Date: Mon, 19 May 2008 17:33:01 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: For Sale By Owner 47

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"For Sale By Owner" 47
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Ahhhyayayaya!" The loud voice shouted from the loft.

However, no one was awake to hear Vince stir out of
his sleep into the morning. Pushing up on his elbows,
sinking into the mattress of the queensized bed, he
peered over his belly to see his toes sticking up as
his feet hung over the edge of the foot of the bed. He
did a sit up when his nose picked up on the scent of
coffee brewing. Swinging his feet over the side,
plopping them on the floor, he questioned himself, "Do
I smell pancakes?" Looking around he searched for
something other than his sole wardrobe, his briefs
hugging his hips. Then a thought popped into his head
from last night, the sight of seeing Scott and Jarrett
in their boxers, parading around like they owned the
place. He decided to give his hospital blues a rest.
The aroma drove him onwards, quick to take a piss,
throw a little water in his face and then head down
the spiral staircase. He didn't even bother to take in
the view until the second roundabout. His jaw dropped
open as he stared at the sofa, not seeing Jason's bod
parked there. Stepping fast, he pounded down the
stairs, round and round until he reached bottom,
jogging across the wooden floor til he stood at the
end of the sofa. "What tha?" he questioned, seeing
Jason, snuggled up with Jarrett, Jarrett spooning
Jason, sleeping bag lending cover to their torsos
below their navels. With arms folded over his stomach,
Vince just shook his head.

"Hungry?" Scott came out of the kitchen, true to
Vince's thinking, clad only in boxers.

"Did you see this?" he pointed to the two in the
sleeping bag.

"Yeah. Isn't that sleeping bag supposed to fit only
one?"

"I guess not," Vince remarked. "Hey, is that pancakes
you're cooking?"

As if nothing out of the ordinary, Vince followed
Scott into the kitchen, except Vince smiled seeing
Scott Joe Boxers tumble from side to side.

By the time Alex and Kyle awoke, checked out the jon
and entered the kitchen, they had a sight to behold.
Standing over Scott's shoulder, Vince was dressed in a
pair of lowrise briefs, his only other stitch of
clothing, an Emeril cooking apron, a pancake turner in
his hand.

"I think all the little bubbles are up. Should I turn
them now?"

"They're ready!" Scott alerted him.

"Here, you do it. I've gotta get this down!"

As Scott manhandled the pancakes, Vince hustled over
to the counter, picked up his pencil and began
writing, only glancing up once to greet Alex and Kyle
with, "Oh, hi guys!" Then he went about his business,
speaking as he wrote, "When.. little... tiny ....
bubbles come... up... it's time... to ... turn...
pan...cakes... over." Smashing the dot of the
exclamation point with the pencil, he hustled back to
the stove, grabbing the turner up as if his security
blanket. "How do I know when they're done?" Vince
referred to the other side.

"Intuition," Scott replied.

"Oh now that's where I'm in trouble. I'll burn'em for
sure!"

Seeing things well in hand, Alex said a quick, "Oh and
this is Kyle," to Vince, who responded with a quaint,
"Hi!" then went back to carefully studying the four
pancakes on the griddle.

"Weird guy," Kyle said to Alex, as they departed,
heading towards the circular staircase to their own
'pad'.

"He's really a barrel of laughs when you get to know
him," Alex filled his lover in, not mentioning when
Vince tended to step out of line.

"Hey, who are these guys?" Kyle inquires, as his left
hand reaches behind his neck to scratch an itch.

"Um, you don't remember me bringing home Jarrett
yesterday afternoon?"

"Oh yeah. Now it's coming back. So who's the other
stud?" Kyle asks.

"Oh that's Jason. Believe me. It's a long story."

"That's cool," Kyle said. "I was feeling like a 'long'
shower anyway!"

%

"Tired?" Jack asked Jim as they sat at the kitchen
table, eating their breakfast.

"Not really," Jim replied, eating another strip of
bacon.

"Still hurt?"

"Um, it hurts a little to sit, but other than that I
think I can say the other pain has passed."

"So I wasn't too rough on you last night then?" Jack
asks, sipping his coffee.

"On the contrary, at the time I thought I had died and
gone to hell!"

Leaning back in his chair, Jack grinned.

"Oh sure. You can laugh about it. It wasn't your back
getting hacked to pieces or your nips squashed to
smithereens or your ass invaded like a plank of wood!"

"And which part did you really hate?" Jack asked,
knowing the response he would get.

"Hate? Well it's not like I hated any of it. I mean at
the time I'd say it was painful..."

Abruptly interrupting, Jack says, "No it wasn't. You
were loving it. After those first five lashes,
everytime I flung the flogger across your back, your
body would shutter from the pain, but then it would
shoot straight down your body, into the pleasure
center between your legs and that cry of pain turned
into a sigh of pleasure, not to mention your cock
leaking like a sieve."

Frustrated, Jim replied, "I don't know what I felt,
okay?"

Accepting it for now, Jack glances up at the clock,
saying, "Well it's time to get out there and do some
chores." Getting up out of his chair, Jack carried his
own dishes to the sink.

"Chores? But you haven't had any sleep."

"Yeah," Jack replies, seemingly refreshed, " always
happens after a wild night at Sonnemaker's dungeon
parties. Next morning I feel all revived, ready for
another week!"

"Not me. I'm like totally spent," Jim replied, topping
his comment off with a yawn.

Usually when Jack met up with a wannabee trooper, he
didn't get the flack thrown in his face. What he said
ruled. But with Jim here he found a more sensitive
subject, so tread lightly on dishing out the orders.

"Um, I mean, I could handle the dishes if you want to
get started?"

Setting his plate, mug and flatware on the sink, Jack
kids, "Are you sure you can handle it, 'boy'?"

"I think so, 'sir'."

"Well then... okay. I'll be out in the barn if you
need anything."

"Actually I could use some clothes?"

Stopping in his tracks, Jack says, "Yeah okay.
Upstairs. Check in one of my drawers. You'll find what
you need."

"Just like that? You trust me?"

Grabbing his real, honest to goodness cowboy hat,
putting it on his head, Jack adds a slight grin to his
wardrobe, telling Jim, "I got a nice, sturdy whipping
post out back. Give me a reason to use it!"

Jim smiled at Jack's wink. Going about his business,
he washed the dishes, placing them in the dish
drainer. After drying them and putting them away, he
stood there with his arms folded, the towel over his
shoulder, thinking about that 'whipping post'! He
almost forgot how tired he was. Finding the staircase
in the next room, he followed it up to a hallway
composed of three closed doors. First one, he almost
got bonked in the head by a falling roll of toilet
paper. It made him laugh. When he bent over to pick it
up, his stretched skin gave him reason to stiffen up
straight, trying to reach around and soothe it.
Wondering what the outcome of the flogging actually
could be, visually, he tossed the roll back in,
slamming it shut before it tumbled out again. Door
number two produced a jon, yellow in color, a surprise
to Jim, figuring Jack, into bdsm, leather and other
dark stuff would go for a more dreary decoration. When
he opened door number three, he exclaimed to himself,
"Oh my!" First to notice, was Jack's bed. It was nice
and all, four posts, but the disarray of the sheets
made him think Jack had a lousy time sleeping through
the night. Smelling something nasty, brought him over
to a corner, clothing piled halfway up the wall. "Man!
Jack's a royal slob!" Across the dresser was strewn
everything from neckties to packages of condoms, old
receipts for who-knows-what, loose change, a couple of
bills, a fifty included and something which ignited
his curiosity, a flogger. "Cool!" Looking towards the
door, his hand grabbed at the leather handle, lifting
it up, things falling off of it as he uncovered the
whipping implement. "I wonder if it works?" he
questioned himself, followed with a laugh when he
thought of it as not a battery-operated gadget but a
manmade-fueled instrument. His fingers of the other
hand played with the leathery fronds before he got the
notion, wanting to try it out. Searching for something
to 'whip' he chose a pillow. "Oh shit!" He said when
he slashed it hard, the fronds lacerating the pillow
case right through to the down, sending particles
a-flying.

He was given a jolt when a hand reached around him,
placed on his hand which held the flogger. "I only use
this one on experienced boys!"

"I thought you were pitching hay or something?" Jim
questioned.

"Forget the key to the feed bin," Jack answered. "I
thought you were getting some rest?"

"How can anybody sleep in here with this stench and
this crap all over the place? When's the last time you
changed your sheets?"

"When they couldn't absorb anymore cum?" Jack
returned, swiping his keys out from under some papers.


"Probably why this room reeks!"

"Look, this is the way I live in the interim, so....."

"Interim? Of like what?" Jim questioned.

So, Jack laid it on the line to Jim, explaining, "I
figured we'd have this talk over lunch or dinner, but
while you're mind is racing with questions, I suppose
the horses will have to wait to eat."

For the next twenty minutes, the two had a question
and answer session, Jack explaining as best he could
about his former boys whom he picked up either at a
dungeon party, club or bar, all with intentions of
leading the good life as good little slaveboys. Some
lasted a day, some a week, others three weeks, but
then it came to the last slaveboy.

Amazed, Jim responded, "So this guy came with the
intentions of spending a week or month with you and
wound up staying for eight years?"

"That's about the gist of it."

"Why did he leave?"

Tossing his keys back on the dresser, Jack leaned his
ass on it, hands on the edge supporting his body, head
dipping so his chin almost touched his bare chest.

"Something happen?"

"Yeah. Something happened alright. Something I dreaded
for awhile, but then put my reservations aside," Jack
said solemnly.

"If it's too tough to mention you can..."

"Nah. I can talk about it," Jack replied.

"If you want to feed the horses, we can talk later?"
Jim asks, for the first time extending a caring hand
to Jack, his palm coasting up and down his sweaty arm.


"Thanks. That's nice of ya, Jim."

"Least I can do for the man who claimed my ass!" Jim
said, displaying a cute little smile.

Sensing something different in Jim, Jack opened up to
say, "Not much to tell. I took Sven to a dungeon party
and he fell for some Viking, all decked out in his
leather. He was smitten with him right away. I
especially got the message when the Viking bid twelve
hundred bucks for the pleasure of having Sven as boy
for the evening."

"Is that a lot of money?" the novice asked.

"Shit! Five hundred is a lot of money for any boy!"
Jack replied.

"Oh. So I suppose that was 'it' for you and him, huh?
The 'Viking' bought Sven, I take it?"

"Oh no. Sven was bound to me legally," Jack answered.

"Oh really? I don't get it though. How was Sven
'bound' to you?"

Going over to a picture on the wall of two guys having
a hot time, Jack pulls the side, opening it out like a
door.

"Aren't you taking a risk showing that to me?"

His hand on the combination, Jack turns back to look
at Jim, saying, "Yeah. I am, aren't I?"

While he watched Jack turn the combination, messing up
and starting again, Jim thought about a change coming
over Jack. Since they arrived back home, he kind of
lost the hillbilly curve to his way of speaking, for
one thing.

"Here it is," Jack said, retrieving an envelope,
picking a piece of paper out of it, unfurling it and
handing it to Jim.

He was just about whacked out of his gourd when he
read, "Slave contract?"

"Yeah, ain't that a kicker?" Jack responded.

Looking up from the finely printed sheet, Jim says,
"You know you can drop the act now if you want to?"

"Act? What act?"

After skimming through the contents of the contract,
Jim adheres to, "Being I haven't signed something like
this yet, I'm not your slaveboy and you're not my
master!"

Walking over to Jim, Jack had a slight smile on his
face. Symbolically he stole the paper from Jim's hand
and tore it in two, tossing it to the wind. Making an
advance, he slid his arms in between Jim's arms and
ribs, butting his sweaty chest into Jim's perspired
front, saying, "I think I'm going to start treating my
boys differently."

"Oh? How's that go?" Jim asked, not thinking of the
slave aspect but rather something else he was feeling
other than the first man to cuddle up to him, flesh to
flesh and talk like he meant more than a servant
around the house.

"I'm a thirty-two year old man. It's getting to be a
lot of work playing the master-slave game."

As Jack unraveled the things he has been thinking
about since granting Sven his freedom, pondering over
these thoughts every night, sitting at the dinner
table, eating a recipe for one, he came to the
conclusion, "Nope. I've been thinking instead of
finding a guy to sign a slave contract, maybe I should
go for the real thing."

"Real thing? Jack, you're talking riddles again," Jim
replied.

So, since he wasn't getting to Jim in words, he proved
actions are the wiser solution!

%

In no time, sleeping or awake, the trail of pancake
oil had woven it's way throughout the townhouse,
bringing the natives to the source.

"So, feeling better this morning, Jason?" Vince asked,
a wink added.

"You're not angry are you?" Jason asked Vince.

"I told you. I'm only around to keep you from going
downhill. Whoever you decide to make a part of your
life is your own business," Vince replied.

The others, Scott, Kyle, Alex and Jarrett were trying
to follow the story, but there were far too many
missing parts, Jarrett being the one to speak up for
the lot, "Did you two have something going on here?"

It was a sketchy way to ask, rather than more direct,
but the two knew what Jarrett was driving at.

Vince comes right out with, "Me and him shacking up?
Noooooo way! I'm a thirty-four year old bachelor and
intend on keeping it that way!"

Hearing the same BS over and over again, Jason pointed
to the one flaw in Vince's plan, "If that's what you
think then why for the past five years, have you been
sticking to me like glue? You know it's not part of
your job to like stalk me?"

With his fork stuck in his stacked up pieces of
pancake, Vince wields it like a baton, telling him,
"And you better by God thank me for hounding you, with
every now and then trying to.... to...." After looking
around, Vince resorted to, "You know!"

Alex was bold to ask Jason, "Suicide?"

His chin sunk to his smooth chest, Jason sulked in
Alex's words. On the other hand, Jarrett said with
exuberance, "Hey, it's no big deal! The sleeping bag
is real cozy with you. We should try it again!"

Turning his head, Jason meekly put it to Jarrett,
"You're okay with me thinking about doing myself in?"

"Sure I am and you know what?" Jarrett didn't wait for
a reply. "I'm glad you didn't pop enough pills!"

Vince just smiled. If Jarrett only knew how many pills
Jason downed, it would make his head swing. But it
wasn't necessary to spell out the gritty details.
Vomiting and eating a nice breakfast don't mix too
well!

"So, what's on everybody's agenda for today?" Kyle
asks the consensus.

"Well, Alex is supposed to be showing me around the
city!" Jarrett volunteers.

"Oops!" Alex replies.

Seeing Jarrett in wonder, Kyle tells him, "Alex has to
go to work, so it leaves him out."

Alex offers a slight, "Sorry."

"Noooooooo problem!" Vince to the rescue, slaps his
fist down on the table, dictating, "The three of us
are going to have a great time. Say, have you ever
taken a Circle Line cruise around Manhattan?"

"I think I have," Jarrett replies. "Is that where you
spend two hours watching whales jump out of the
water?"

"They don't have whales in Manhattan," Jason came out
of his latest downer.

"Oh. I guess I must have the wrong Manhattan!"

The whole conversation set the kitchen alive with
laughter, Vince seeing how this crowd was doing so
much good for the guy he has learned to care for for
the past five years, treating him almost like a kid
brother.

Jarrett asks, "Hey Kyle.. or Alex... or Scott for that
matter. Any of you guys have some clothes to fit
Jason?"

"And you?" Vince says.

"I guess for me too. My dad had all my bags delivered
to the Waldorf."

"Well excuse'm me," Vince put on airs, raising his
little pinkie.

"If you can loan me a pair of jeans and a tee, I think
I can hold off til later," Jarrett said.

"What about me? Anybody got a cute little pair of
boy-boxers to fit me?" Vince got a lot of looks,
especially a sly one from Alex.

"I'll get it," Kyle excuses himself from the table to
answer the door.

"Um," Vince says softly to the crowd, "isn't Kyle
forgetting something?"

"Oh shit!" Alex calls out, running after Kyle, like
him only donning his briefs. "Kyle!" He yells out,
trying to catch up with him before the door flips
open. Another 'oops' escaped Alex's lips when the door
stood open, the guy from the florist standing there,
seeing Kyle with a trench coat over himself, Alex with
his cute lowrise briefs hanging from his hips.
"Flowers for a Mr. van der Linde?"

"I'll take that buddy," Vince responds in his Emeril
apron.

"Nice.... um apron," the guy says, waiting for Kyle to
go dig up a tip.

"Thanks. I kinda dig your Peter Pan outfit too!"

Vince wound up seeing the florist guy to the door,
asking, "Got a business card?"

On a one track mind, the thirty-something guy
responded, "Interested, huh?"

"Well I was thinkin' in case I wanted to order some
flowers, but hmmmm.." Vince replied with a smile as if
he was a salesman trying to sell something.

The two reading each other's minds their HD gaydar
attuned to the moment, the florist guy comes out with,
"I could be in the neighborhood later?"

"Oh really?" Vince responds, groping himself. "I might
just have a heavy stem to plant in your pot!"

"Not before it's properly fertilized, eh?"

Before the guy could get away, Vince says, "By the
way, I love your Aussie accent."

With a wink, the floral guy replies, "Then I'm sure
you'll love my down under mouth work!"

It could have gone on and on, but a truck of flowers
were waiting to be delivered. Unbeknownst to Vince,
feet from the door a bunch of hecklers were waiting to
ambush him!

"How's your stem, Vince?" Alex started out.

"Ready to pot it?" Kyle knocked him.

"You lousy sons-of-a...." Just you wait..." He turns
his thumb on his chest, "Vince here doesn't get mad,
he gets even!"

One last dig, Jarrett tells him, "Oh man, that went
out in the 90's! Get with it Vinnie-baby!"

They all laughed their asses off, even Jason getting a
giggle out of Vince chasing Jarrett around the
townhouse, his hands molded in a stranglehold. Even
more roaring laughter ensued after Jarrett tripped
over the sleeping bag, diving into the sofa, Vince
catching up to him, placing Jarrett over his knee.

"I'll teach ya to speak to your elders that way!"
Vince said, a hand under the elastic, pulling them
down, exposing Jarrett's white hiney.

Raising his hand up, he readied to give Jarrett a
mighty slap, when he was totally surprised his wrist
was grabbed, pulled behind him by Jason. "No Vince!"
Slowly smiles faded as they all stood there staring at
Jason, gripping Vince's wrist as if a body builder.
"Please don't, Vince?"

The joke had gone the distance, as Vince slowly let
his attitude change, his hand replacing Jarrett's
boxer shorts, covering his lily white ass.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo... I.. I forgot."

Another part of the puzzle missing, they all watched
as Vince rounded the sofa and hugged Jason in his
arms, cooing him with apologies, "I'm so sorry Jason.
We were just having a little horseplay. I'm not going
to hurt Jarrett. Calm down now. Why don't you go and
lay down until it's time for us to leave?"

"Okay,Vince. If you think I should," Jason replied,
following the suggestion as if an order.

On his feet, Jarrett followed Vince and Jason into the
guest room after Kyle offered it.

"You want me to stay with him?" Jarrett asked.

"Would you terribly mind?" Vince patronized him.

After the rest left, they couldn't have any idea of
Jarrett instructing Jason to move over, crawling under
the covers with the nineteen year old.

"Will you hold me like before, Jarrett?"

%

Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.