ASM- Assistant Stage Manager, the person who makes sure all the actors get a timing call to be on stage, and ensures that everyone is where they are supposed to be. Saltire- The Scottish flag a white cross on a blue background. Used to suggest Alex is a proud Scot and greatly enjoying giving the Englishman a damn good pounding.
Jimmy was fidgeting at his make-up table in his dressing room backstage. It had been a year since his last appearance on stage, and this new production was going to be his most prominent role yet.
Alex, his faithful assistant, was putting the finishing touches to his wig and his costume.
A knock at the door as the ASM called out, “Twenty minutes till curtain up, places please for the opening scene.”
Jimmy twitched restlessly in the chair and stared at his reflection in the mirror. The damned cold knot of fear gripped him, and the words that were on his lips moments ago drifted out of his memory like mist on a mirror.
“I’ve forgotten the words, Alex, the whole bloody thing. It’s all gone. What am I going to do?” His voice cracked and wavered like a frightened child.
Alex inwardly rolled his eyes at the theatrics of it all. Jimmy was a talented actor, but he could be such a baby before curtain up. When the stage fright struck there was only one way to deal with it.
Time for the Ole Faithful as Alex dipped his fingers into the make-up box, slid aside a shelf and pulled out a large glass butt plug with the Scottish Saltire emblazoned on the base.
Not giving the buffoon time to say a word more, Alex popped the plug into Jimmy’s mouth like a gobstopper. Muffled murmurs of complaint ensued.
Alex gripped Jimmy by the back of the neck and pulled him to his feet. Water bottles and grease paint tubes rattled as Jimmy was pressed face down onto the tabletop. Another muffled cry of surprise as Alex rolled the tartan kilt up into the waistband.
Like the true Scotsman he was playing, Jimmy wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Alex unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers and boxer shorts straight to the ground with a soft thump. Usually, he’d like to take his time, enjoy himself slowly and properly make use of Jimmy, but there just wasn’t time, dammit.
Taking a moment to expel a gob of spit on his eager cock before burying it deep into Jimmy. A gurgle in response as Alex merged himself completely inside Jimmy. The Englishman was going to take it like the good public school educated man he was. After a few swift strokes, Alex could feel Jimmy forcing his muscles to relax, devouring everything Alex could give him.
A heavy meaty sound as bodies moved like a ship docked at a harbour, surging upwards and together like the crash of a wave, only to part and divide when the tide receded.
Alex could see Jimmy’s eyes roll with pleasure in the mirror, as inch by inch, he swallowed all that Alex could give him.
The digital clock over the dressing room door visible in the mirror counted silently down towards the moment Jimmy needed to be onstage. Eighteen minutes, twenty-seven seconds it read. Alex needed to drive the stage fright out of him and do it bloody fast too.
Jimmy’s buttocks flushed purple from the energetic fucking he was getting; his teeth clicked against the glass plug in his mouth. Alex kept one hand on the back of his neck, pressed him down against the table and pulled him back towards the thrusting cock.
Alex started to recite the opening lines of the play. Ramming each word home by alternately burying himself inside Jimmy or pulling almost entirely out again.
Muffled grunts after every stroke told Alex that Jimmy wasn’t going to forget these important words. If he had to fuck the whole damn script into his memory, he would, if only they had time.
The clock over the door flashes fifteen minutes and thirty seconds.
Hungry eyes stared back at Alex, willing him onward, needing him to finish the treatment.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Meaty bodies drove together, air rushing in and out like gigantic bellows in action.
Alex couldn’t hold out much longer, and he shoved a hand into his mouth to muffle his cry of release.
His hips came to a juddering halt, and he poured his strength into Jimmy like the sluice gate at a dam opening. A torrent of Scottish courage flowed through Jimmy’s bowels.
Alex reached around and pulled the glass plug out of Jimmy’s mouth; the glass clinked against his teeth, a slurping sound as the bulb escaped pursed lips.
With practised skill, Alex slowly withdrew from Jimmy, and with nimble fingers, shoved the tip of the bulb through Jimmy’s ring as his cock slid out of the way.
Alex watched as Jimmy’s ever needy bottom sucked the plug into itself. In a few moments, the toy was fully inside, leaving only a tiny Saltire flag winking subtly from between his taut cheeks.
Eight minutes and nineteen seconds read the clock.
Alex swiftly pulled up his trousers, and his boxers before he hurriedly buckled his belt and allowed Jimmy to straighten up.
Alex took a moment to use a couple of wet wipes to clean up around the plug, wiping away any embarrassing traces of what they’d done. Jimmy’s kilt rolled down into position, a final little shake to remove any creases. A quick touch up on the make-up, Jimmy was no longer the startled actor but Colonel Alistair Stewart of the Black Watch.
Alex decided to be extra supportive and snapped into a crisp salute.
Jimmy took the salute well and glanced downward. He was being saluted twice at the same time; he pulled the zip upwards and let his hand linger for a moment on the tempting bulge nestling in his palm.
There wasn’t bloody time. Alex dropped the salute, pulled open the door, and watched his lover stride towards the stage like a conquering military hero.
“Places everybody. Five minutes to the opening scene.” The ASM called from the shadows behind the stage.