Date: Fri, 11 Mar 2005 15:41:42 -0800 (PST)
From: T Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nature Walk 05

The following story is a work of fiction set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to
accurately reflect persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If
sexual scenes 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 states and countries, you are not allowed to read
this by law.

"Nature Walk" 05 (M/t)
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

After Bernice and the male population had their fill
of the late snack, Steve announced that if they
weren't out of there by the strike of midnight, they
would turn into pumpkins. A quickie discussion
followed about the rooming situation. Of course,
Philip wanted to shack up at Aunt Bernice's place.
Aidan wanted to join the sleepover. So, Steve took
Barry, Tom, Mark, Eric and Denis home to be his
guests.

"Where'd the boys disappear to?"

"Back there behind the fir trees. C'mon."

"Isn't this nice?" Barry comments, of the elegantly
manicured backyard.

"I told you Bernice was a crazy women. After Denis got
a nasty scratch trying to fit through the iron bars,
she had a section torn out and this nice archway built
in."

"Looks like no expense spared. Solid brick, at that,"
Barry pats the neatly cemented rows of red brick.

Steve is feeling his own brick wall, as he views the
prospectus standing in front of himself. Breaking from
his reverie and back into the real world, he says,
"Oh you'll see. When Bernice has something done, she
does it right. If you think she's just going to knock
the price down on the Chatsworth place, just you wait,
Barry."

"You're giving me strange vibes, Steve," Barry says,
waving his body, as if ghostly spirits abound.  "Nice
place you've got back here."

"Got news for you buddy. This here is 'your'
property."

"Can't be. The house is way over in.." then Barry got
wind of the geography, "that direction," pointing due
west. "This can't be 'all' Chatsworth land, Steve."

The two stopped for a short while, in the bright
moonlight.

"Good place for us to stop for an explanation."

"Of?"

Steve says, purging on, "This is how it goes, Barry.
The Chatsworths detested Bernice's folks, but loved
her like a daughter. Where you see Bernice's home and
as you'll see the fifty or so around the countryside,
all used to be Chatsworth property."

"You mean like an estate.?"

"The Chatsworth's didn't have any kids, so they took
the pregnant mother under their wings. You would never
know she wasn't flesh and blood. Of course they
treated Matty like a grandchild. However, they weren't
young either. In their will, they left everything to
Bernice."

"Nice. Um, how did the Chatsworth's come by all of
their wealth. Not that it matters. Just curious."

"Banking. Mr. Chatsworth knew where to put money and
when. Bernice often referred to him as the 'money
genius'. He didn't squander the profits, neither."

"A tightwad?"

"Cheap, but not when it came to Bernice or Matty. I'll
have you know that. Hee heee... tell you how
Chatsworth made a lot of dough. Ever hear of naming a
star after a person?"

"Hmm... yes, I believe I do, however..." as Barry went
to say it, Steve and he both reported to each other,
"No can do."

"Hee heee," Steve laughed along with Barry, "like
minds can be dangerous, y'know?"

"So I've heard. Back to Chatsworth, though."

"Oh yeah. So, Chatsworth developed this thing with
naming stars after people."

"But Steve, that's totally preposterous!"

"Not according to the NBA."

What does this have to do with basketball, Steve?"

"Not basketball, dummy, the National Business
Association."

"Oh. I knew that!"

"C'mon, it's getting chilly," Steve said, pointing the
way to his abode.

"So, Chatsworth made his fortune ripping people off,
then. Is that it, Steve?"

"Most logically put, except the fact that people who
bought into his services gained a lot of happiness.
Can you imagine a family naming a star after a loved
one and the significance an everlasting body of light
provides them?"

"Hmm... similar to naming a building or a park, I
would assume. But didn't Chatsworth get any flack from
the IAU?"

"Oh yeeeeah. At first Chatsworth faced a lawsuit
claiming fraud. The International Astronomical Union,
as you know officially names everything in the sky,
totally disavows any association with the commercial
practice of "selling" star names or  the investment of
selling real estate on other planets or moons in the
Solar System. To make a long story short, the only
course of action, from the courts, that the IAU
received satisfaction over, had been a clause in
Chatsworth business statement, concerning his
disassociation with the IAU."

"Like the best things in life being free, huh Steve?"

Steve held up the pace, leaning on a wooden fence.
Suddenly it snapped in two. Barry, quick on the
reflexes, reaches forwards, grabbing up a handful of
the front of Steve's coat.

"Whew, close one buddy!" Barry claims.

"Yeah, man would have would up with my ass in the
briar patch. And I can guarantee that 'that' would
sting."

"Hee heee.... I'd probably be pulling briars out of
your ass all night, Steve."

"Hmm... getting kind of familiar with my body parts,
huh Steve?"

Even though a small amount of moonlight lit up the
ground beneath, Steve could see the embarrassment on
his new friend's face.

"Yeah, well.. ahem... as I was saying about the sky."

"Oh yeah, the sky. What was your point, Barry?"

"The sky, which is really untouchable, except for
those that fly beyond the earth, should be free for
all to enjoy. The beauty of the night sky should not
be for sale."

As Barry related the information, putting it almost in
loving prose, Steve wanted to so badly reach out and
caress those lips. He was loving the grip of Barry's
hand, still balling up the small mass of his coat.

"Like you said, Steve the gift of a celestial object
may open a person's eye to the beauty of the night,
through affixing their own personal name to it. It's
similar to a personal relationship, like...um, well
true love, for instance."

Standing there, face to face, a silence drew over the
scene, other than the slight whistling of the wind.

Steve broke the charasmatic moment with, "Well, yeah.
Okay, as we know, there are already millions stars and
planets, whose inhabitants have equal or better
rights, than is often observed." Even though Steve
stated something much like he would to his high school
science class, it became the vehicle for setting the
two in motion once more. "And like humans have done
with the known planets and constellations, have named
them, like the Sun, Moon, Mercury, Mars, Venus, etc."

"Hee heee..."

"What's so funny now, Barry?"

"Steve, can you explain everything you just rattled
off?"

After stopping, looking at Barry, Steve laughed, then
replied, "Haa  ha ha ha haa, I don't think I even
remember what I just said!"

"Just what I figured Steve. I think I get the gist of
Chatsworth wealth, but what about the rest of
Bernice's story?"

" Oh yeah.. Bernice, well by the time the Chatworth's
passed on, Bernice had her foot in the door of the
real estate business. Sold Donovan his store, for next
to nothing. The Trading Post was a rundown dump. Town
folks say Bernice is the force that brough new life
back into the dilapidated town, but not only with her
real estate dealings."

"I can see where you're headed with all of that. She
sure is a nice person, even though this is only my
first impression."

"Oh, wait til you let Bernice 'grow on you', Barry.
Generous as all hell and Alberto, ditto!"

"And you mentioned the Chatsworth's conditions?"

"Oh yes. In the will, Bernice could develop the estate
in whichever manner, but three conditions had to be
met. Number one is that any home that had been built
had to be set into the location."

"Set into the location?"

"The Chatsworths were very big on the environment. A
builder could not remove a tree, other than where the
foundation of the house was set, except for ten feet
around the exterior."

"Sounds like something Bernice herself would want."

"Oh yes. It's because of the Chatsworth's that Bernice
has fought for some stringent environmental laws in
this county and the state."

"So, what's number two?"

"Number two," Steve lay down, like a rule, "no two
houses could look exactly the same."

"Strange one."

"I thought so, likewise, but as you will see when we
do our morning jog.. ahem!"

"You're serious, aren't you Steve?"

"Sure. You'll see the variety of dwellings for
yourself."

"No.. no, I meant about the early morning jog."

"Oh, sorry. Yes. Well, don't get me wrong, Barry. I'm
all for exercise and keeping shape, but the Saturday
community jog is very good for the social continuity
of the neighborhood. Especially since it's so spread
out over the countryside."

"I can imagine it would be. How many come out for the
jog?"

"Anywhere from two to a hundred."

"Sounds like you could have a regular marathon. I
wonder whom the two two's are?"

"Yeah, well, it's not like a race. More social.
There's a park in the center of the development and
many of the cooks rally for Saturday's lite
refreshments after the jog. It's really quite nice
time to be had for all."

"What about bad weather?"

"Well yes, there are some circumstances that will
preempt the jog. Families plan special weekends, or
inclement weather or holidays, but generally many show
up. It's a great intergenerational activity, plus the
children get to see some of their teachers without the
wooden ruler in their hand."

"Kids are that tough, huh?" In the manner of Steve
chuckling, Barry got the message. "So, tomorrow you
and your boys will jog?"

"Oh yes, and I can guarantee, Barry, that your boys
will be in the running."

"Then I suggest we get some sleep, Steve?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, what was the third condition?"

"Oh yes, the third of the Chatsworth's wishes. That
their home would always remain as the same building."

As they walked, they talked. "I thought the Chatsworth
house fit well into the landscape," Barry replied,
with the environment factor in mind.

"That it does. Bernice did make some improvements on
it, before she put it on the market."

"Oh? Like?"

"Haa haaa..."

"What's that for Steve?"

"I'm afraid Bernice broke rule number three."

"That's 'not' the original house, then?"

"Barry, you wouldn't get a hedgehog to live in the
old, run down victorian home that used to stand in
that same spot."

"I happen to like victorian architecture, Steve."

"Sorry. Don't take this personal, Barry, but from the
inside, you would definitely 'not' want to own that
house. Bernice even summed up that the wallpaper
looked like it hung on the wall since the days it had
been built."

"That bad, huh?"

"They had a well pump at the kitchen sink."

"Oh my."

"I don't think your boys would've taken kindly to
putting their washed clothes through a ringer, in the
kitchen tub."

"Um, They didn't, um, have to go outside to um, what I
mean is, they didn't have an outhouse, did they
Steve?"

"Hee hee... no, Barry. They weren't that ancient, but
their jon had the old 'pull chain' flusher."

"My Lord, no?" Barry chortled.

"Yup and when Bernice says that it needs improvements,
the way it is, she is most likely talking about
cleaning the leaves out of the pool or replacing the
water in the hot tub."

"Pool? Hot tub?"

"Not to mention the goldfish pond or the babbling
brook that runs under the porch."

"Water? A brook runs under the house?"

"Only the porch and it had been intentional."

"How come I didn't see or hear it, Steve?"

"Low tide."

"Oh." After thinking a second, Steve's answer sinks
in. "Low tide?"

"Haa ha ha ha haa... I wondered when it would hit,
Barry."

After leaving the rather unkept yard, the out of order
weeds and vines give way to a more organized vista.

"Now there's something you don't see everyday!"

"Hee heee... yeah, Barry. I told you that every house
is different."

"That you did, Steve. One question though."

"Hmm? What's that?"

"Is this the front or back of your home?"

"Take your pick, Barry. Except for the curved stairway
leading to the round atrium, the front is identical."

"Mighty nice tastes you have there, Steve."

Silence prevailed for a short minute.

"Ah, c'mon inside Barry. I'll show you around."

Barry liked the idea of Steve getting 'chummy' with
him, ushering him inside, his arm over his shoulder
like a long, lost friend.

"Nice entry way. Geesh! Bernice talks about windows!"

"One of my favorite past times, Barry."

"Very nice though, I have to admit Steve. I would just
hate to paint that ceiling way up there, from down
here."

"It's got the original wooden beams. I haven't touched
it with a  paint brush. But I did jimmy up the vacuum
with a long tube, so that the cobwebs can be sucked up
easy from the second floor balcony."

"Tricks of the trade, I guess."

" C'mon, Barry, let's see how the boys made out."

Stepping up a rounded staircase, Barry follows Steve
to the second floor, commenting, "Could make somebody
dizzy going up that too quickly!"

"Hee heee... yeah. I had it put in, since the only
stairway had been near the front door. It's good for
fire safety too."

"So how many bedrooms do you have up here, Steve?"

"Well, there's the master bedroom, Sean solos in his
room, Denis had his own room, but when I adopted Eric,
they hit it off and so, they wound up together. I had
one empty bedroom, so that's where Aidan came in."

"I can see where it would be a shame to let a room go
to waste, when there's a needy little guy to place in
it."

"Yeah. Now, you can stay in Aidan's room if you would
like, Barry."

"Bunkbeds?"

"Yeah, I thought maybe I'd wind up adopting one more,
but had to cut it off somewhere along the line."

"You know, that's mighty human of you, Steve."

"Uh-huh and I think you can relate to that, but I'm
not sure in which way, Barry." It irked Steve that
there had been more to Barry's story than the untimely
passing of his spouse.

"Maybe," Barry replied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Only one problem with the bunkbeds."

"They're ready to collapse?"

"Noooo... I have my boy Aidan to think about, don't
forget."

"No, I'm just kidding. What's up with the bunks,
Steve?"

"Hee hee... they're made for a little boy. You might
have to sleep bunched up like an accordion, Barry."

"Hmm... might keep all this food from digesting
through the tracks properly."

"Hey, you're not the only one that put the food away,
Barry."

Something triggered Barry's emotions, when Steve
picked up his shirt and grabbed his stomach in between
his hands, pinching it.

"So, what's the sleeping alternative, fatso?"

"Haa ha ha ha," Steve's shirt fell like a mini-blind.
Then he reports, "Well, you can either take the sofa
downstairs or double up with me."

"Got one question, Steve?"

"And that is?"

"Wouldn't it be a big bother taking the sofa
downstairs?"

Steve began to giggle, the start for the two of them
roaring with laughter.

"Oh, you, Bernice and I are going to get along real
well, Barry."

"Aren't you forgetting Alberto, Steve?"

Without prying further, Steve ushered Barry into his
own bedroom.

"Wow! This is huge!"

"Yeah, when I moved in, I had no idea that I would be
adopting so many boys, so made this the master
bedroom. It's really supposed to be an upstairs family
room."

"Very nice," Steve thought.

Something bugged Barry. Steve always referred to
himself in the first person. It's like he wasn't
giving Seb credit for anything. Maybe he proved to be
a thorn in Steve's ass, or something more. He felt it
none of his business, but still he had been curious.
Barry would wait for Steve to volunteer anything. He
also had his own skeletons in the closet to worry
about.

"Well, the bed sure looks big enough for an army,"
Barry comments, but thinking they could keep their
distances easy, at best.

"At least for two, to keep to themselves."

"Ah, would you happen to have another pair of pajamas,
Steve?"

"Um... hee heeee... never really found the need for
them. But I can furnish a pair of boxer shorts and tee
shirt."

"That'll be great thanks."

"If you would like, Barry, you can shower before bed.
I know I need one."

"Um sure."

"Fine. You take your's first and I'll check up on the
boys."

"Great!"

Barry walked slowly into the unfamiliar surroundings.
He expected a large, mansion-sized jon. However, it
appeared much smaller. He figured 'couldn't fit more
than three guys in here at once'. 'Then again, why
would anybody want to fit three guys in here at once?'
He proceeded to unbutton his shirt, then cuffs. 'Whew!
This has got to be one of the longest times I've ever
stayed in clothes,' Barry mentioned to his reflection
in the mirror, as he peeled the white dress shirt. He
held it in his hand, wondering just what to do with
it. Then picking up the lid to the hamper, dropped it
in. 'Hee hee... nothing like free laundry service!'
Next, he peeled the tee shirt. It found it's way on
top of the disposed dress shirt. 'Oh my... my...'
Barry again talked to himself, after rubbing away at
the 5 o'clock shadow. It's not the whisker seeds that
caught his attention, but rather the thirty year old
frame. Turning sideways, he eyed up his stomach. 'Not
bad for an almost over thirty guy. Hmm...' Barry
decided on the full picture, kicking the shoes off,
then unbuckling the belt, unzipping the pants and
letting them drop to his ankles. Next he proceeded to
debrief himself. Then he returned to his pectoral
view. 'Hmm... guess I could stand to lose a few.' Like
Steve had done a few minutes ago, Barry's hands held a
flat tire around his middle, just above his bellyhole.
After letting go and pounding his own palm on his
hairy stomach, like a bass drum he replied, giggling,
'always room for Jello.. hee hee!' His belly flexed,
as shaking a gelatin mold. Barry turned to the shower.
Dropping the briefs, where the rest of the clothes
went, he entered the nice warm streams from above his
head. It felt great, but he knew it a late hour and
Steve would be in the wanting, soon. He turned the one
setting to off and then grabbed for a towel. 'Oh, dang
it! Left the boxers on the bed!' Placing the towel
around his torso, Barry tucked a tidbit in the side
and opened the door to walk out to get his sleepwear.

"Umpppfff!" He grunted, plowing into Steve.

"Oooh, Barry, I'm sorry!" Steve grunted back.

Steve actually didn't feel 'that' humble, but rather
his barechest broadsiding Barry's bearchest gave him
something more to contemplate.

"Well, I'll let it slide this time, Steve, but next
time I'll cite you for a moving violation!"

"Haa ha ha ha haaa... oh boy. What a joker you are
Barry. I'll be right out. Make yourself comfortable."

Entering the jon, Steve couldn't wait to get the door
closed. Under his towel, held in front of his torso,
something had arisen to the occasion. 'Oh man was that
a close one!' All Steve could think about, as the
lukewarm water washed the sweat off of him, is his own
chest meeting with that dark, hairy one. He took the
showerhead down, turned the hot water almost off and
pointed the spray towards his erection.

"You look comfortable!"

There, with just the sheet up to his navel, Barry lay.
"Yeah, the tee shirt is too tight."

"What about the briefs?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Hee heee... I guess I'll find out when I get between
the sheets.. hee hee!"

Barry kept his hand to his side, anchoring the white
muslin against his hip, as Steve, like the wiseguy he
is, lifted for a look.

"Oh boy are you sly, Barry."

"I'm actually surprised at you for trying to take
advantage of me, Steve."

"Oh hogwash, Barry."

Steve exchanged the torso-tied towel for a pair of
boxers, most unusual for his type of bedtime attire,
climbed in under the covers, placing his hands to his
side.

"It's not like I'm trying to look, Steve."

Steve totally evaded the subject. "The boys are all
asleep, by the way."

"Good, now maybe we can get a goodnight rest. How do
you turn this lamp off?"

"Um, try the switch at the bottom of the lamp, Mr.
Scienceteacher!"

Steve noticed the visible inch of hairy ass.

"Funny, Steve. Real funny."

However, Steve left his on.

"What's the matter, Steve? Afraid of the dark?"

"No. I usually read a little bit before turning in."

"What are you reading?"

"The Joy of Gay Sex."

"Get outta here! Let me see that! Hey! This isn't the
Joy of Gay Sex!"

"Curious, Barry?"

"No. Joy of Cooking, Steve?"

"Yeah sure. My evening reading is usually picking out
what's going on the table at dinner, for the week."

"And you make everything from a cookbook?"

"When the cook's off. I don't know about you, Barry,
but with the expense of a cook, we get our money's
worth. It's not Micky-D's every night."

"Or pizza?"

"No wonder you've got that gut!" Steve motions his
head towards Barry's stomach.

"Looks can be deceiving. A guy with a lot of hair on
his belly, makes it look bigger."

"Oh damn, that's gotta be the weakest excuse I ever
heard, Barry!"

"It's true, Steve. Look at your stomach with that weak
little trail."

"I happen to like my stomach."

"I didn't say I 'didn't' like it, Steve."

"Let's forget it and go to sleep."

Before Barry could say another word, the room turned
pitch black. Several minutes passed. Both men heard
each other tossing and turning.

"You awake, Barry?"

A reply came, "Yep." Steve flicked the lamp back on.

"Oh man, turn it off!" Barry yelled at Steve, holding
his hands over his eyes.

"Hee hee heee.. not a beach goer, are you?"

"I love the beach, it's just..."

"I know. Blinded by the light. There, happy?"

After cutting off the lamp, Steve rose and tilted the
blind, to let the moon partially light the room.

"Steve?" Before he could climb back into bed, Barry
had started a conversation.

"Yeah?" Steve replied, just lying on the bed, wadding
a pillow up for body comfort.

"How long ago did Seb leave?"

"My, aren't we nosy?"

"Forget it. If you don't want me to know. Good night."

"Barry, I'm only kidding."

"I know." Turning back over to face Steve, Barry
grins. White light through the blinds, make teeth
glisten.

"Just like your little hedgehog!"  Steve had slapped
Barry on the arm, then proceeded, "Seb did not leave.
I kicked him out and it's been about five years
and..."

Barry could see the subject upsetting him. "Steve...
Steve.. I'm sorry."

"Oh... oh, no..." The calm started to return, "I'm
still touchy on the subject. I'm sorry for blowing it
all out of hand."

"No problem, Steve. I can't say I knew what you went
through, but I could imagine how you felt when you
found your partner in bed with your oldest son. Damn,
if I had found a person I loved and admired in bed
with Chad, well I don't know what I'd do."

"It's not that I didn't do anything. I mean Seb left
the house in one piece and...."

With each bit of information gathered, Barry wound up
inches closer to Steve. "Did you get so angry at him
that you struck him?"

"Beat him is more like it. Oh, not to say that he
didn't deserve it. No, Seb even saw that himself. He
knew he did something terrrribly wrong."

Barry summised, "I guess it's like the old saying,
'the devil made me do it'?"

"Similar to the old statement, you've 'hit the nail on
the head', Barry."

"What?"

"Now that I've filled you in, how about you tell me."

"Tell you what, Steve?"

"What you've been hinting about all afternoon, but
eluded explanation. For one thing, the adoption issue?
Did you have a question for me?"

"Ehhhhh... okay. I guess if we're being truthful with
each other I better get it out."

Steve replied, "I think I'll get comfy for this one."

Taking his wadded up pillow, Steve fluffed it up, then
punched a hole in the middle for his head.

"Geesh, Steve, if that's what you did to Seb, I think
I feel sorry for the man!"

"That? That's just a sampling of what I gave Seb. Are
you doing it again to me, Barry?"

"Doing what Steve?"

"Trying to get me off track, so you don't have to
unlock the door to your skeleton closet?"

Barry gave a slight chuckle and then lay back. Steve
had propped his elbow up in the pocket of his pillow,
originally designated for his head. He lay on his left
side, about seven inches from Barry's arm. Of course,
Barry lay out in front of him, like a king's feast,
but he used his manners and waited for an invite, if
it came.

"Steve, have you ever heard of a disorder called
Klinefelters Syndrome?"

Repeating over and over, Steve ponders, "Klinefelters
Syndrome, Klinefelters Syndrome... hmm.. nope. What is
it and do you got it?" Steve backed off a little.

"Hee hee.. yeah I got it and it's not the bubonic
plague, Steve. You can't catch it from somebody."

Steve showed the desire to find out about it, after
getting over the contagious factor.

"The simplest way to explain it is the male body
doesn't produce enough testosterone."

To that Steve joked, "No problem with that," holding
his flaccid organs through his cotton boxers.

"Hmm, well scientifically speaking, when they tested
me, they found out that my body produced something
like 1.5% of the amount a man should have."

Jumping to conclusions, on the basis of his knowledge
as a science teacher, Steve concluded some of the
facts. "That mean you can't get it up?"

"Steve, Steve, Steve..."

"Hey, I'm just trying to get an understanding here,
Barry."

"Yeah, okay. So like you know how the nucleus of cells
are formed, right?"

"Right?"

"I'm on anabolic steroids, so from that it imparts to
the portion of the cell what's missing and completes
the equation."

"In other words, the steroids restore you to that
horny stage?"

"You know, Steve, you can be halfway intelligent when
you want to be."

"Profound, Barry. Thanks. So, how does this all come
about?"

"Genetic and it affects every man differently. For me,
in the beginning I became overly fatigued, but the
biggest factor is..." Barry hesitates.

"C'mon Barry. Don't you feel like we're good friends?"

"Yeah."

"So?"

"I'm sterile."

"What about the kids?"

Steve, for sure wasn't a dumb bunny and it soon
showed. "Oh... oooh, so that's it. Your kids are
adopted."

"Yeah."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Barry. Happens all
the time. I mean, look at me!"

"There's more."

"Oh?"

"You see, when Melanie, my spouse, found out. Well, I
never admitted this to the boys, but I found out the
only reason she had an interest in getting married, is
to live out the all American dream."

"Wait. She only wanted children?"

"Yeah and I can't say she had been a bad person. She
loved the kids. But there wasn't anything between us
that meant anything other than a signature on a piece
of paper, certifying our boys' adoptions."

"Hmm. So, what you're saying is that you were married,
but only on paper?"

"Yeah, like you said, Steve, you hit the nail on the
head. Everything had been going through the motions,
as if we had been a married couple. And..." Barry got
too quiet.

Steve picked up on it, relaying, "What Barry? You can
trust me."

"I know I can Steve. I only told a couple of guys
this, strangers. I'm gay."

"Gay?"

"Yeah. Gay. I like only men."

"Hmm..."

Steve lay there on his side. At the sound of the
revealing information, he rubbed his own slightly
hairy chest, as if it had been part of the thinking
process.

He directed at Barry, "Have you? Met... I mean..."

"Have I been with other men?"

"Um. Yeah."

"I mean, your curiosity most likely got the best of
you, huh Barry?"

"Yeah, it did. I logged on to a chatroom and met a few
guys. I didn't go overboard, but figured the only way
I would know absolutely, is to experience it."

"Of course you did, Barry," Steve relayed frankly, a
hand going to Barry's hairy forearm.

"You agree, Steve?"

"One hundred persent, Barry. I mean if you had this
problem with your hormones and lived on testosterone
replacement therapy, of course you would feel horny."

"Horny, Steve?"

"You know what I mean. So, what did you do?"

"Do?"

"With the guys you met with?" Steve then figured it
didn't really matter. "Forget it. So, what else is
bothering you, Barry?"

"My biggest problem is that I don't know how to handle
this with the boys. I'm afraid that Tom and Mark
wouldn't understand. Philip, I'm just not sure."

"Yeah, you do have a sticky situation on your hands,
Barry. But running away from it isn't going to help.
No, you and I need to think this out and find a
solution."

"Is what you're saying is that you're going to help
me, Steve?"

"Sure. That's what friends are for, aren't they?"

"Serious?"

"Of course."

"Sure that you want to become involved, Steve?"

Steve smirked. He wanted to become 'involved' alright.
He picked his mind up out of the gutter and addressed
Barry relistically, "Not unless you wanted me to,
Barry. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Having just met you, I might be reserved, however I
aslo have these feelings that I've know you for
awhile, Steve."

"Say no more Barry. I understand completely."

"You do?"

"Of course."

"Fine. Then explain it to me."

Steve again rubbed the brain in the middle of his
chest and then tried to throw out something that
resembled logic.
He chose the easy way out.

"I think we better get some shuteye, Barry."

"Um, Steve?"

"Yeah, Barry?"

"Never mind. I guess we better just get some sleep."

Steve had an inkling of what the next subject of their
conversation would entail. He went for it, in a
roundabout manner.

"Um, I just want to apologize ahead of time, Barry."

"Oh? For what, Steve?"

"Well, I tend to move around a lot when I sleep and
when we awake, I might just be... well..."

"Lying flush with my body, Steve?"

"Maybe I better just take the sofa, Barry."

"On no, Steve. I wouldn't want to be responsible for
you hurting your back."

Steve smiled, getting the 'moving sofa' joke.

"And if we should happen toooooo 'unite' in the middle
of the night, Barry?"

"So, you're 'not' so sex-starved as you lead me to
believe, Steve, are you?"

The thought gave Steve new insight.

"You know, thinking twice about this, it might be good
to rape your ass, Barry."

"Oooooh no. Now get it straight from the beginning,
Steve. I'm the 'rapee' here!"

"Rape is against the law, Barry."

"Not if it's in self defense!"

Barry's smirk tuned into a devilous smile, as he
counteracted Steve's original idea. "Okay, you win
Barry. I'm sorry I put it into that context."

"You should be. Here, I've only known you for half a
day, Steve, and you're acting like a sex maniac!"

"Hee heee... you haven't exactly been a saint
yourself, Barry."

"Oh?"

Steve nods his head, pointing in a specific direction,
"The proof is down yonder there."

Barry didn't have to drop his folded arms to see the
projection from his pubic region. His hard erection
begged for release from it's cotton prison, tenting
the sheet.

"So?" He told Steve, slightly blushing.

"It's been awhile since I've had mansex, Steve."

"So, what are you suggesting, Barry?"

"I guess not. Just think if the boys came through that
door and found us, Steve?"

Steve suggests, "What we could do is make a little
love with the door locked and if anybody asks, just
tell them it locked accidentally."

"Lie?"

"It's not lying, Barry."

"Then what do you call it, Steve?"

"Just a wee little fib, to protect the eyes of the
innocence of little lambs?"

"I don't know."

Steve coaxed on, "Unless I'm not attractive enough for
you Barry?"

"I dunno, Steve. What are your stats?"

Steve chuckled on the way to the bedroom door, he
called back, "What is this, a chatroom?"

"So far it has been, except without a cam."

"Barry, it's not often you surf on the internet, in
bed!"

Steve didn't bother with the sheet, as Barry, in
briefs, lay down. As he went to sit on the edge, he
slid his briefs from his ass, then let them drop to
his ankles, ditching them as he lay back.

"That a hint, Steve?"

"Take it any way you please, Barry," Steve retorted,
grinning. "Um, you want to lose the briefs?"

"I'm kind of on the reluctant side."

"Oh, okay. You've gotten to know me with clothes on,
now you're reserved to know me with them off?"

"How did you guess, Steve?"

"Hey, I'm an experienced gay man."

"Oh? And how many men have you slept with?"

"Gay is not just sleeping with a guy, Barry. Though
there are some guys out there that just live for sex."

"Live for sex?"

"Yup. Their favorite past time is being in bed with a
guy, instead of going to an art museum or...or..."

"Playing Rummikub?"

"Yeah, you can say that, Barry, or reading a book or
playing the piano."

"Do you play Steve?"

"No. Do you?"

"A little, but we don't have a piano."

Steve decided to get back to the bedding. "Are you a
total top?"

At least Barry knew some of the terminology.

"Mostly top. I really haven't had bottom experience
yet."

"So, you've fucked guys, but haven't been fucked?"

"Unreal Steve."

"What is?"

"That you know how to put one and one together. Is
that Joy of Cooking the new, revised edition, Steve?"
Barry smiled.

"Um, it's getting into the wee hours of the morning,
Barry."

"And."

"One thing's for sure. If we don't get this one
together with 'that' one," Steve refers to Barry's
appendage, "we're not going to get the chance."

"Do you really want to do this, Steve?"

"Not if you don't want to, Barry, but I'd like to."

"You're not one of those horny whores, are you?"

"Get outta here."

"Sorry. I've insulted you, haven't I?"

"I'm taking it as a joke, unless you make it
otherwise!"

"You're a good sport, Steve."

Both lay there, staring at each other. The alarm clock
ticked away.

"Well, I guess it's now or never,"  Barry conceded.

Barry inched his body close to Steve's. He lifted his
hand, readying to touch the side of his neighbor's
torso, then hesitated.

"I'm being too pushy, aren't I Barry?"

"No, pushy's not the word. The truth is that I don't
think the timing is right."

Steve rises up from the bed, walks to the door and
unlocks it.

"No problem, Barry. Probably my own fault."

"What is, Steve?"

"Trying to beckon you on. Maybe it's that I've been
sex-starved for as long as you and want this. Hah! Bet
you were right Barry when you said I'm a whore!"

"Now that's a bunch of bullcrap, Steve. Lock the door.
C'mon, let's go at it!"

"You are so damn finicky, Barry." Steve did an about
face, relocking the door."

"I'm sorry for the mixed emotions, Steve."

As Steve fell into the bed, this time he didn't leave
any time for Barry to have misgivings, ripping the
sheet up from Barry's grasp and forcing his body next
to Barry's.

"Being a bit forward are we, Steve?"

"Let's leave it at...."

Steve wasn't able to get out all the statement of his
unplanned rebuttal. Instead, his lips became water
tight, as Barry forced himself against the after five
shadow.

"Hmm, some kisser you are."

"I've had some practice."

"Let me ask you something, Barry."

"Yeah?"

"Of the guys you met with for sex, did you get beyond
the friendly stages?"

Steve rubbed his arm up and down Barry's back,
alternating the words with the comfort, as if they
went together.

"Let me see... yeah one guy. I figured it a passing
thing."

"Oh? And what made you come to that conclusion?"

"Um, when I came out of the shower, his paws were on
my wallet?"

"Bitch!"

"Hee heeee... yeah, I think the kid had been just as
surprised as myself."

"Kid?"

"College guy. Smarter than me, most likely. I guess I
had become one of the chatroom favorites."

"Tops are usually hounded."

"This jock had his picture in his profile, from the
neck down. I couldn't say no."

"Bet he was scared shit when you caught him."

"Hee heee... he almost offered to pay me!"

"No way. How much did you charge?"

"Oh, about fifty."

"Really?"

"No, but it was worth it to see you react, Steve."

"You little bushwhacker!"

Both men sighed, like slipping aching bodies into a
hot tub, when they paired up their chests, stomachs
and apparatus.

%

continued....

        Copyright 2005 T. Chase McPhee  All Rights Reserved.


dont strike a fault, unless you can admit you've slipped..T Chase McPhee