Date: Thu, 19 Oct 2006 10:35:26 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: STRIPEs 9

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental ares, in which the story is staged. If
sexual scenes, involving male-to-male relationships
offends you, then you ought not read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws, regarding such.
Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. In the real
world, use protection, during sexual encounters.

STRIPEs 9
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Think of anything?"

Where did the time go?

"Oh man! It's 3:45 already?"

"Don't tell me you didn't think of anything to tell my
dad?"

"Um yeah. I thought of something."

"What?"

"Come on.... I'm gonna give you some surfing lessons!"

As we hightailed it out of detention, Mark tried
telling me he'd never stay on the board, saying he had
something called, `surphobia'.

"You don't have to `really' learn how to do it, Mark."

"Oh. I get it. It's just the excuse."

"Yeah, but you can't be running home without me. Get
it?"

"Cool! I get to watch you and Al get it on!"

"We're not gonna get it on, stoopid!"

"I meant with the surf lessons, Sean."

"Yeah, right."

I knew very well what Mark's choice of words had been
and he did too, the little snook!

"There he is!"

Stopping dead in my tracks, my hand slapped against
Mark's stomach, holding him up as well.

"Ugh!"

"It was only a tap."

"I know. Felt good."

"You're sick, you know that?"

But Mark changed the subject.

"What're you gonna do, Sean? Wait til he leaves?"

My attention went to Aldo, whom sat there in the sand,
facing the waves, his board beside him, standing
upright, it's tail stuffed into the sand.

Five feet from him, Mark grabs my shoulder, pulling me
back so that his lips lined up with my ear,
whispering, "What a fox!"

Not thinking at all, except along the same lines, I
replied, "I know."

It provoked Mark to smile at me.

"We don't even know if he's..."

Before I could relay to Mark a message of his
sexuality, he turned from staring at the water, the
other surfbums, to us.

"Hi there, Sean."

"Thanks for waiting Aldo, I...."

Before I could get out my thoughts on us being late,
there Mark stood in front of us.

"Hi. I'm Sean's friend, Mark."

"Nice to meet you."

Dropping to his knees, Mark looks him over. No
different from me, actually. Back at school I already
admitted to myself that his dark, European skin added
to his handsome features. Only difference now, instead
of wearing the closed-sleeve tee shirt, Aldo sported a
loose fitting tank top, whereas I could definitely
tell he had a wide expanse of chest hair and tufts of
black hair jutting from his pits. No lie that it
caused quite a bit of stirring in my loins. I needed
something to shake out of this daydream, but not
equivalent to what Mark had in mind.

Dropping to his knees, to Aldo's level, staring in his
eyes, Mark asks, "Are you gay, Al?"

`Death' crossed my mind, as I stood there, towering
over the two. Mark liked kinky stuff, eh? I wondered
how he would enjoy surfing, his body lying on the
board, tied to it and a hefty push out to sea?
Instead, he saved all of us a lot of time.

"Am I homosexual?"

I didn't mean to sound like a wiseass.

"Well, that's what `gay' means!"

Like Mark has done, when he's said something he
shouldn't have, I cupped my hand over my mouth.

"It works!" Mark yelled out. "Alright!"

Too remorseful, for saying what I did to Aldo, I
didn't share in Mark's delight that his gaydar was on
and working perfectly, without a glitch.

"It okay," Aldo shrugged his shoulders. He then added,
"You not have swim suit?"

Looking down at myself, Mark as well noticed.

"Oops, looks like we can't have our `surf lesson',"
Mark smiled at me.

"You surf?" Aldo asked Mark.

"Not yet. More the wrestler type," Mark told him,
showing his small-sized, pumped biceps.

My mind was still on me. True, I could have stripped
the tee shirt, but down to my briefs?

"Oops! Sorry `bout that, Aldo."

"It no problem. You want to sit and watch surfers?"

Holding down half the towel with his right hand, he
shifted his ass to the left.

"Um, Mark, why don't you head on home?"

"But Sean. You said I have to wait..."

"Um, forget what I said."

"But what about detention."

Aldo picked up on it.

"Detention? You in trouble, Sean?"

Great! Now Aldo knows I'm a delinquent!

He laughs, stating, "I get detention first day of
school!"

"You did?" Mark inquires.

"Mark, go home!"

"Okay. You two have lots of fun."

The stoopid fool! I could have clobbered him, but
throwing a handful of sand at him sufficed. He
giggled, running up the beach.

"Mark nice guy, no?"

"He's alright."

Actually, I overly slighted my feelings for Mark. In
reality I loved him. In friendship that is. As far as
lovers, I don't think that occured to me. I was still
game for being friendly with guys. That is, until I
crossed paths with Aldo.

"So, he not your boyfriend?"

"He's a boy and a friend, but no, not my boyfriend."

"That is good."

"Oh?"

In a split second, I found out, as Also cups his hand
behind my head and places his lips on mine. Forget
fighting the feeling. As if I've been making love to
guys all my born days, I returned the gesture, putting
even more pressure on our lips. Then he did something
really weird, that caused me to loosen my grip on the
back of his neck. He stuck his tongue in my mouth!

"Whoooooa! What the hell was that!"

My whole body fell back, my hands sticking in the
sand, as I lay backwards. Aldo giggled.

"You never get French kiss?"

"I thought you're Italian!"

He giggled some more.

"Italian, yes, but I have some French in my family
veins, too. So, you no like?"

It did feel kind of awesome, having his saliva mix
with mine. He laughed again.

"What?"

Aldo made a gesture, his tongue going around the
inside of his mouth, then licking his lips.

I honestly reported, "I'm trying to see if I can taste
the difference between you and me, inside my mouth."

He thought it was funny.

"Maybe you need more to find out?"

I caught his drift. He wanted to do more of this
French kissing stuff. I wasn't sure about it.
Cautious.

"Um, you don't have a cold or anything?"

He nodded, `no'. Then, without reservation, he leaned
over, pinning me to the sand, his lips touching mine.

"Hold it! Hold it! Hold it!"

"You know like?"

"Whew!" I blew the breath out of me.

Before I answered, I pushed Aldo to the side, then
looked up and down the beach. The only guys around had
been out on the waves, paying more attention to
finding `the big one', then staring at two guys making
out on the beach.

"In my country, two guys kiss on beach mean nothing."

"Welcome to America," I said.

I can't believe I was joking about this. Seriously,
think of the implications if the guys from the swim
team saw Aldo and I on the beach, making out!

"Hee heee... that joke, right?"

"Look, Aldo...."

Strangely, his humor disappeared, as he sat up. I
readied to explain how Mark and I kept our `secret',
secret.

"What's wrong?"

"I make confession it okay?"

"Confession about what?"

Looking at me, those dark as coal eyes, the most
awesome looking guy in my whole world, staring, plus
the hair exposed from each pit. Yes, that still turned
me on, I listened.

"First day I watch you on swim team. I no swim good,
but I join team to..."

His head hung down, looking down the front of his tank
top. I know I should have been more tender, but I
couldn't let the joke pass.

"Can I look too?"

Smiling, Aldo looked up at me. Without further ado, he
grabbed the bottom of his tank top and lifted it over
his head. He shook out his shaggy hair, straightening
it back with one hand. Not only did I get a view of
his hot, semi-hairy body, but one of his thick pits.

"You're sooooooo..." I almost said, hairy, but changed
it to, "handsome!"

Even with the naturally deep tan, he blushed.

"I think you very handsome, too. But..."

He paused.

"I like you more than handsome. You know what I mean?"

I didn't, honestly. I really just met the guy. I
didn't know a hill of beans about Aldo.

"Um, yeah, I know."

Then with silence following, I figured I better be
straight with the guy.

"No. What do you mean?"

"I French kiss you, to be part of you. Me become part
of you.... inside you. I want you..."

I think Aldo finally became embarrased to say it, but
my mind raced way ahead.

"You want me `inside' you?"

He lay it on the line, saying, "More than French
kiss."

"Nah," I said.

I've read about guys wanting quick sex. I even entered
a fake ID, in a chatroom, saying I was an 18yo, to
experience chatting with guys for `tricks'. Being with
Mark, made up my mind, that after him, the next guy I
had sex with, was going to be the one I stuck with for
the rest of my life.

"Sorry. I'm not into fast relationships."

I couldn't believe I said it. Like I was the authority
of authorities on the subject!

"I feel same way. But maybe I too fast a mover?"

"What do you mean `same way'?" I squinted my eyes,
crossing my arms across my tee shirt, in front of me.
"We only met today. How can you say something shallow
like that?"

I was proud of myself. I had reused some guy's
conversation, from the chat room. Sure, he said he was
into meeting the guy he wanted to be with for the rest
of his life, but then added he didn't mind some quick
action along the way! I definitely wasn't in for that,
either.

"Shallow?"

Aldo thought on that one.

"No. I not shallow. What I say to you run very deep.
In here."

My mouth dropped open. I could feel a mix of salt,
sand and wind, blowing inside. Over his left pec,
partly covering his hairy nip, Aldo had placed his
outstretched hand.

"From your heart?"

With the cutest reaction, he nodded, `yes'.

"You're like..."

My turn to gulp.

"In love with me?"

Again he nodded in the affirmative.

"But..."

I searched for a reason for him `not' to be.

"You... your older than me!"

I knew Aldo had to be. Only some of the senior guys
had hair on their bodies. At least to the extreme that
Aldo sported. During swimmining competitions, I had
seen a couple of older guys, ones who didn't have
their bodies shaved and they had almost a full crop of
chest or stomach hair. I found out they had been
seniors. I then noticed Aldo, with his head flopped
down, almost touching his chest. His hand had fallen
from his heart.

"This is true. I am almost eighteen."

"Eighteen? Then what are you doing in the eleventh
grade?"

What an ass I can be. I had to rub it in. Aldo
probably felt bad enough having to spell it out for me
and I had to add to his humiliation!

"I stupid guy maybe?"

I smirked. Yeah, probably he lacked the level to make
it into twelfth grade, but that was beside the point.
The look on his face was pathetic and I'm responsible
for putting it there. I had to right my wrong. Only,
for lack of experience, how would a sixteen year old
know how to do that? Doing a quick survey, I didn't
see another human being around, other than some specks
riding the waves. I don't believe I jumped the guy!
Pushing my butt off the towel, I turned, facing him,
bowled Aldo right over, plastering his back against
the sand. The top of his head came within inches of
smacking into his Uncle Sep's surfboard, sticking up
from the sand. I probably would have shocked myself,
if I had thought about it. I was French kissing Aldo!

%

Walking in the front door, I heard out loud mom,
Mark's mom, yell, "Dinner is served dear!"

I knew I was late. Aldo and I spent quite some time on
the beach. I found out that him, being only two years
older than me, had a big formation in his pants. I
guess, being part of my immaturity, I had to say
something about it being `big'.

As I approached the diningroom table, food laid out,
Mark gestured, `everything's cool!' I smiled back. I
sat down. They are very formal people, so I took my
napkin and placed it on my lap. It's then I realized
the wet spot. Inside my brain, I was cursing myself
out. I hoped nobody noticed the dark, round spot on my
khaki shorts.

"So, Mark tells us you're teaching him how to surf?"

"Um. Yeah," I replied to his dad.

"This is amazing," His mom informed me, "Mark is so
afraid of the ocean."

I know I showed an inquisitive look, with something
I'm finding out.

"Is that so? Well, he's a good swimmer."

Then I learned from Junior, "That's why Marky took up
wrestling, `cause he's too big a-scaredy-cat of the
water!"

I giggled, but his dad didn't think it funny when Mark
threw a pea at Junior!

"I like wrestling. It's a good sport."

Junior couldn't leave well enough alone.

"Yeah, because you get to rub bodies with other guys!"

Mark's dad really got mad this time, when a whole
handful of peas wound up in Junior's lap! However,
Mark getting all the hell didn't sit with me right. I
know the Richman's have been really nice to me, taking
me in after mom passed on and dad not caring about me
and all, but what is right is right and I had to stand
up for my... `our' rights.

"He deserves the whole plateful in his lap!"

With that, I stood up, picked up my plate of chicken,
spaghetti and peas, held it over the table ledge, in
front of Junior and lifted the edge. Everything slid
off! I sat down. First I glanced at Mark. His mouth
gapped open like the many times he wanted my cock. I
then looked to his father, more or less in the same
stage of gaping mouth. I had no idea if he's ever had
cock served up to him before. I didn't look to his
mother. I could only imagine the scolding I was ready
to get, what with her finely crafted, home-cooked
portion of the meal, slithering down Junior's thighs.
However, I stood my ground.

To Mr. Richman, I stated, "He deserved it!"

To make my point, I crossed my arms in front of me.

Mr. Richman turns to his wife and asks, "Well, what do
you have to say about this, dear?"

Mark and I gulped at the same time, as we slowly
turned to her.

"Me? You're the man of the house!"

My tongue pressed against the inside of my left cheek.
I can't believe she was throwing it back into her
husbands ball court.

"Well... I... Ahem!" He cleared his throat.

I could tell he was gearing up for a lecture.

"Sean, you shouldn't waste the food your mother has
taken the time to prepare."

Junior stuck his tongue out at me. I was ready to go
at the whole bowl of spaghetti!

"That's it?"

My attention turned back to Mr. Richman, as did Mark's
and his dad's.

"What dear?"

"I can't believe you, Clark!"

"Can't believe what, Martha?"

"Here you are yelling at a guest in our house, instead
of our homophobic son!"

Junior's grin turned upside down, as the comment
sparked a grin to Mark's and mine faces.

"Guest? Sean's been living off of us for over two
years! Guest? My foot!"

His words cut deep, like a knife down my throat, along
with the pain. My eyes began to well up. The table
wobbled, when I pushed myself away. Running around the
side, I made a beeline for the door. I ran outside. In
fact, I kept on running. Up the street, towards the
bay, I didn't know exactly what direction I was
headed. Just `away'.

It's then I heard, "Sean! Wait up!"

I needed affection. Badly. I halted, panting, my arm
wiping the sweat and tears away. Before I could take
notice, right there, in the middle of Horizon Drive,
Mark latched onto me. I didn't hesitate to hug back. I
didn't think of taking notice of anyone looking at us
two guys, hugging. It was dark anyway.

"Sean, he didn't mean it the way it came out."

"I get the message."

"Will you look at me?"

I loosened my grip on his back, allowing our bodies to
part.

"I'm looking. What?"

"He didn't mean it."

"Then why did he say it?"

"Because... when I came in, before you?"

"Yeah?"

"I overheard did telling mom the store he's employed
at might go out of business."

"That's bad news."

"Mom said we would have to watch our spending."

"Yeah, so?"

"Then she asked my father, `maybe you could go to Mr.
Garrison...'."

"My father?"

"Wait. Let me finish."

I figured I'd let him say his peace. Wouldn't matter
anyway.

"To make a long story short, I found out there's an
agreement between my `rents and your father."

"Agreement? Like what?"

"They made it up with some lawyer. Your dad has been
giving them money every month and...."

Suddenly Mark became very quiet, not looking at me. I
knew something was up.

"Okay, spill it."

Looking up, both of his hands went to mine, entwining
our fingers.

"Sean, your dad signed a paper, saying your not his
son anymore."

"What the fuck you talking about, Mark? Not his son?"

"You're like... adopted... yeah that's it."

"Adopted? You're not making any sense, Mark."

However, I knew it deep down in side, exactly what my
best friend was relaying to me, only I didn't want to
think it was true. As if fainting, my whole body caved
in, falling into Mark's arms for support. As I cried,
I sensed I wetted up his tea shirt.

"It's going to be okay Sean."

That night, walking back to his house, I asked him, if
my dad was giving his `rents money, then why did his
Mark's dad make the comment he did. Apparently he had
also heard the phrase, `What difference does it make
when we can't touch it til he's eighteen'.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"When do you think your folks were going to tell me?"

"About you being their son, on paper?"

"Well, yes. That, but also about the money?"

Mark stopped walking. His arm around mine, halting me
also.

"You don't think they're going to steal it from you,
do you?"

"I don't know."

"Sean, my folks aren't like that."

"Still, how come they have to wait til I'm eighteen?"

"I don't know. I'm not a lawyer."

"That's it!" I snapped my fingers.

"Huh?"

"We'll go see the lawyer."

"But I don't know who he is."

`You didn't hear them mention his name?"

"No."

"Bummer."

When we walked in the house, like stalking the front
door, they appeared instantly.

"Sean, your father has something to say to you,"
Mark's mother told me.

"He's not my father!"

I didn't want to hear it.

"Sean, I'm sorry," his father volunteered.

I wasn't convinced, with his insincere emotion.

"I'm going to bed."

Mark had to run, to keep up with me, dictating the
same thing. As we lay in bed, the moonlight shining
across the bed, lighting up our bare bodies, Mark lay
next to me. On his side, facing my stretched out bod,
his elbow lay, lengthwise, up my stomach. He tried to
comfort me, by throwing off what was eating at me.

"You're getting more chest hair. I'm sure of it."

"That's nice."

"In fifth grade, I did a report of firefighting and
dad got in touch with his friend, the firefighter."

"So, what does that have to do with the price of eggs
in China, Mark?"

I felt a brainstorm coming on.

"I could say I have a report for school and need to
get some research on a lawyer."

"He'll tell you to look on the internet."

"I'll make it sound good."

"Go ahead, but you're wasting your time."

I know my attitude sucked, but I was pissed off. He
tried distracting me some more. This time he got
through to me, as he pushed himself up and came right
down, with his mouth over my cock. Such was the
surprise, I arched my back. It completely threw me off
guard, giving me instant amnesia.

%

Next morning, at the breakfast table, we lingered
longer. Being Saturday, nobody rushed off. `Father',
on the afternoon shift, took his time drinking his
coffee, even though the atmosphere in the diningroom
made the air seem thick, polluted. Not having much to
say, I stirred my cereal more than it needed to be,
dashing to bits the soggy flakes. I finally decided to
save Mark a lot of fibbing.

Out of the blue, still addressing my cereal bowl, I
said, "I know about the money."

"What money?" his dad asks.

On the other hand, Mark drops his mouth open, looking
at me, his ground up cereal in his mouth, looking like
ground up barf.

"The money you can't touch til I'm eighteen." Then
looking straight into his eyes, I reckon, "And I know
about the adoption crap!"

Neither of us said anything, our stares taking each
other on. Finally he breaks it off, tossing his spoon
into his bowl, the milk jumping out, onto the
tablecover.

"I don't know what to say Sean."

Getting up from the table, he walks out of the room.

"That was cold of you."

I had no problem talking to Mark's dad like that, but
when it came to his mom making statements, like the
one she just did, my attitude melted. Yet, I still had
some fire left in me.

"How come you never told me? Were you going to?"

Junior got bored and left.

She didn't have anything to say, folding her napkin up
nicely, as if it hadn't been used, then replied, "Yes.
Matter of fact, it was on our dinner agenda."

"Why wait so long?"

"I suppose it was a mistake, but we spared you, trying
to protect your feelings, Sean."

"My feelings?" I grew adamant. "For a father who
didn't give a shit about me?"

Normally I wouldn't speak in that manner, to her, but
I wasn't feeling myself. Also, she wouldn't let any of
us guys slip by with it, but this time she allowed it.

"Your father did care, Sean, dear."

"Nice way of showing it. Signing his son away, paying
his caretakers to take his faggoty son off his hands.
What am supposed to think?"

Under the table, Mark wrapped his leg around mine, his
hand on my thigh. I wasn't feeling it. It's the first
time Mark's mother got hot under the collar.

"It wasn't him. It was that bitch, your step-mother
that drove him to it. We tried reasoning with him.
`She' had the controlling hand in the marriage."

Totally frustrated, at yelling at my surrogate family
and feeling the oppression of my real family, I was
confused, in a disarray, dropping my head back,
closing my eyes, not wanting to see the world as it
is. Next thing I felt, was two hands on my shoulders.
Opening my eyes, `mom' looked at me. She was upside
down, as she stare down at me, massaging my shoulders.
Mark took the liberty of rubbing my arm.

"Sean, things are going to be alright. I'm not sure,
but I think you might've heard us talking about
your... if you don't want to call him dad, call him
Clark?"

Right now I didn't want to call him anything.

"We're going through some tough times right now
and...."

"Yeah, Mark told me."

I then realized I finked on my best friend.

He confessed, "I heard you and dad talking last
night."

She didn't bust his chops, but kept rubbing my
shoulders.

"Your father set up a trust for you. Yes, the court
ordered it, but none of it is going back to us."

"What do you mean? I asked mom-upsidedown.

Coming around, she sat in her own chair.

"You will not have access to it til your eighteenth
birthday."

"I know."

"It's for your college."

Realising it, they're not going to see a penny of it,
made me feel low. Like Mark's father said, I've been
freeloading off of them.

"That's fuckin' wrong!"

This time I realized my cursing in front of her.

"Sorry."

She waved it away.

"Sometimes things aren't fair. We have to live with
it."

At the door appears Mark's dad.

"Um, I was going fishing. `Wanted to know if you boys
wanted to come along?"

I swallowed my pride, especially when it already had
been dashed to bits by the past conversation.

"I'd like to go...'dad'."

By noontime, fishing out on the pier, Mark's dad and
became friends, all over again.


%

2B continued.....

Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.