Paint Wars Part 1
“I am your host Alexander Logan Chase.” I say to the camera.
“And this is Paint Wars," I say loudly.
“The show where celebrities go at it," I add.
“On one end, Marvel Cinematic Universe King Chris Evans," I yell like a boxing announcer.
“On the other end, The Running Man, Glen Powell.” I say, "Shout."
“Chris and Glen commence," my voice booms.
“I am all in," Glen pumps up.
“I am about to win this.” Chris says shadow boxing.
“Hedge bets! GO!” My voice launches.
Part 1
The cans are rolling into the room on a trolley. Chris digs into the tin top, yanking it open as the paint fumes rise and the gas seeps in. Instantly Chris inhales deeply as the paint fumes dive into his nostrils; a faint smile emerges on his face, and he cannot stop himself from laughing.
His face is a carefree canvas of utter joy, while his hands are the brushes he literally drops to the side, and I laugh with all my heart amusingly.Chris is high on the fumes when he digs into his shirt, shredding it into pieces; his pants follow, and he has this look.
“How’s my dumb jock?” I let out the question; it even surprises me, well, kind of. I am about to roll it back as the cameras pan in on his face. He shrugs it off, the hat flipping backwards; with this stupefied appearance, he digs his hands into the paint and then rushes to the wall, spreading it all over like his life depends on it.
Strolling over my feet lands at his back. My hand, on autopilot, gives him one huge slap across his backside, and he jumps then giggles.
“What are you, Chris?” I ask him as I feel his ass upward till he moans and then slide my finger up; I watch his hard-on grow.
“I am your giant, massive dumb-dumb." He laughs like child, his pecks bounce up and down as I roam them, tracing the shape.
“Such a pretty ass, Chris.” I add
"Pretty, yeah.” He says, nodding his head.
“Want me to bounce a coin on it?" The question is frivolous, as it does not matter.
“Please do, babe," he says, shaking his ass.
“Someone is horny.” I reply.
“Only for you and this paint.” He jiggles.
"FREEZE," the instructions are ordered coldly.
"Yyyyeeeessss," he says, then stops cold as if he were a statue.
Part 2
Glen is lost in a sea of haze; his eyes glaze over in pure bliss in him. He is obediently staring at me, and he awaits all of my own orders like it was the drink of his choice, so sweet.
His eyes bloom blue when I flip open a few tins of paint and inhale them deeply, and we make out like I have never seen anybody do. Then I shove him to the floor facing me.
He drops his hands, digging them into the paint cups. As the paint droops down, he lifts his hands to his nose and washes the wall with his world entirely.
My eyes followed him to the wall on the opposite side of the room, placing my hand in his pants and playing paddleball with his balls as he burst into laughter.
Groping him right, my palms hit his wife, and then I take a deep breath of skin as I inhale it, and then I kiss his skin using every inch of it with love, my second favorite person in the world.
Climbing up on a ladder, he is left in shambles with my body hard on him, pressing hard over him, and I undo his belt and and his underpants, and I slip my cock into his ass, pounding him relentlessly.
“What are you seeking?” I ask him.
“Only you," he pins, begging for my attention.
“Who do you belong to?” Biting his lips.
"You!" he shouts, horny.
“Please fuck me," he howls.
“I beg you," he pleads.
"Oooohhhhh….fuck," he shouts out loud.
“Daddy…” he actually calls me that. Wow!
“My love! I own you." I kiss his ears, a trail downward his cheeks, and cup his cock and watch him suffer.
The end
