Date: Sun, 16 Jul 2023 11:11:27 +0000 From: TCHASE MCPHEE Subject: 'YoGA MaT' 1O % This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature. If a character from this story happens to have the same first name, use it to your advantage and put yourself in his place. The author is not responsible for leakage. % Countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing `adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject, abiding by laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain 'adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk! % If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex & related stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story. % Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt! % Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have over the years, consider adding some $upport for `internet $pace' or else I will have to start cutting handsome, hairy or steamy characters out of my stories. Do you dare imagine a story without any tops? http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html % Give till it hurts...and if that's not enough, get with some s&m! 'YoGA MaT' 1O WriTten by T. Chase McPhee % Tom was hoping for more than a meeting of the minds, but sometimes business doesn't always cross lines, leading to more than an intimate threeway. He was glad Mat sat across from him, next to Sherman as they discussed new plans for the yoga studio. Under his desk, Tom could play with himself, going unnoticed. Being the situation wasn't going in a certain direction, he gave up trying to bring on some sort of reaction, relying on his mind to rule the crotch! One afternoon, sitting in his office, he happened to receive a message from a prospective worker for the yoga studio. Normally he wouldn't chance an online conversation, at work, but he couldn't pass up a hot man, being he's seen his picture. He gave his name as Roi. Quite the beefy dish, Roi also beheld a nice set of meatballs at the base of his tall stalk. From that alone Tom had the impression this was not a job seeker. At the least, not a man looking to teach yoga. Tom took the bait, winding up locking his office door, before carrying out any requests from Roi, quite an alpha of a man, giving Tom his first order, making sure they would not be disturbed. With Tom, there was a slight, five percent chance someone would come knocking at his door, but he knew this wasn't the case, being yoga class in progress. Regardless, in no time his cyber-intruder had Tom down to wearing only socks! Roi was quite pleased with Tom's overall physique, which had him, at Roi's request, tweak both nips to make them perky. It's then he mentions to Roi, one of his hot spots, nips wired to his joy-center. That alone could do, Roi commanding Tom to show him what he meant by that. As if Roi were there, doing it himself, watching his submissive squeeze and pull at both nips had him hard as a rock. It was doing it for him, but wondered if Tom was getting something out of it. Sure enough, when he commands Tom to point the camera towards the scrotal area, Tom's cock stood out straight. 'Hell yeah!' It made Tom smile, thinking he had pleased the master. That didn't seem enough to satisfy, Roi asking Tom if he happened to have a pair of nipclamps. Tom denying it, thinking what a dummy he was for not having it be so! Followed with 'too bad', Tom did snap to it with a solution, saying he kept an extra set of clothes in his office mens room, 'hold on a sec.' Roi wasn't happy waiting, especially when Tom didn't wait to be excused from their conversation. With nothing to do, he sat there moving a hand up and down his hairy washboard, ending up inside his briefs, until he exclaims, 'nice of you to to ask to leave the room, boy?' Hardly boys up to mischief, two men in their mid-30's, yet just as thrilling at any age when two like mind think alike! 'What the?' Roi expresses his question. 'I thought this might suffice?' Dangling from a finger, Tom held a pants hanger, a nifty little clip at each end. As if displeased, Roi said with sarcasm, 'I guess it'll have to do.' Roi said nothing, until Tom jumps the gun and clamps both nips with each nip-eating clamp, 'hey, wait a minute, who's running the show here?' 'Oops,' Tom replied, 'sorry 'bout that, sir', he quickly undoes what's been done, easily engaging the clamps and removing them from red nubs. 'Now, boy,' Roi is back in command, 'first I want a full-bod-look before we torture them nips'. 'Done,' Tom readjusts the cam, after which he wastes no time in slowly edging the clamps over each nip. Making sure Tom is paying attention, Roi orders, "alright, when I give the go ahead. let go.' 'Yes, sir,' Tom understands and obeys. It was then, Tom standing there with Roi's cyber-gaze, pulling on the hook of the hanger, stretching clamped nips with one hand, working his hard shaft with the other, 'oh wait. I need something for my,' for lack of scant definition, 'man-fluids to squirt into!' Snidely, Roi asked Tom 'do you drink coffee?' 'Uh. Yeah,' he did, which had him reaching to an area of his desk to retrieve the mug. Yeah, he found the coffee cup from this morning's java break, but had informed Roi it was still half filled and he'd have to go to the mens room to wash it out. Wouldn't have taken all that much time, being Tom had his own private facility. Roi had other ideas, instructing Tom to come right in the cup! That through Tom for a loop. If only the cam had been trained on his face, instead of below the belt, Roi would've caught the surprise in store for Tom, painted on his face like something horrific was about to happen. Though, it registers, Tom enjoying the thrill of the engagement to give up now. By the tone of Tom's voice, Roi knew Tom looked upon this as a gross deed, which from other men he's received, 'if I have to.' However, from Tom came, 'if you want me to.' Roi smiles, thinking he's got Tom under his power of control, which with most of the men he's zoomed with, fall prey to his orders. So far, anything of the usual, like drinking their own cum from a mug, or a morning pastry sitting on their desk, it gives him this eurphoria, breaking the will of a man. Checking, Tom says, 'so, you want me to jerk off in my morning coffee cup?' Roi turns up the heat, 'unless you want this to end right here and now?' 'Oh no, I've got this,' though Tom wasn't a hundred percent certain! Roi had other ideas, instructing Tom to come right in the cup. Regardless, as Tom starts giving himself a handjob, the pants hanger hanging down from his pecs, that euphoria-high, the apex of an increasing speed, only serves to having him let loose and cream his leftover coffee. Roi showed, on his end, how fruitful Tom's jerkoff, the effect it had on him, positioning his cam to the puddle on the floor below Roi's soft dick. At that point, Roi instructs Tom, 'now what I want you to do is to give the mug a few stirs and gulp it down.' Tom must've had the grossest look on his face, when faced with the idea he would have to gulp down morning coffee, laced with his own man-cream, to top it off, having Roi laughing his ass off. (He did, according to Tom, silently reflecting on all this, that behind Roi's shades, he was a hot looking man and had an infectious laugh, but he kept his cool and didn't break a smile.) He couldn't deny, Roi's play by play dictation. Prior to the blast, bringing the hanger closer to his chest, pull it out to the limits, giving it a little twist, became the vehicle for the build up. Obligated, Tom was to describe to Roi each step of the buildup. Roi was pissed off when Tom didn't ask permission to cum into his coffee cup, which he did something which he's sure pissed a guy off, discontinuing the feed from computer to computer! 'Where'd you go, Roi?' Tom is highly disappointed. However, he was way beyond the point of no return, making his own executive decision, finish what he's started. What he also realizes, the hanger was still attached to his pulsing nips, drooping over his tummy, at which point it felt way too sensitive. He comes in a big way, even more than Mat has when his thick cut dick is lodged in his throat. It doesn't go plunk in the mug, but streams across the top, hits the opposite side and slides into the coffee and cream. He had it in mind to ask Roi if it was okay to disengage the pants clips, but then finds it a dilemma to go with the right nip or the left? 'Fuck it,' Tom being left handed, uses his left hand to unpin the left clip from his left nip, 'oh damn!' Yeah, he had let the clip sink in to the nub of his nip it had clamped down with quite a reckoning force, in removing gave him quite the zing. Again, thinking about it, there was no other receptacle for which to squeeze the last bit out, into, so chose his leftover morning coffee. Even though Roi had ghosted him, Tom felt obligated to complete the ritual. Picking the mug up, as he was used to, not by the handle, but through it, wrapping his hand around. Tom sniffed it. It didn't smell any worse than leftover coffee, which went down the drain. At times he did question himself if an hour of cold coffee could be suitable for a quick drink down, but he knew this cup was from the day before, not having a chance to make a morning brew. But it wasn't whether the coffee was fit for human consumption, but the added ingredient, fresh from his own spigot, which has Tom dillydallying long enough, 'well, here goes.' He even jokes, 'this one's for you, Roi, wherever you are!' From that experience, Tom made it a point to wash out his mug every night before he left the office, in case Roi needed to get his jollies, but Roi never connected with Tom again! Mat, he had much more self control, using business matters as a distraction, much like when he led a yoga class, whereas he was faced with fifteen men totally in the buff. If by chance he was working at his desk and got a message, he would save it till later to investigate. Unlike Tom, he was much more busy anyway, with a full schedule of classes. Up until now, he could not find another man who was interested in teaching a nude yoga class, so he was obligated to be there everyday. Mat didn't look to put the blame on anyone. It was his own dream to have a yoga studio and with the world opening up on such things, having nude yoga classes gave it a new edge. For a man to fill his shoes, they not only had to know yoga, but couldn't let a class full of nude men set him off and lose control! Very wisely, when Mat had the yoga studios designed, he had meaningful symbols placed on facing walls. Whenever he looked up, if by chance he faulted and lay eyes on a man's lower anatomy, quickly he refocused on an 'om' or 'aum' symbol. On the floor directly in front of him, in gold stenciling was the yoga eternity symbol. By practice, men knew this was the dividing line between class individuals and instructor. One time a young participant, college man, decided to lay a hand on part of the symbol, receiving a scornful look from Mat. His silent lip-read apology garnered a smile back, adding a lip-read name, 'Sean', he held his pointed finger, right hand, to his chest, and communicated silenty, that he was 'sorry'. At the conclusion of class, Mat made it a point to single out Sean for a formal introduction. For the rest of the class Sean had developed this insatiable crush. Unknown to either of them, things would change in Sean's life and one day he went missing from class and that was the end of their association. Mat tried tracking him down, but to no avail. He even asked Tom's help, but that proved a dead end. Mat's business with Sherman had nothing to do with the practice of yoga, but future plans, saying, "I know this would be an unusual request, regarding an interview, Sherman, but would you mind removing your shirt?" His job at the market, Sherman could inspire others by being kind, generous with his words, nice to children, women with babies in their carriages. He always smiled, but a man with a baby in his carriage, he would make it his business to garner small talk. Sometimes it led to somewhere more than he intended to go, other times not. Then there were always those types of male customers who gave him a wink or licked their lips, waiting to see if Sherman showed an interest back. Ninety-eight percent of the time, while tending to his job at the grocery mart, Sherman minded his own business, signaling he wasn't interested. There was that two percentile though and if the man were hot, Sherman would follow through with a smile, to see where it would get him. Sometimes it could result in a handed business card, a 'can I put my number in your phone?', or 'what time do you get off work?', rarely a hand in the pocket, fidgeting with 'something'. A few tried a different approach, telling Sherman he had nice biceps or chest, which with the wink, meant they were setting their objective lower! Proud of how he's kept his bod all these years, the twenty-four year old market worker had no objections at Mat's request, remaining cool and calm, "if it gets me out of the measly money I make at the market," he starts unbuttoning his shirt, "sure, why not!" As Sherman's shirt parted down the middle, Tom's hand was already busy under his desk. He did a quick spot check, gazing at his coffee mug, remembering he washed it out yesterday and what was in it, was from today's fresh pot. Mat remained cool, stood, "here, let me give you some space." Poor Tom, it's then Sherman, in the space between the two, decides to turn towards Mat, "thanks," he finishes up on the last button, before peeling it off over his shoulders. From the rearview, Tom at least got a picture of the blemish-free back. It reminded him of the last chocolate candy bar he unwrapped, so smooth, the kind with a creamy filling! On the flipside, Mat remained cool, from practice facing naked men every day. Since the studio opened he's taken sporadic weekends off, closing the studio every evening at 6pm. This new venture could change all that. Looking down upon himself, then up at Mat, Sherman says, "do you like what you see?" Tom was thinking, if his eyes needed a frontal assault, he would need to get his butt out of the chair. Circling around the desk he wore a smile, 'you better believe it!' Before Sherman asked, Mat had only one opinion, based on the intense pecs, darker nips against brown skin, scattered hair over massive pecs, perky nips, seemingly hanging from the underside of his poundcakes. From there he quickly followed the thin trail through a light dusting over Sherman's sixpack abs, but was careful not to venture too far. "Well, you certainly take care of yourself, Sherman." "Thanks. I try." Getting to the gist of all this, Mat says, "the reason I had to make sure," he realizes his will power is slipping, "you had the right physique to fill the position of the manager of the new gym we will be annexing to the yoga studio." Smiling, Tom would require seeing more! Likewise, Sherman had already checked Mat out, even with his clothes on, the facial beauty, shape of his clothed bod, the kindness of his words, that when the news was bestowed upon him, he couldn't hold back giving his new boss a hug, "thank you so much for thinking of me, Mat." Then, like they were lovers and not future workmates, Sherman leans back, but still connected with arms around the torso, "I won't dissapoint you." Jealous, Tom stands up, saying, "hey, I own half of the studio, you know?" As Sherman breaks off the bear hug, Mat says, "would you mind going over there and give Tom a hug, before he wets his pants?" Tom was embarrassed, to say the least, and like he could do when faced with men staring at his crotch, puts a hand up to hide his feelings, "oh, you don't have to do that." Sherman sensed differently, but instead of following through, stands there, "oh. Okay. If you insist." Tom could have hit himself, thinking of talking Sherman out of gaining the closeness, but rather than forego, offers himself up, "oh, I was only kidding." Taken by surprise, Tom suddenly grabbing him up in a hug, by which Sherman couldn't help it that a hand brushed his pants, yet he didn't say anything, except a whispering, 'wow'. Not much different than comments, sometimes lewd ones, Tom would get at a party, men remarking at how big he got. "Hey, Tom?" "What?" Tom looked to Sherman, standing there like a six-foot-four tree trunk Sherman jokes, "this is an interview, right? Like, we're not making a porno flick?" Mat lends a hand to help poor Tom out, "you don't have to worry Sherman. The new gym will require men to wear tops and bottoms." It's then Mat asks Sherman to take a seat, turning to his partner, both in business and bed-business, "want to check the thermostat, Tom? It's kind of hot in here." Not the first time Tom got 'the signal', he rises up out of his chair, goes to the door and locks it, turning around to see Mat pull his studio shirt off overhead. It doesn't go unnoticed, Sherman saying, "I like how the two of you do business." Mat messes with Sherman's mind, "what do you mean? It's hot in here." On Sherman's face was the look of shame, "oh, my bad then." Turning back to Tom, who has come back to his desk, he sees him undoing his belt buckle, of which Mat scorns, "really, Tom?" Taking the initiative, Sherman, with his young hormones racing, says, "oh, don't stop on my account," he snickers. Another signal, Tom a follower, Mat the leader, stands there, hands frozen at waist level. Under their watchful eyes, Mat finally makes a corporate decision, "this isn't exactly the place, but why don't you and John stop over to our place later for cocktails and dinner?" All bubbly, as Tom inserts the belt back into his buckle, "and don't worry. We'll have plenty of dessert!" Not totally giving in, Sherman says, "I'll have to check with John to see what his plans are." Mat was liking how the interview was going, Sherman not too quick to jump the gun. On the other side of their partnership, Tom could be the more aggressive half, if needing additional information, "but we could still see what other muscles you have?" Mat jumps in with, "Tom, if you didn't find out last night, that's your tuff luck. Forget him, Sherman." "Okay," Sherman says, but in his mind was thinking of how it could go, Tom on his knees, kissing up to him. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's get down to business." Tom did feel a little slighted, sitting through an hour and a half of a meeting, being the only man with a shirt on. Then again, he had some nice eye candy to lighten the atmosphere! Ready to continue, there's a knock at the door, upon which Randy sticks his head through the crevice, "sorry to interrupt boss, but there's a guy at the main desk who says he has an appointment to see you, the name's Sean Riley." "Sean Riley?" Mat questions himself. "Tom, you made the appointment?" "Oh yes," Tom remembers, "'that' Sean Riley." Though, Tom couldn't remember, other than it had been a phone conversation. Being that Randy has already checked out the stats from what he could see behind the counter, "young college man, maybe 23 or 24, blond, blue eyes, nicely put together. Ring any bells?" He rang Tom's chimes, "did he say what in reference to, Randy?" "Not much, other than he was a student here a few years ago. And oh, in case you didn't remember him, he was the one who accidentally put his hand on the gold crest." "Gold crest?" Tom questions. Mat had a good memory, which has him remembering a few years back, after announcing to every new member of his nude yoga class, the gold stencil on the floor was the dividing line between 'class' and 'instructor'. "Oh yes," Mat slowly says, deciding things in his mind, "I seem to remember a 'Sean'." Good thing Randy took an interest in Sean, "yeah, says you promised him a job, if or when he graduated from college." "Did he say in which area?" "Yeah," Randy answers Mat, giving full detail, "he's achieved an M.S. in Kinesology, with an emphasis in clinical exercise physiology, which at that point he lost me!" Tom was lost too, in his own world, just wondering, with lust, how this college grad was stacked up. "I see," Matt is sorting out his memory. However, one not to pass up on opportunity, Sherman says, "I think bringing him on board might be a huge asset to setting up a gym program, being the degree he has. Of course," he throws a curve ball, "we would have to require him to remove his shirt!" Matt smiles at Sherman, knowing they are going to get along well, like minds ruling, "bring him in Randy." "Okiedokie," Randy quips, before closing the door. Next directive, Mat says, as he picks up his, "shirts on!" Tom double-checks to make sure his belt is buckled. After the knock, Randy once again scurrying away, they all stand to have Sean introducing himself, "good to see you again, sensei," he was quick to make amends, "I'm sorry I disappeared that day, without an explanation." Forgiving, especially when it's a hot man standing there, ready for knees to buckle, Mat says, "that's water under the bridge now, Sean." Matt and Sean engage in a handshake, after which he turns to the others in the room, "this is our club manager, Tom McCormick and director of our new physical fitness program, Sherman Sweetwater." Already standing, each wait for Sean to make the rounds. Tom could swear Sherman got a longer handshake, which made him instantly jealous! Sean was already thinking how sweet Sherman's physical appearance could be, "very nice to meet you, Sherman." "Same," Sherman says. Maybe Tom guessed at how long their handshake was lasting, but Mat was right on the mark, and in order to break it up, "there's only one other thing we need to find out about you, Sean." "Oh yes," Sean says, "my resume. I handed it to Randy at the front desk. If you want, I can go get it?" "No, that's not what I'm talking about," Sherman smiles cordially. "What we require of all our new hirees, "would you mind stripping from the waist up?" It could have been easier, if Sean wore a tee shirt, instead of a suit, dress shirt, tie, "really?" Sherman says, "yeah, really. Trust me," he pats Sean on the shoulder, "it surprised me too, when confronted with the request, but all the boss wants to know, is if you're cut out for the job." "Hmm," Sean thought on it, an usual request. "Now I'm not sure." "About?" Mat inquires. "That securing this job is this important to me." Mat then says, "never mind then. If you have kept up the same physique as a few years ago, we can pass on that part of the interview." "Oh," Sean says, "I thought that would come later." "Y'know what, Sean, being that you and Sherman are going to be working together, why don't Tom and I leave you two alone to discuss aspects of the job?" Sherman felt weird, not even knowing his hand in what is it he's supposed to do, however he wasn't opposed to being left alone to 'interview'. On the other take, Tom was quite troubled, "are you sure Mat? Like, we haven't properly gone over what we expect from Sherman." "Nonsense. Sherman, you've worked in a place where there are managers directing employees at all levels?" "Sure," Sherman follows Mat's lead. "Good, then all you have to do is put yourself in their places." With closing the door behind themselves, Tom says to Mat, "are you sure this is a good idea?" Tom snidely says, "you mean about Sherman setting up shop, or connecting on a more personal level?" "There's something you're not sharing." Mat says, "when I knew Sean for those few months before he disappeared, there was a lot of sadness and loneliness to life. Maybe he deserves a break. You know, how you are always saying about young people who are not given a fair start in life?" "Yeah," Tom admits, "I suppose I am always saying that." "Well, maybe not much business will transpire between Sherman and Sean, but I think they have a lot to bestow on each other, if you knew what I mean?" Tom agrees, but wasn't sharing exactly how much Sherman has to 'bestow' upon a guy! In the middle of their conversation, Phil rounds the corner, elevating his tone of voice, "oh good. Either of you know a guy named Tom?" "That's me," Tom says. "My boss sent me back here to look for you." Mat departs, Tom saying, "first off, who's your boss?" "Duncan Balderston, landscaping. He told me to come in here to find out what bushes you want for the new building out back?" Not met in a sly way, Tom says, "have we met?" "Yup. Last night. You were kind of wasted though, so if you don't remember I'll cut you some slack." He made Tom smile, thinking 'funny guy', "I see. Thank you for that. About bushes," he could only think of the kind which encases a shaft and set of orbs, "I haven't a clue about the way to landscape around a building." Phil chuckles, "yeah, me neither!" It's then Duncan arrives, walking up the hallway. Looking like a Canadian lumberjack, says, "hey Tom, if you don't remember, I'm Duncan Balderston." "Sorry. I don't seem to make the connection." Duncan was thinking, 'no kidding', till he boasts of his little secret, "when I knew you last, I went by the name of 'Roi'?" Tom's jaw drops open, "oh shit! I mean. You look totally different!" "I know," Duncan says, "it's the beard and I've put on a little tum-tum, but yeah, it's me. But you, you haven't changed, except," he leans in at Tom's ear, "you have clothes on?" Phil stood there, thoroughly entertained by Duncan's laughter. It was a thing about his boss, whenever he laughed, a person couldn't keep a frozen face. "Phil?" "Yeah, boss?" "Why don't you go out back, pull up a graph sheet on your laptop and map out a landscaping plan for the building out back?" "On it," Phil complies. Entering Tom's office, the last to enter after ushering Duncan in, turns to see the landscaper sitting in his chair. "Hey, be sure to lock the door." Tom turns to do so. Facing his desk, he sees Duncan has picked up his coffee cup, examining it with eyes and nostrils. More than that, Tom says, "so, are you Duncan or Roi?" "Normally," Duncan lifts both legs, puts his feet on the corner of Tom's desk, "behind closed doors I'm Roi. As your first act of service in real time, remove my shoes." "I thought we were going to talk business?" "Suit yourself," Duncan drops his feet to the floor with a thud. "Having said that," Tom rounds his desk till he faces the seated landscape boss, "if you're more comfortable without shoes on?" "First things first," he has Tom's coffee mug in hand, "brew me up a cuppa, will you?" "No problem," Tom reaches for the mug. Holding it aloft, Roi says, "after you strip down!" "Very well," Tom doesn't hestitate, not his first time he's stripped for the man. "Did you forget our little take on discipline?" "Who is it I'm talking to, Duncan or Roi?" "I told you who I am, behind closed doors?" "Right. You're Roi," Tom reaches for his belt buckle. "Not yet," his hand is on Tom's hand, that's on his belt. "We're gonna play a little game." Right now, with his loins pulsing, there's not much Tom is not up for, "sure. I like games." "Good boy. Now, name the piece of clothing you strip me out of, before you do it." "I'm stripping you. Okay. I can work with that. Shoes." Roi stands there, like he's waiting for the morning train. "Did I miss something, like are you going to sit?" "Nope," Roi toys with Tom. "Fine," Tom starts to get down on one knee. "Nope. You'll stand while you do it." "Stand. Okay," Tom uses one of his fav phrases, "I can work with that." Bending straight over, jacknifing himself in half, Tom is surprised when a finger traces his asscrack, "oh shit!" His reaction, has him straightening up, which has Roi lose balance, his ass falling into Tom's deskchair, "you idiot!" Tom can't see the seriousness of Roi's demeanor, breaking out in laughter, "good thing my chair was behind you!" He was supposed to be angry, that's how Duncan's game went, but rather liking the way Tom cackled, breaks character, "you thing it's funny?" "Yeah," Tom treads lightly, "kinda?" It's then he becomes confused in his own web of fantasy, whether Duncan or Roi, decides to forgo the cam-play action, standing, "a change of plans." "Oh? How's that go?" Pulling on Tom's necktie, Duncan gives him a strong hint, reeling him in for a kiss. "Wow," Tom uses a finger to make it look like he's tracing his own lips, "never kissed a bearded man before." "Or sucked his dick?" Proud of himself and his achievements, Tom says, "of course I've sucked a bearded man's dick, among others. Comes with the territory of a natural born cocksucker!" "I hope I get to feel the benefit of that someday." "Wait," Tom feels like a situation-gone-wrong, "you don't want a blowjob?" "I came here for landscaping business, not funny business!" "But, your shoes, you were instructing me to take them off?" "Yeah," Duncan says, "had a long night of dancing at the club last night." "Well, still could give your feet a rub down?" "Sure. Why not." Instead of Tom's office chair, Duncan takes to the three-cushion sofa and after parking his ass, putting feet up, "nice comfort." "For a stain-resistant fabric," Tom smiles. "And I need to know that, why?" At this point Tom knew he was being toyed with, "in case I happen to get more than your shoes off and you require more than a foot rub?" Whereas Tom was formally dressed, Duncan wore khaki's, tee shirt and workmen's boots. When Duncan flung himself into the pit of the sofa, his tee shirt automatically took shape with his situation, revealing he had a hairy front, scrunched up bellyhole and hair all around, more defined coming down from inside the shirt. "I guess I'll be getting them boots off?" Before his ass even hit the sofa, Duncan knew where this was going to go, "start anywhere you would like." "Great," Tom likes that option, going for the loop of his own tie. The thirty-eight year old landscaper got comfortable, placing hands behind his head, which he knew from practicing in front of a mirror, it would make his tee shirt rise up higher on his bod. He knew the lure it could provide! Down to being shirtless, Tom says, "you want me to keep going?" "No, I want you to stop and put your clothes back on." Tom says, "for real?" "No, idiot, I want you keep stripping down, but here's a paradox." "A paradox?" Tom questions. "I want you to remove your briefs without taking your pants off." It was an order and not a question, which Tom was perceiving it as, but with justification, "like, how am I supposed to do that?" "Checked your desk drawer when you weren't paying attention. On the left hand side is a pair of scissors?" Tom protests, "but these are my $100 Mack Weldon's!" "Correction," Duncan plainly speaks, "$96, $88 on sale and it's a three pack of knit boxerbriefs, so don't fuck with me and get with the scissors." Astonished by the exact description of what he was wearing, Tom says, "what color are you wearing?" "You'll find that out when you get to it, that is, if you ever get to it?" Acting impatient got Tom to hustling over to his desk, opening the top middle drawer and taking out the scissors, exactly where Roi said it was. At least he 'thought' he was addressing 'Roi', "are you Duncan or Roi right now?" "We're done with roleplaying. From here on in, we're on first name basis." "Okay," Tom tests it out, "Duncan." "Except when we're roleplaying, it's 'sir' to you, 'boy'." "Okay, sir." Duncan rolls his eyes, but at least Tom was putting some theatrics into his roleplaying, other men not as talented. Watching Tom go to work with the scissors, Duncan cautions, "be careful down there." "I will," delayed speech, "sir." Tom was amazed at how careful a guy could be, slipping a pair of scissors into the waistline of his pants, cutting away at a pair of briefs, "um, you ever get a guy who came too close to his, you-know?" Duncan didn't remark about the name-calling, rather delivering his next words like a punchline, "I wouldn't know, you being the first!" Tom didn't like the roar of laughter, or maybe it was the fact he was going at his briefs like a blind man, "I don't find that funny." Duncan could tell, Tom not sharing in the joke, which has him backing down, "okay. Forget it. My bad. Just," he waves a hand, "do it like you're used to doing it." It's not that Duncan was getting bored, but his pants began to tent, in anticipation! "Your bad? I thought men in your position could do no wrong?" He had Duncan there, which he could only allude to, "my bad for my bad then, will you just get on with it, before you're sucking the juice out of my Mack Weldon's?" It made Tom go slower rather than fast, the thought of sucking the juice out of Duncan's juiced briefs. Eventually Tom did get bored and hastened the pace. It made Duncan sit up, looking upon Tom's lower anatomy, "damn you're beautiful!" As he stripped down, Tom got bigger by the moment, till when he stood there before Duncan, he sported quite the erection, which had him grateful, "thanks." Sitting on the edge, Duncan says, "get that monster over here." No one could be more surprised than Tom, when Duncan goes to exam his shaft, lifts it and gives the tip a slurp of the tongue, "what the fuck?" Duncan looks up and with a smile on his face, "hey, every man likes a big one now and then?" "Oh really," Tom takes the alpha lead, "and when do I get to see what you're packing?" Further commentary wasn't necessary, Duncan motioning for Tom to back off. Standing, he unbuckles the belt, separates the flaps of his khaki's, allowing them to fall to the top of his boots. "You're not wearing your Mack's?" "Yeah, ain't it a kicker, the one day I don't and it turns out to be you?" The only article of clothing, except the boots, Tom lifts Duncan's shirt off overhead, revealing a delicious thatch of bod hair, "mm-mm, I'm going to feast on you!" Rubbing a hand over the soft fabric of Tom's chest, Duncan says, "yep, remember this from one of your cam shots." "Yeah, by the way, why did you run off and not say goodbye, or at least something about meeting up again online?" Comfortably, out of role, Duncan says, "my bad, this time, for real. I was surprised by my worker busting in on me, bestowing on me the fact it was his last day. I guess you can say he caught me with my pants down!" They did laugh, but Tom was more concerned that his shaft was starting to lose volume, "I'm starting to feel a little, 'out of it?'" Duncan wasn't immune to the facts either, which had them both jump into action, "you want me to do you first or '69'?" Given the choice, Tom chose neither, opting for lying on the floor, Duncan's ass on his chest. "Oh, one last thing," Duncan doesn't need to get up, but reaches around the side, digging a hand into his pants pocket, "if I hear anyone speak of this, I swear I'll tan your hide with your own belt," he peels a condom open. Riding down Tom's legs, has him saying, "what are you going to do?" "This doesn't go beyond this room," Duncan says, placing the condom over Tom's hard shaft. "Damn, I hope it's big enough." "You're not going to," Tom leaves out the obvious, 'poke himself in the ass'. "Yeah, and like I said, I have a reputation to uphold, so if anyone repeats it back to me that you fucked my ass, I'll deny every word of it." Tom didn't believe it himself, "you sure you don't want to fuck me?" "Maybe next time. Right now I need my fix," Duncan knee-walks his way back up Tom's legs. Not as far, he jacks his ass up, then sets it down, a hand behind to guide himself. "Oh shit!" Tom gasps, feeling the tip of his shaft touch Duncan's ass. It was a bit uncomfortable for Tom, having to do half a situp, so many times trying to get Duncan's bobbing shaft to land on his tongue. Half of the ecstasy was hearing the moans and groans, of both men, mostly as a result of Duncan getting what he wanted and needed, Tom made to go along. Neither could recall the chain of events later, whether it was Tom filling the condom first, or Duncan leaning forward and stabbing Tom's tonsils, as his mouth was overwhelmed with warm cream. When all was done, Duncan teetered over the edge, carefully falling flat onto his back on the floor, wipes his beard, "oh man, was that tasty!" % Phil was very eager to make a good impression on Duncan, except he wasn't too good at navigating a laptop. He was outside, eyeing up the building, but when he opened his mac, he didn't get past it loading. "Having problems?" "Uh, no," Phil says, "I mean, yeah. I don't really know about this stuff." He recognizes Randy. "You wouldn't happen to have a piece of paper and a pencil?" "Give it here," Randy says, typing in some characters, "there, that should fix it." "Wow, you're good with computers." "Been around them my whole life, till," Randy chooses not to go into the interim, between life at home out west and here in the east, "let me know if you need anything else." Reading way into the situation, Phil says, "actually, there is." "Sure," Randy says, "I've got a minute. What is it you need help with?" Knowing some angles to getting what a man needs and wants, Phil says, "I'd like to get some perspective on looking out from the inside, but the door is locked." "Right. That's because the gym hasn't properly had it's opening day," Randy makes it as long-winded as possible, to 'study' the 'situation', "let me go get the key." Randy ran like he never ran before. It often phased him, going from the blistering heat of outdoors into an airconditioned environment, but right now that went right over his head. Literally, it took Randy two minutes and he was out back of the yoga studio. "Hopefully this is the right key," Randy successfully opens the door. On the road, going from his hometown to a town he didn't know about, Phil, coupled up with his gay companion, John, knowing how to bargain for essentials, like food, drink, a place to crash for the night, or if duty called, man-sex. With his hand on Randy's shoulder, Phil was already sending out a message, "where would you suggest getting the best possible view of the outside, from the inside?" Not much different than Phil's story, Randy knew of the intentions here, playing along, "I would think the locker room might be your best advantage." He knew, the gym lockers of his high school, the windows sitting on top of the metal cabs, "do we have to climb on top of the lockers to get a clear view?" Way ahead of him, as they enter the brand new look, with shiny red and gray lockers, Randy says, "nah. Fact is, there's no windows in here at all." Standing there with a smile on his face, Phil reaches down, takes the tails of Randy's 'Mat Yoga' tee shirt and tears it off overhead. Shaking out his thin braids, Phil gets whipped by one or two, but is wise to, "you played me!" Randy chuckles, "more like, getting the edge on who's playing who?" Having a knack of not involving his multi-colored braids tangled up in other business, Randy weaves them into a bun of sorts. Setting his laptop down on one of the benches, and without a peep, Phil strips off his Balderston Landscaping shirt. Living a meek and mild life, Randy has a lot of life teaching him things, like not allowing an opportunity to pass. It has him digging hand down, inside Phil's pants, stirring his emotions, "nice," as he feels his way around inside. Reciprocating, Phil digs into Randy's yoga pants, "wow, you're not too shabby yourself," with proud intentions, "but nothing compared to what my mouth can do for you!" Nothing else needed to be said, Phil following a ritual falling to his knees, with the easy task of unveiling Randy's man-tools, opening his mouth and wetting down a low profiled pubic bush. "Yeah," Randy sighs, looking to the ceiling as his shaft hardens up. "That's it, that's it, more tongue." Like, Randy had to throw cues to a professional cocksucker, dah? Not much difference than Randy's humble beginnings in life, being on the road has shaped Phil up into what he feels is destiny calling. It was a dilemma, as a teenager, thinking he would be the guy who was on the giving end, dividing and conquering a man's ass. Being on a crosscountry trek to nowhere, Phil realized his true calling, bowing to another man's wishes, which often left him in compromising positions, opposite of those early life thinkings. Popping off, Phil looks up, seeing the satisfied feeling on Randy's face, but asks anyway, "how am I doing?" "Great. Too bad you were too busy last night to do me," Randy laughs, his hand patting the back of Phil's head, irking him to get back to business. After a few salty sucks, Phil breaks to breathe, "I don't recall seeing you at Marc's last night?" "We were there. My boyfriend, Nick and I, we left early. You want to get back on my cock?" "Of course," Phil immediately picked up the pace. Too engrossed with Phil's expert cocksucking technique, Randy came right there in the landscaper's mouth, filling it to the brim, and overflowing. In cleaning up, putting their clothes back on, Randy says, "now I'm really ready for lunch," hoping to have Phil join him. "Too bad there's no food in the kitchen, or else I could whip us up something." Baffled look on Randy's face, he says, "there's a kitchen?" Randy didn't let on that the only reason he came out back of the yoga studio, was with Nick, to soothe hidden desires, that venturing any further than the locker room, didn't stir interest as much as his boyfriend's lips wrapped around his thick, long tube! Both guys, clothed but still shirtless, grabbed their shirts, Phil leading the way, "yeah, it's right past the main hall, though it looks like it hasn't been used in years." "Oh really?" Randy follows that cute ass, sorry he used all of his spunk to lube Phil's throat! % % Copyright 2023 T. Chase McPhee Developing segments of 'YoGA MaT' may not be amended, distributed, sold, used, quoted, paraphrased, chopped, sliced, diced, nor made part of any collection, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the author. Drones are prohibited from overhead viewing. _ Check here that you are not a robot.