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Servicing	By : writearts2 Category: Individual Celebrities > Orlando Bloom Views: 2328 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Orlando Bloom. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Servicing
- 1
Fuck!

Orlando smacked the dash of his dying Porsche and glared out at the unending high California desert mocking his sight. Grr, he never realized how much he hated July heat shimmers.

All right, fuck, Orlando had pushed his delicate baby a little too hard across Nevada from St. George, Utah, but he wanted to be in L.A. in time for his 8:00PM dinner meeting with Ian. This latest film contract needed major discussion. For the last time, and he meant it this time, Orlando Bloom did not do multiples. Fuck the Olympics; being molested on a pommel horse wasn’t Orlando’s style. No matter how much money they wanted to throw at him the beautiful star was a one-fuck porn boy. End of story, close the book and go home.

Shifting down Orlando sighed in relief. How lucky; he approached an exit beyond Baker. A faded gas station sign advertised help. Since he had nothing to lose the porn star breathed encouragement in his finest, deep-throated tones. "Come on, my baby, limp just a little further…please, please, please, come on, you can do it, that’s right."

The overburdened sports car shuddered down the dusty ramp and coughed like it might bring up a mechanical lung. Orlando gently applied gas and clutch, wooing, coaxing, fluffing the car. Come on, come on, please don’t die!

No go. The tormented red car succumbed to a dying shudder worthy of Shakespeare’s Juliet, shot a steam plume 10 feet into the arid air and gently rolled to a stop. Orlando beat his manicured hands against the steering wheel and howled in sincere rage. "Shiiiit! Oh, this is just bloody well fuckin’ perfect! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Arrrrgh!"

After calming down from a level 11 tantrum Orlando emerged from the ticking car and stared around in helpless frustration. OK, sure, he could be cliché, open the hood and examine the engine or something inane like that but why bother? The young man understood money, sex and fucking, not hot, thrusting metal bits. Fleshy thrusting bits, yeah, bring them on. Great, if his dying car turned into a limp dick Orlando might stand a chance of reviving the thing.

Right then Orlando also understood he was right well fucked. 5:00PM. Two hours of speeding down crowded route 15 would have delivered him into L.A. in plenty of time but now…fuck! He resisted kicking a tire. That trick would look utterly ridiculous. A jackrabbit would laugh at him.

God, could it feel a little hotter out here? Orlando stripped off his fine ivory-hued silk jacket, ripped off his burgundy tie and undid his shirt buttons. The sleek young man already smelled ripe since he had turned off the A/C twenty miles ago in an attempt to coax cranky Celestine along the shoulder. Obviously his touchy Celestine suffered from major engine cramps. Temperamental bitch. He should have named her Liz bloody Taylor. Or Greta "I vant to be alone" Garbo. Fuck.

As he peered through his designer sunglasses Orlando spied the promised service station glimmering off to his far left. Knowing his horrid luck it would probably be a damned gas and go manned by some pimply 17 year-old snot-nosed imbecile merely working the pumps and selling cigarettes and beer to the yins locals. Well, it was that or nothing. Fuck!

Calm down. Fine. Orlando grabbed his keys, locked Celestine and began angrily stalking toward the heat shimmers. Each step offered him fresh fury. Why not call for help on the cell phone, yes, how logical was that concept? Ahem, no, during his sweet sex romp in St. George someone forgot to recharge the cell’s battery. Boo-hoo. Fly, oh why bother? Driving his usually intrepid Celestine to and fro across the vast desert wasteland from L.A. proved soooo much fun. As he marched down the highway self-insults pounded into Orlando’s brain. Idiot. Moron. Dickhead. Imbecile. Fuckwad. Turdball.

Oh shut up.

Sweat merrily slithered against Orlando’s taut back and slowly pooled in his snug waistband. A few drips splattered off his small nose and puffed against the super-heated asphalt. Shit! Orlando frantically jerked his right foot up from a sticky, overheated tar patch. So much for his expensive, hand-crafted specifically to his foot Italian sandals. All right, what next, would a vulture shit on his head? Maybe an annoyed rattlesnake would launch an ankle attack from the scrub. This scenario felt so damned moronic!

Finally. Yee-hah, now this wretched place looked supremely promising. Gee, Orlando could wash down a package of beef jerky or cheese crackers with a cold canned Coke. Delightful. He already felt ever so pampered. Ahh, at least the mini-mart area offered him cool, stale air. "Hello? Excuse me? Hello!" Did anyone work here?

He heard splashing coming from the garage. Since he wasn’t one to follow rules Orlando shoved opened the door marked "employees only" and peered into the dank, motor oil-infused space.

Orlando froze and licked his lips. Now that proved to be a totally unexpected but decidedly stimulating sight and lately it took plenty to stimulate the jaded young porn star.

A tall man stood at the garage’s far side spraying his broad, T-shirt encased chest with a maroon garden hose. The open side door let the relentless desert glow play around his buff body. As he lashed the water across his chest he flung his head back and sensually whipped water free from his dark blonde hair. Cold, sweet cold water; Orlando knew that from how the man’s cloth-bound nipples puckered and pushed at the luxurious liquid touch.

Fuck. The scene felt like something tasty from a delicious porn flick Orlando had never starred in. Next the handsome dude would undo his tight wet jeans and start whacking off. Or maybe he’d begin pole-dancing around the one greasy lift holding a battered pick-up truck aloft.

Orlando blinked his dark lashes. Or something more interesting could happen.

Crazy.

Why not? His suddenly tense cock said yes in bright gold letters.

As he strolled across the greasy floor Orlando unbuttoned his woven white silk shirt, pulled the sweat-damp material free from his tight silk trousers and tossed it aside. What a spectacular toss…too bad no camera captured his subtle technique. Orlando halted two feet from the gorgeous, wet male specimen. Stray splashes flickered across his own naked chest. Mmm, that cold water felt perfect. The man’s innocent pleasure surpassed anything Orlando had ever faked. Fuck, how sexy.

Without thinking Orlando reached out and gripped the throbbing hose.

The man halted his sexy irrigation and stared at Orlando with shocked light blue eyes. Delicate water diamonds glistened in his thick wet eyelashes. Orlando smiled coyly and held the hose’s flow over his own sweaty head. Mmmm, cold and liberating. "Share?"

The man stared at him and started laughing in a low, husky tone that felt even warmer than the desert sun. "Why not?"

Orlando wet himself down then he brought the hose tip to his lips and artfully lapped at the cooling flow. Metallic but refreshing. He appreciated how the man’s intense gaze turned lidded with swift desire. After drinking Orlando held out the hose and whipped the force against those already tight nipples peaking under the well-worn material. "Care to share a little further?"

This astute desert gentleman grinned and pulled off his T-shirt. Mmm, Orlando adored a mature man. Just a dusting of wet fur defined this dude’s taut pecs and stroked down toward his waistband. Orlando employed the water’s force like a whip against that erotic hairline then he slid the flow up and down the compact thighs. He smacked three sharp wet blows against the glinting zipper. "Share more, sweetie. Wait, what’s your name?"

"Viggo." Mmm, such a nice husky voice. "And you?"

"Orlando."

Viggo smiled and raked back his wet hair. Yeah, he wasn’t sun-struck; he thought he recognized that uniquely beautiful face. Fuck, was this astonishing luck or what? What was one of his favorite porn stars doing out here? Wow. All right, stop questioning; it was time to impress. Viggo swayed his lean hips and slowly undid his zipper. He rolled down his jeans down to his thick thighs and ran his large hands over his tense muscles.

Orlando almost choked in amazement. What a handsome natural. As he watched the lively display Orlando flicked the hose in lazy figure-8s’. Water attacked tight chest, belly and teased directly above Viggo’s thick cock.

Fine, fuck, a rough day deserved a sexy break. Orlando jammed the hose under his waistband and hissed in shock. Fuck, cold but intensely erotic. The water eagerly beat against his world-class cock.

Viggo raptly watched the hose-in-trousers stunt. Wow. How exciting. His admiring gaze now watched Orlando drop to the wet, oil-slicked floor. Oh man. Yes. Oooo, yeah, the contrast between the cold water and now this hot, knowing mouth just proved toooo wild.

Damn, Viggo felt glad he gave Jimmy the afternoon off.

Orlando rolled this beauty’s thick cock around between tongue and mouth roof. His long tongue reached out and fiercely pulsed against the taut underside. The shout of hoarse delight told Orlando he had scored a direct hit. His fingers clutched Viggo’s tense ass cheeks. Time to milk this handsome bull into submission. Yeah, fuck, insane not to suck this grand cock off through a rubber but Orlando knew his handsome service station stud wasn’t infected. He just knew.

Viggo raked his anxious fingers through the thick dark hair bobbing against his hips and tried remaining upright. This was a magnificent wet dream come true. Orlando Bloom, porn star, sucking him off. Ha, who would believe him? Oh yeah, mmm, Orlando somehow moaned, hissed and sucked at the same time. Talented? Viggo now felt justified at whacking off while watching this beauty’s onscreen skills. He knew most of the shit was faked but now he felt the real deal. Amazing. Just…nggghhh!

Too good. Too…Viggo’s filled balls rushed ahead of the game and hit the gas. Hard. His control careened off into the hot dust. Thrusting forward Viggo gave over to that exquisite tongue and knowing lips. Too good.

Orlando’s supple throat accepted and completed the intense merger. His cute desert stud tasted like musky maleness and spicy oregano. Someone had enjoyed pizza today. Over the years Orlando had become a prime connoisseur of cum flavors. Yeah, this man tasted so real.

Mmm. Real enough to play with for a day or three.

Ahhh, shit, the hose shifted and shook against Orlando’s loaded sac. Whooo. He slammed his forehead against Viggo’s thigh and shot his cream into the cool stream. Yeah, nice trick. Orlando’s hands ripped at his soaked silk pants and freed the hose. Wow. Memo to Ian; must remember that trick. Hose in the pants proved extremely exhilarating.

After he regained his strained breath Orlando brought his smooth forehead up from its restful position against Viggo’s firm thigh. He winked at his wet desert stud. "Viggo, do you know anything about fixing Porsches?"

Viggo grinned and cheerfully shrugged his broad shoulders. "Well, I know how to make a phone call to a dealership in L.A. or Vegas."

Their breathy laughter echoed against the cinder block walls. Orlando kissed one strong knee. "Fair enough. Do you have a guest room?"

Another playful grin followed. "Nope."

"A double bed?"

"Yep."

Well then that sounded promising. "A working phone?"

Viggo tried not to laugh again. "Yep."

Orlando felt unusually silly. "Air conditioning?"

"Yep."

Deal struck. Orlando rose from his kneeling position and pressed his languid lips against Viggo’s soft warmth. As he nibbled he paused for breath. "So, Viggo, do you want company for a day or two?"

The gas jockey almost performed a happy somersault. Viggo somehow managed to keep his enthusiasm tamped down into his balls. "Yep times ten." Jimmy, welcome to working the weekend.

Fuck, Ian and the stupid contract could wait. But Orlando couldn’t wait to see what his adorable service stud could do to his willing ass. Yeah, call it a working vacation. "Can you close early?"

"Wellll…" The sympathetic Viggo hated stranding anyone else out in the nasty desert heat.

When he sensed hesitation Orlando slowly teased his fingers along Viggo’s heavy dick. His fingers reached those impressive balls and tickled each slight skin fold in rapid progression. His light accent dropped into throaty desire. "Viggo, please just say yep."

"OK. Oh, fuck, I mean yep. Yes. Yeah. Si. Ooooo…" Viggo’s muscular body squirmed in willing acquiescence.

Good boy. Orlando kissed Viggo again and continued massaging that meaty cock. Hmm, suddenly the desert looked much more appealing.

Fuck, when had the porn star last enjoyed a week-long vacation being adored by basic masculine perfection? Now that sounded divine.

And if Viggo proved as good as he looked well, Orlando had a guest room and a king-sized bed. Hmmm.

As he played his tongue against Viggo’s tasty warmth Orlando made a mental note to rescue Celestine. But later.

Like tomorrow.

FIN xoxo
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Servicing