Date: Wed, 29 Feb 2012 10:19:01 -0800 (PST) From: Tchase Mcphee Subject: STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS 07 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-gay 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. % STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS 07 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee % Leaving the message at the Casadio desk, little did the person taking Gerard's message, about being `tied up', have any clue to Gerard's predicament. Arranged by Altan Yigit himself, knowing Gerard liked to be pampered in more ways than one, he sends his new chef, now the pride of Altan's dining services, Declan Kelly. Originating from his first and only interview with Altan, months prior, when Declan reported for application, he already met with top chef credentials. All he had to do is present the personal side. Being of sound mind, the twenty-five year old chef, when in his teens, already had his eyes set on things most important. According to Declan, achievement in the apex of a career meant the most to him. How he got there, he could be cunning about it, unconcerned with how many toes he had to step on to get there. Also, a good sense of `men', he could `smell' one out after a few sentences. As with Altan, after the paperwork had been presented, it took very little charm for Declan get the hotel owner out of his chair. Chest to chest, the crafty applicant's soothing words and fast hands quickly won over his interviewee's approval rating. "You're the boss," Declan replies to Altan's casual remark, about wanting to fuck around. Before Declan left the room, he had the forty-five year old lodge-keeper stripped down, belly to the desk and had worked his ass over hard, till he shot a nice load on the hairy small of the bear's back. Closing the door behind himself, still adjusting his belt buckle, Declan heaved a fist high in celebration, "Yes!" having cinched the interview. Things weren't to remain so rosy, Declan not clicking with the kitchen staff, always with an eye on top man of the cooking crew. Even one time, very recently, he stepped on a `toe' he should not have, trespassing for the last time when making a menu switch, which by law of the kitchen people, could only be made at the head chef's discretion. Altan literally owed him, both for presented impeccable meals for special banqets, worthy of a kind and Declan's handy `tool', used in pleasing Altan's favored customers. Of course, Declan was not blind to the fact he stood to earn some big bucks when secluded behind clients' closed doors. However, with this conflict hanging over Altan's head and with the top chef being `kin', he hadn't a choice other giving Declan a talking to, promising him that some day his cousin would be retiring and... Declan knew his days were numbered, but by his own choice. It was for this reason both saw a way out, Altan possibly passing Declan's kitchen skills off to another household, or the `other skills'. In a last ditch effort, Altan himself would approach Gerard, coaxing him into putting Declan's bod on display for the world, pawning off any article of clothing, a suit, briefs, anything which would sway Gerard into taking Declan off his hands. Now, rolling two carts into Gerard's room, Declan's assistant was dismissed. After all, Declan wasn't at all into sharing the wealth or other assets. Even though Altan was seeing this opportunity as a blessing, Declan had some ideas of his own! "Room service, sir?" He opened up with, standing there at proper attention. "Sorry about this," Gerard says, grabbing a deco pillow from the sofa to cover up his hairy pubes, jumping up from the fuzzy rug. "I've prepared a lovely meal for you Mr. Hansen," he raises a domed lid to present something steamy, then covers it, adding, "or we can slip right into dessert?" Already tipped off by Altan, yet not prepared for such a delectable delight, Gerard replies, "I surely could not have everything you've prepared me, to go to waste?" Following Gerard's lead, Declan says, "It may take awhile, serving up a three course dinner?" "I've got all the time in the world!" Gerard replies. Walking towards Declan, he drops the pillow to the floor, saying, "However, in my own opinion, you are wa-ay overdressed for a waiter?" "Oh really?" Declan keeps up the charade, "In what way, may I ask?" Gerard reaches up for the perfectly coiffed tie and with tugging at one side, unravels it. Declan says, "Why don't I save us both some time?" Backing off, Gerard smiles, watching the twenty-five year old do a slow, slow striptease. "Nice," he remarks when the shirt is parted in the middle, making comment on the ginger chest and stomach fuzz. "Tell me, Mr. Hansen..." "Please. Call me Gerard." "Gerard it is. Tell me Gerard, do you happen to like games?" Gerard replies, "As long as I'm the winner!" "That could mean different things." "True," Gerard plays along, biting a lip after Declan lowers his pants and removes them, spying what the strangling briefs has exposed. Digging in the waistband of his briefs, lifting the garment over his swelling cock, naturally big balls, Declan parks the elastic under his orbs, "Shall we start with hor d'oeuvres?" Walking right up to Declan, they stare each other in the eyes, even though Gerard takes liberty at juggling Declan's balls. "Get'em while they're hot!" Declan throws hint. A brief smile and Gerard is sinking down to his knees, a move he didn't exactly plan on, thinking things would go the other way around. However, after watching three guys go at it on the big HD screen, he was horny for anything. "Ooh-h yeah! You're good!" Declan compliments in a matter of minutes, after Gerard's tongue began tuning up Declan's instrument. He also liked the pampering, Declan's hand on top of his head, petting him like a puppy dog. Top or bottom, knowing both roles made for giving an awesome blowjob, experience at pursing lips, running it up and down Declan's nine and half inch barrel, an occasion forward and back motion of the tongue on the underside of the wide barrel to bring out further groans of lust, a rewarding hand on his mane. "Why don't we take this into the bedroom?" Popping off with a slurp, wiping the underside of his chin, Gerard, sold on the idea, "Whatever your pleasure!" he grins. Off they went, Declan dragging one of the carts with him. Gerard says of it, suggesting, "We can dine later?" In Declan's mind was stuck the word, `games', replying in a different direction, "I thought we could work on both at once?" He meant sex and food. Mainly interested in the start of their sexual encounter, wanting to hasten the chase, Gerard whips the comforter off the bed. "Be a hunney and strip down the sheets?" Liking where Declan was going with this, Gerard does without question, tugs at the neatly made sheet and blanket, tearing it clear to the bottom of the queensized bed. Not waiting for approval, he jumps in, lying on his back, leaving his left side for a `partner'. "No," Declan is quick to disagree, "slide to the middle." "The middle?" "Easier to serve you." Smiling, Gerard mistakes the word, `serve' for `service', thinking things are ready to turn to his expectations, Declan's lips wrapped around his cock. In the mean time, Declan has pulled the white linen draping over the bottom of the elegant food cart up, reaches down and stands. "What's that for?" Gerard shows alarm, but at the same time, curiosity. "It's why I asked you before, but you didn't give me a reply?" "About?" Kneeling on the bed, Declan, taking a strand of the rope in his hand, "Games?" He follows up with, "May I please have your left wrist?" Anyway, unless their boozed up or on drugs, would never surrender to a stranger, especially one with a yard of rope at their disposal. However, the only drug Gerard was on, was the one stirring up his loins. "I'm not going to hurt you," Declan nods to the cart, "only feed you?" "Huh?" Gerard replies. It wouldn't be the first time Gerard has played `this game', innocently playing the part of a captive slave at party in the Hollywood Hills, a little after he hit LA. Only a select few, like Aksel, knew of this episode of his life, and going on a feeling of trust, "Last time I played `this game', I got my ass whacked so hard with a belt, I couldn't sit down a whole week!" "Sound like fun," Declan replies, "but I'm not going to hit you... unless you want me to?" "Not especially," Gerard wimps out. "Okay," Declan rationalizes, "so you know I'm not going to hit you or cause you any pain. The wrist?" Another time, no worth repeating the story, Gerard allowed himself to be tied to the bed, by some nerdy college kid, who came out of his shell to give him the most awesome tongue action, sucking him from his lips to his toes. With `pain' not part of the game, he goes on this belief, taking his arm and reaching it towards Declan, Gerard saying, his head bent back on the hinge of his neck, watching Declan's long arm stretched over the top of the headboard, feeing the rope attached to his left wrist through the iron railing, passed along to his other arm, "This better not hurt!" Alone, feeling Declan's knee, up against his left pec, bracing weight against his bod, just the touch of skin to skin was enough to draw his attention away. Forget the covered dishes on the rolling cart, face to face with that hard shaft and big globes was enough to keep Gerard's saliva flowing freely. "And the other side?" Declan drew Gerard's attention away, as the chef's junk moved from side to side. "Oh!" Gerard says. "Oh, sorry," Declan says, `accidentally' kneeling in Gerard's stomach. "I didn't mean to do that," he smiles, really telling his inner secret of `meaning' to give a little sucker-punch to Gerard's paunch! Everything about Declan was growing on Gerard, youth, the hard pecs, dotted with beautiful nips, outline of a developing sixpack, the deep bellyhole, obvious he shaved, but left a treasure trail, and.... some `treasure', Gerard thought, again licking his lips, a trait he used rarely, but in this case, out of lust for the cropped ginger fur surrounding the meaty meal, "Just watch it next time?" "Right," Declan replies, after putting the finishing touches on the bondaged wrists, slapping Gerard's stomach after dismounting his pony. "Didn't hurt you, did it?" Even if it did, like Declan's knee indentation of his gut muscles, Gerard replies, "Na-ah!" Half bound, as a whim, Gerard asks, "You're not doing my ankles?" Testing; 1, 2, 3... Declan stakes his claim, or tries it out, "Nah. Makes it easier to fuck, if the legs aren't tied down," and not waiting for comment, "Should we start with the salad?" "Salad?" Gerard questions, hoping to start with two meatballs. The `gut' issue, whether Declan meant to kneel in, he didn't care, now wondering what all this was leading up to, "What do you mean salad?" Watching, Declan reached under the cart, not for more rope, but appears with a large wooden bowl, saying, "I made especially for you," holding it in two hands. Looking into the bowl of greens, "red lettuce, some iceberg, scallions, tomatoes, cucumber," walking over to the bed, "everything fit for an appetizer!" "Oh shit!" Gerard calls out, watching Declan tip the bowl over. The `coldness' hit Gerard's chest first, following right down to where some carrots and everything else making up the salad fell around his cock, smothering his balls. "What tha?" Not finished with his creation, Declan holds a decanter of olive oil, "Extra virgin?" he steadily streams the olive oil over Gerard's pecs, then down his stomach. "Altan's going to kill you for..." Oh but what did Gerard care, complain about, when Declan streams the silky oil over the tip of Gerard's cock. With his hand rubbing, Declan says, "Grease it up nice and good, huh? Never know where this is going to wind up!" He had played out this sham before, Declan making it sound like his `dinner guest' was going to wiggled up into a tight passageway. Taking the bait, Gerard replies, "Mm-mm!" Following the path of the olive oil, Declan streams less balsamic vinegar, followed by a scattering of parmesan cheese. "There. Appetizer all ready!" he looks over his creation. "That's nice," Gerard replies sarcastically. "Who gets to eat first?" He had to ask, Declan wasting no time to once again straddle Gerard, knees to the sides of his torso. "Getting dirty, are we?" Gerard says, feeling Declan's cock graze his hard shaft, balls falling upon balls. "Happens sometimes when you're so hungry ya gotta pig out?" With saying, Declan lies down, not a care to the world what condition the bed will be left in, oil, vinegar and vegetables slithering out from in between their bods. "Oh! Forgot!" he does a quick pushup, reaching to the bottom shelf of the cart. Entertained to say the least, Gerard's smile turns to horror when Declan produces a fork, "What are you gonna do with that?" "Eat?" Declan says, grabbing up a forkful of salad. "Oh?" Gerard replies, thinking it kind of weird Declan went to all this trouble, just to decorate his bod with `salad'? "Want some?" Declan holds up the empty fork off of which he just devoured another portion. "Well sure," Gerard figures. Declan knew just where to implant the tines of the fork. This wasn't his first chef's salad! "Ow-wch!" Gerard replies, getting speared in the left nip. "Oh, did I hurt you?" He grunts at Declan, "Probably drew blood!" Brushing some lettuce aside, "Nope, but it does look a little pinkish." Doing something about it, he licks over Gerard's left pec. "Ooh," Gerard replies to the soothing effect, exhaling a trail of air. "Mm-mm!" Declan declares, "Your nip meat tastes scrumtious, Gerard!" From the horror of having his nip nearly punctured, to the humorous repose, following by tongue and lip action on one of the most sensitive place on his bod, Gerard groans, feeling Declan `eat him up'! % About an hour after the second helping of pizza was served, second round of chocolate shakes, which Lorenzo and Dean joined Scott on drinking up, Dean takes notice, "Looks like we got a sleepyhead on our hands!" "Hey!" Lorenzo calls out, poking a dozing Scott in the elbow. Suddenly looking alive, Scott replies, "What?" Dean tells him, "Your face was ready to wind up in your plate, that's `what'!" Pushing his plate towards the middle of the table, Scott says, "I think I've had enough." Before Dean could get a word in, "Can we go home. I'm tired." It was going on seven-thirty, kind of early for Scott, but it was a very long day, getting settled in, shopping and then miniature golf, ending up for the second time at Casadio's. "Sure thing," Dean replies, rising up and out of instinct, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet. "Remember what I said?" Lorenzo asks. Scott remembers, "When we eat with you, it's free?" "I forgot," Dean says, relaxing his back pocket. "Cheap date!" Feeling left out, Scott asks, "Were you guys on a date?" "Is that what it was?" Lorenzo asks, playing around. Dean, not wanting to make Scott feel left out, "I thought it was three guys, out having a friendly, good time!" Lorenzo gestures, pointing, "That's right. My mistake." Standing there, Dean looks to Lorenzo, the two in conflict, like what do they do now... Interrupting, Donatello happens by, a pizza box in his hand, saying, "Giulio says this is on the house." "Cool!" Scott says, with renewed vigor. "Thanks, Donatello,' saying it as if it wasn't from Giulio, but his new, fifteen year old friend. "I gotta get back," Donatello said, disappearing. "See ya around!" Scott yells after him. "Ready?" Dean asks Scott, leaving the table. Crunching up his eyebrows, Scott asks, "Isn't Lorenzo coming?" Smiling, Dean says, "I dunno. You coming, Lorenzo?" "Well... since I don't really have anything to do tonight, I `could'?" "Cool!" Scott replies. On the way back to the compound, Scott, who was falling asleep in his plate of pizza, now was the talkative person all the way back to the estate, informing Lorenzo of all the amenities involved in living there, even though he wasn't sure he covered all the bases, but enough of them. Pulling up to the front of the mansion, Lorenzo says, "You weren't kidding, were you Scott?" Even though, the Casadio estate was in the same locale, about the same size, Lorenzo led Scott to believe it was the first kingsized house he's ever seen. Dean didn't even have to coax Lorenzo out of the truck, Scott doing for him. Leaving him with the boxed pizza, Scott was `broken in', leading Lorenzo right up to the front door. For security sake, it was locked and anyone who didn't have a key had to lift the big metal knocker and let it slam against the wooden door. Dean had a key, but if not late, late at night, this was easier. Who should answer, but Jerric, immediately jumping the gun, "Oh my hunney, look what heaven just dropped on my doorstep!" Dean and Scott look to one another. Already Scott had picked up on one of Dean's traits, rolling his eyes at Jerric being `so pathetic'! "I have your room all made up for you, hunney," Jerric realizing, "Where's your suitcase?" Dean informs Jerric, "Um, like, Gerard never showed?" he meant for Lorenzo's interview. "What?! The audacity!" Jerric shouts out, like the whole western hemisphere could hear, "Well forget it, hunney, you look good by me... you're hired!" He took Lorenzo by the arm. "Let me show you around!" It wasn't only Lorenzo, Scott and Dean along as the entourage. After a quick stuffing of the pizza in the fridge, Dean caught up with the trio. `Oh shit'! he said to himself, when they approach the pool, a half dozen models helping themselves to a skinny dipping party! % Fortunately, for Gerard's sake, Declan had planned on cutting up the veal parmesan into small piece, on a plate, instead the plateau of his chest! "How's it feel `down there'?" To Declan's nonchalantly placing a tidbit on his tongue, "Squishy. Squeamish. How could it not feel mushy, after you've saladtized my pubes, then dripped sauce all over it? Some lube!" Gerard was hoping Declan would cave in to a `sit down dinner'. Not keen to having a cock-covered pasta sauce shaft stuck in his ass, for that matter, a clean one, Declan didn't have anything against making Gerard feel better. Though, he had plans, "Ready for dessert?" Almost sure, Declan rising up on his haunches, but it wasn't to come to pass, planting himself down on Gerard's ready and waiting cock. Even Declan was wise to it, "I bet you thought..." but turned his attention to, "Do you happen to like cheesecake?" Gerard had his cake and ate it too, spooned into his mouth by Declan's hard `fork'! Strangely, overall he was liking the domination bit, savoring the cheesecake and thinking ahead of what was next on Declan's menu. He had to admit, this keeping him on edge was kicking the hell out of his nads. % Word must've gotten around. With Scott suddenly a fixation of the swim party, towels were grabbed and where towels were not available, anything at hand, hands themselves, were used as coverup. "Uh, like `hi'," Dmitri grinned at Dean, holding his pineapple drink, trying to use the little umbrella, lengthwise, to shelter his long cock from Scott's eyes. Dean confronts him, like he was assuming Gerard's role as `god', speaking adamantly, "What did I tell you before Dmitri?" "Uh, well, I did pass the word around, but I thought you meant it only," he glances at Scott, "when the kid was around... yeah, that's it!" Much of what he was saying, he really thought it through and when the pool party had gotten started, an hour ago, they all showed up in speedos. However, word getting around, Dean and Scott not on the compound grounds, they all bared ass. Josh Standifur, 25yo, and as his surname suggests, furry chest, a stripe dividing his abs, steps forward, "What of it anyway Dean? We're all `male' here?" Dean turns, directs his attention to the spokesperson for the flock of models, "Good point, Josh. Why don't you take it up with Gerard?" "Uh," Josh backs down, "nah. That's okay." One thing they all knew, not to go against the `hand that feeds', all of them going with Josh's second thoughts. Never having set foot in the compound, Lorenzo just stood there, allowing Dean to handle `the problem'. He got a kick out of Scott, the 14yo saying to him, "Nice looking, aren't they?" Lorenzo agreed, but tells Scott, "Sh-h-h," his index finger over his lips, signifying silence. Scott just smiled. It wasn't only knowing Lorenzo knew he was speaking truth, but thought it humorous, two of the models sharing a towel for two, like two pigs wrapped up in a blanket! Dak Irons was a nice guy, but right now the 21yo wasn't showing it, asking sarcastically, "Like, how long is the kid going to be here?" Lorenzo was proud of Dean, him responding, "With an attitude like yours, Dak, could be longer than you?" "Oh-h-h-h!" some of the guys say, half in joking, Dean shooting Dak down. Scratching the back of his head, the college science major then changes his tune, "Um, like I didn't mean anything by it." Dak liked it there, being around other gay dudes, uninhibited about sex, not to mention his benefactor's advance on the college loan, free of paperwork. Scott knew he was the one in question. Standing in front of Lorenzo, Lorenzo's arms dropped down over Scott's shoulders, hands clasped at Scott's chest like a locket, the 14yo looks up and whispers, "He was talking about me, right?" "Any other kids around here?" Lorenzo answers. Not here, though Scott was still thinking about Donatello, the youngest member of the Casadio clan and of the possibilities he would be working with the 15yo this summer, at the restaurant. Soon, model by model, they disappeared into the cabana. Some had left their speedos in there, others who had stripped at the pool, stole them from tabletops, carrying them to the changing room. Four models, still in the pool were cut a break, speedos tossed into the water, covering up without having to leave the waves. Dean, left alone, standing there, Lorenzo surrendered to Scott's pull away. He walks over to Dean, saying, "Josh was right. We're all guys?" "Oh really?" Dean says, not feuding over the fact they were all the same sex, but rather the object of Gerard's conditions, "Maybe you would like to bring up to your guardian your idea of how things are supposed to go around here?" It was not until Scott thought about it, testing Dean's authority, he thought about himself being in the wrong. After all, he looked up to Dean, thought he was really a cool guy. He was looking forward to palling around with him all summer, so make it known, "Sorry." Coming out of the cabana, there were grumbles, but ceasing as soon as Dean turned to look at them. Lorenzo standing next to the two, Dean says, "Now you know what you're up against, Lorenzo, a harem full of prima donna's?" "What was the name of that Shakespeare play? `Taming Of The Bitches'?" "Shrew!" Scott says, laughing at Lorenzo. "And what would you know about Shakespeare?" Dean crooks his neck, looking at Scott. "I know something. One of my relatives I stayed with, their son was an actor. He acted in Shakespeare," Scott explained. Dean scolds, "You got that Lorenzo?" He did. Scott got it too, but wondered why Lorenzo was calling a bunch of guys, `bitches'? % Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee `STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS',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 % Nifty needs monetary donations to host stories like those written by myself on the web. Please consider making a donation. Any amount would be appreciated; $5, $10 or more, it all adds up. Thanks! I freely publish to the Nifty Archives and `do not' receive a royalties paycheck at the end of the month! TCMcP :)