Date: Thu, 12 Sep 2013 18:16:33 -0400 From: T.CHASE MCPHEE Subject: Giv2GeT 15 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, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age in any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Following, pages of this story contain `adult material', intended for an `adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. Hey dudes, Nifty needs your donations to provide these wonderful stories. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html FYI: I don't get a hefty paycheck from NiFTy at the end of the month. I write about horny dudes because it helps keep me stiff. Take your hand off your stick shift for a minute and dig into you wallet. It's costs to keep these stories coming to you. % Giv2GeT 15 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee ^o^ A few hours before evening set in, the boys were raring to go, cleaning the pool first priority, deeming it an essential asset to their living there. Ones, like Steve, made note, "Yeah, it's gonna be so sweet, baking in the sun." Ron, with a sassy attitude, says, "Yeah, maybe it'll melt some of that fat off your bones!" he laughs. The others were not, because until now, Ron's attitude made him out to be a real jerk! With silence from the quorum, Ron tries making amends, "I was only joking, guys!" Creating a flighty atmosphere himself, Steve says, "I might forgive you if you get down on your knees?" AJ and Kyle, they both knew each other gay, as well as Steve, Kyle knowing from working with him. Ron and the others, it was speculation, the reason Ron was questioning, "That's kind of absurd, isn't it? I mean, we're not living in the dark ages. Chivalry is like, dead?" Kyle knew. He had been Ron's friend in high school and there wasn't much, of importance, they hadn't shared. Yet, he knew Ron wanted to keep `who he was' under wraps, because, with his muscular physique it wouldn't go over very well at the gym, nor the tag football game he played with his buds on Saturdays, except during the summer months. "Never mind," Steve sensed his own comedy, having Ron get on his knees to suck him off, backfiring, withdrawing, "it's not important." When in doubt, it was always best to ask, knowing his friend, Kyle, was also friends with Steve. For Ron and Steve, it wasn't a friendship like Kyle shared with Steve. Therefore, while AJ and Ron marched down the stairs, Steve hung back, asking Kyle, "I thought for sure Ron was... you know." As a statement, it did not give Kyle an ultimatum, whether to say `yes' or `no', rather the smart thing, "You'll have to ask Ron if you want to know?" "Right," Steve replies, "and get my nuts kicked in!" Last to make it down the stairs, Corky held the door for Patrick on his crutches. "Thanks for waiting up," Patrick says. "Sure. I mean, how else would you be able to do both?" "Yeah, cool. Too bad you weren't there for me, for graduation." Two years apart, Corky didn't have the loot to go to college, so hung out in the same town where he grew up, right through school, kid to a man. His parents died when he was a toddler, going on to be raised by his grandparents. Sole survivor, he thought it wasn't too bad not going to college, benefitting his grandmother, staying on to take care of her, when his grandpa died. He also worked part time for some other `seniors' in the neighborhood. It didn't amount to anything which could be swapped for college entrance, but it was enough money to store away for someday. Living with granny, everything was free and they lived mostly out of the garden. Patrick, having broken his leg was lucky he didn't do more damage, flipping over a railing on his skateboard. Even his buds made comment, lucky he didn't bust a nut or two! "I was working," Corky replies, thinking of the night of graduation. He remembers when it was his turn to graduate, a late-bloomer in his class, 19-years old, of how most his fellow classmates going on to college or joining the service. About 2%, either self-decision or lack of funds, decided neither, to rather stay around the old hometown and carve a way of living out. As he saw it, helping Patrick to the pool, with his gardening experience, he might just land himself another job, one which could pay more of an income, giving up the smaller jobs. "Thanks very much for helping me out," Patrick thought about Corky, instead of suddenly bolting and heading for the pool. "That's okay," Patrick stops to open another door, wooden and creaky, "I'm not much for running with the crowd. I more like hanging back and doing my own thing," which has been the case of a lonely garden-keeper. "Wait up," Patrick says, pushing the door Corky just opened, prying it closed with one crutch. "What?" Corky questions. Leaning on his good foot, Patrick steers his bod forward, pressing Corky's back to the wall. Back plastered to the wall, expression, after Patrick backs off from kissing him, Corky looked like he had seen aliens, "What was that for?" It would not be Patrick's first kiss, asking, "Was that your first or second kiss?" "Does grandma count?" Corky asks. Chuckling, Patrick says, "Not unless grandma was a guy?" Seriously, Corky says, "Nope. She's not." Using the top of his crutch, Patrick tucks it in under a hooked nail, "Coming?" Carrying on, walking in upon the scene, they were floored by a bucket brigade, Ron scooping water out of the pool, handing it to Kyle, who complained, because he was the only one walking from the side of the pool, across the patio and having to fling the door open, cast the water out into the pasture, "Don't help us or anything, Steve?" With a pompous attitude, fanning himself with a newspaper dating back to 1978, Steve says, "Oh, I just don't do well, exerting myself in this weather!" AJ, as well as Kyle, knew Ron was up to no good, setting down his bucket, walking over to where Steve lounged in a chair, saying, "You know, your fat butt broke the bottom of the chair?" "Yeah I know," Steve stands up for himself. "I'm wedged in here just perfect." Further, to stimulate Ron's nudgy attitude, Steve tells him, "Why don't you run along now and clean up the pool for me?" Even sitting down, that big stomach was `big', maybe even bigger than standing, Ron gazing down on the perfect set of bongos, Steve's meaty pecs, "You know I used to play in a salsa band?" which he didn't! "No kidding? What did you play?" "Bongos!" Ron replies, bending over and giving Steve's pecs a good working over with the palms of his hands. Until Steve gives, without saying, `murdering' Ron with reprisal, making a fist and with a little of sitting up, delivers it into his aggressors stomach. With total surprise, even though his solar plexus could take a mighty punch, Ron backs up with baby steps and tumbled backwards into the pool, "Oh shit!" Clamoring to the side, it didn't take much to heave himself up. As soon as he got out, it wasn't Steve on his mind, "Quick! Check me for leeches!" AJ did, saying, "I think I found one," he picks a leaf off Ron's back. "Oh my god!" Ron turns around, immediately recognizing the `creature', "That's not a leech!" "I know," AJ laughs, "but it sure was fun watching your face, when you thought it was!" Ron could take a joke as well as the next guy. As far as the little gut-punch, he knew he deserved it, but didn't know how to deal with it. He didn't have to, another familiar face, to some, waltzing in the back gate, "Hey guys, I finally made it!" Pursuing the study of violin at a conservatory, after all the work he put into it, 4 years, followed by several semesters of work on his musicology masters, Hwang discovered it's not the life he wanted for himself. Ever since hitting home, he's worked at odd jobs, trying to find meaning to life. Not wanting to, he didn't have a choice, working at Uncle Ying's cafe. Regardless, with the other guys walking out, he stuck to solidarity, hoping to move on to something more meaningful than hashing together stir-fries. "Hwang!" it rings out from his fellow former co-workers. Totally drawing his attention away from Steve, all Ron can think of is, `hot' and it wasn't the heat from the afternoon sun, setting eyes upon the Asian, smooth right on down to the belt buckle. He knew the muscled bod wasn't from the two straps keeping the pack tautly on his back! Ron walks right up to him, taking his hand, "Hey, I'm Ron." Hanging in the wings, Patrick says to Corky, "He doesn't waste any time, does he?" Speaking of the gay thing, Corky tells him, "When he's not around anything which has to do with football." "Oh, I get it," Patrick reads that, "`gay' when he wants to be." With more ambition than Steve, Patrick picks up a net and leaning on two crutches with one arm, bends to grab up some leaves on the surface of the pool. Losing his balance, good thing Corky hadn't reported to the passing line of buckets, grabbing Patrick by the back of his belt. Looking over his shoulder, Patrick says, "Oh man, you just saved my crutches from getting rusty!" "Not to mention your bionic leg from malfunctioning?" Corky cuts a joke. "Hey, are you good at that? Do you think you can make me one?" "Nope," Corky says with modesty, "only good at manual labor. That's what my dad used to say." "Oh really?" Patrick wasn't fully buying into it. "What do you like to do?" "Pick weeds." "Sounds like an interesting line of work," Patrick puts the net down. "Well, a person who does weeding, needs to know the difference between that and a plant or else you wind up with only dirt in the garden?" Going back to his place on line, hauling water out of the pool, Patrick says to himself, "Smart man!" Coming into the walled in swimming area, a good size, enough to contain two full size circular tables, with umbrellas, a barbecue grill and planters, with dead plants, Bryce says, "What a surprise!" They found out they had been had, Bryce carrying a sack of potatoes and a peeler. Seeing it, Steve got king of nervous! "Hey, Patrick, get away from there before you fall in," Bryce calls over. Patrick and Corky exchange glances, like it hasn't almost happened, to which Patrick calls back, "Ok, Bryce." Walking over to the sack, clearly marked `POTATOES', he asks, "Whatcha got there?" "A potato peeler with your name on it," Bryce looks to his side, "but I think I might have another one in the kitchen drawer!" Knowing, Steve says, "Oh, for me? Don't go to the trouble!" Bryce didn't. He sent Corky! "Don't hurry on my account," Steve says, as Corky walks by. Announcing to them all, but meant especially for the lame-brained, Bryce says, "Rule number one, no supper for those who do not labor," Bryce sets forth the rule, "not to mention a paycheck?" Ron comes over, asking, "You wouldn't happen to have a pump? Would save us a lot of carrying buckets out to the stream?" "What," Bryce says daringly, "and deprive you of all this exercise?" he follows Ron's perfectly symmetrical six pack, right down to where a thin trail escapes from the 20-year old's bellyhole. He reasons, "Would get the job done quicker, so we can get the pool drained, cleaned and refilled, so we can all enjoy a swim?" "There's a pump in the barn," Bryce gives in. "Great," Ron slaps his hands together, walking off. "But it doesn't work." It made the 6'3 footballer stop dead in his tracks, "Oh." Smiling, Bryce says, "Just thought I'd mention it before you went crazy trying to start it?" Ron knew something Bryce didn't know, "Hey, Cork, get over to the barn and take a look at it." Together they left, each guy thinking, if they got it to work, the manual labor would be over, except Patrick, who was given the chore of working off a bag of potatoes, asking, "Um, would you happen to have an automatic potato peeler in the barn?" It got kind of lonely, Patrick sitting there by himself. However, he had no one but himself to blame, if you could call it that, more accidental. Like his buds said, it was lucky, when he jumped over the railing, leg taking the brunt of the fall, rather than landing with balls wrapped around it. Patrick cringes every time he thinks of how it could have been. First time he did, it came to mind, `no more man-sex' and if that had been the case, life would be over! Over and done with, he sat there, on his second potato, looking where his bum leg has wound him up to be, sitting in some guy's backyard, relatively mild labor, while... `Hmm, not bad,' it ran through Patrick's head, watching sweat-slicked guys haul buckets of water out of the pool. In one way, he wished with all his might, they couldn't get the pump started! The potato and peeler froze in his hand, when he heard the whirring sound of an engine, "Damn!" He began his chore again, when silence prevailed, "Yeah!". This went on and off for five or six times, until Patrick lost the best part of the deal, betting himself they would not get it started! Strangely though, as they reentered the back area of the house, Patrick looked upon guys, who weren't getting along, AJ and Rod, now arm over shoulders, congratulating them all as a team, having gotten the time-saving machine started. Best part, which now erased all odds of them getting it going in the first place, was hearing them all applaud Corky on his efforts... "Cool, Corky!" Patrick joined in on the accolades. As for Corky, he forgot about all the other guys. More importantly, it was Patrick wishing him well, "Yup. All it needed was a little oil." "Well, someone needed to find out what was wrong with it," Patrick persisted in raising Corky's IQ towards mechanical things. Then they hear a boisterous, "Oh yeah," raised from Ron. "Sweet!" AJ chimes in, all of them watching the water get sucked up out of the pool. When it died, it was Corky's fault! Then again, the congrats were twice as strong when he got it going again. In no time the water level was down to the slimy muck and then the engine stopped sucking water. Bryce, who had taken to peeling potatoes, says, "Time to immerse yourselves. I suggest tying plastic bags to your feet. Well, that's the way Wayne used to do it." He had to open his big mouth, getting a barrage of question of who was Wayne! So, now, Bryce felt obliged to explain, "I haven't talked about Wayne since he had an accident. Got thrown from a horse and... and that was it." Corky innocently says, "Wayne died?" "No Cork. The horse died!" AJ felt Ron deserved it this time, a strong nudge of his elbow in the ribs. "Hey, that hurt," Ron tells him. However, he didn't do anything about it! "That's right and every time, from now on, when you're nasty to Corky, I'm going to hurt you!" AJ laughs. Carrying on their own private conversation, Ron says, "You're a mean sadist, but I can't say I don't like that in a man!" Breathing it, letting it out, AJ says, "You're weird, man!" Then he nudges Ron again. This time, hard enough to shake him off balance. At the deep end of the pool, over Ron's height, he falls over the side, clutching on at the stomach. "Wanna give me a hand?" Ron tries holding one out, then the other. "Sure," AJ says, testing the sadistic theory out for Ron, pushing the top of his head with his bare foot. Mad as hell, Ron slips down, inches from the mucky bottom, tippy-toes almost touching it. Now, hanging by the folds of his fingers, "C'mon man." "Okay," AJ replies. They were all barefoot, so AJ didn't think he would be crushing fingertips when he `accidentally' stepped on one of Ron's hands... "Oh shit, you fuck!" Ron yells out, sliding right down the side of the pool, resting on the bottom, belly down. Rising up to his knees, he looks down himself, palming hands down his pecs, stomach and then goes to get up, falling right on his ass. Again cursing out AJ, `the sadist', he tries to get up, but a hand to the bottom, fails! Miraculously, potato peelers began popping up out of nowhere, all of the boys, except AJ and Ron, going at the big sack. They were all amazed at another of Corky's hidden talents, the fastest potato peeler they've ever seen! Steve, figuring he better contribute, or go hungry, slowed the pace, figuring Corky would take up the slack. Regardless, when it got down to the last 10 potatoes, Bryce singles them out, "And those are yours to finish up, Steve." Mouth forming a perfect `O', Steve wondered how Bryce knew what he was thinking, or rather, as the obvious settle in, maybe his new employer's shifty eyes were on him all the time. Taking on the 10 spuds, Steve knew he would have to be careful in his thinking and actions, rather think before acting. Then again, they were all learning from Steve's hardship, it didn't do any good to go up against Bryce. In this little lesson, trying to explain himself out of an endless tunnel, they all would learn, when Bryce has something for someone to do, they better do it, because no excuse could get them out of it. As for AJ and Ron, they also found out there was an outdoor shower. Again, Corky used his `skill', allowing the shower to run, to clean out all the built up silt. If he didn't have someone to care about, he might have wanted to stay there, perhaps help clean up? "Great," Ron says of Corky's ingenuity, using the shower right next to AJ's. "I'll say. Feels great to get the scum off," of which AJ was a good sport, sliding down the side of the pool, after Ron, slicking his bod up with the same brown sludge. For a few moments the floor of the showers show like shit, brown, ugly, however not the same smell. Leaning around the corner of the separator, Ron asks, "Hey, got any soap?" "Yeah, right, Ron," AJ replies, facing him. "What?" Ron does take a glance, after replying so innocently. While living with his mom out in L.A., AJ picked up a thing or two about boys, what they like to do, how to get they want and other helpful tools for pick up, like when a dude is playing stoopid, instead of letting it go, attack and ask questions later... "What the..." Ron cries out, AJ laughing as gropes, dragging the questioner into his own wet space. Soon as he had Ron on his side of the wall, AJ moves in, throwing his wet bod against Ron's muscled chest, smashing their lips together. Ron tried squirming for a split second, but then caved in to the hot foreplay. "Hot kiss," AJ says, breaking off the hold he had on Ron, "like how good are you at sucking cock?" As AJ pushes down on Ron's shoulder, there's resistance, Ron saying, "I think I'm clean enough." "Thanks for the blowjob," AJ says, not doing a thing to allow Ron to escape the shower cube. "What do you mean?" Ron came at him, like this was a riddle. "Nothing, only... would be fun to keep the guys guessing, whether you wrapped your lips around my cock... or better yet, when you volunteered turning around and slammed your stomach up to the wall?" "What the fuck you talking about, AJ?" "Being smart or being stupid?" At least that was one of the ways AJ got head, back in L.A., or other things he desired. "Smart or stupid, eh?" Ron played along. "Yeah, I get it." So did AJ... Got it... Ron's fist to the gut, sending AJ to his knees. "Now I hope `you get it!'" Ron says, turning and walking out. "Fuck!" AJ says to himself, walking up the wall with his hands. "It's always worked before," he gets to his feet, feeling up his tender abs. Thinking about it, Ron's aim, "Could've been worse." Coming out of the shower, the place was deserted. Good in one way, no one probably heard his fist hitting AJ in the stomach, nor his hands bang against the wall as he ditched to his knees. One other problem, other than AJ talking him into something he didn't want to do, Ron didn't have anything to dry off on, until he spots AJ's tee shirt. Meanwhile, pans of potatoes were carried back to the kitchen, but not the kind of kitchen you would find in a middle class home. Large, it had racks hanging from the ceiling, pots and pans on little hooks. Firing up the humongous stove, Bryce announces his intentions, "I hope y'all like potato salad." Steve asks, "Well I hope you're having something to go with it?" "Of course," Bryce replies, eyeing up Steve's big belly, "I thought maybe we'd stuff you, throw your ass in a pan and pop you in the oven!" With pompous attitude, Steve says, "No way, and ruin my beautiful figure?" he does the truffle-shuffle! Bryce had to admit himself, seeing Steve's jelly bod jump up and down, pecs bouncing and invisibly, Steve's `maracas' moving to a salsa beat! It just swayed Bryce's opinion of fat dudes, always having small pistols! "It would take less time if we used 3 or 4 smaller pots, than one big one," Corky suggests. Impressed himself, Patrick says, "What don't you know, Cork?" "Um," Corky rolls him eyes up into the top of his head, reporting back, "I don't know how to play baseball?" Being Corky has done much for the good of all already, Bryce says, "Well, then after supper, we're heading right out to the baseball field!" "We've got one?" Ron has already made the farm, home! "No, but leave it up to Cork," Bryce assures them, "and we'll have one!" Proud of Corky, not to mention fond of the 21-year old, Patrick says, "I'll bet he'll come up with something awesome too," a vote of confidence added by a slap on the back of his shoulder, easily accessed, because they sat on benches and not highback chairs! "Really?" Corky addresses Patrick's accolades. Until the past few hours, other than his grandma, there wasn't anyone in his life he had gotten close to. Special to him, a guy, a gay-guy, a cute gay guy, saying something awesome about him, instantly boosted his morale. Even though cynical most of time, Ron adds some cheer, "Yup, that's my boy!" Already forgiven, for drying himself off on his clothes, and until the time came, when he could get even, AJ leans over to Ron's ear, "Cork really makes you look good, huh?" Holding a glass of lemonade in his hand, Ron `accidentally' leans the lip in the direction of AJ's crotch, "Oops!" Faster than it could be followed, AJ picks up a handful of mashed potatoes, slamming it against Ron's chest, "Yeah, `oops!'" "It'll stop there!" Bryce says with a grumpy voice. As if `the father', Ron and AJ look towards him. Caught red-handed, AJ's hand is still making a potato-imprint on Ron's chest. Dead silence prevailing, Bryce gets up, dictating, selecting them out with a finger, "You two, out to the barn." It took a few seconds to register, sitting there at the table, while Bryce gets up, walks over to the screen door, opening it, "Well?" The others sat in quietude, watching as Ron makes the first move, pushing himself away from the table. Standing, AJ does the same. Walking across the courtyard, down a scraggily path of stepping stones, onto a dirt road, down an alleyway of overgrown vines, climbing trellises and through a small field of dried up brush, their trek opens upon the barn. "Open it," Bryce stands there, waiting for the inevitable, which one will it be, who opens the barn door. "Him or me?" Ron asks Bryce. "Doesn't matter. The door is there. We have to get into the barn. Decide it for yourselves." It was like they were hearing something in a Martian code, firsthand, the two of them standing there, one waiting for the other to give the handle a nudge. "Fuck you," Ron says to AJ, taking a step forward, lifting the wooden handle. According to Bryce, Ron looked like he could move a mountain, with the muscled bod he owned. Tanned like he sunned year round, his muscled back matched his muscular front, along with nicely worked pecs. It all moved and tightened with Ron trying to open the door. "Oh, I forgot to mention, the upper hinge needs repair. Good luck trying to open the door!" Rather than even think of asking AJ to help out, Ron uses his hands like wedges, pulling the door a half inch open. A second pull, the resistance is so great, his hands slide right off from the edge, "Oh shit!" he looks at his fingers, a burn like he had slid down a rope. "Neither of you are any help," Bryce holds down on the explicitness, nudging AJ aside, stepping forward, picking the whole door up by its handle, knocking Ron out of the way, caught on the wrong side of the barn door. Right now, the two guys probably shared the same feeling, Bryce being such a meanie, having `assaulted` AJ, butting his shoulder against him, knocking him off his feet and right onto his ass. For Ron, his finger blistered, burned by the splintery wood, having his bod half-slammed by the barn door, he was thinking of how merciless Bryce could be. A little calmer, as Bryce walks into the dark building, he says, "Inside." A flick of a switch lights some incandescent bulbs, a few past their warranty, burnt out. % Meanwhile, back at the ranch house, Kyle, Steve, Hwang, Corky and Patrick huddled, wondering what was going on. Since Bryce talked with strictness, none of them dared to leave the house. It was inevitable, certainly after what was going to take place, would happen and later on they would get the scoop. Three guys on one side of the table, two on the other, it posed a situation, Steve sticking his nose into other people's business, "So," he addresses Corky and Patrick, "what are you guys, `a couple'?" he laughs. Hwang, whom they would learn, was straight-laced, not giving in to bombastic remarks, in a split-second has Steve all figured out, "What is it with you, Steve? You have to make fun of others because you don't have what they have?" This one time, Bryce had allowed the boys to come to the dinner table shirtless. Sitting next to Steve, it was obvious the big bulge was the subject of Hwang's thinking and it wasn't Steve's cock! "Just what are you insinuating, Hwang?" When Steve turned to talk to Hwang, it left Kyle at his back. Trying to hold Steve back with his words, he says, "I'm sure Hwang didn't mean anything, Steve." But Steve knew exactly what Hwang meant, after the quick glance to his over-extended belly. However, not into violence, especially when Steve thought Hwang might know some Jiu Jitsu or karate, he diplomatically says, "For your information," even though he bent the figure quite a bit, "I've had 5 or 6 boyfriends since 10th grade," his hands sit on his blubbery waist, sitting tall, trying to `stand tall'. "Oh really. When was the last time?" Hwang asks. Sitting there, Corky and Patrick stay in their little space, watching as if they were at the US Open. Putting the question back on Hwang, Steve asks, "I don't see a guy following `you' around?" Hwang could be civilized, but he was the type of person not to have the other guy have the last say. Glancing over Steve's shoulder, he asks, "Kyle, if you could have one of us for a boyfriend, which one would you choose?" For sure it would not be Steve. Kyle preferred his man to be on the lean side. As for Hwang, he was too pushy, a little too much on the sly side. With these opinions, he concludes, "Neither. You guys aren't my type." Suddenly, Kyle became the bad guy, first Hwang, then Steve ganging up on him, wondering what was wrong with either of them. % Out in the barn, Bryce had little to say, other than to direct them over to wooden storage cabinet. Keying the lock, sticking the chain back in his pocket, he removed the snag, opening the doors. "Here," he turned right about, tossing a pair of boxing gloves. Landing in Ron's chest, he says, "Oh, sweet!" The other pair, landing on AJ's pecs, one falls on the ground. Picking it up, he only hoped he knew which hand fit which glove. He knew he was in trouble, standing, finding Ron with one glove on, the other hand going into the second, his teeth ready to pull the laces shut. Knowing Ron was more muscular than himself, totally visible, plus the boxing gloves going on so subtly, he knew he was beat. Throwing the gloves back to Bryce, he says, "Okay. You win." As AJ turns to walk out, he feels the boxing gloves punch him in the back, Bryce's words hitting him in the head, "Sure. Walk away like a coward. You talk the big talk, but haven't any substance to back it up?" Turning right back around, AJ tells him, "I'm out powered. In case you haven't noticed, Ron has been to the gym more times than me and... he's going to knock me out on the first punch?" "How do you know that if you don't try?" "How?" AJ says facetiously, "Fuckin' look at him!" "You're right," Bryce replies. "I see your point." "What the?" Ron questions him, like he wanted to at least beat the shit out of him a little bit. He hadn't intended on causing any permanent damage. Bending down, picking up the gloves which bounced off of AJ's back, Bryce says, "We'll even it up a little. Ron will fight you with one hand behind his back." Like it was spoken in a foreign lingo, Ron says, "I'll what?" "Are you right handed or left?" Bryce asks him, holding a glove for AJ to fit his hand into. "Right," Ron says, but protests, "but I'm not fighting with one hand behind my back." Putting his bargaining chip on the table, Bryce asks, "Then you better think about going back to your job you had before this." "What job?" AJ was loving it, Bryce humiliating him like this. Why, if the shoe was on his foot, he would have just marched right out, up the road and `bingo!' he could be with his father. However, seeing it at a different angle, Ron knew he could probably put AJ in la-la-land with one glove, "Okay. How are you going to tie it?" Ron holds out his left hand. After putting the finishing touches on AJ, Bryce says, "Tie it? What's up with that, Ron? Aren't you a man of your word?" "Of course," Ron is adamant of that fact, but is also puzzled. "Good. I'm glad we've reached an understanding," Bryce addresses him, opening the circle to three. "You'll hold your right hand behind your back until one of you are ready to go down." "What?" Ron's jaw drops. "That's suicide!" "Of course," Bryce says carefree, "being you're handicapped, you'll get the first punch." Ron off his back, AJ jumps on, "That's not fair?!" "What's not fair," Bryce turns it back on them, "is you two wasting the food it cost me sweat and a bus driving job to pay for. What do you want me to do? Take it out of your hide?" AJ remembers getting his step-father's belt on his bare back. No, he didn't want to go that route. Surrendering, he drops his hands to his sides, "Ok. Take your best shot." "Good God, man. You've got to defend yourself," Bryce tells him. "But you said..." "What I said is, Ron gets the first punch, but I didn't say you were going to stand there and take it?" Being facetious, Ron says, "That's okay. With my secondary hand, it won't cave your abs in too much!" he snickers. Closing the cabinet doors, making his ways to the door, "Well, I'll leave you two here to work out your differences." "Wait!" Ron exclaims, "you're not going to stay here to make sure I keep my arm behind my back?" "You `are' a man of your word?" Bryce asks. "Of course," yet there was doubt in his mind, if Bryce wasn't there to referee. Butting the gloves together, AJ was confident, even with a little gut punch, especially with Ron's `not so good' hand, he could beat his adversary to a pulp. "Later," is all Bryce said and then the creaking door was closed. Ron smirked. AJ tried reading it, but with both gloves up, he knew he had himself covered. Being the `big man', says, "Go ahead musclehead, take your best shot!" Of course Ron faked him out. It was even easier, his right hand behind his back, while bending to aim the left hand lower! "Aw-w-w-wuh-haw-w-w-uh-h-h-h!" AJ's voice rang out through the rafters of the barn, Ron's glove hitting him right in the balls. Immediately AJ drops, rolling up into a fetal position, one hand defending his already battered baby-makers. Ron thought it would be cool, but he then gets a flashback, on how coach always stressed sportsmanship. He had never hit a guy on purpose, only in a controlled match. Clouding his mind, he realizes what he had done, taken advantage of a guy who had no idea. "Hey, you okay?" he bends over, touching AJ's shoulder. Looking over one glove, AJ says, "You cheated." "Cheated?" Ron stands. "Like how does your warped mind think that?" Right from the beginning, after he got his balls crushed, looking in between the thumb part of the glove, an alley of light, AJ watched Ron `cheat', "You took your right hand from behind your back!" "My right hand..." Ron says softly, then looks upon his right boxing glove, "Oh... well, it was behind my back when I hit you. I just took it away when I bent over to see if your heart was still ticking?" Looking for out, any out, anything to keep himself from getting beat black and blue, which AJ knew would be the case, he says, "Bryce set the rules and you broke them. He said at all times you are to keep your right hand..." "I know what he said," Ron's blood pressure begins to rise, "but like I told you I..." "It doesn't matter," AJ badgers him, "you took it away. You broke the rules." Realizing AJ isn't going to lay this to rest, Ron gives him the `I-don't-care' attitude, "So, what the fuck? He's not here. Are you going to tell him?" Relaxing both gloves, sitting up, AJ says, "I might." "Bryce was right. Looks like you always are into taking the easy way out." "No. Only when it's going to get me killed or maimed, but you already did a pretty good job of that?" AJ confronts him. Plopping his butt down on the straw floor, Ron says, "I never did that to a guy on purpose... that is if he didn't deserve it." "So, in your mind I deserved it?" AJ replies. Lightly pounding his chest with his glove, Ron tells him, "You're not the one with mashed potatoes on your chest?" "Um, like, my pants looked like I pissed a gallon of beer on them?" "I was going to drink it, but... I don't know. The way the glass was leaning, it was just too good not to... do it," Ron surrenders. Pushing himself up, with one glove to the floor, AJ says, "Maybe it's good Bryce put us in here together." "How's that go?" Ron asks, standing too. "The way I see it, if we want to be mad at each other, we can't do it in front of Bryce. We'll just wind up here in the barn again." Mulling it over, Ron says, "Or worse. We'll be on the unemployment line." "Yeah, and in case you haven't noticed, there's a lot of work to be done around here," AJ says, like he's using a secret code. Ron reckons, "Would be cool if it took us through to the winter." "That's why we should settle our differences here and now." "Right," Ron agrees, "because next time could be the last time Bryce throws us out of the ranch house." "I never boxed in my life," AJ confides. "I could tell. Unfortunately, you already know you didn't block your lower bod?" "A lesson learned the hard way," AJ says. Then, a light goes on in Ron's head, "Y'know, our boxing coach used to have us work out, punching each other in the abs. Maybe we could try that, until one of us drops?" "Sure," AJ retorts, a hefty amount of sarcasm thrown in, "You can probably take 10 punches to my 1?" Smirking, Ron says, "Yeah. You're probably right. I know. You punch with your bare fists and I'll use the gloves?" AJ was thinking, `You're fuckin' kiddin'?', but thought it a generous gesture, "Might be okay." In no time, Ron had his gloves off, helping AJ out of his, which made AJ question, "Hey, you're helping me do something, asshole!" "Yeah, keep saying stuff like that. Stuff like that riles me up, feeds my inner karma. When that happens, it goes right to my fists!" "I got news for you," AJ tells him, "with or without gloves, I'm toast!" Ron was thinking the same thing. Part of his boxing coach's strategies was keeping a firm midsection, reason why abs were a constant tackle. Though, often Ron would go beyond the gym class, to after school, the basement of his house, where he had a modest setup of workout machines. Befriending one of the boxing team members, he coaxed him into getting some gut-punching in. If it toughened guys up at school, having some extra-curricular time, then doubly, on his own time, he could get `extra-tough'. The first few times, hanging from one of the beams in his basement, it wasn't the case, but with time and perseverance, it was shone, it wasn't only the fist-meets-gut that made him tough. At this moment, he was still tough, having had a little workover session with a guy he met at a bar. At 20-years old, 6'3, his muscular physique made him look taller and older. A former football player, it wasn't a surprise, meeting one of the players from the `other team', out-of-towners who came to town to play high school football. After a few beers, Ron invited the dude, Hans, a German exchange student, who stayed in the country to attend college, to his house. Saturday night, Ron knew the folks were out ballroom dancing and being an only child, it worked out perfect. After explaining this episode to AJ, he says, "So, you let all these guys punch you in the stomach, for kicks?" Ron guessed he couldn't hide it. Matter of fact, it's something that's been happening to him, which did not seem right, but was right for him, "Yeah, now that you mention it. Kind of..." he didn't continue, knowing what he was going to say next would make a candidate for the looney farm. "What?" AJ had slipped out of his `beaten-man' attitude, back to making demands. "You wouldn't understand," Ron confronts the issue. "Of course your parents wouldn't, if you told them. Why do you think I hated living with my mom and her lover? Sucked. Every time I even looked like I was hiding something, Jason, the bastard, would take a belt to me. If I didn't tell him something, anything, and something he wanted to hear, whether it was the truth or not, I got hit," AJ confesses. Hearing AJ's history, Ron says, "No big deal. I mean, not about you. That's some serious stuff. Like, I never got hit, ever." "But we're talking about you. Not me." "Right," Ron agrees, "but what happened to you. It sucks." AJ tired of this cat and mouse game, giving up, letting Ron keep whatever it was to himself, to himself, asking, "So what are we going to do?" Glancing up and down AJ's shirtless, smooth bod, Ron says, "I bet if we worked you up to it, you could take something substantial?" "I work out... worked out in a gym, but didn't do any of that punching stuff. I don't care to have any of my ribs caved in?" Ron assures, "I'm not out for blood, nor broken bones, but about right now..." he held out long enough, "about Hans," Ron was really unsure about this, but if it meant something now, "he noticed, when he punched me in the gut, the more he did it, the... the harder I got." "Of course," AJ replies, "isn't that idea of it?" "Um, no," Ron treads lightly, "I'm not talking about my abs getting hard." "Oh," AJ says, thinking of one of two things left, "you're nips?" "Lower," Ron replies, a hand to the front of his pants, almost groping himself. AJ's smirk turns into half of a smile, saying, "I know the feeling." Stepping right in front of AJ, Ron almost interrogates, "What do you mean you know the feeling?" he looks AJ down and up. "I never let on to Jason, whenever he had me bent over the workbench in the garage, giving me a whipping, my cock was like, raging?" Soft-spoken, Ron says slowly, "Really? Then you `do' understand?" he places his hands on AJ's forearms. "I didn't think there would be anyone who would, other than Hans." Seeing he was talking to a perfect stranger about how discipline can affect a guy, it being a weirdo thing, AJ says, "Sometimes I would play games, would lead Jason on, just so I could fill my pants with a load." Opening up on the subject, Ron says, "After Hans found me tenting my pants, he made me take them off before we started. After a few punches he would lean forward, take my cock in his mouth. Oh man, that's torture!" "The only downer to the whole experience, I hated Jason. But when he was whipping me, I wasn't thinking of him. Most of the time it was someone I had seen do it in the movies, like Spencer Reed or Morgan Black?" "Never heard of `em," Ron says. "You never saw `Bust A Nut', with Paul Wagner?" AJ says. "Oh wait! Yeah. Is that the one where they are 2 on 1?" "That's it," AJ replies. "I loved it when Spencer puts Paul in a full nelson and Morgan softly pushes in his stomach and then... oh man, I would have loved to have been Paul, having Spencer make Morgan suck me off..." Ron says dreamily, dreaming away the seconds! "Uh, getting back to Bryce, before we both get hard," AJ cuts in to Ron's dream, "Bryce is going to be looking for something." "Yeah," Ron realizes it, "like, he's probably wondering why he hasn't heard any moaning and groaning right now?" "Then, how about we both get each other hard, the way we like it?" AJ proposes. On the tip of his tongue, a matter of unsureness, Ron asks, "You want me to... whip you?" "On the back, preferably?" AJ responds. "Oh. Never did that to a guy before." AJ tells, "I never punched a guy in the stomach before." "But if it gets each of us off," Ron is still unsure. "What could be sweeter?" "How you figure it?" Ron asks. "Bryce gets what he wants, whatever the fuck that is, and we get what we want," AJ assumes. "Well," Ron doesn't realize he's all along been rubbing AJ's forearms, "I have this feeling, what Bryce wants from us is for us to do nothing. The way I see it, why shouldn't we benefit too?" Both were too wound up to let it go, themselves getting something out of this little lesson of life. "Uh, I don't have a belt on," Ron was already searching AJ, around the waist. "I pulled it out before we took a shower." Then, blaming, "Some imbecile got my pants wet, so I couldn't put the belt back through the loops." "Oops!" AJ says, with unconvincing tremble in his voice. "They're dry now." "Yeah, but I have a feeling if we don't take them off, they're going to `look' wet?" Ron hints. Both stripping off pants, they realize both left their briefs at the shower. "Hard already?" Ron asks, feeling free to touch. "Uh, excuse me, but do you like see or feel me touching you?" "Oops!" Ron replies, dropping AJ's soft salami like it was a hot potato! "Not that it didn't feel good, but would nice to have some other kind of stimulation?" Since each has talked up themselves, in regards to the obscure method of getting a hardon, each knew what the other wanted, Ron saying, "You do me first." AJ had never taken a man's cock in his mouth until his father coerced him into bed. At the time he wasn't angry or anything. Gay, he hadn't come out yet and by all means, his father's tall stalk did taste very good. It's a shame he had to come out and say something to his mother, angry at his father, just one fuckin`-time. What he learned, it wasn't the cock, but whom it was attached to. He loathed his stepfather, but saw his father got the raw end of the law system all because he blabbed about it. "Yeah, okay. I don't know if I can do it though," AJ agrees. However, lurking in his mind, all AJ can think about, is when the tables are turned. Too, he wasn't sure about Ron getting hard and staying hard! "How do you want me?" Ron asks. "You tell me. You're the expert," AJ replies, feeling a little nervous. Ron explains, "It works two ways. Either we can go at it with just gut-punching, or as my buddy, Hans, used to do, he liked to make it up into a story?" It looked to AJ, Ron giving him a choice. Figuring out the first option all on his own, vague at what the second choice entails, "Story? Like how does that go?" "Hans, his father was always getting stopped by the cops, claiming a light was out on his truck, or something else. He and his dad didn't take to liking the law very much. Really, it was me who came up with it, telling Hans to pretend I was a cop.We made up this wild story, like I was the cop, stopping his father. Then, guess what?" "What?" AJ couldn't deny being entertained, concealing it getting him up, a hand on his thigh, thumb strumming the side of his barrel. "Hans thought I was a genius. Each time he punched me in the gut, he barked out something he has always wanted to say to the cops!" All this time, Ron stare AJ in the eyes, but at the conclusion of the roleplaying idea, he glances down, then back. "Somethin' tells me you like the idea maybe as much as Hans?" Ron licks his lips, like he could taste the beauty of the moment. "Can't say I don't," AJ replies. With accepting his idea, Ron decides to elaborate, "If we had something to tie me with, you could," he looks above him, to the beam over his head, "fasten me to this?" Ron reaches up and grabs on to the 2x4 attached to 2 posts. Using his wild imagination, AJ pictures his stepdad there, the fat bastard hanging by his arms... "What do you think?" "Huh?" AJ wakes up out of his reverie. "About the whole thing?" Ron asks, letting go of the beam, falling from toes, landing on his heels. "I don't really want to hurt you. You're not my stepfather." Ron interjects, "Before you wanted to?" "Before," AJ matches whits, "you wanted to hurt me and now you want me to hurt you?" "Not really hurt, but building up my abs?" Ron terms it. AJ wasn't sure, though was guessing it not the total idea Ron was presenting. Only one thing would prove whatever they both thought, doing it. "Okay, but we have something more important to worry about." Ron, all wrapped up in himself, an insatiable feeling to have AJ's fist in his gut, lost sight of focus, "What's that?" "Bryce. You heard him." "Oh, right," Ron recalls, "either you or me are going to walk out of here. Well, I think you have your answer?" AJ knew, after Ron presented the facts of what could get him off, which if tied, he might really involve himself to the point of slinging Ron's ass over the crate on the barn floor, however comes up with an idea, "I don't think we should allow Bryce to get his way?" "Wait. What are you saying? Go against Bryce?" Ron pleads. "He left us here to fight. For one of us to beat the other to a pulp, which I could very well do to you, if I chose to... but wouldn't you rather do it, not as an object of Bryce's obsession, but some mutual activity between the two of us?" Ron was a college student at one time, but swore AJ twice as smart. Right now, he didn't exactly get AJ's meaning, but agreed anyhow, "Sounds good to me. Like, what do we do?" "Nothing." "Nothing?" Ron questions AJ's motives. "We get ourselves together, walk out of the barn, right into the house, sit down at the kitchen table and leave it up to Bryce to ask the questions." "Sounds cool, but could you do me the favor of one little punch?" He didn't have the gloves on, AJ saying, "With or without?" "I can take it either way," Ron backs up to where he stood before, reaching up for the beam. Following him with a few footsteps, AJ says as he warms up his left fist, "When you drop and fall to your knees, do I get to fuck you?" Ron hadn't found a replacement for Hans, but hadn't thought about it, knowing, whether straight or gay dude, fucking might be part of the equation. It sure wasn't how he thought `gay' living was going to turn out to be, in early high school. AJ had to ask, "Hans must've gotten horny, if you two got it on all the time?" Rather answering directly, Ron says, "We went with however our roleplaying turned out." "Oh really?" AJ fondles himself. Holding on, AJ delivered a hefty gut punch, but it didn't put much of a dent in Ron's taut abs. Hopping down from holding on, Ron says, "Your turn, right?" "You mean to fuck you?" "No. Gut punch, idiot!" Ron waited. "Another time. I don't think we should keep Bryce waiting too long?" Out of the barn, walking back to the house, they didn't talk more on the gut punching, nor roleplaying, Ron saying, "Man, this place sure does look shit." AJ, who has been around the place longer, says, "Tip of the iceberg. Bryce gave me the tour. It looks like this all over, right up to the fence of the next place." "The secret camp the government runs," Ron thinks he's filling AJ in on Camp Rufghup. "They say it's for runaways or dudes who can't integrate into society, but we all know it's a front for government interrogations." Having set foot inside, courtesy of Bryce, AJ doesn't let on, "Oh really? They torture guys there... hmm, I bet you would fit right in, Ron!" Unswerving, Ron says, "Hey, I didn't say anything about stuff other than gut punching?" Testing, AJ asks, "What about forced rape?" Fortunately for Ron, they reached the farmhouse, hiking up on the porch, very quickly he handles the screen door, but leaves the conversation with a message, "Gut-puncher, before gut-punch-taker?" AJ leans to Ron's ear, "Ass-fucker, before ass-taker?" Walking in, they realize there was no need for secrecy, the house empty. "Bryce probably took them out on a tour of the farm," AJ says. "Could be," Ron says. They hung around for a few seconds, AJ saying, "Big farm. Could be walking around for hours." Thinking AJ was leading up to something, Ron asks, "Which leaves us with nothing to do, unless you want to give me a tour?" "Come on," AJ says, "we can stop by the shower for our briefs." Instead of any roundabout way, taking the circumference of the farm, AJ heads straight for the pool behind the bunkhouse. It was getting dark, so most likely, his plan to do some sexual activity inside the corridor of the showers would not pan out. However, the thing about lights out, a guy who got it on in the dark regular, didn't need the lack of light to get in his way! % Copyright 2013 T. Chase McPhee `Giv2GeT', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.