Date: Tue, 12 Dec 2006 12:32:20 -0800 (PST) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: NATURE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS 03 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. % NATURE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS 03 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "What the hell you waiting for?" At the WRMH emergency room, Dr. Maria Scalia rules. "X-ray, stat!" Callan, on call, had reported to the hospital. Being more personal than just anybody showing up in an ambulance, Maria sought to `take him off the case', where Barry was concerned. Instead she directed him into the emergency room, alongside Aidan, providing some `looking after' medicine for Philip. "Aidan doesn't look so good, dad-Callan." "I think he's groggy from the medicine they gave him." "Yeah, he-looks sleepy too." Even in the face of calamity, some humor was to be had, with Callan realizing Philip didn't get the gist of the meaning of `groggy'. He also noticed Philip's clenched hand, clutching the back of his medical fatigues, all bunched up in a ball. Reaching behind him, he peeled open a few fingers, replacing them with the palm of his hand. "He's probably going to be in and out of sleep." "Will he know me when he wakes up?" For Callan, he immediately got the feeling his young charge thought his condition life threatening, but he knew otherwise. "I'm sure when he awakens tomorrow morning, he'll know you." "That long? Why?" "Because when you have pain, the doctor gives a patient a medicine to relieve it. It's what I meant by `groggy'. It make's a person sleep. Plus, I do believe your brother has a very sore, and likely, broken leg." Philip's nose turned up, his face resembling Aidan's look, in the van, experiencing the pain. For the squirt, with loving his brother, it became natural, no matter what age, for him to feel such an attachment. "Can I stay with him?" "Not right now. They need to help make him feel more comfortable. I think also, we should get a doctor to look at your wounds?" "James' mom took care of them." Callan could see the homemade remedy, a bandage round'n'round Philip's hand, plus the unintended limp. Still, he tried praising the temporary fix. "Yes, she did a mighty good job, but it's the rules. A doctor needs to look at you." "Okay. Are you sure my brother is going to be okay?" Callan replied, in the affirmative. However, the conversation became sketchy when Philip inquired about his dad, a tough matter to fill in the blanks. "Can I see my dad now?" As Callan led Philip, hand in hand, to another area of the hospital, he tried to give Philip's mind a detour. "How about after we get you fixed up, we come back here," Callan pointed to the door reading `cafeteria', "and get a bite to eat?" "I'm not hungry. When can I see my dad?" That's what Callan figured the eleven year old would say, regarding food, however he would try again later. As for seeing his dad, he did his best to sidetrack Philip. "Your dad needs his rest." "Why? He was sleeping in the car. Hey, why do you think my dad fell asleep?" "Wait," Callan looked upon the eleven year old, with mixed reaction. "Why do you ask?" Philip looked at Callan, a questioning look on his face. "Because if he fell asleep, then maybe that's why he drove off the road." "Drove off the road? No, I don't think so." Callan stood there puzzled, thinking Philip actually had no idea another vehicle had been involved in the accident. "What do you remember of the accident?" Philip didn't get to readily reply. "I was just about to ask that question myself!" As Callan, unbandaged Philip's hand, in walks Officer Mike Green, accompanied by Detective Berk Hewsen. "Long time, no see, Mike," Callan greeted. Philip, however, reacted more in a pouting sense, a sniffle shuffled in between words. "Hi Uncle Mike," he said in a low voice, "Aidan and my dad got hurt in a car accident." "I see. You look like you got hurt too?" "Not as bad as them. My dad didn't wake up and Aidan's got pain. Maybe his leg is all broken up!" "Looks like you have nasty cut young man," the twenty-six year old Turkish detective surmised. "I think I cut it when I climbed over the window my dad was behind. Yeah, that's it. I think I got some glass in it." "Where?" Callan asks, taking Philip's hand in his, looking closely, his nose barely an inch from colliding. "I dunno." "Don't you feel anything?" Sure Philip felt something now, as he flexed his hand. Without the support of Mrs. Kitchner's bandage for support, folding it became a cinch and his enemy for renewed pain. "Owwwwwch! Ooooh! Ooooh!" Philip cried out, tears automatically flooding his face. "Sorry gentlemen, but your questions will have to wait!" After informing them, Callan quickly re wrapped Philip's hand. "Where are you going?" "X-ray," he replied. Also handy, had been a handicapped chair, so Philip gained a free ride, as well, speeding down the corridor. % "What are you two doing back here?" Michael Byrd questioned. "Big accident up on Bridges Lane," Christian replied. Justin added, "They're not letting anyone through." "Rather than drive twenty-five miles around, we decided to backtrack to the cafe." "Hmmm... then maybe you can give me a hand cleaning up?" No such luck, as Christian and Justin reminded Michael he gave them the night off. With wishful thinking out of the way, Michael offered them free drinks, as long as they kept the bar area tidy, himself reporting back to kitchen duty. Whistling became a good past time, as he scoured some pots. Right in the middle of `dishpan hands', a knock came at the service entrance door. "Oh, it's you." "Oh, it's me? It wasn't `oh, it's you', half a day ago when I was pleasuring your cock!" Laughing, Michael let Kevin in, closing the door. "Well, you don't have to feel like a stranger, knocking, you know?" "The door was locked." "Oh yeah. I knew that!" Michael smiled, trying to cover his stupidity. As a rule, the service entrance remained locked at all times, except when deliveries occurred. "So, did you get your delivery schedule worked out?" "Y'know," Kevin started out on a different wavelength, after helping himself to a bottle, from the smaller fridge, "I don't know what I was thinking." The twenty-six year old halts his intended conversation, turning the bottle of ale, holding it up, searching the label. "What's wrong? Flat?" "No. In fact, it's quite good. Funny name, though, `Bigfoot Barleywine'?" "Yeah. Got a case of it in the cellar. Thought I'd keep a few on ice for myself." "How did you come by it?" "You need all the nitty gritty details, do ya?" Kevin smiled, still reading the Sierra Brewing Company's notes about the ale. "Will it give me a hard one?" Letting the stock pot fall into the sink, he dried his hands, drying his hands on the soiled, offwhite apron, Michael walks over to Kevin. He reached down, lightly groping at Kevin's mid-thigh region. Smiling, Kevin parted his legs, encouraging more massaging action. "And here I pictured you the innocent type." "Wait til you get me bedded down tonight!" He chugged the rest of the ale. "Oh? Who said you were invited?" Setting the empty ale bottle down, Kevin takes hold of the two straps of Michael's apron. As he gave a couple of tugs, his lighter bod, a hundred and eighty-two pounds, compared to Michael's beefy two hundred and five, sprung forward. Their heights, roughly two inches apart, made their lips about the same leverage for a hot kiss. Breaking, Kevin boldly says, "You're the one telling me not to be a stranger!" % "Hi! I'm Chad Barr. You have my dad here?" "Yeah, they just brought him in." "Can I see him?" "Don't forget about me," Matty nudged Chad. The nurse on duty explained Chad's dad had been admitted, but could not furnish further information, other than the two would have to wait it out. "C'mon Preppy." Matty pulled at the back of Chad's shirt, a little shirttail seeping out of his pants. "But we've got to see my dad. And what about my bro and Aidan?" "Problem?" "Dad!" Chad called out, running over to his step-father. Throwing his arms around Steve, he used the endearing term, rarely heard these days, regarding visits vs. busy lives. Matty kind of wondered about the identity of the police officer, with Steve. Getting closer, it became too obvious, Matty trying to make out the name on the little metal title-bar. "Peter Nelson?" Matty questioned, reading the name right off. "And you are?" Offering a hand, the thirty-two year old police officer inquired. "Matthew Bridges... most guys call me Matty." "Oh, of the `famous' Bridges of West Richlan, I take it?" "I don't know about famous," Matty replied, feeling up the big warm hand. "Bridges Lane? Bridges Environmental Center? Bridges Real Estate?" "Yeah, I'm related to her. My mother," Matty offered a smile. "I figured so, it being a small town." "Um, do you think I can have my hand back?" "Sure. Sorry `bout that," Pete replied, loosening his grip, adding a smile. Matty could tell right away Pete's preferences. He figured he'd set the record straight. "By the way, Chad here is my partner!" Grinning, Pete immediately followed up with, "I didn't know I was that obvious!" "Sometimes it doesn't have to be." "Oh? How's that go?" Officer Nelson asked. Quite impressed with the stature of the police officer, Matty figured no harm in scanning the bod of the blond, blue-eyed bombshell, stuffed into the navy outfitting, adorned with metal and apparatus, fitting for a well kept police office. "Depends on if my gaydar is turned on or off," Matty offered. "On? At which point did it switch on?" "As soon as you shook my hand!" Matty smiled. "Well, now that you know, could you keep it kind of tight-lipped?" "Not out yet?" "Um," Pete responded, his finger nervously playing with his shirt collar, "not exactly." Gone was the laughter, turning to a serious manner. "Don't worry. Your secret is secure with me. Um, can you exercise your authority, to help us see Chad's dad?" "But I thought ," Pete pointed to Steve, "is his.....?" "No, not quite. Partially true, but more like dad-in-law." Pete had to think on it, looking at Steve and Chad, talking. "You mean his dad and Steve here are..." "Partners." "Looks like I have a lot to learn." "You don't know any gay couples?" "I might. It's not the first question I ask a person. In fact..." "I know. You can't ask it." "Right." "So? How about getting us some info, Pete?" Already, Matty felt a close camaderie with the police officer. "Sure. Hold on a sec." Matty segued back over to Chad and Steve, as Pete waltzed over to the info desk. His body headed forward, his attention eyed up the cuffs and other areas of the police man's navy pants. "Pete's going to see if he can get some info outta that bitch!" On this night, the waiting room of WRMH, had been packed tighter than a can of sardines, spilling out into the street. Officer Peter Nelson tried his darn'dest to seek passage for Steve, Chad and Matty, but for now doctors still worked on him, so it became a no win situation at negotiation. "Good nurse they have there at the counter." Chad and Matty looked at Pete like he was from Mars. "You're pulling our chain, aren't you?" Matty asks. Pete looking down, smiled, then replied, "Um, I don't think I'd go `that' low." "You know what they mean!" Steve pointed out, more serious-minded. "Sorry. I know you're all feeling touchy, but the reason I'm saying so is the tougher the person, the more of an asset they are to the hospital. I mean, it's a good thing he doesn't let everyone past the front, for the sake of asking." "Wait," Matty questions, "you're not saying this only because you think he's... um..." "Matthew Bridges!" Steve ventured to accuse. "Never mind. Forget I asked it," Matty said, turning red. "Yeah," Chad scolded him, "you know don't even know if Pete is..." Chad hadn't heard the conversation Matty had with Pete only a few minutes prior. "You know," he finished his assumption. "Oh he is, believe me!" % "Any JD left in that bottle?" "No, Michael, but there's plenty more from where..... that..." As Christian looks over the extra stock, moving bottles around on the shelf above the bar, he searches. Coming up empty, he turns around and says, "Um, if you squeeze the bottle, you might get a little out of it. Otherwise, you'll have to try something else?" "I can't believe you two polished off the whole bottle!" "What bottle?" Justin asks. "I can believe it!" Kevin responds, nodding to Justin, sitting at one of the small, round, wooden tables. Relaxing as if a man with not a care in the world, he has both feet propped up on the back of another chair. Leaning back, with a curvature of the spine, the twenty year old's shirt, unbuttoned right down the middle, drapes over his shoulders, his dusting of dark hair across his chest, visible to the two men's eyes, along with the darker, defined trail dividing his taut abs. "Hot looking guy, for a nerd," Michael says to Kevin. "The other one isn't too bad looking either. Ooooh, will you look at that!" Taking his mind off of pouring out a substitute for the JD, Michael shares Kevin's observation. Sitting down, Christian knocks Justin's feet to the floor, parking his ass right on Justin's lap. His probing hands reach right in the sides of Justin's shirt, pushing it back, over his shoulders, letting it hang on the back of the chair. Dropping his head back, Justin moans, squinting his eyes, as Christian runs his tongue along the top of Justin's shoulders, followed by licking his light chest hair, down to his nips. With more of a sucking action, his hand pawing Justin's other nip, Christian pleasures him, licking and sucking away. "Maybe we should whip our dicks out, while we're being entertained with live porn!" "I got a better idea," Kevin suggests, "why don't we take the glasses and bottle upstairs and finish what we started last night?" Michael wiggles his eyebrows, picking up a fresh bottle, substitute for the JD. Kevin scoops up the two glasses in each hand. "Have fun guys!" Michael calls out. Kevin jokes, "They didn't even hear ya!" Climbing the stairs, Michael takes in the view of Kevin's tight jeans. With the h'orderve he just witnessed, his cock is already primed. Without much ado, both strip out of their clothing. "Nice!" Kevin says, staring at Michael. "Oh really?" "Yeah," Kevin replies, walking over to Michael. His hands immediately encompass Michael's torso, Michael's hairy belly touching Kevin's tight stomach. "Actually you surprise me Kevin." "Oh? How so?" His hands `handling' Kevin Spangler's shoulders, hands exploring, running them through the lush fur covering Kevin's pecs. "Well, it's not every man who enjoys being with a guy who's overweight." "You gotta be fuckin' kiddin', Michael. I love," As Kevin is pleasuring Michael with his words, his mouth is making an addendum to the exploration, "a meaty, hairy bear." "Mmmmm," Michael replies. It's not long before Kevin helps fulfill Michael's dream, a muscled man, making love to his slightly overweight body, tongue and hands exploring, licking the thick hair covering his chest, his tongue painting a line down, over his belly. His knees going to the floor, the twenty-six year old slides his tongue right into Michael's navel. "Ooooooh yeah!" Michael calls out. As Kevin tongues out the pungent bellyhole, his hand is already working the thirty-one year old's balls, juggling the two orbs in his hand. Breaking his tongue free, Kevin looks down briefly before hand feeding himself one of Michael's delectable orbs. Looking up, all he sees is Michael's neck, as he drops his head backwards, at the touch of tongue to his balls. "What'd ya stop for?" Smiling, Kevin replies, "I thought maybe you're tired of standing there and want to `rest'?" "Sure," Michael says, a hidden agenda already in his `brief'case. Heading for the bed, he lays faced down, grabbing the pillow as if holding a lover. Kevin scratches his head, pondering. "What'samatter, Kev? Y'never rimmed a bear's ass before?" "No, it's not that. I mean, I've only been with an otter. No bear, but...." "But what?" "All that ass hair, man!" Sure enough, as Kevin stares, climbing onto the bed, the closer he got, the less flesh he could see, as tufts of short hair protruded from Michael's ass. "You've got more hair on your ass than I've got in my armpit!" "Repulses you, does it?" "Not at all," Kevin replied, licking his lips. "Then what're you waiting for. You come to my cafe.... now eat!" Both get a chuckle out of Michael's joke. But then Kevin gets down to serious matters. His hand first feels up the hairy mass. Leaning over, his takes his first taste of bear's ass. % "Um, how about I keep the desk nurse busy and you two kind of wander up the main drag?" "You mean you're going to break the law for us, Pete?" "Nah. Just bend it alittle. Plus, I thought I would try out some gaydar stuff on him." Even though down in the dumps, the police officer's humor has lifted their spirits a tad. "Just wait a minute while I get him worked up in a conversation," Pete lays out his devious plan to them. "Then when I get his back turned toward the main corridor, you three make your move." "Sounds like a plan," Steve says. "Thanks." "Yeah, thanks, Pete," Matty replies, again shaking the warm hand. "No problem." "And Pete?" "Yeah Matty?" "Don't get into trouble. We all don't have the gift of `gaydar'." "Yeah," Chad adds, "he was such a bitch before. Be careful." Smiling, Peter Nelson walks over to the nurses station, waiting for the latest bout of visitors to be processed. Out of the fifteen, asking about Barry Barr and his two sons, fifteen are sent off to the waiting room. Like a charm, Peter starts up a conversation, slowly stepping to the side of the desk, dragging the desk jockey's head to the south, as the trio heads towards the north side of the hospital. "C'mon guys!" Steve says, almost whispering. It was an easy plan and the three slipped by, heading into the hallway, through the double doors, as Peter wooed the nurse's attention away. "Yeah, cops kind of turn me on." "Really?" Peter beams. "Say, what time is your shift over with?" "Four A.M." "I get off at five. Why don't you head over here and pick me up?" Each adlibbed the conversation, cop, to desk clerk. "I could go home and shower before." "Oh no. I want you nice and sweaty for me." "Cool," the thirty-two year old police officer resounds, as he turns to leave. "I'll be back for you later then, Hans." "And Pete?" "Yeah," the police officer replies, coming back to the desk. In a hushed tone, Hans, the desk clerk, strongly suggests, "make sure you're in full uniform, with a complete utility belt?" "I can't bring my gun." "I know. But make sure you're fully equipped?" The over-six-foot nurse adjusts his package, behind the desk, before doing some computer catch up work. After Peter's attention he's totally oblivious the three men are not standing in the foyer of the hospital. As for Peter, heading out of the hospital, he's elated his gaydar worked, securing a date with Hans Wenzl! % "You sit there nice and steady, Philip, so this guy can take a picture of your hand." "Okay, dad-Callan, but it hurts something fierce!" "Well of course it does. You probably have some pieces of glass stuck in there, but we'll find out soon enough. Roll'em, Bill." "Is this your kid, Callan?" "Oh no. Neighbor." "Oh, I wondered. He calls you `dad'." "We're close." As Callan steps out of the room, Bill wished he were closer! % Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.