Help yourself to a drink, if you want.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m set.” I paused, then went over and sat down on the small couch against the far wall. “I was kind of hoping that we could talk.”
“Sure.” He blinked, then came over and sat down on the other end of the couch. “What about?”
“I think you know,” I said in a low voice. “And I think it’s about time we worked it out. I’m tired of walking around and pretending that… that I don’t feel what I feel for you.”
I knew that Ryan wouldn’t play around with me on the issue, and he took it just as seriously as I anticipated. He clasped his hands together, his thin lips pressed into a line as he tried to choose the right words.
“Diedrich,” he said after a moment, “we’ve been working together for over seven years now. We’re really comfortable with each other, and a lot of the time on the set or after work, I’ve been trying to convince myself that’s why—“ He looked away, up at the ceiling of the trailer. “Whenever you’re standing next to me, it’s like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle has come together. I feel your presence when you come in a room. If your name comes up in a conversation, I immediately picture your face and hold onto that image until the talk changes to something else.” His hands came apart, then clapped together again. “I have to admit that… I do… love you in a strange way.”
“And I feel the same way. So what’s wrong with acting on that? I think we’ve both held out way too long, Ry.”
He turned his
face back towards me, but his eyes remained locked on the ceiling. “Shit.
Look,
“Neither do I,” I reassured him. “I love my wife, too. But can’t we at least take a moment to enjoy each other? You and I will never be as close in the future as we are today. I don’t want to look back and say, ‘Why didn’t we at least try something?’”
“Is that what you want?” he asked. His gaze locked onto mine.
“Isn’t it what you want?” I challenged.
“You know what I want?” he said. Ryan pushed himself to his feet with a grunt, then stood in front of me with his fists his hips. His head nodded in my direction and a drop of water rolled down a wet strand of his hair and fell onto the floor between us. “I want to see you naked.”
I released a laugh of surprise. “Really?”
He shrugged. “Hey, if this is how you feel and this is how I feel, then… why not?”
“Why not?” I echoed. Again, I let out a funny little laugh but I didn’t hesitate at all on his request. My stomach tingled with anticipation as I stood up and tugged off my t-shirt. I unzipped my jean shorts, then pushed the shorts and underwear down to my ankles and kicked them into the middle of the room. Ryan pried the tennis shoes off my feet and took hold of my toes with both hands. With a flourish, he pulled the socks up and tossed them aside, then smiled as he stepped back.
“That’s more like it,” he remarked.
“Almost,” I replied as I lifted one finger in protest.
Before he could respond, I leaned towards him and pulled the towel away from his slim hips, then sat back to admire the scenery.
“We’re naked!” Ryan declared with unashamed delight. He resumed his seat on the couch then, and his child-like expression faded as quickly as it had come as he lay down beside me, then stretched out and stared into my eyes. “Touch me,” he ordered in a husky voice.
I obeyed without hesitation. I’d seen him near-nude enough times on the set to where my desire to rub my hands along his shaft had become almost unbearable; on many occasions, I’d be hunched over a toilet somewhere, jerking off to a mental picture that I wanted desperately to turn into a reality. Now I had my chance to solidify my fantasy.
I massaged the inside of his thighs and pried his legs apart, then dipped my head down. His large hands came down to cup my sensitive ears, and his cool fingers ran along my hairline as he took hold of my head.
“Don’t,” he rasped. “Please, don’t.”
“Why not?” I asked him. My hands continued to stroke the smooth, white insides of his thighs, and I looked up at his concerned face in surprise.
He grinned down at me sheepishly. “I won’t last very long if you do. That’s one thing that’s guaranteed to cut down on my stamina.”
I chuckled and crawled on top of him instead. I pressed my groin against him and lay my chest against his, and we began to kiss. His hand ran over the curly dark hairs on my chest and played with the firm flesh of my nipples, and I drew in a hiss of breath as he gave them a gentle squeeze.
“So just how far do you want to go?” I asked him.
“All the way.” He grit his teeth as the sexual tension built up in his body. “I want you to take me all the way.”
“I can do that,” I said with a nod. His erect penis thrummed against my leg, just as mine twitched against him.
“Not here, though. In the bedroom,” he insisted in a husky voice.
We pulled apart, both of us reluctant to interrupt the flow of our emotions. Ryan kept hold of my right hand as we stood up, and he gave me a smoldering look of desire over his shoulder as he pulled me forward. Our fingers interlocked as we passed through the narrow hallway and into the bedroom.
The white sheets of the unmade bed, which had been built longer than a usual bed to accommodate Ryan’s height, seemed to glow in the dimly-lit room. Ryan lay down and pulled me on top of him, and we resumed the same activities that we’d stopped in the living room.
“Wish we weren’t so dry,” I mumbled with mild displeasure.
His breath exploded against my ear in agreement. “I’ve got some gel… in the drawer,” he said in a weak voice.
Ryan pointed to the other side of the bed and indicated the small nightstand behind me, and I rolled over and pulled open the drawer. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at the objects inside—a colorful collection of condoms, a vibrator (by the size of it, I guessed that he kept it in the trailer for when his wife visited), a couple of pornographic magazines, and a tube of strawberry-flavored gel.
“Here it is.” I pulled out the half-used tube of gel and pried up the lid, then slathered a healthy amount on my hand and set the tube on the edge of the bed.
Ryan watched with dreamy anticipation as I rubbed the clear liquid over my penis, then rolled towards him and pulled him close with my other arm. The hand with the lubricant took hold of his organ and I entwined our dicks together, stroking each of us to attention simultaneously. He shivered with delight and placed a kiss on my forehead before he lowered his head and began to suck at my neck. His tongue rasped against the tiny hairs along my throat and I smiled with delight.
I made him tilt his head up again so that we could French kiss. Just as I found myself in control down below, Ryan took charge up above and darted his tongue expertly around my mouth. He let out tiny grunts and pants as his body rubbed against mine, and when I pulled my hand from the base to the tip of our penises, his hands slid under my back and cupped my shoulder blades as he pulled me closer.
“I want you,” he murmured as his head came up. His blue-green eyes sparkled as he looked at me, and I couldn’t help but bring my free hand up and run my fingers through his hair.
“You’ve got me,” I replied.
Ryan shook his head. “No, I mean that I want you. I want you inside me. I want us to be a part of one another.”
“Anal?” I hesitated and stroked the side of his face. “Won’t that hurt you?”
Ryan gave me a gentle kiss on the lips. “It’ll be fine. My wife and I… experiment from time to time. Testing the limits.” His hand descended and I felt his fingers wrap around mine. Together, we stroked the firm, slippery flesh between us for a moment, then he put his hands underneath me again. “You’re big,” he remarked, “but I think you’ll fit. I think you’ll fit really good.”
I closed my eyes at his touch and drew in a shaky breath, then opened them again as I sat up on my knees. Ryan gave my penis a few strong but gentle tugs to ensure its solidity, then he rolled onto his back and put one leg on either side of my body. I rested my hands on my thighs in confusion.
“You want me to frog you?”
His gaze locked onto mine again. “I want to know what you look like when you come.”
He bent his knees and rested his feet on my shoulders for a moment, then let his ankles slide past my ears as I leaned in. The tip of my penis touched the smooth area of skin between his ball sack and his anus, and I had to reach down to guide myself towards the puckered opening. I let the tip rest against his skin for a moment, then hesitantly began to push my way forward.
I could feel him resist me—he may have wanted intercourse that way, but a part of him still held back from the idea—so I moved away for a minute and reached for the open bottle of gel beside us on the bed. I placed the top of the tube against him and squeezed, then fingered his hole to make room for myself in there. The tight concentric rings of his anus sucked at my fingertips as I spread the gel around both inside and outside of his ass, and after much persistent rubbing I felt them loosen up a bit. Ready to try again, I tossed the gel aside and placed the tip of my dick against his body, and then I carefully pushed forward.
The breath caught in my throat, and Ryan released a shuddering cry as I slid almost effortlessly into the moist opening. It did feel incredibly tight in there, but the lubricant eased my travels and enhanced the pleasure of feeling his muscles clench around me. His ball sack pressed against my lower belly, and I felt the hairs on my body undulate against the crack of his ass. As I held his hips and pushed into him, our bodies moved several inches up the bed and Ryan had to put his hands over his head to keep from hitting the headboard.
“Do you like that?” I asked.
“Oh. Oh,” he breathed.
Ryan hung his knees over my collarbone and I felt his ankles hook together behind me. My fingers dug into his pale, warm hips and I pulled and pushed him away from me for several minutes, then I leaned forward against the back of his thighs and slipped my hands under his shoulder blades, my face a few inches from his. We exchanged a long kiss, our tongues locking together just as our private parts had done, then broke apart, panting in one another’s faces with our efforts.
I felt certain that our awkward position would be a strain on his back, so I didn’t want to maintain it for very long. I continued to move deeper into his body, but I leaned back on my knees again and resumed a hold on his hips. Caught up in the ecstasy of the moment, he closed his eyes and began to stroke himself at an almost violent pace. His movements captivated me, and I found myself thrusting into him with the same rhythm as his hand.
Ryan began to groan low in his throat, and I smiled with anticipation as I felt my own orgasm approaching. I pushed his hand aside and grabbed hold of his love organ myself, manipulating it in ways that obviously gave him pleasure. He spread his legs wider and lifted his hips, which gave me an incredibly comfortable angle for penetration. As we drew closer to the end, his gaze fastened on my face and he took in every emotion that crossed my features.
My own excitement had grown out of control. I hooked one arm under his left leg and raised it up, which twisted the inside of his body in a new and exciting direction for me. With each thrust, I lifted and lowered the leg in my grasp while I continued to jerk him off at a frenetic pace. I had no idea if he liked it or if I hurt him at all; I only knew that he lay in an almost awe-struck silence as I went at it, grunting and panting with the strain of it all, as our cries of joy and effort mingled in the cool air of the bedroom.
As soon as I felt his testicles contract and a slippery liquid slipped over my hand, I released his organ and lay down on top of him, desperate for my own release. Ryan let out a long moan of pleasure and his eyes half-closed, but he forced them open again as I sent one final, strong ram into him. Our bodies froze and locked, and I finally felt myself come. My love seed shot full-force into him, and it seemed as if the flow would never end. I withdrew and thrust upward four more times before my penis finally began to relax, and then I slid out of him slowly, relishing the tingling sensation that shot through my body.
I lay with my head on his chest for several minutes and listened to the pounding of his heart as I began to relax. The smell of his semen wafted up to my nose, and I couldn’t help but dab one finger into the white puddle against his stomach, curious to find out what he tasted like. His strong, musky flavor, mingled with the strawberry gel on my fingertips, made me shiver with delight.
“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life,” he mumbled. I could feel him as the muscles in his body loosened up and he started to drift off to sleep.
“Me, neither,” I agreed. I looked down at his penis, deflated and draped to the side, and smiled. “That was fantastic.”
“It was,” he agreed in an barely intelligible voice. His arms fumbled around me and he pulled me close. “It was great.”
We snuggled together face-to-face and exchanged an exhausted kiss, then promptly drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.