Date: Mon, 26 Mar 2012 04:11:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tchase Mcphee <survivalgame@rocketmail.com>
Subject: SuPReME CouRTsHiP 03

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 most
states 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.

%


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I freely publish to the Nifty Archives and `do not' receive a royalties
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%


SuPReME CouRTsHiP 03
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Holding the speedo up by a fingertip, James let it dangle in the mirror
image, the bluish color set against the black and white of his suit, shirt
and black tie. Staring himself down, eyes gazing through the brown-rimmed
glasses, he finally cracks half of a smile, saying, "I guess it's not going
to be just another Friday night!"

Reality setting in, Friday was nearly the same as any other day of the
week, except weekends, which replicated the evenings of the other nights,
setting aside James would not be at the end of an attorney's day, more or
less a Saturday into Sunday sleep-in.

Then again, he looked upon the wardrobe colors, thinking of the
similarities; work, after work, dull evening going over court cases or
reading some Shakespeare, catching up on the financial news, sleep, maybe a
quick jerk off somewhere in between, if a handsome face or bod in a
magazine or on the tube caught his eye. Comparing all that to how this
Friday turned out, all the major and minor characters involved, Tim, Aaron
and lastly, `William’, he dwell a second or two on the last memory
in mind.

A slap against the woodwork of the door, it startles James out of his
reverie, "Hey! What's keeping you?”

"Uh, nothing," James replies, turning around.

Stepping inside the doorway, William says, "You're not shy, are you?"

Not shy, no, but not sure, James offers, "Un, no, but I do feel a little
funny being here with..."

Again, the feeling of `knowing’ sweeps over William, "I know. I
kind of felt weird too."

"You do?” James wondered, factoring in the 10 year difference of
their ages.

"It’s sort of like Tim and his dungeon."

He knew this was leading to something. Just, all the pieces of the puzzle
weren't in place, "And like how does that go?"

"In the dungeon, when the guys get together it's all fun and games,
roleplaying people we want to be. When we’re not in the dungeon, we
are people who we are.” Rolling his eyes, William says, "I think
that's what I meant to say."

It sounded simple enough in theory to James. He had to think on it to grasp
the idea, but for now, “Sounds logical to me.”

"Like I wasn't at all `shy' changing out of my clothes and into my speedo,
because we're not like at the court house. We're here, at home. We should
be casual about each other."

Simply put, James smiles as more of a feeling of calm comes over him. He
did have thoughts of his profession, the implications of hooking up with
the elevator kid and wondering what others would think, a 29yo guy even
dating a 19yo college dude.

Thinking on `dating', his own thought, he smiles, coming up with, "Well
then, since we're supposed to be so uninhibited, what would you think about
helping me get out of these clothes and into a speedo?" James holds up the
skimpy blue garment.

If William got any more stirred up, he would be busting out of his own
speedo, replying, "Uh, like where should I start?"

With all elements of the real world shucked out of existence, James
invites, “Where would you like to start?”

"Not sure," William pans James' physique, from face to crotch and back.

"Hold this," James begins to make it easier, taking William's hand,
slapping the speedo down to the teen's palm.

Intently seeking skin, William watches James remove the suit jacket,
smiling at the pull of the shirt, two little pointy nips indelible through
the fabric.

Even though he lives very much the dull life, James hasn't left a void
where sex is concerned, that is before moving to town 6 months ago. For the
duration he has dove into his work and work encompassed most of his time,
which usually happens when jumping from job to job, especially diving into
unknown territory.

Right now, forgetting everything, he heeds William's words, dropping his
jacket over the computer desk chair, going for the knot in his tie.

"Um, would you mind, if I..."

"Go to it, lad!" James awards William the title for his youthfulness.

"Okay, `sir'!"

They smile at each other, William's loins pushing him onward, taking the
tie in his hands.

Both looking upon the deed, they happen to look up at the same time.

Perhaps more experience at being tender, James leans forward, taking a
taste of William's lips. After doing so, he says, "I hope I wasn't being
pushy?"

"No," William replies. "We're not at the court house. We can be whatever we
want to each other. Right?"

"Deep," James replies, feeling the knot of his tie slip down. "How did you
get to be so smart with your words?"

"Tim. He taught me a lot of stuff. He even showed me some ways to take care
of myself. He's a good fighter, you know?"

"No. I didn't know that, or that about you,” James joking, "Good
thing I didn’t take advantage of you in the elevator!"

As he said it, he had to `look up', William going at the collar button of
his shirt, "I wouldn't have fought you off!"

Peering down over his cheeks, through the bottom of his glasses, James
replies, "Is that so?" More or less, he sensed it like being given
permission, moving both hands to touching William's torso, a hand on each
hip.

There were only a few inches between them, William going on to the second
shirt button. James dropping his chin, they connect eyes, each smiling.

"I..." he was ready to single James out, as being the one and only, the
first, but then Tim's face came into the picture and doing a quick edit of
his feelings, "`almost' never had anybody do that to me."

"Oh, so you're `not' a virgin, then?"

`Virgin?' Putting pieces of his thoughts together, welding them with what
he supposes James' intentions could be, William says, "I've never been
fucked. You want to fuck me?"

A little chuckle precedes James' response, "I hadn't planned on it. What
ever happened to our swim?" he quickly switches the subject.

"Well, if we can ever get you into that speedo!"

Backing off, removing his hands, James puts them to work unbuttoning his
shirt, scolding, "No offense, but you're much too slow, William."

With multiple meaning, William says, "My hands aren't as fast as yours!" he
watches James unbutton the last button of his shirt before pulling it from
his pants.

Allowing the shirt to flap open, James taunts William from the parting of
the button side from the button holes.

"Looks good so far," William says of the thick, curly, reddish-brown hair
mid chest, the skip of smooth skin, then another mass starting about 2
inches above the navel. An inch below, the hair meets James' belt buckle.

Resulting in James' hands tied up with stretching his shirt backwards over
his own shoulders, William made a step forward, hands reaching for his
belt.

Saying nothing, James allows the 19yo to unlatch it, William saying, "Tim
taught me this one."

"Oh so I'm `not' the first naked man to be with you?!"

"We did some stuff, but he didn't fuck me, if that's what you're driving
at," he reminds, at which point, William pulls at the unlatched belt
buckle, yanking it through the loops, removing it from around James' waist.

He awards William with, “Fast worker!" Already dropping his shirt
behind him, not as neat as with the jacket, James stands there, looking
down. Briefly he looks up, but returns his eyes to peering down the front
of himself, saying, "Like what you see?"

When Tim tutored William in the `art of gay lovemaking’, he gave
him the uninhibited, forward techniques, the teen following through with
subtle approach, instead of going for the crotch, places both hands on
James’ hairy pecs, "I like these."

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h!" James sighs, dropping his head back, "You had a good
teacher!" he tilts his head back to watch William's hands at work, palms
flat, but index fingers and thumbs to the sides of each nub, pleasurably
kneading them.

"You have sensitive nips!"

"Uh, yeah," James bit his lips, replying, "but not too hard, please?"

William backed off, sliding his hands down James' stomach.

"Um, aren't you going to like, finish?" James stood there, hands on hips.

Casually smiling, William reached forward, undid the zipper, purposefully
pressing in, “Hard," he comments, going for the button.

James quips, "Hardly!"

True to James’ assessment, when William unfolds the flaps and pulls
down on the pants, he had to work the slacks over the bulge, asking, "What
are you... a nine? Ten?"

"Eight, five and three quarters... I measured!” he smiles.

“Me too... well Tim, he helped me measure. He says it's good for a
man to know how big he is."

Lightheartedly, James replies, "And what you packin' there, sonny?" With
the stuffy atmosphere disappearing, James felt comfortable to tap William's
package with the back of his hand.

"Nine and a half!” he sticks his tongue out in a snobbish manner.

Getting even, James takes manners into his own hands, parking his
Fruit-of-the-Looms under his balls, "Oh, you want to lick?"

It coming to William, "You want to play top'n'bottom?"

Thinking it humorous, James laughs, "Top and bottom?" Then mellowing out,
moving closer, "I thought maybe we would start out as equals and see where
it goes?"

William welcomed the hug and since he measured up to James in height, about
an inch difference, their faces matched up. It felt mighty good too,
hugging each other, like boyfriends, their bare chests, stomachs and
shoulders pressed against each other, William sensing it strange, James'
bare cock and balls pressing against his speedo, the experience heightened
by compression of briefs under balls.

Breaking off their first `long' kiss, accompanied by James feeling up
William's speedo, he says, "I think your 9.5 is showing!"

"Not yet!" William comes back with, his speedo confining himself with
restrain, doing as James has done, moving the elastic so it snags his
balls.

His pants at his ankles, James says, after his eyes partake of `William',
"I better get out of these before I trip and fall backwards onto the
bed... Oops!" he falls backwards, bouncing a few times.

Splayed out on the bed, James assumed a comfy position, elbows up, hands
clasped behind his head.

“I like the position. Tim would call it the beginning of a sex
slave,” William laughs, but holds ulterior meaning.

Feeling risque, James replies, "I ‘like' Tim's idea!"

Neither said `who' would be the sex-slave, a pause making each wait it out!

All day long in court, James held the upper edge, knowing the protocol one
follows in dealing with clients, judges, colleagues and above all, has been
drawn favor over the dismissal of quite a few cases with those he
represented. This has worked to his advantage, in a few cases against him,
things like cops tired of having to show up in court, only for misdemeanors
being decidedly not in their favor. However, he's made a couple of
`friends' with some local parents, with the acquittal of a few high school
students, regarding ticketing.

His thoughts are interrupted, "I've never played with a guy, like Tim likes
to have fun?"

He lay there, stripped down to his briefs holding up under his balls, shoes
and socks still keeping his pants at bay around his ankles, James casually
saying, "What kind of fun would `you’ like to have, William?”
Of course James was giving up reserving of rights to top.

William, ever since Tim mentioned it, liked the sound of the words, "Want
to be my sex slave?"

He smiled, James silently thinking, `oh shucks!’ However, the humor
of the situation, he didn’t perceive giving up his tongue to
William as a life and death struggle. From the hint of muskiness in the
elevator on many a days, James asks, "By the way, you didn't happen to take
a dip in the pool waiting for me?”

"No, but I should take a shower or something. I kind of," William lifts
both arms, “reek?"

He sits up, lops shoes, socks and pants off all in one clump, James saying,
"Well I can't think of a better way than breaking a sex slave into
submissiveness than grinding pit hair into his face!"

"Um, like you didn’t get it?" William watches intently, like ninety
percent of his pubes weren't in full view, eyes on James’ prize, as
he says, "I said I need a shower?"

Like ignoring the facts, William's underarms smelling like day old `bO',
James responds, his nude bod turning around, stretching legs out towards
the bottom of the bed, arms reaching towards the top, grabbing at the two
wooden bedposts, “How do you want me? This good?"

Walking over to his bed, William just gazed from head to toes and back, "I
dunno. You look good!"

Nodding his head, like being `man in charge', James says, "You want to even
us up?"

Not getting it, William replies, "Even us up?"

"Yeah. Ditch the speedo?" he looked dead straight at William's crotch, nuts
appearing to be swollen.

"Sure," William inserted thumbs. Not out of being shy to further the
unveiling, but nervous about doing it for any man, he worked it slowly down
his legs, right, then left, right, left, right left leg, till he had to
step out.

"Sexy!" James titled it, a slow striptease!

A light scathing of dark hair over William's pec, his fuzz became much more
pronounced as it thickened midchest in a tiny patch. From where the stripe
originates, passing between William's sixpack, it darkens with profuse
display, then hesitates slightly for the bellyhole indentation, a shaggy
stripe painted to what now lays bare, dark pubes, spread wide from thigh to
thigh.

Playing him up, James gives in, "Oh man, William, you really know how to
make a slave hungry," licks lips, "yum!"

New to this, it shows, William laughs, then gets semi-serious, "Hey, you
want to call me `Master Bill'?"

"Sure... Master Bill!”

"By the way," William keeps James’ attention from focusing on his
face, "do you have any limits?"

"Limits?” James licks his lips, seeing the barrel of William's 9.5,
buried in fur.

"Yeah. Tim says you gotta ask a guy that before you start playing around."

Forgetting about `pain’, all James can think about is `pleasure',
"Oh man," he again acts up, "I can't wait to get my lips on that juicy
sausage! Limits?" he laughs, "What limits?"

Question answered!

As with James initially, William works on his dialogue skills, "Do you like
meatballs too, slave-boy?"

It made James laugh, breaking code, "Sure. Bring `em closer and I'll show
you how much I love'em!"

Dropping in half to pick up his speedos, William bends over, picking them
up, breaking off James' view, the lawyer peering over the shaggy haircut,
right up the back, to the parting ass.

Some kind of spell coming over him, in the past, James had thoughts of
dividing and conquering, but William, probably his age having much to do
with it, James salivated, wondering if his tongue would pick up on any hair
fibers, running along William's ass crevice!

"All set. Now, what about my pits?”

`Pits?' James questioned himself, since his tastebuds longed for `ass'. Not
wanting to skip a beat, James replies, "Oh right, yeah, pits. Bring'em on!
Mm-m-m-m-m!" James physically licks his chops, wiggles his eyebrows.

It was awkward, mainly because it was only the second time William crawled
onto a bed with a man atop. Though, he drew off his first time experience,
like kneeing onto the side of Tim's bed, following instruction to swing one
leg over, Tim telling him to allow his cock and balls dangle down, keeping
an eye on the guy lying down under him, making sure he `notices'. As with
James, it was a cinch!

"Oh yeah!" James coaxed him on, his chin touching his chest.

Next phase of Tim's plan, William advances, doggie-walking up James' bod,
their cocks colliding.

"Oh fuckin' yeah!" James calls out, his head smashed into the pillow, eyes
squinting for a moment.

It makes William smile, another one of Tim’s `fun facts’,
making his victim `want', by touching and feeling. Feeling really good
about all this, tingling sensations giving him the shivers, William
performs another one of Tim's tricks, taking his and James' cock in one
hand and giving them both a little stroking.

"Dammit, William!"

"What?" William stops.

"Don't stop!" James demands back.

Back to the stroking, William asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. In fact..." they stare at each other, "everything's
just... perfect!"

Forgetting about all the other stuff, William does an all out pushup,
lengthening his bod by sliding his feet out to where James' feet are at the
foot of the bed. "This any better?" he asks, his crotch falling onto James'
hairy cock and balls, pec to pec.

"Now what?" heads the only place not touching.

"Stick my pit in your face?" William moves his right arm.

Not really into it now, James replies, "Um, can you think of something
else?"

"I could," William replies, leaning on James' chest with elbow, while his
hands carefully remove the brown specs!

%

Up the road, Aaron notices as they cruise by the old picnic grounds,
“The chain is down?"

It made Tim slow down, swerve a little to the side of Old Route 15, saying,
"Hmm... I wonder?" he puts it in reverse gear.

Even though he had just given up his load, sending it down Aaron's throat,
Tim could always churn it up for another go around.

"I think I see something," Aaron says, the vehicle traveling up the gravel
road, through some hefty bushing. More than thoughts of sucking down Saul
Wolkman's cock, Aaron hadn't been allowed to come, Tim making his sexdrive
more important. Though, not having a `run-in' with the lawman before, from
how Tim spoke, he knew how it could feel when Saul was in other moods, the
`long arm of the law' forcing it’s way past his ass ring!

“I see more than `something’!" Tim parks.

Because he could do no wrong when it came to a certain cop on the force,
Tim already had it in mind what he was going to do, before he got to the
two shirtless, depantsed men.

“Here, boy!" he tosses his shirt to Aaron.

Catching the shirt, Aaron folds it into whatever shape makes it compact. He
picks up Tim's sneakers wherever they are shucked.

Jeans stepped out of, one leg at a time, Tim hauls them up by the belt,
sticks the pants right to Aaron’s chest.

Stepping right up behind Saul, totally uninhibited by the cop's bulky bear
size, nor social position, draws a fist back and punches him in the lower
back.

"Akh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-oh-h-h-h-shit-Tim!" he yells out, knowing only one
person who would pull a stunt like that.

Tim laughs his ass off, knowing he's ruined a perfectly good fuck!

“You asshole!" Saul screams at him, his 10c of fat lard, all wet
and shiny, jutting out in front of him.

Tim kept laughing, moving over to where Saul stood behind the biker. Taking
Saul's cock in hand, Tim grabs where the base meets hairy pubes and pulls
towards himself, "Thanks for the lube, pig!" he uses the excess to grease
up his own tube.

"Fuck you!" Saul replies. He could have been mighty upset at Tim, but won't
dare risk the chance of being crossed off the guest list of Tim's dungeon
parties. Instead, he turns on Aaron, "Well, what the fuck you still have
your clothes on for, boy?"

"Me? Cool!" the college sophomore replies. It wasn't a new A&F tee shirt,
Saul tearing it from the collar, down. Aaron didn't weep over it.

Two things turned Saul on, sex and then what could get things moving in
that direction, "Working out at the gym, have you, boy?" Saul felt up
Aaron's rigid, hairy sixpack.

"Yes, sir?" Aaron licked his lips, hoping this was leading to some intense
`workout'.

“Got some rope in the trunk. Why don't we see if we can workout
those abs some more?"

Aaron had his priorities. When it came to Tim, other than working his cock
up into a frenzy, he loved Tim to work over his balls. When it came to
Saul, a man who worked out himself, Aaron always had visions, fantasies, of
a muscle man of Saul's status, working his core with his fists as a huge
turn. To make sure he would get what he wanted at the completion of a
hot-fisted butt workover, he hints, "Uh, you didn't like, come yet, did
you?”

Hauling a bundle of rope out of the trunk of his patrol car, Saul replies,
"I'll worry about that boy. You just get those clothes off and dump them in
here."

Heading off into the woods, Aaron worked fast.

He hears from not far off, "Oh and bring the red tool chest!"

His motorcycle-boy's ass was tight... real tight, so Tim took the
opportunity to `interrogate` his victim, finding out name, where he was
from and other nosy facts.

"I'm on vacation."

Finding out his bike-boy was into bdsm, "What did you call me, boy?" Tim
drove his point home, his hips heaving forward.

Even though it felt so awesome, Tim's cock pressing further up his ass
channel, the dude shrieks a sharp, "Ak-k-k! Sir! Sorry, sir!"

Tim loved it. He could tell without asking, his sex-captive, securing a
first name on the initial jab of his cock past the tight ring, `Flint',
into more broader subjects.

Under more `duress', Flint confides he is a 39yo army vet, on a cross
country trip to `nowhere'.

Abruptly, after finding out more into, Tim pulls out, reaches in between
Flint's thighs, grabs any soft flesh he can feel, yanks the back of Flint's
head by his long locks, "Get up boy! I ain't ready to come up your tight
ass, yet!"

Upon grabbing up Flint's balls, it was enough to hold in his hand,
releasing, but not before feeling the hard shaft bounce off the back of his
hand.

"Pants, boy!"

Flint, in an effort to get a start on his trip, left the army base as soon
as his discharge papers were signed. Therefore, he was stepping back into
his camo pants.

Tim was ahead of him, but of course he thought of Aaron, beating his balls
because his pants and shirt were disheveled in a heap and not folded
neatly. He soon forgot all that stuff, shifting his attention, eyes on
Flint, stopping him in the nick of time, "Not the shirt, boy!"

"Yes, sir,” Flint pulled his arm out of the regulation shirt.

Still barechested, Tim walks over to him, amazed a little at how quickly
they started up this clandestine relationship, with little talk on subject
matter or preference.

Flint stood at rigid attention, just like he did back at the army base.

“I think you and I could have some fun working over this bod of
yours?" Tim got right to the gist of things, placing a hand on Flint's
shoulder, swiping his palm down the hairy pecs, stopping to tweak a nip.

He was joyed to hear, in the positive, "Yes, sir."

With the background info, "I was thinking of taking on a new slave?”
It didn’t occur to Tim he wasn't talking roleplaying, a deep down
feeling, right now not separating real from fiction.

Of course Flint was allowing his cock and balls a say in this matter. With
no family, a fact he hadn't revealed, alleviated from responsibility with
the armed forces, which he had communicated, he replies, “I think
it would be a good change for me, sir."

It's one of the reasons he signed up for the army in the first place, right
out of high school. A 21 year career, he not only learned a trade,
engineering, in the course of several transfers, has met some very nice men
into bdsm, grooming him, giving him some hot experiences.

Taking Flint's shirt from him, he tells him to turn around. "Hands behind
back," Tim orders.

"Yes..." Flint paused, knowing, once his arms were bound together, what he
summed up as Tim's next move, he would be not only be physically bound, but
by his word, “sir."

A short bit of comment, Tim says, “I think we can be a big mutual
benefit to each other," the taste of bondage, discipline and
‘ass’ on his mind.

Flint's only comment, feeling his own shirt being tied around his wrists,
"Mm-m... yes, sir."

But he had to untie Flint's hands. Tim couldn't get the motorcycle into the
back of the truck himself. Too heavy to lift, Flint came up with the idea
of rolling it up a log. It worked. Getting into the truck, Tim forgot to
retie the shirt around Flint's wrists.

Meanwhile, Aaron’s wrists, tethered together with Saul's rope, shot
up towards the sky, the rope thrown over a branch, Saul putting the
finishing touches on securing it to a tree trunk.

"Hey! Look what I found!"

Aaron looked down, Saul holding a round rock in his hand, him saying,
"Yeah, nice. It'll pack a powerful punch," Aaron hints.

"That too," Saul replies, turning to his red toolbox. He yanked out in one
long stream, three chains attached to a leather collar.

"Hell, yeah!" Aaron yells, seeing the ball parachute.

Not much up on the role-playing, all which mattered to Aaron and Saul were
what turned the sadist and masochist on.

Aaron voices opinion over the narrow collar, strangling the space between
his balls and cock, “Gr-r-r-r!" he gritted his teeth.

"Yeah, I thought you would like it," Saul slaps the long side of Aaron's
extended cock with his hand.

Enough to sting, Aaron howls, "Ow-ooh-h-h-h-h-h!"

Always testing, Saul replies, "Of course, would be more fun with a leather
flogger!"

Thinking on it, Aaron knows Saul will love it when he learns he can tie a
lace under the flange of his cock, stretch it out and then whip it with a
harsh leather strap!

"Um, like how are you going to hang the rock from the parachute?”
Aaron asks.

"Rock? Parachute? Nah. Plan on using this baby," Saul tosses the rock in
the air and catches it, "to turn your abs to mush!" he laughs.

Like it's nothing, Aaron replies, "That's cool."

"Sorry. Must've forgotten to puts the weights in here," Saul comes back
with a hammer.

Every man has his limits, Aaron saying, "I don't know about the hammer,
Saul?"

"Relax!" Saul takes it, hanging it on the edge of the strap at the bottom
of the ball stretching device.

Even though the hammer made his balls sag more than two weights Tim would
drag his balls to the floor with, Aaron sighed, the pain making his cock
twitch.

"Now that you're having your fun, time for me to have mine!” Saul
rubs his hands together, before spitting into the palm of one.

In order to line things up properly, Saul needed to lower Aaron's bod, so
let loose the `winch', rope tied to a tree branch and allowed him to sink
towards the dirt.

"Oh bummer!" Saul exclaims, the handle of the hammer touching ground,
falling `kerplunk', right off the ball harness. "That's no good," Saul
summed up the situation, standing there in front of Aaron, looking at the
two globes, a little swell to them.

"Yeah, and you know what?” Aaron says with glee.

"What?"

"Did you forget about turning my abs to mush with your stone?" the 21 year
old laughs!

He did, but to admit it, Saul sidetracked his thoughts, "No, I didn't
forget, Mr. Smarty," he pings Aaron's cock with a swat of his hand.

"Oh-h-h-h that stings," said like it stung. It did sting. But it felt good
too, him mellowing out, "Ah-h, so good!"

"You're almost as sick as I am!" Saul jokes.

With Aaron hanging by his wrists, balls strangled by a leather cuff, Saul
picking up the stone he dropped, anyone would think this guy is in for it
and should be fearing for his life. But no, as could be seen, Saul placing
his left hand on Aaron’s right pec, bringing his right elbow back
and heavy his hand holding the stone into Aaron’s solar plexus...

"Ugh-h-h-h-h-oh-h-h-fuck!" Aaron belched.

"Another?" Saul laughs.

Inhaling, readying to exhale, Aaron replies, "Don't ask, dammit! Just do
it!"

What a tease Saul could be, the muscle bear holding his fist up to Aaron's
abs, moving his knuckles around, like he was massaging the hairy stomach
muscles, then joked, "What's that up there?” he looks to the sky.

"Up where?” Aaron fell for it, looking up to the top of the trees.

Saul laughed his ass off, a quick sucker punch delivered right above
Aaron's bellyhole.

"Hugh-h-h-h-h-h, you bastard!" he seemed to exhale his guts.

Still giggling, Saul says, "Oh man was that a fuckin' good one!"

Forget his still bound balls, a little weight added from the cradle, and
even though Saul pulled a fast one on him, it was all good. However,
impatient, "Can you like drop the stone and use both fists, like Tim says
you do with other guys?"

Throwing the stone up a little, catching it, Saul replies, "Hey, who's
running this scene?" He changes temperament, "What else did Tim tell you
about me?"

"I'll tell you sometime," Aaron says boldly. "Why don't you toss the rock
and get with the gut punching?"

Saul didn't like the idea of being told what to do, but also he wanted like
heck to get off. Knowing he didn't `have to' gut punch Aaron, there was
something in the college dude's eyes, a sense of yearning, like he knew
he’s been there, so badly wanting to have a set of balls or nips to
play with, a hot back to flog, cock to slap around and where Aaron's
`specialty’ lay, gut punching his built up abs, he couldn't refuse,
"Alright," surrendering, tossing the rock, but not over his shoulder, right
at Aaron's pubes!

Without saying, he went right to work of Aaron’s abs, heaving fist
after fist into the sixpack wall. Every three or four punches he would stop
and ask, "Okay?"

For the first twelve or fifteen, he lost count, Aaron replies, "Feels
awesome...” followed by another punch.

Aaron wasn't getting all of the zap out of it, Saul every few gut-punches,
feeling his cock up and when he found it on overload, precum extracted by
his fingertips. He would offer the salty nectar up to Aaron's lips.

When Aaron's head began to sag, Saul picking it up by his shaggy hair, he
knew it was time to switch off to his favorite part of `the scene,' even
though Aaron badgered, "I... haven't... had enough,” between
intakes of air.

Being there wasn't enough room for the ball parachute to swing, nothing
other than the hammer to hang from it, Saul removed it. Trying to do so,
his shoulder picked up sweat from Aaron's cock, the salty residue clinging
to him. He caught himself, returning the parachute to the toolbox, crocking
his head to the left, licking his own shoulder off. It didn’t deter
him for long, his cock longing for tight ass and soon he was behind
Aaron. Since the muscle jock had plenty of `slime' on his skin, Saul used
it to his advantage, lubing up. Too, the crevice slick, he had no problem
sliding in.

"Oh-h-h-h-h-h!" Aaron let out a single syllable.

All too soon though, Saul was party rockin' Aaron's ass in the sling of his
bondage and reaching around front, made sure, when the time came, he wasn't
the only one feeling relief!

%

William didn't hold back. For right now the moment didn't have anything to
do with bondage, discipline, giving or taking, nothing about top or bottom
labels, nor roleplay.

With Tim, it was forcing himself through the motions of kissing a man,
himself in James’ place, back to the bed, Tim breaking him in, goal
to provide his first ‘love affair'.

This warm moment was nothing like then. Now, William wasn't like Tim, not
forcing lips to kiss or harsh feeling up of hands. He didn't have to think
about his palms gliding over shoulders, pecs, stomach and
beyond. Everything was natural and not coerced.

Though, he was surprised when the tables were suddenly turned, remarking
when James bowled him over on his back, "I thought `I' was supposed to be
the sex-slave?"

Lost in the euphoria of the time continuum, William could only smile.

Also, James wasn't giving him much time to react, hovering over William,
his lips going right at his original destination, lifting an arm and
licking over the musky pit.

Wet over his sweaty pit, more so now after the ten minutes of sweet
love-making, William arched his back. He hadn't realized, what he thought
of as `gross', could be so sensual.

It wasn't tough at all, wetting down Willam's hairy pit and smiling,
feeling a pair of hands almost ‘clawing' his back. He thought, from
experience, `wait till I get to your chest, boy!'

Way too horny for `pits', William presses against James' shoulders, gets
his attention, "This isn't working."

"It isn't?" James' jaw dropped open in wonder. Right now he could taste
`pit', a mix of sweet, but mostly sour, thinking that was it, William
wanting him off his bod, clothes on and out of there. Such was the horror,
making James' heart suddenly beat fast.

"I know this sounds crazy, but can we like suck each other?"

"Suck each other?" James replies, his mind still on `it over'.

Thinking he’s rushing it, “Am I moving too fast?"

Smiling, James replies, "Too fast?" he gets up on all fours. "Not fast
enough!"

Having `been there, done that' move than he can count, James takes the
helm, turning his bod around so his balls dangle over William's face. He
dictates the order nicely, "On your side, please?”

Everything moves into place, like the pair has rehearsed it for opening
night on Broadway, bods lining up, approximately chest to stomach,
William's taut abs to James' hairy pecs.

Not a stranger to the position, James takes William's cock in hand and
feeds it to himself like an Italian sausage.

William stared for all of many seconds, then as James had done and upon
feeling a wet mouth on his cock, slowly embedded the hard tool, slipping it
in on his tongue!

%

Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee

`SuPReME CouRTsHiP', 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