Date: Mon, 23 Mar 2009 17:24:49 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: OLuFsEN & SONs 16 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. % OLuFsEN & SONs 16 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "So? How ya doin' pal?" Nick asks, his palm ready to slap down hard on Hashwani's furry stomach. Faking him out, Nick held his hand inches away from impact. Drew Hashwani, a length of a tie keeping him from speaking intelligible, mumbles something. The two perceived it as derogatory, but passed over the true meaning of the thirty-four year old's words. "That would've been cruel," Gef says. Then he notices, "Oh, lookie here," he spots the yellow, soiled sheet between Hashwani's legs. He directs to the college registrar, "didn't know you were into watersports Drewbie!" Sketchy on all the facets of the kinky side of BDSM, Nick asks, "Watersports?" Laughing out loud, Gef translates, "Not the waterskiing type. Think of having to pee so bad it hurts and then... well we all have to let loose sometime!" "And that's all there is to..." "Watersports? Nah, but I think that's good enough on account of I don't want to gross you out, Nick!" "Please. Spare me!" "So, what do we have in store for Drewbie today?" Unlike Nick, Gef slaps his hand down hard on Hashwani's chest, causing him to cry out through the stretch of his own necktie through the crease of his mouth. Then, staring at the Indian college official, Gef lets his hand slide down, catching Hashwani's slumbering cock up in his hand. "Betcha you loved that didn't you? Betcha you want more, huh?" Hashwani tried saying something. Turning his head to over his shoulder, Gef asks Nick, "Well?" Sitting in the easy chair he's pulled up to the foot of the bed, parking his ass on the cusion, Nick waves his hand and remarks, "You're doing fine. Continue!" "Really? Cool!" It wasn't the exact plan the two had drawn up, but the plan they had wasn't set in stone. Going easy on him, Gef merely massaged Hashwani's cock, firming it up as he alternated mashing his nips. Seeing they weren't going to get any flack from Hashwani, Gef got up, walked the length of the bed, reached behind their captive's head and released the tie. He stood there just in case there were any shouts, lest the neighbors hear. However, as he found out, "When you're right, you're right Gef!" Instead of shouts of pain, of wanting release, Hashwani lay there, his eyes closed, head pressed into the pillow as fell under the lure of Gef's hands. "Knew you would love it, Drewbie!" And he was. A new set of vocal reditions would sound off from his lips each time Gef changed nips, mashing them way beyond red. Accompanying, the stroking of his cock made him more responsive. "Want to take over?" Gef asked Nick. But Nick was too wrapped up in firming his tube up on the outside of his jeans. "Could use some help with this?" "Perfect!" Gef replied energetically, his own agenda in motion. "Drewbie could use some help with this!" So the two set their impromtu plan into action, Nick uprighting himself out of the chair, walking along the edge of the bed, unfastening his jeans, dropping them halfway there, the tee shirt coming off overhead. Straddling Hashwani's shoulders, Nick's white pouch came within sniffing distance. "I wouldn't go there without some collateral!" Gef warns him. In a fog, Nick asks, "Huh?" Reaching for the necktie which gagged Hashwani, Gef roughly grabs hold of Hashwani's stirrup. Lifting it, Gef asks Nick, "Here. Hold this for a sec." With one arm behind his back, Nick takes the hard shaft in his hand. "What're you going to do?" "Provide you with some reassurance that you're not going to get your cock snapped off by Drewbie's teeth!" "Yikes!" Nick replied. Being he was in the mood of a hot tongue massage, his thinking was off a bit. "Yeah, but don't worry. Like I've been there, done that, if you know what I mean." Not a peep of dissatisfaction, nor protest came from Hashwani as he let the two wreak their havoc on him. He hoped for a hot sexual encounter afterall and so what if the tightening of tie around his balls killed him with temporary pain. Seeing Nick's bloated pouch in front of him was making him salivate. "Here ya go, Nick," Gef handed him the rein, Hashwani's harnessed ballsacs. "You're a master of this y'know?" "Hey, it's not like I've....." "I know," Nick jumped the gun, "been there - done that!" Before Nick even took his meat out, he gave Gef's invention a try. "Akkkkkkkkkkkkk! Oh! Oh!" Hashwani shouted out, his eye wincing shut. "I'd say you've got the idea of it Nick." Then to make sure Hashwani overheard, "Feel teeth, then pull the ripcord!" To carryover the threat, Nick barks into his captive's face, "Got that Hashwani? I feel a baby tooth on my cock and I'm going to strangle your balls til they burst!" Gef was tickled by Nick trying to be a `master' to his `slave', like reading a script with no emotion shown. Even though he thought Nick could and would tighten the leash if he had to, he was still the same old lovable guy he's always been. However, to reassure he wouldn't be missing his ass getting pulverized on any other night following this, he decided to take further action to keep Hashwani's sexual desire satiated. As Nick toyed with his lips, allowing his stuffed briefs to explode outwards, after he parked the elastic under his balls, Gef gently lay down on the bed between Hashwani's spread legs. Carefully he reached over his ball-bondaged masterpiece and licked the tip of Hashwani's cock. When Hashwani sighed in pleasure, Nick took the opportunity to stuff his meat inside a warm oral chamber. % "So, what do you think Cort?" "I think Tony has a very nice young man taking care of him." "Oh sure. I thought Usuft to be very caring... and cute!" Erik adds. "You mean Yusuf?" "Oh right. That's who I meant." "Yes, cute," Cort replies, agreeing but not getting overly excited. Switching subjects, "By what the doctor says, I think I better be looking into hiring a temp for the gym. Wouldn't you agree?" he put it to his boss. As they walked the hospital corridor, "I suppose it would be a good idea and when Tony does feel like he's back in the swing of things, perhaps he might be placed in another area?" "I don't think so." "Why not?" Cort relays, "You haven't seen Tony's file, but trust me," and Cort points a single finger to his head, "he doesn't have it up here for clerical work." "So what you're telling me Cort is, Tony is all muscle and..." "You got it!" "Wow." Then Erik thinks back to something Cort mentioned earlier as they sped to the hospital, "Then what's he going to do with that business degree he's working on?" Cort smiles. Erik, glancing across from the passenger's seat, asks, "What?" Putting forthright, Cort explains, "Tony might think of himself as topguy, with his cock up a guy's ass, but as far as anything else I strongly feel he needs a mentor. You know, a person who can `guide' him?" "Well, from what I've heard of Tony from my brother, Tony is quite the dominant type," Erik disagrees. Little did Erik realize the bulge Cort was getting in his suit pants from thoughts of having Tony submit to him, on his knees, the `topman' with his hands behind his back, his tongue licking up a hardened shaft, then mouth opening to accept the tongue depressor. "Yes, so I have sensed that." Even though Cort agreed with Erik, his cock was telling him differently. % During music time at school, Jase's fourth grade class had been combined with his brother's third grade and sat around in a semi-circle, listening to their music teacher, Mr. Ackles explaining the instruments of the orchestra. His intentions were to guide young students into the orchestra, via the instrument of their choosing. "Anybody know what this instrument is?" Zack knew. Their father had taken them to the opera once and even though they were bored out of their minds, Zack knew something about this instrument. "You blow into it!" he replied, after raising his hand and been chosen. "Right you are, Zack, but can anyone name it?" After there were no more responsive students, Ackles tells, "The trumpet!" He went on, talking up the instrument by playing several sounds. "Cool!" many of the students blurted out. On the dividing line of the third and fourth graders, sat Jase and Zack. Zack asks his brother, after he was in the numbers who called out, "Maybe you should play that Jase!" "You think so?" "Yup. But I think Mr. Ackles doesn't want every kid playing the trumpet. Quick! Raise your hand before the others do!" Up went Jase's hand. Mr. Ackles aknowledged the enthusiasm Jase exploded with, his bod jumping off the chair with exuberance. "Yes, young man?" "I want to play the trumpet!" It seems Jase set the pace, two hands going up, then three, five, eight... "Hold on now. We have many other instruments to choose from!" So it went, two other boys getting in on Jase's selection before the next instrument went `up for bids'. Then, after the `auction' is over, Zack nudges Jase, telling him, "Ask him when you get the trumpet?" Again Mr. Ackles picked on Jase, who responded, "When do I get my trumpet?" It was more than an easy answer, Ackles abbreviating his answer, "As soon as I secure your guardian's consent." Jase replied, "Okay," but when he leaned into his brother, he asks, "Hey Zack, what's a guardian?" "Dad, I think." Smart fellow, he elaborates, "He's the only one we got to sign for us!" So it went to pass, consent forms were handed out. Zack sat there holding one. "Hey Zack, you didn't pick an instrument. Aren't you interested in the orchestra?" "Nah," the nine year old replied to his brother. Then like a grown up, "I have to concentrate on my art assignments Miss Underwood gives me." "You can do both," his brother replies. "I know." And then like a seasoned professional, "but I'd only be half good at each one. Like dad says, we got to apply ourselves?" Not equally gifted in rhetoric, but sufficient in analysis when it comes to his father's business practices, spilling over into daily life, "Yup. I think I'll give up art and do music." As they were on their way out, Mr. Ackles called out, "Zack, will you remain behind please?" Looking to his classroom teacher, getting the okay, Zack turned back. "You wanted to see me Mr. Ackles?" "Yes," he replied. Then after hearing the door close he asks, "You didn't pick an instrument. May I ask why?" More or less uttering the same jargon as he spilled to his brother minutes before, Zack left it to rest with Mr. Ackles. "You're smart lad," the music teacher replied. "So I have a very special instrument for you." He was already saying in his mind `no', but Zack admitted to himself he was curious. Throughout the course of Mr. Ackles' presentation, it seemed all areas of the orchestra had been represented. But when Mr. Ackles took him into a locked room, Zack was amazed to see this triangular instrument, strung up with strings, from top to bottom. "What do you think?" He knew he saw it in the orchestra when his dad took him and Jase to see `Carmen', but he wasn't sure what it was called. Having an idea, he asks, "Is this a harmonica?" Mr. Ackles smiled saying, "A harp. And you play it like this." Not only was he amazed by the sound it made, but that Mr. Ackles played it nicely. He did have question, "Me and my brother saw a lady playing it in the orchestra when my dad took us to see `Carmen'. My dad said only women play it. How come you know how?" Right away the thirty-eight year old teacher made the connection, first addressing `Carmen', "Oh yes! `Carmen is one of my favorite operas! Now about the lady playing the harp." And he went on to tall how woman dominated the field, until around the 1960's. Returning his thoughts to the opera, Zack states, "We got kind of bored with the singing because Jase and me couldn't tell what they were saying, but the lady playing the harp was good." But then Ackles spelled out his feelings as if a thespian on a stage, "One needs to experience! Music is art! Music is nothing without the master behind his instrument!" It was a little above Zack's head, but he did pick up on `music is art' and responded with, "If music is art Mr. Ackles, then is art music?" "Hmm," Mr. Ackles replied. He hadn't a clue, because he's never thought of it as such. Instead of putting his ego on a pedestal, he outwhitted Zack, "That is a good question and I'm going to leave it for you to ponder." Zack wasn't crystal clear on what Ackles told him, but it didn't matter as he could ask his dad. "I better get back to class. Miss Finch is probably looking for me." "You will think about the harp?" And grownup-like Zack tells him, "I'll ask my guardian." % Terron sat there on needles and pins, wondering what this guy whom he talked to on the phone looked like. More important he wondered what Jay and Dare would say about him letting a guy invite himself over to the house. Then, the worst scenario, what would they think about him saying `yes'? There wasn't much time given, as he heard a vehicle pull up. When there was a sound at the door, he jumped up from the sofa and hustled over to it, thinking it could be..... "Just what we need! Somebody to help with the groceries!" Dario called out as he held a bag in each hand, a bag of chips hanging from his mouth. "Oh. I thought you were..." Terron left his thought incomplete. Dario, misconstruing his bro's statement, replied, "Oh, Jay's putting the truck away. He'll be in in a sec." And as Terron lightened the load to the kitchen, carrying the bag of potato chips, his brother asks, "So, what did you do to keep yourself company bro?" Coming to mind right away was his chat on the phone with Sean. Playing it smart, Terron replies, "I hope Jay doesn't get mad at me. I broke a plate!" "Only one?" "Yup. I cleaned it up though and put it in the garbage." Then, seeing Jay over Terron's shoulder, Dario replies, "I think Jay can do without one plate." "Plate?" jay walks in, a bag in each arm, the bags pulling his shirt to his bod. "What about a plate?" he asks sternly. Terron gulped, his eyes bugged out before his reply, "I'm really sorry Jay. I didn't mean to. It slipped out of my hand while I was drying it, but I couldn't catch it and before I knew it, it was on the floor all broken up!" Caught between sincerety and cuteness, Jay set the bags down, walked over to Terron, surrounded the twenty-five year old with his arms, saying, "I totally forgive you, okay?" He cemented his forgiveness with his lips pressing into Terron's face. When the bell rang, he stopped kissing, but his bod held tight like dried concrete, his hands holding Terron's torso to his, secured by his hands down the back of Terron's jeans. "Hey, wanna get that, man?" he directs to Dario. "Sure. No problem." But there was a problem. As Dario looked back, upon his exit, he viewed Jay going to work on his twin brother's lips. By now he was sure he was giving up the hot Latino to his brother. He didn't think of it as Terron `stealing' Jay away from him. Realistically he was happy for his brother. Happy he even met a guy at all, let alone a hot tamale of one! "Hello!" came the greeting on the outer side of the screen door. "Is this the residence of Mr. Jay Velez?" For a second Dario was frozen in place with temporary amnesia of the doorbell summoning him there. It was Sean Cadieux, the customer service rep from Interworld and even though he knew this could not possibly be Mr. Velez, almost suspecting he would find a man with a shady complexion, this dude having very fair skin, he inquired anyway, "Are you Mr. Velez?" "Mr. Velez? Um no, I'm not Mr. Velez... I mean Jay... I mean," Dario tripped over word after word til he recalled a minute ago, "Jay is kind of busy right now." "Oh then maybe I should come back?" Maybe Dario wasn't getting `the gay vibes', but Sean knew there was one and only one reason why Dario's eyes were stuck to his bod, even as he let Sean in, Sean feeling eyes scanning his back from his hairy mane to the back of his Boston shoes he got off a rack at the Salvation Army store for $2. Turning around, Sean confronted Dario, "So is Mr. Velez sleeping?" Then recalling the outside environment, "In the barn?" "Um, no." Gulping, catching his breath, Dario replies, "He's kind of busy in the kitchen." In response, like right out of a fairy tale, Sean, who has had a few years experience as a customer service rep and as time passed, grew to know about customer's ways and reactions, how to sell his product based on how the consumer reacted, he walks up to Dario and without words, pulls on his shirt with both hands, leverage towards slapping their chests against each other, kissing him fervently. At first Dario didn't know what the hell to expect. If he could talk he would have probably said, `What the hell?' His eyes wide open, he looked upon the closeup view of Sean, `his' eyes closed as Sean worked over his lips. Breaking off, Sean could see the reaction to Dario's wordless response. Slipping his arms further around Dario's sides, Sean rationalizes, "I could see you wanting me right through the screen door and if I had eyes in the back of my head I bet I could see you checking me out from head to toe. Am I right or am I right?" Not being able to refute either fact, Dario was left with, "You're right! I mean..." Before he could agree anymore or contest, Sean's lips were at it again! % Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....