Date: Mon, 14 Jan 2008 21:19:07 -0800 (PST) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: Adventures In Nature 10 The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. % "Adventures In Nature" 10 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "Want to see what we've got, Jose?" A tender moment was just being born, when Mark and Jose heard the sound of Phillip's voice, over the back of the sofa, one of two pieces of furniture facing each other, in front of the fireplace. His hand slipping quickly out of Mark's jeans, as Jose replies, "Sure. What do you have there?" Busily, Mark buttoned and zipped up, replacing his tee shirt over the works. Doing some quick work himself, Jose forced his cock down the leg of his jeans, in the nick of time, removing his hand. "What are you guys doing? Studying?" Aidan asks. "Right," Mark replied, "I've got a lot of math to catch up on." By the time Mark fudged his answer, Philip had unfolded a piece of paper, laying it out over texts, notebooks, Jose's laptop and other paraphenalia, scattered over the coffee table. "Guess what it is?" Philip asks, excitedly. Peering at the little white box, near the right corner, Jose says, "'Jayab Hijazi'. I know his office-- over on Hardscrabble Road. Did Mr. Hijazi design this?" "Yup and guess what?" Aidan asks. "What?" Jose responds Mark sitting there, taking it all in, wished the squirts would hurry it up, so he and Jose could get back to their `studying'. "He's got a son, Bobby..." Philip, cutting in, asks, "And guess what?" "What?" Jose answers. "Bobby is our age and when he gets here, our dads are going to have a barbecue and invite Bobby and his dad over!" Mark finally chokes up a question, "If Bobby is not `here', then just where is he?" "India, I think?" Philip guesses, having forgotten where they were told. "Not India, doofus," Aidan corrects him, "It's some Arabian country." "Oh," Philip replies. After a short lull, Mark asks, "What about his mom?" "I dunno," Philip says, "we only know it's him and his dad." It didn't phase Mark, whether he knew or not. With his hand under the opened text book, on his lap, he cared only about something being done with what raged under the text! % "Busy day, babe?" Steve asks, his lover entering the house, just after four-thirty. "You can say that again!" Barry replies, doing something he rarely does, walking in the front door, dropping his body in a soft chair, attache case hitting the floor, still clasped in his hand. To the rescue, Steve closes the front door, then sneaks up behind Barry, placing both hands on shoulders, deeply massaging them. "Oooooh that feels good... Thanks." "No problem," Steve says, hands slipping deeper into Barry's chest area. "So, you're kind of late," he probed for reasons. Before giving excuse, he states, "That Marsha Burke is a saint!" "Oh?" Steve questions, quitting his massage routine, walks over to the bar, grabs a bottle and glass. "The office got stormed by a barrage of parents this afternoon, wondering why their `Johnny' or `Susy', wasn't chosen for the main roles in Rectangulaire's Madrigal production this year." Handing Barry the filled beverage glass, ice jiggling around inside. "Thanks, babe." Not asking, Steve retrieved his afternoon kiss before the glass met Barry's lips. "So, let me guess. You stood there while Marsha handled the situation?" Breaking his serious manner, Barry smiled, saying, "How did you guess?" "So, what did you do about it?" "Actually," Barry said, interrupted by a sip and gulp, "she came up with a very good plan." "Why am I not surprised?" Steve asks, folding his arms across his chest, as his ass sits perched on the sofa arm. "She very calmly explained, since the Madrigal dinner ran for two evenings, possibly the director might see fit to alternate the parts of the king and queen, and other more important roles, per night, thereby involving more students in the lead parts. What do you think?" "Good move, but will Zubin go for it?" Steve brought up the high school English teacher and director. Giggling, Barry replies, "Well, as Marsha put it, indirectly, the monies received for costumes, scripts, advertising and other paraphenalia which goes into presenting the dinners, comes from the parents, whom patronize most of the fundraisers, so guess what?" "An offer he can't turn down, huh? I mean, when you think about it, so does his stipend, for running the after school drama club," Steve adds. "Considering all the grieving parents, there's a couple other ideas Marsha came up with." "Oh?" Steve stands, readjusting the waist of his gym shorts. Looking straight ahead, at the midsection of his red, C9 shorts, Barry keeps his stare up, as he informs his other half, "Adding a third performance and moving the whole production to the college." "Well," Steve answers, aware his eyes aren't always making a connection with his lover, "it would sure make parking easier, if you recall the nightmare we had last year, at the conclusion of the dinner." "Oh, but if you remember, there was one factor, which inflated the amount of people who attended?" Excitedly, Steve asks, "Is he coming again this year?" "Sorry to burst your bubble sweetheart, but Richie has informed us his uncle will be on tour, promoting his `Hits of the 90's' CD, on tour." "Are you kidding? Barry Manilow singing the hits of the 90's?" "Why? Don't you think he can cut it, Steve?" "I suppose," Steve says, adding, "Well maybe, but I think he should make the cut off, with the new millenium." "Yeah," Barry agrees, "I couldn't see Barry singing `Hips Don't Lie'!" "Like my hips don't lie?" Steve asks, hands on his own hips, pulling the fabric of his jock shorts taut, creating tension in the middle. "What are you ever talking about, Steve?" Barry asks, on the sly. "Ready to find out?" "Wish I could, but I have some phone calls to do before dinner, plus check up on the kiddies?" "Oh yeah, wait til you get hit with the developments of Philip and Aidan's school project. It's really developing into something!" "Really? Want to give me a clue?" Barry asks, chugging the rest of his drink. "First thing, Jayab Hajazi has volunteered to draw up the design." "Hmm, their project is really starting to turn into quite a `to do' with the community," Barry tells. "You've talked to him? Just when did he say Bobby is arriving?" "On my way out this afternoon, I ran into Malcolm Cahill..." "What's he doing up at the high school?" "The nurses office ran out of gauze strips, so the low man on the totem pole was elected to do a pickup and delivery," Steve replies, cheerfully. "And guess what?" "You gave him a blow job?" Jokingly, Steve replies, whimsically saying, "I don't think his partner would like that very much. How would you feel, Beary?" "I get your point Steve. So, what's the scoop?" "Well, the couple are trying to adopt a little boy from Jamaica," Steve says, with a smile. "Isn't that where Malcolm is from, or is he from..." "No. You've got it right. He's from Jamaica and oh, another bit of information. Jeffrey is from the Virgin Islands." Smiling, Barry says, "It's amazing what you learn in school!" "Dad-Barry, you're home!" Aidan says, he and Philip yell out, pounding their feet, as they rush into the livingroom, toting a large piece of oaktag, unfurled, flying like a flag. "Guess what?" Philip yells out, in excitement. "I can't begin to guess," Barry says, giving Steve a glance. % "I gotta go take a leak," Darryl says, not much more cheerful than this morning. "Just a minute," Julian replied. However, with a great heave, Darryl almost pulls Julian's arm out of his socket. "I gotta pee bad!" Up until now, Julian has been patient with Darryl, giving in. But now his action was totally uncalled for, the heavy black and blue bruises on his left wrist. Cursing him already, Julian lashed out at Darryl. Holding his glass up to pour some milk, Darryl's actions made it wind up in his lap, the carton pouring into his pubes. Never mind the fact he cursed out loud, at the impact of having his arm battered once more. "Shit! Look what you fuckin' went and did!" "Well, if you had listened to me...." Darryl said, marching off to the jon, pulling Julian along. "Now wait a minute here!" Julian shouted, pulling on the cuffs, linking them both. Reeling Darryl in, like casting a line out into a lake and retrieving it, Julian holds Darryl steadfast in his tracks. "Ouch! You almost fuckin' ripped the hand off my arm!" "Oh? And what the fuck do you think you call ripping me away from the table. Hell, just because you didn't want your Oreo's and milk, doesn't mean somebody doesn't!" With a long sigh from Darryl, Julian hears the words he thought would never come, "You're right." "Wait. Say that again?" He couldn't believe he heard correctly, sticking his finger in his ear as if unblocking it. "You're right about everything," Darryl started in. "Nobody's going to call us. We can't leave unless it's at night, then we'll freeze our asses off, plus.... well, I'm sure neither of us want to be caught streaking in the neighborhood. Look, I gotta pee bad. Can we talk about this later?" When Julian relieved himself, it was no problem, holding his cock and letting it squirt out, but with Darryl, he couldn't seem to get the hang of being tethered together. "Um, need help?" Riddled with frustration, anxiety and helplessness, Darryl gave in, as Julian looped his left arm over Darryl's head, standing behind him, abling him to hold Darryl's piss-filled rod with both hands. "I thought you had to piss so bad?" "Well, there's a big difference with you holding it, than me." "Relax and concentrate," Julian left him the piece of advice. Doing the best he could, soon a couple of drops dripped from the small mushroom, bit by bit turning into a stream. "Ahhhhhh," Darryl sighed. However, Julian was feeling quite a different sensation, with his 9c lying vertical against Darryl's ass crevice. % "What's the matter sadsack?" Jack Collier called out to Denis, as he lay listless in the bed, again trying to see if any patterns repeated itself, in the ceiling tiles overhead. "Nothing. Nothing at all," Denis replied, squinting his eyes, as he stare upwards. Strolling over to Denis' side, he stood by the bed and looked up. "I know I've been in this room dozens of times. Am I missing something?" Jack quizzed the eighteen year old. Then, out of the blue, a subject entirely different than the nooks and crannies of the ceiling tiles, Denis asks, "Luke..." then breaking his concentration, springing upwards, his attitude perking up, "does he have a boyfriend, if you know?" Regaining his posture, Jack replies, "I think he's dating a guy, why?" The heightened upper feeling faded from Denis' outlook, causing him to sink his head back into the pillow and carry on his survey. "Here, I brought you some `literature' to look at," Jack says, dropping a heap of magazines in his lap. Looking down, over his chest, Denis, seeing the duo on top, automatically sits up, unaided by his hands, fingers clutching at the `Hard' magazine, eyes alight, with viewing the two naked twinks on the cover. "Are these real guys?" Denis questions, immediately diving into the periodical. After a short giggle, Jack replies, "Do they look real?" Once inside, beyond the cover, Denis completely loses track of Jack's comment, even though he had his hand on the control, elevating the teen into reading position. "I'll be back in a few," Jack says, closing the door behind him, confident Denis will be entertained for some time to come! After flipping through the sparsely worded magazine, Denis let the magazine fall into his lap. It's then he realized he had something to lean against. However, it didn't distract him from another target he eyed up. "Shit, is this guy gorgeous!" "Who's gorgeous?" "Oh. Hi Tony," Denis said, a bit drawn out, enough to try to tidy up on the pile of magazines. "Whatcha got here?" Tony Gagliardi asks, a hand fanning out the periodicals, between Denis' legs. "Hmm," he ponders over the same cover-stud Denis remarked about. "It's so obvious the guys on `roids and... his skin's so shiny, they probably dipped him in baby oil. If you look close enough, you can tell he's been toned with makeup. Now you tell me... compared to myself, what's so special about this guy?" "For one thing," Denis says, "Is the shirt." Taking another look, in case he missed it, Tony replies, "He's in the buff." Thinking about the comparison, Tony drops the magazine in between Denis' kneecaps, his left hand extended over his shoulder, the other meeting halfway, as he strips his tank top off over his head. "Solid," Tony says, making like he's punching himself in the stomach. "I bet that's not the only thing that's solid!" Turning around, Tony comes face to face with... "Oh hi Jack. Like I was just showing Denis something here." "Oh really? Um, weren't you supposed to come by my place last week and show me `something', Tony?" "I was thinking about it," Tony replied, knowing fully well the `game' Jack wanted to play. "School, you know? It's real important to me. With being on the swim team, it's kind of tough to juggle around the time." Even though Jack had the hots for Tony, he led his fabricated tale go. "So," Denis breaks in, "do you two having something going?" Both guys could take this two ways. Jack was quick to respond, "Um, yeah. We were going to watch some hot, um...." "Porn," Tony thought up, helping Jack out. "Um, couldn't you have thought of something `cleaner', Tony?" "What's wrong with watching porn? Maybe when I get out of here, we can all watch it together." Before saying this, another thought ran rampant through Denis' mind-- Luke. If Tony and Jack had something going, then maybe this meant Jack and Luke were `friends' and nothing else, assuming Jack pertained to himself, when he answered the question about Luke having a boyfriend. Jack agreed, giving in to Tony's explanation, however there was another bit of information he sought after. "So, Tony... that your coverboy look or what?" Other than the oddity of having a swimjock barechested in the room, Jack dwelled on the upper half of Tony's bod, those succulent nips on his built pecs. Giggling, Tony went for his tank top, saying, "I was pointing out to Denis how fake these coverboys are made up." "Well, Tony," Jack says, snatching the tank away, even though Tony had fed his arms into it, "anytime you want to add some realism to the cover, I know the editor." Flipping through another magazine, Denis kept tabs on the two, as Tony replies, "Might just be a good way to pick up a few bucks for college." Returning the balled up Champion top, Jack presses it against Tony's chest, letting it fall into his hands, as he comments, "Anytime, Tony. Just give me the word and I'll make the call." Hearing the door open, Jack turns around, seeing Luke standing there. "My shift," Luke says, with a little smile on his lips. Already sensing Denis' attachment to the twenty-seven year old counselor, Jack says, "In fact, no time like the present, huh?" Dragging Tony out of the room, clutching his tank in the middle of his chest, Tony shouts, "Um, see ya later Denis!" "So, how's my favorite patient today?" "Great!" Denis replies, perking up when he hears the favorable greeting, zoning in on the `my favorite'. "I see you are occupying your time with some reading?" Luke asks, looking down at the bed, five or six hot coverboys between Denis' legs. Picking up one, of a hunk working out, muscled from head to toe, Luke comments, "I wonder if you can see the strings," analysing the cover up close. "Strings?" Denis says, not realizing he ripped the magazine out of Luke's hands. "I don't see any." Grinning, Luke informed him, "No probably not. The way this muscle-hunk looks, he must really be lifting the barbell. So, how is your day going, Denis?" Luke asks, clicking the top of a ball point pen, as he opens a file folder and sits. Lying back, as the bed sits in an upright position, the blond teen puts his hands behind his head, reflecting on, "It's been kind of boring, since I woke up this morning." "Any thoughts of hurting yourself?" "Do you mean like stabbing myself?" Denis inquires. Luke writes something down, even though he replies, "Not exactly, but do you have ideations regarding such?" "Um... whatever," Denis replies, shrugging his shoulders. Smiling, Luke rephrases his question, "Do you have any mental images of doing something like that to yourself?" "Stabbing myself? Hell no! Why would I want to do something like that. Stabbing myself could hurt!" "You bet," Luke replies, writing more down. "So, you look like you are in a happy mood. Can you tell me what you're feeling now?" Denis gulped down the spit in his mouth, working on conjuring up a fib, to offset what he was feeling between his legs. % Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.