Copyright 2008, 2012 by Carl Mason

All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, "Mike Hennigan" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. As in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@verizon.net.

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.


(Revisiting Chapter 6)

When the word got around as to what had happened at the bar and why Mike hadn't been seen as often over the last month, the longshoreman - union men and casuals alike - drew their own conclusions. (They never heard about Hal's blood work.) Mike was elevated to a position of respect rarely given by this bunch to a guy in his early twenties, let alone a teenager. Suddenly, he was included more fully in their lives and found it easier to get work on the docks. His life was changing as his body was changing. As he entered his twentieth year, the young man was clearly entering upon his prime. He would maintain his striking physique throughout his 20s - projecting a joyous, grinning, boyish image well into his mid 20s.

(Continuing Our Story: Settling Down to Living)

Life on the docks was no easier for the powerful young man than it had ever been. Maintaining his buddies' respect and completing his heavy work assignments were possible, but at this point in his career they took most of his resources of youthful energy. Life outside the docks, however, began to become a bit easier, a bit less contentious, a bit less the story of two steps forward and three backwards.

Strangely enough, Hal Bennett's move into his little hole of an apartment - or their soon moving into a slightly larger (but much nicer) hole - provided some of the major surprises in his life. Although he didn't push it upon his housemate every minute of every day, Hal remained deeply in love with his hero. He searched for things he could do to make the older youth's life easier and more joyful, and in that first summer together, that made a real difference. The reader shouldn't misinterpret what is being said. Hal never played the housewife; there wasn't an effeminate bone in his body. It's just that love and respect, and happiness radiated from his being...and lifted Mike to a new level of life. What of sex? Mike refused to use the mid-teen as the outlet for his physical needs. Sex did take place, but it wasn't planned, it wasn't taken for granted, and the most extreme health precautions were taken. Not that finding a hunky, naked 14 year old snuggling against your back when you climbed into the cold half of a bed was all that objectionable! The point is that Mike had promised him nothing, other than that he would be there for him - and he honored that responsibility in full. Even though Hal grumbled on occasion, this seemed to be enough at this stage of their relationship.

This is not to say anything other than both their lives were enriched by the relationship. As noted, Hal now had the sense that he had a rock upon which he could build his life. In an important sense, Mike found purpose during a transitional period in his life where he might have been simply looking to the future. Beyond having deep feelings for the youngster, it is also the case that Mike felt he was honoring an adult obligation - as well as doing something that gave him deep pleasure. While Hal was not the center of his life, he did take care of him. For instance, he actively supported the doctors at the Center in habituating the lad to a life regimen that kept him alive...and relatively healthy. He took the boy into the gym and helped him develop his body. Needless to say, the mid-teen was on cloud nine! They also thrived on their mutual love of hiking and fishing in the mountains that surrounded Playa D'Oro.

The men who were closer to Mike on the docks also brought rich gifts to their lives. For instance, a few began to come into the gym where Mike worked, they invited both Mike and Hal to join them and a couple of longshoremen from Long Beach to go fishing off Catalina, and took a wide-eyed Hal along when they attended two memorable Chargers game down in San Diego. (Hal couldn't quite decide between the glories of pro football and the food enjoyed at the pre-game tailgating parties!) Mike and Hal were also invited into the homes of several married men for food and fun - although they had some questions about being chased by cute relatives! They also continued to drink together, an activity that took them into some previously uncharted waters.

(A New Twist for Some of the Boys)

Bo Simms, the buddy with whom Matt has stumbled into a leather bar, really touched off the new development. Seemingly as straight as they come, it seems that Bo had been far more...intrigued (excited?) by that which he had seen in the leather bar than it had appeared at the time. Some months later, to be specific, he started talking with the others about restraint and the dungeon as they quaffed their after-shift brews. As one might guess, a number of the longshoremen - naturally echoed by casuals in the group - quickly put this down as "kinda gay". Bo stood his ground. "Don't see why it has to be gay," he grumbled. "All our lives, we're told to shape up, take charge, be a man, beat the record! Doesn't the idea of shouting, 'Screw it all! Give me a break! YOU take the point for a while,' have some appeal? 'Fess up now... In bed, doesn't the idea of the woman turning and suddenly controlling what's going on tickle your tail feathers? Hell! Getting tied up would almost be a vacation in my life! If it turns you on a little, what's wrong with that? In fact, why not ENJOY it? Might make getting back to the same old 'song and dance' a little more interesting! I know one thing: The fact that my prick jerks a little is not going to make me gay...or even 'kinda gay'." The fact that a number of the men sitting around him seemed to have a "Well maybe..." look on their faces encouraged Bo to continue. "Hell, we wouldn't have to go into a gay bar to have a little fun. I bet McCreary's has a back room they'd let us use!"

"Anyone want to get tied up?" someone yelled in a falsetto voice. Nervous laughs and snickers resounded around the table. "Get serious!" someone else barked. All eyes turned on him as Mike quietly said, "Well, as long as no one gets the wrong idea, I guess I'm willing to be the guinea pig." "You sure you're Italian?" an irreverent buddy named Vincenzo yelled. To a wave of rough laughter, the afternoon drinking bout broke up after deciding that Thursday afternoon two days hence was probably the best time to try it. Bo would check out McCreary's back room.

Six of the original seven men showed up on Thursday. Mack, an older and somewhat crotchety longshoreman, simply said that this wasn't his thing. Bo and Mike were delighted with the room that had all kinds of upright posts and, for some reason, a relatively high ceiling. (Clearly, in an earlier day, it hadn't been a bar.) Bo and Mike grinned conspiratorially; they'd had an earlier planning session at Mike's apartment at which they'd allowed an excited Hal to join them. After the boys had gotten a good head start at the bar in McCreary's, Bo invited them into the inner sanctum. As they entered, there was an audible buzz. The room was dimly lighted; several bottles of whiskey stood on the bar with glasses, along with some munchies. A half-keg stood nearby. 'A little "investment', Bo thought. 'Hal's idea...a good one!' Needless to say, the guys dug right in. Then, suddenly, one of the guys noticed Mike who was sprawled out on the floor over towards a rather dark corner of the room. He had donned a pair of his lightest weight khaki shorts...very short and nothing underneath...and that was it. Leo, one of the oldest of the men, whistled and mumbled to his sidekick, Sam, that this kid was built like a fuckin' sonofabitch! Indeed, he was quite a sight...young, handsome, tanned, heavily muscled, not a hair showing other than the brown curls on his head, thighs that visibly stretched the openings of the thin fabric, abs that any man would kill for! As the men paused, gulping a little, Bo walked over with a whiskey bottle that he used to refresh their drinks and some clothesline that he dumped on top of Mike's supine body. "Ok, boys, tie 'im up so he'll never get away! When you need to take a break, you know where the drinks are!"

There just wasn't enough light. Roughly, the men dragged Mike a few feet to where the light from the lamp caught his body. Abruptly, he stirred and howled, "Hey, guys, take it easy! Don't rip up my only decent pair of shorts!" "Shaddup, fish!" Pete snarled (leading Bo to wonder where he'd worked before), jabbing a fat finger into the youngster's chest and forcing him back to the floor. "Common, boys," yelled Leo. "No need to tear him up. Just pull the shorts off him...careful, now!" Within seconds, Mike lay buck naked on the floor and the roping frenzy was on! (Three or four minutes later, Bo actually had to go back behind the bar and give them more rope!) Time, marked only by sounds of labor and an occasional sharp epithet, passed. Later, echoing the words of the famous guru and folksinger Arlo Guthrie, when he was undergoing the induction physical described in Alice's Restaurant, Mike moaned, "And they was leaving no part untouched"! Finally, sweating and, perhaps, a little embarrassed, they rose and drained the last of the firewater in their glasses. Hammered to a man, they slowly filed out of the back room and headed home. A few muffled comments could be heard, but nothing more. The work week hadn't passed, however, before they were approaching Bo and Mike with averted faces and, after a little conversation about 'most anything', asking if another "McCreary's Night" could be arranged. They'd even taken up a (surprisingly large) collection that would more than pay for the room and the drinks! Further, almost everyone said that "someone" had stopped him and asked if others could attend.

(McCreary's II)

Grinning their fool heads off, Bo and Mike talked about another session that very afternoon. "Only one thing, Bo," Mike chortled as he watched his buddy chugalug his third beer. "Better watch all that beer or you'll be losing your girlish figure!" When his buddy ignored his lame effort at comedy, Mike added, "Got a request this afternoon." "What's up, bro?" Bo asked, reaching for a fourth beer. Raising his eyebrows humorously, Mike said, "Leo asked if he could plan the next event with us. Said he might be able to bring in more older guys." "Why not?" Bo answered, slamming the empty fourth bottle down on the table. "Set it up at your place for tomorrow night?"


Food and drink were easy to figure out, as was setting it on the next Thursday night, but the IMPORTANT question led to a violent controversy and stubbornness all around the circle. "Well, sure, you want a situation where the guys will naturally 'touch' a little, but you can't have it so obvious that they'll agree it's gay, get up, and walk out. Our names would be mud!" Mike insisted. Though Leo agreed, Bo felt that the physical excitement needed to be ramped up a bit over the last session. "Maybe bring in a male prostitute?" he asked, half-jokingly. "Hell, no!" Leo yelled. "Nobody's going to stand for that." (He didn't appear to be the brightest bulb in the rack!)

Hal refilled the peanut and chip bowls and cleared his throat. "Yo, beast!" growled Mike, throwing an arm around him and dragging him down close to his lap. "Geez, Louise!" yowled the redhead, "Wadda yuh think I am, your slave?" "Sorry, man!" Mike laughed in high humor, ostentatiously brushing Hal off...and then destroying everything by rumpling his hair. Restoring his carefully arranged locks, the boy sputtered for a moment and then got back on track. (Need it be added that he was pleased as punch that he had been included in the conversation...almost as an equal?) "If you're going to turn people on without them knowing it," he said, "I think you need some very young, very innocent meat." Mike sat straight up in his chair. "You can't come, Hal!" he growled. Leo and Bo promptly broke into howls of protest, telling the rookie to shaddup and the kid to continue. Speaking directly to Mike alone with a smirk, Hal responded sotttovoce (Italian; SAH-toe-VOE-chay; under his breath), "If you think I qualify, boss..." (Leo and Bro looked at each other confused.) Then he grinned and got to the point. "I seem to remember some sailors at a pool party last spring. They were as delectable chickens as I ever done see...hardly a hair on them, but muscled and pretty and oh so HOT! Straight off a Kansas farm, I think, and wantin' some action!" (Mike just about broke up. There was no way that Hal could have known about his roots!)

"Hal's right," Mike said authoritatively. I think we can arrange for a few really cute 18 year olds for little more than the promise of some 'fun'. (It took a couple of phone calls and a drive down to a Dego motel where "interviews" identified four real beauties. Truth was, however, that everyone concerned always thought it had been well worth the trouble!) Settling quickly on the events planned for the evening, the meeting broke up.

As Mike and Hal settled down to sleep, the hunky fourteen year old rubbed his nose against the back of his hero's neck. "Very young and very innocent meat!" he insisted. "Doesn't exist!" Mike growled sleepily. Events of the next half hour proved that he should have been more diplomatic! As they say, payback's a bitch!

(To Be Continued)