Date: Mon, 21 Apr 2003 18:12:13 EDT
From: Kpg111061@aol.com
Subject: He's My Kind Of Rain

This story is not intended to be read by minors. If you are, please do not
read, and close this window.

This story is the property of the author. It cannot be duplicated in any
way without the author's permission.  Get real people this is fiction, made
up, not trashy tabloid article material.  This is in no way based on
factual knowledge of the author. I wish though.  If you happen to resemble
the star(s), write me, LOL.  Maybe you'll be the cast in my next story...


Redneck - He's my kind of Rain...

**NOTE to readers** this story's characters resemble one of country's hottest
performers today.  I do not by writing this story, claim to know these stars
(I WISH) nor have any personal knowledge (AGAIN I WISH) of their personal
inclinations.  This and all my stories are just a fantasy.  Write me guys,
KPG111061@aol.com, under gay/celebrities; some comic book fantasies about the
Human Torch, Toby Keith and TK & Kenny Chesney; under encounters and
beginnings some of my "redneck" stories.

So here I sit again, another bar, alone and tired of people asking if I'm
"him."  First of all to the rest of you reading my story, I'm sorry for the
rudeness, but I'm tired of people asking, "are you Toby?"  Yeah, I look a lot
like him; 6'2," 225, long dirty blonde hair, facial hair and I can even sing
a good song when I try.  It's just that I'm not him and he's not me.  Now I
have to admit that there is a vain part of me that wishes that he was a queer
faggot redneck too.  I'm flattered to be told how much I look like him, fuck
he's hot and the fantasy of many a man.  Just to think about us doing it
together makes me hot, horny and hard.  Could there be two of us that look
this much a like?

So back to my story...I took a job that I didn't want to pay my bills, not that
the low pay pays many of my bills.  Like Mama says though, some money is
better than no money.  I'm in a huge building, south end of Tampa; nice
people but the job sucks.  Now the fact that there are a lot of nice looking
men working in this bank Operation Center is the only redeeming upside to the
job.  So many of them are partnered or not looking for a big hick, sounding
redneck though.  Few ever get to know me that I have a college education or
that I'm fairly well read in literature.  They simply see a big Toby look
alike that likes to hang with his friends and have a beer after work once in
a while.

So here I sit after work, alone putting away several, actually many beers.
One good thing about being a big guy is that no one cuts you off, thinking
that you can put away several.  There is this guy sitting on the other side
of the bar that reminds me of someone that I know; nice looking, black hair,
nice smile, black trimmed goatee and mustache.  We acknowledge each other and
raise our mugs in salute.  I finish my beer and get up to go to the bathroom.
 When I return, there is a new mug on the bar.  The bartender says to me
noticing me looking, that's from your friend over there; nodding at the guy
across the way.

Now I should let you all know that we are currently at a restaurant in a
suburb of Tampa, called the Brandon Ale House in Brandon, Florida.  More
queens, queers, fags, dick suckers, fudge packers, etc.,  live here in this
little rural, "bedroom" community than in most metropolitan areas.  One perk
of the suburbs.

I raise my glass to my new drinking buddy; he raised his to me and we both
down about half.  This is the time when he gets up and walks over and says
hi.  I tell him that my name is Padgett and thanks for the beer.  He says
that's okay and that his name is Tim.  I gasp and tell him that's who you
look like, Tim McGraw.  He laughs and says I know, everyone says that.  Still
laughing, he says I expected you to tell me your name was Toby.  At this
point, I look down and groan.  He laughs, sputtering through a swallow of his
beer and says, "I expected a thank you, not a groan."  I tell him that I hear
that so much it gets old.  He says I know what you mean; at least your name
is different.

At this point we are both laughing and Tim asks me do I want to shoot some
pool; the bar area far side as pool tables, dart boards and more, for those
of you not familiar with the Ale Houses of Florida.

We decide to buy pitchers and shoot for the tab; loser buying a round after
each game.  We are about 4 or 5 games (pitchers) into it when I realize that
it's late and need to go.  Tim says, "listen, I've had a blast thanks for
keeping me company."  Would you like to do some shooters at my apartment?
Now this guy looks like Tim McGraw, lean, firm, holey jeans, boots, white
t-shirt and this could get me in trouble.  Sure I tell him, why not.  I
follow Tim's white SUV in my black SUV.  His apartment I notice is about 2
blocks before my subdivision entrance.  We pull in, get out and walk up to
his door.  When he opens it, I can smell it, a man smell; leather, jeans,
cleaner, some sweat, and cum.  His apartment is clean, well laid out and
manly.  He excuses himself and goes to the bathroom.  I notice that the
pictures everywhere are of athletes (male), art (male) and country stars
(male).  I'm roaming around looking when I hear a clearing of the throat and
"is this okay?"  He's holding a bottle of Padron Silver Tequila.  I tell him,
"oh yeah."

After, about 4 or 5 shots, we were on the living room floor laughing our
houses off about all the people who had thought we were the famous us; the
ones we look like.  Tim says what do you think that people would say or do if
they saw us now, shit faced and sitting here like this.  I tell him that I
think they would think that two friends were having a great time.  I notice
that Tim has been scooping me out, I think?  All of sudden, he says I have a
great idea, lets karaoke.  He gets up and puts in the Toby, Pull my Chain CD.
 Tim asks do I have a preference and laughing I tell him of course, "I Wanna
Talk about me."  The music starts and there I am all of me, singing above the
music, I Wanna talk about me, I wanna talk about me, me me, me, you you you
you, etc.  Tim is looking at me with wide eyes and when the music ends, he
says Padgett you even sing like him.  Your turn I tell him.  He puts in "My
kind of Rain," and I wait, then oh my God, he sings like him too; hand
gestures, head nods, etc.  I realize then that we found each other for a
reason.  While Tim is singing, I'm up gently singing backup.  We're gently
swaying back and forth while the music plays and Tim is singing.  Some time
during the song, we turn to each other and he's singing, I confess all my
crimes, and instead says he's my kind of rain.  The song continues and he
keeps singing "he's my kind of rain."  Tears are falling very gently while he
sings, "rain on me." I don't know what else to do but ask are you okay, bud.
The music stops and he says excuse me one minute please.  Tim goes into the
bathroom and for a few minutes I hear the water running.  Then he comes out
and pours us both a shot.  I ask him if everything is okay?  He says cool.
Downs the shot and says Padgett, I have something I need to tell/ask you.

He says would you be pissed off or upset if I told you that I'm attracted to
you.  I'm stunned, (my dream comes through).  He takes my silence wrong.  Tim
cries slowly and gently.  He says I'm sorry, I've met the best friend ever
and in one question lost him.  I look down and tell him as the tears fall
that I feel the same.  I tell him that I think its fate that we found each
other.  The people we resemble, the songs, etc.  Without thinking, I reach
out and take him in my arms.  God he feels so good.

I take him by the hand and go towards his bedroom where I slowly start to
undress he and I both.  I cup his chin in my hand and gently tilt it up to me
and tell him that if the other Tim looks half as good as he then Faith is one
damn lucky lady.  He says that he can't believe that someone built and
looking like I do, would have anything to do with someone as small as he.  I
tell him if he only knew how hot he is, he would be as amazed as I am.

I slowly take off his silk shirt, then his boots, then ever so slowly his
jeans, exposing a pair of briefs so well packed as if gift wrapped by God.
Tim stands up and buck naked, starts to undress me; first shirt, then boots,
then my jeans.  Sorry guys, I "free ball."  The sound of my hardon slapping
my stomach surprised us both. We both chuckled and held each other in the
most erotic, masculine hug.  I reached down and cupped his beautiful ass
cheeks in each of my huge hands and Tim ran his hands over my back.

Then out of nowhere Tim drops down and without any warning takes my entire 9
inches into his mouth and down his throat.  Dear God how hot to look down and
see this beautiful man, black hair, black goatee, with my dick in his mouth.
I pull him and pick him up to place him on the bed and start to lick him from
feet to legs, to waist, dick, up his stomach, through his treasure trail, up
to his pecs on to the most sexy, erotic mouth that I have ever kissed.

We lay there in the most erotic embrace that I have experienced, kissing,
hugging and exploring each.  Tim says, Padg, please fuck me.  In one fluid
moment, in one timeless gesture, Tim reaches into his nightstand and pulls
out a rubber and some lube; quickly and without flinching he dresses me and
turns over presenting the most glorious ass that I have ever seen.  All I can
keep thinking is that if the other Tim even looks half this good, then my God
Faith must be in ecstasy all the time.

*Tim's thoughts* Padgett, looks like someone else, like I do, but the
attraction is for the man here with me.  He's amazingly gentle, sexy and
unbelievably erotic.  There's a reason that the two of us found each other.
He is treating me like a prince, no a King. I want him in me so badly.  God,
fuck me already.

The fit is like a glove that was custom made; his ass and my dick.  He smells
like sex, he tastes like sex and God help me he looks like sex.  I turn him
on his side and fuck him like I want to be inside of him.  During our
lovemaking, I'm stroking him and exploring every inch of his body, his dick
and his balls.  At some point, we neither realize, we both start
moaning/groaning, and without a thought or an effort, we both start shooting
at the same time.  His cum shoots like bullets covering my hand, the bed and
his crotch.  Mine trapped in a rubber but still inside of his hot, sexy ass.

As we lay there, we both whisper the words, "He's my kind of rain."