Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2007 10:05:08 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: Natures Trail 13 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's Trail" 13 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % Next morning, with most of the family at the breakfast table, Max divied up the scrambled eggs and bacon. Reporting to the kitchen, both Denis and Mark reached across the breakfast table, to the upper right of two placesettings, scooped up their glasses of OJ and gulped them down. Max asked, "No breakfast?" "No time," Denis replies. "Matt'll be here any minute to pick us up!" Barry and Steve make eye contact, but don't verbally react, other than returning to them, "See you later." "Max showed us how to make coffee today," Philip says. Aidan adds, "I shoveled in the coffee and Phil dumped in the water." Joking, Steve asked, "Who flipped the switch?" "Wiseguy!" Max said. "I think it tastes mighty splendid," Barry says, taking another sip from his mug. "Cool!" the younger boys say, in unison. Earlier, as Philip and Aidan grabbed the can of coffee, this time Max had been on the scene. He didn't go through a long dirge of yesterday's clean up, when he came out to the kitchen, stunned by not only the smell of burnt coffee, but grinds and trickling coffee waterfalling over the countertop. But he made the point of not turning on an appliance, without sticking around, similar to a pan of food on the stove and not watching it. After eating, the two youngest boys helped Max clear the table, even rinsing off the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher, til he alerted them, "That's enough guys. Your dads want you to get your stuff together. Thanks for your help today." Max had to laugh, when Aidan replied, "No sweat," Philip following with, "It wasn't so bad." % "You said that last night." "Oh, I did? Did I mention the part about Michael giving me a raise?" Justin stood there, drying himself off from the shower, as Christian stared in the mirror, turning his face to one side, to shave it. "Yes you mentioned that part, plus the car, new position, hiring an assistant manager..." "Oh," Christian replied, his voice turning low-keyed, responding, "I guess you're tired of hearing me rambling on about it?" Stuffing his towel in betwee the bar and the wall, Justin creeps behind his lover, grabbing him from the back, arms circling Christian's torso, pubes matching up to ass. "I think all of this happening to you is great, Christian. And one of the best things about it, is me getting to share it with you." His face turning from a pouty look to a small grin, Christian picks up the washcloth, wipes the excess shaving soap from his face, turns around in Justin's arms, like his bod is coated with oil and matches up their lips. After they kiss, Christian says, "There's one more thing and I know I didn't mention it." Each bending back a bit, separating their chests, but keeping their waists glued together, Justin questions, "Are you sure?" "Positively." After a brief pause, Christian states, "After I get done with college, I was thinking... um, we could.... get married?" Looking at Christian, staring deep into the blond's blue eyes, Justin replies, "I like the idea." "Really?" "Yup, but one thing..." Christian's smile lost some of its luster. "What?" "I don't think we should wait." "No?" "Nope," Justin says. "Why should I chance losing you to one of those college fratboys?" "Ain't gonna happen, but for you, I'd get hitched today, if we could!" They embraced for what seemed like eternity. "Hey, what time is it?" "I don't know," Justin said. "I don't wear a watch in the shower." Walking off to the bedroom, Christian sighed, "Oh God, I think I'm going to be late for the second day in a row!" "Not if I drive you." "Like I have a choice, with my wheels in the garage?" As of last week, their clothes had gotten so mixed up, the two reorganized, combining briefs, socks and tees, in the same drawer. "Think fast!" Christian called out, tossing Justin a pair of socks, followed by a pair of briefs. The balls of socks bounced off Justin's chest, rolling under the bed, but he scored two points, his arm going through one of the leg holes of the tossed briefs. Right on cue, after Christian had stood up from putting on his socks, Justin was there, holding his white shirt to put on. Feeding his arms into the shirt, Justin, already in a tee shirt, reached between his lovers arms and ribs, buttoning it up like it was covering his own chest. At the same time, Justin smiled, feeling his cock rub against Christian's butt, his briefs filling up quickly. Slipping his pants on, Christian stuffed his shirt tail inside, then zipped and buckled up. By this time, Justin had his jeans on, but his erection hadn't softened. "Why at a time like this!" Christian joked, seeing the bulge as plain as day. Walking over to Justin, he reached out, groping his mate, feeling up the hardness of his crotch. It drove Justin insane. "Later!" Christian said, pointing to his watch. Justin whined, after getting so turned on. % "Right after last period, I'll meet you at the entrance to the gymnasium, Jim." "Why? So you can check out the hot swimmers as they leave?" "No, doofus, because our car is parked near there," Connor tells him. "Yesterday it was chaos finding you." Walking past the gynasium entrance, Connor and Jim happened by their buds. "Hey man," Jim called out to Denis, giving him a cool hug, looking to the side, seeing Matt. "Who's the hottie?" Connor asked. Mark buzzed by the quartet, saying, "See you inside." "Matt, these jokers are my best high school buds, Jim and Connor. Matt and I are kind of going together," Denis informs them. "Hell, Denis, you're not even in college and you've landed yourself a fratboy!" "Hey, do you mind, Jim?" Denis asks. Good-naturedly, Matt replies, "Thanks for the compliment guys, but we better get going." "Us too," Jim tells them. "C'mon, Jim. Let's flee before we're late?" % "Would you believe this is our last day here, swimming?" Philip asked the gang, as they positioned their beach towels on the cement apron, surrounding the pool. None of the pre-teens refuted the fact. Callan, who had the day off to watch them, replies, "It's not like you don't have the luxury of an indoor pool at home?" "This is different," Aidan says. "I suppose," Callan said, sitting down on his towel, then stripping off his tank top. No sooner had he stripped it, then a loud sound, the door from the swim team's lockerroom sounded, on the rebound from hitting the wall. To match the disturbance, loud voices bellowed out, some curses abounding. One look over to the kids and one of the seniors, Nils Kjaerholm, tells them, "Hey guys, cool it on the cursing?" Scott Cutler, in a playful mood, slapped his hand over Tony Gagliardi's mouth, smashing his chest up against Tony's back. With a quick reaction, Tony swung Scott around, putting him in a full nelson, his mouth freed from it's prison. Scott's abs pulled tight, in the wrestler's position, Tony announced, "Free gut-punches!" Walking over in front of Scott, Adam Charbonneau made a threatening fist. However, before any punches, fake or real could be thrown, the assitant coach, Sam McMillan entered the fray, calling out, "Okay. Break it up guys!" Then, in sadistic overtones, Sam announces, "Fifty extra pushups, courtesy of Galiardi and Cutler." "What tha?" Tony reacted, freeing Scott from the prison of his arms. "Thanks a lot, Scott," Adam says, relaxing his hand, slapping Scott in the stomach. "Dah, does it look like I had a choice?" Scott argues the point. "You started it," Tony told Scott, slapping his whole front up against Scott's back. Turning his head, Scott says to Tony, "You're so gay!" "One never knows," Tony jokes, laughing, wiggling his eyebrows as if to suggest something. Walking over to the bleechers, Scott tells Tony, "Suck my dick!" Adam, walking ahead of the two, turns his head and replies, "Now `that' I'd like to see!" "Not in this lifetime," Tony tells them, even though he seems to have an insatiable desire for `tasting'. Yet, what neither Charbonneau, nor the others can read, are Tony's true feelings. Often, he's stolen glances of Scott's 9.5c in the showerroom. Once, horsing around, Scott firmed up his piece til it became a hard boner, goofing off on Juan Ibarra, saying, "Suck this!" That day, Tony almost saved Juan's ass, offering to take on the job, til Juan stood up for himself, turning his hand over, flicking his fingernails against Scott's bloated cock, making him scream out and bend over, cursing, because the head of his cock stung so bad. Of course Scott became the victim of the team's laughing, Kevin Kallis calling out, "Oh shit that's gotta hurt!" "Gagliardi! Cutler! Are you with us or do I have to impose another fifty pushups?" McMillan said, after his surveying the group, with two members missing, from the team's stretched out position over the bleechers, pecs and abs taut, biceps bulging, to do their extended warmup. >From the team, led by Tim Hadani, they were badgered, "You guys get your asses over here and in gear?" Cutler stepped up on the bleechers, hurdling three stairsteps, til he stretched his arms forwards, arcing the wooden planks. "Hold it there, Gagliardi!" Tony wondered `what now?', as Coach McMillan's hand lay flat on his chest. "What's up coach?" Tony asked, standing with hands on hips, peering down at his own frontal region, where McMillan's hand glazed over his pecs. "When's the last time you shaved this chest?" "I don't see anything," Tony said. Right next to Tony's left nip, Coach McMillan plucks a strand of hair. "Owwwch! Oh shit, coach!" Tony gasps out loud. "Y'know you're a real woosie, Gagliardi?" Tony didn't say anything, following the twenty-eight year old coach's gaze up into the bleechers, watching him rubbing his chin. "Clark! Barr! Hustle down here." Stopping in the `up' position of their pushups, Mark looks at Denis, Denis to Mark, wondering why they're being singled out. Getting up, they zigzag between the other swim team members, watching deltoids and lats being exercised to the max, hopping down from the last rise of the bleechers. "You wanted to see us, coach?" Denis asks. "Yeah. You," McMillan chooses Denis, "I want you to take Gagliardi here into the lockerroom and shave him down." Denis asks, "Shave him down?" "Yeah," the coach paws Tony's chest and stomach, "All this hair is going to slow him down, in the water." "Um, coach?" "What is it Gagliardi?" "It really isn't all that much." "Listen Gagliardi, you signed an agreement when you joined the swim team. Do you remember what it said regarding this?" Tony swishes his mouth around, trying to recall the rule. However, Denis blurts out, "It says if you want to be a member of the swim team, you have to keep your body smooth." "Thank you, Mr. Clark." "Um, yeah," Tony says, scratching his head, "I think it's coming to me now." "So, get in there and do it!" "Um, coach?" Mark asks, his palm shoulder length, as if raising it. "What is it Barr?" "Um, Denis never shaved a guy's body before." "You old enough to shave?" "I haven't yet," Mark replies, "but Denis does." Coach instructs Denis, "Same as your face, except make his chest and stomach smooth." "Still," Mark tells him, a bit nervously, "it sounds tricky. I mean, what happens if he accidentally cuts Tony?" Turning to Denis, Coach McMillan asks, "What about you?" "Me?" Denis answers, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't have any problem with it." So, it wound up where Mark was sent back to the bleechers. Denis and Tony headed off to the lockerroom. % "Goofing off again?" "Will ya give me a break, Tom?" Kevin Letterli stood by the bay door of Barr's & Bridges, a coke bottle in his hand, shirt unbuttoned to the third eye, taking in the breeze. "You know I'm only kidding, bro." "Sometimes it doesn't seem like it, Tom. Do you know you can be overbearing at times?" Tom walked over behind his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder, calmly rubbing it. "I know I'm hard on you sometimes, Kev, but like I promised dad when he passed away..." "I know. You promised him you would take care of me. But I'm not fifteen anymore, Tom. I'm a nineteen year old man." Letting his hand fall from Kev's shoulder, Tom came around, standing in front of his brother, blocking his sweaty bod from the sun's rays. "You're right, Kev, but sometimes I can't help distinguishing between fifteen and nineteen. All I want is to protect you and for you to be happy." "Is that why you're being an asshole to John?" "John?" "Torkelson?" "I know John's last name is Torkelson, but I don't know where you're headed with this, Kev." "This past weekend it seems like you were gunning for him." "We needed the help up front. I had both of you bagging." "I'm not talking about that. You complained to him for just about everything he did... `don't leave the pallet jack in front of the door, John'... `don't stack the chicken in the case like that, John'... `don't...'" "Okay-okay," Tom stopped him, with his right hand up. "Maybe I was a little too rough on the kid." "'Kid'. That's it, Tom. Like me, he's not a kid. John is eighteen years old. Maybe I don't get it, but just what is it you are protecting me from?" "From not making a mistake..." "What? Like you did?" This is where the shit hit the fan. Dropping his hands Tom turned around, walked the loading dock, rubbing both palms together in front of him. Snickering, exhaling, Kev followed him, this time being the caring individual, placing his hand on his brother's shoulder, saying, "I'm sorry Tom. It was a cheap shot." "No, Kev. I think rather you hit the nail on the head." "Huh? How's that go?" His older brother tried to sum it up, "You're right, Kev. I'm being over-protective of you. Like me, I don't want you winding up with the wrong sort." "Turn around, Tom. Look at me." With Kev's hand sliding off of Tom's shoulder, he slowly turns to face his brother. "Look, Tom. There's no way I can ever make up the good life you've provided me, since dad passed away. I wish mom could have at least been there for us. I know I've never said this to you, but you did a great job raising me. Heck, you're still raising me, helping me pay for college. Doing more than a brother should do." "That's not what I'm talking about here. I'm not talking about putting you through college, Kev." "Right." Reorganizing his thoughts, Kev turns his back to his brother, stepping away a foot or so, then saying, "I really like John." Walking forward, stepping around Kev, to face him, Tom says, "Why do you want to get mixed up with a guy right now? You should be focusing on college... on a career." "Tom, I don't mean to keep bringing up old issues, but you and Glenn were only sixteen. I'm nineteen, have my roots planted in college, my mind set on developing a career. I feel stable. Sure, I could have waited til I was a grad student or completed college altogether, but when a guy comes along, like John, who sweeps me off my feet, I can't as easily put on the brakes and say forget about him." Digging his hands in his pockets, Tom says, "You're really crazy about this guy, aren't you?" "I think I love him." "You think?" "I like him very much. I more than like him," Kev replies, with intent, waiting for the pause in their conversation to pass. "And what about John's feelings?" "It's tough to speak for him. We just met, but we've had time to spend together. When I'm laying with him, we both get this warm feeling." "So, you've bedded him?" "We've spent one night together." "You meet him in one day, spend one night together and you're head over heels in love, Kev?" Rubbing his face with both hands, Kev moans, like he's up against a brick wall. In fact, walking over to the cinderblock, he presses his forehead, with his feet pivoted back. Strolling over to Kev, Tom places his arms around him, holding him, his chest up against his back. "I'm sorry I'm being so rough on you, Kev. I suppose, since you were fifteen, I've learned to protect you and now need to realize you're a grown man, able to make your own decisions... carve out your own life. If John is who you really want, I won't stand between you two." Breaking his hold, Tom walks away, heading towards the double doors of the stockroom. Halfway there, Kev rushes over, stands in front of him and gives him a kiss on the cheek, then a hug. "I'll never be able to thank you for all you've done for me, Tom." Returning the affection, Tom states, "And I don't expect you to." Kev lets Tom go. His brother leaves the stockroom, holding the door open and lastly says, "Oh, I disagree with you on the pallet jack... it shouldn't be left in front of the door!" The two exchange smiles. % Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.