Date: Thu, 11 Oct 2012 07:41:26 -0700 (PDT) From: Tchase Mcphee Subject: A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 02 The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection. % Hey dudes, remember, Nifty needs your donations to provide these wonderful stories. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html FYI: I don't get a hefty paycheck from NiFTy at the end of the month. I write about horny dudes because it helps get my rocks off. Take your hand off your stick shift for a minute and dig into you wallet. It's costs to keep these stories coming to you. % A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 02 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee % The lunch bell rang. Only once would it resound, three times, a bell resembling one which would call `all hands on deck', if this were a ship. Far and wide, it could be heard across campus. Usually Chef Howland would appoint a novice helper in his kitchen. He ran a tight ship and if a guy `goofed', his `sentence' would be the demeaning task of picking up the rather heavy bell in two hands and give it a mighty ring, thrice, sounding it out over the Manfredi campus. A guy knew the chief chef to me meticulous in thoughts and words, casing the kitchen for any little infraction, a necessity for the bell to be rung at each of the three meals of the day. Some tiny infraction might be, forgetting to return a knife to its place or replacing bottled water, taken for refreshment from the wide-bod refrigerator. Sure, there were places on campus where hardly a hint of meal readiness was heard. If guys were working out in the basement of the gymnasium or shut up tightly in a dorm room, the bell would not penetrate the walls. The designers of Manfredi Institute already thought of it prior, installing a microphone in the window ledge. From there, it was connected to speakers in hallways or as it happens, the weight room or poolside cabana. Manfredi Institute wasn't designed like a normal college, though some of the same facilities had images of a college campus. Once you walked through the doors of any of the buildings, in which students reside, reported for meals or touched base with their professors of higher learning, this is what separated an ordinary college campus from the high cost of attending Manfredi. Nevertheless, after the bell tolled, the bulk of the student population needed to make it's way to the Cumford Dining Hall, named in honor of a past student who had passed early in life, at the price of the AID's epidemic, who's donor, mate of the deeply departed, left a rather adequate amount to the institution in which placed him in the class of other multi-billionites. "Nice," was Jason's first comment, running a finger along the mahogany dining room table, like he was checking for dust. Curiously, he swept his index finger past each table setting, a china plate, silver settings of 2 spoons, a knife, the plate and then 2 forks, counting off each setting, from dessert spoon, to teaspoon to dessert fork. Incidentally, near the plate was a smaller piece of china, a butter knife across the surface. It was also of a whimsical quest, finding how many students were allotted to each table. Good at math, when Jason arrives at the other head of the table, he had counted 30 place settings. `Thirty to each side, doing the multiplying, then times,' he looked all around, an occasional target taking him off counting up tables, which brought Jason to the conclusion, the enrollment this year at the institute to be in the ball park figure of 240. During his time of `giving grace', more a Buddhist approach towards thanking `someone', `somewhere' in the cosmos, Jason stood vigilante behind his chair. Yet, his eyes roam about as far at they could, settling on the dude across from him. No eye contact was made, the dude's eyes shut, relaxed, not forced. Of his folded hands, Jason just smiled, like, the dude was hiding an erection. Regardless of what Jason thought, checking out one guy, there were more than a handful with their secretive eyes on Jason! After the headmaster finished `grace', which amounted to the conclusion of his speech earlier on, ending with wishing new and returning students a `good school year' and a quick `God bless', Hawkins-Jones sits and does the proper thing, places his napkin in his lap. He then gives the o.k. for the buffet styled luncheon to begin. At this time, students leave the back of their chairs, plate in hands and head for the laid out food. This morning, Jason had noted what a jerk `Xeno' could be, the Greek bullying his way up the line of diners. He was wondering why nobody was opposing the dude, even though he was probably as tall as Frankenstein. However, a Frankenstein-face he was not! While watching him advance to the `food', Jason was a little disappointed, seeing Xeno in the full suit ensemble. He had had a better view with the open-necked shirt, almost sheer in fabric content. So he lied to Mutt. He really liked hairy guys and putting Xeno's good looks aside, Jason dug the chest, stomach, couldn't leave it alone, adding the beard and... and then he was there, in front of the table of food. Finding everything he could find at home in the fridge, plus something which resembled pizza, his plate mostly held the Italian offering and some greens. He had already decided in mind where to sit, the place he stood behind for grace. However, when he arrived there, another dude was sitting there. It was Xeno! Very obnoxiously, Xeno says, "Hope you don't mind, but I like taking in the view of the place during meals!" He laughed, along with his cronies flanking his sides. "No problem at all," Jason replies. Instead of backing in and backing down, Jason makes it look like he's stalking another table, but rather strolls all the way around, comes up on the other side and sits directly across from Xeno! "Dammit!" Xeno replies. "Can you move? I don't feel like barfing up my meal!" Of course they all laughed. Even Jason and with quick-thinking, replies, "Oh, but if you wanted to barf, I can take the mirror down from the wall and hold it up in front of you, Xeno!" What got Cristano Xenopolis, wasn't the crack back, but the addressing, "What the fuck did you call me?" "He called you `Xeno'," the dude at Cristano's left replies. He proceeds to cry out loud, "Ah-h-h, no... stop Cris!" Applying a fork to his `friend's' forearm, the tines seemed to go right through the suit jacket. Letting up, he addresses Jason point blank, "The name's not Xeno, it's Xenopolis and you can start by calling me `Mr. Xenopolis', `greener'!" "No problem, as long as you call me, `Mr. Croft', Mr. Xeno!" He wasn't afraid of Xeno, like it seemed the others bowed down for, all else got knocked down. Then, the one who got stabbed in the arm, tags, "Hey Cris, here comes the water-boys!" Sure enough, Jason notices several of the dining staff approaching tables, chilled pitchers of water in one hand, a towel in the other. Secondary, he senses hostility, Xeno and his mates sinister in their snickering. He wasn't the only one watching the waiter with the pitcher approach their table. Starting at one edge, he worked systematically, pouring, wiping the condensation from the pitcher with his towel and advancing to the next diner. Putting `water' aside, Jason was sort of mesmerized by the water-pouring waiter, looking to be Indian or somewhere from that neck of the neighborhood. Tall, late 20's, Jason being a good judge of ages, black hair, emo cut, thin stache and properly dressed like everyone else. Last thing put into memory was the dude's features, `Damn are you gorgeous!' Directly in front of him, Jason was feeling kind of `hard'. Though it would not last long, something else taking up his attention. Right after Xeno is served up his glass of water, he blames, "What the fuck, boy!" He backs his chair out, Cris taking his napkin and wiping his thighs off. "Can't you fuckin' pour without wetting a person up!" Jason looked at the whole situation with craftiness. He even felt his eyes squint with this poor guy being the victim of a cruel prank. He was watching. He knew all the water went in the glass. After all, the waiter had plenty of practice, after serving out at least 10 portions! Cris' friend, who got stabbed with the fork tines, turns to supporting his friend, regardless, "I think you should turn in a grievance." Apologizing like crazy, Jason was very disturbed when Cris says, "Yeah, get rid of all you monkies!" It was bad enough someone else said it, but it's one thing which turned Jason off so bad, mocking, making fun of, putting down a person because of their race, he gets up, grabs the pitcher out of the waiter's hand and dumps it over Cris' head, "Now there's something to complain about!" Purposefully he didn't return the pitcher to the waiter's hands! "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you!" Nobody, except those who sat around Cris, saw the `water event', but everyone could see Cris kneel up on the table, right in his own gravy and jump over the table, his hands out, ready to strangle the living daylights out of poor Jason! Of course, Jason's main focus was on his windpipe slowly getting crushed, but he did have periods of vision, taking on Xeno's incredibly awesome smile... or was it gritting teeth? Much to anyone's astonishment, the waiter, whom was Jason's intentions of saving his job, suddenly got bold and because he was eyeing up Jason, while Jason was counting out filled water glasses, decides to intervene. By this time, the authority at Manfredi was trying to wade through the onlookers, much like a free for all at a WWF event, Hawkins-Jones, Dean Martin and David San Giorgio, who is supposed to be representing the security force, bringing up the rear! With the crowd in the way, it gave Cris ample time to put Jason in a strangle hold, but also afforded the waiter to jump the table, bringing Cris right down on top of Jason. "You're dead meat!" Cris came up from the floor, turning his rage on the waiter. It was too late, no use in Cris getting his balls all knotted up in another choking frenzy, San Giorgio by his side, the headmaster reciting Cris his rights, forgetting the formalities, "Xenopolis, you've done it this time!" "What?" he slowly allowed the waiter's throat to slip out of one hand. From boldness, to dread, Cris' outlook changed dramatically, hearing Hawkins-Jones reprimand, "Twice in one day you have proved to be a disturbance. In addition to calling your father..." In all due respects, Jason figures he should be on the whipping end of the stick, especially after feeling the pair of Greek hands trying to send him into the next world. However, suddenly seeing the bold student, especially with his long wet locks, change, from a tough character, to... "No! No, you can't do that!" fear engulfed the choker. "Just watch me!" Cris pleads, "No! You can't call my father. You don't know him. You don't know what he is capable of!" Then, like Cris had an angle about doing things, Jason finds the administration no different, "Well, if you come along to my office, maybe we can find the means by which we can work something out." He thought dangerous, always the wrong choice of words, Jason hearing Cris, with desperation, say, "Anything!" The Greek did look around, suddenly realizing his own change of attitude and against someone else's principle, which he tried following, to `never back down.' With all eyes and ears on the confrontation between Cris and the headmaster, Jason finally notices the waiter standing there. Only 3 feet away, Jason asks, "Hey, thanks for saving my life!" he puts his hand on the waiter's shoulder. "Are you all right?" Jason was `now', the handsome stranger placing both hands on the sides of his neck, examining left and right sides as a physician would do, looking for damage. It made Jason forget about even the hoarseness, "Uh yeah. I'm great. How about you?" He wanted to return the favor, do a hand-exam, but held off for another important matter, "I'm Jason." "Rahul Mehta. I am sorry you got in the way of their sick joke with me." He could have acted dopey, silly, because for the first time in his life, Jason was madly in love. Not in love, like the cliche, which he has often used when first seeing a guy so hot, his anatomy would spring into action before words could form in his mouth. If it wasn't for the other 240 students in the dining hall, Jason would have `shone' Rahul how grateful he was! Just when he thought he had things in hand, another `hottie' shows up, "Rahul! I heard! Are you hurt?" According to Jason's estimation, they could have been twins, but settled for brothers or cousins. "No, no." Instead of Rahul concentrating on his family member, which he gave attention to once, to confirm he was fine, he now looks to Jason, saying, "this is Jason. Jason, this is my brother, Rohit." Instead of a welcome invitation to shake hands, Rohit directs to his brother, "Rahul, we need to talk." Jason wondered what that was all about. However, with the dining hall turning back to normal, except the swamped table where he sat, which he chose not to set himself down at again, he wanders back to the main table. "Hmm, he says, passing by the `faculty' area, spotting an unused dinner plate. Like Houdini, he swipes it from the table, goes back to the smorgasboard tables and begins all over. After all, he didn't care to eat his pizza, though it entertained Jason, eating it off of Cris' chest! "What happened?" Even though Mutt left him at the dorm on uneasy terms, there he was, all concerned about his welfare, which told Jason something, "When you left, I was under the impression you hated my guts?" "Nah," Mutt replies. To swap out the current subject for something fresh, Jason asks, "By the way, I've been meaning to ask..." "What?" Mutt asks, picking off platters of food. Reloading his plate, Jason replies, "Your family heritage. I mean with a Hispanic, Greek and Italian last name, how did you wind up looking Irish?" It was true. Even though there has been ages of interbreeding of Mutt's family, he didn't resemble any of them, but rather ginger to darker brown hair, in a styled cut atop his head, same color sideburns, cropped at the edge of his chops. "I dunno. I didn't get the whole family tree explained to me yet," Mutt replies, scooping up a finger of whipped cream and with the utmost secrecy, sucks it off. Cashing in on it, Jason reacts, "You're good at sucking, I take it?" Getting all melancholy, Mutt replies, "Oh-h, I've wanted to suck you off from the moment I saw you!" With a giggle, Jason replies, "I suppose you won't stop harassing me about it until you do!" Mutt stood there with a half smile, tasting finger in the corner of his mouth, frozen in place. Like Jason figured already, he liked Mutt, saying, "Hey, have you eaten?" "Yeah," he goes to take Jason's plate, "but I think I can shovel down seconds!" Jason stood there for a moment, watching Mutt walk away with the plate he took a chance on stealing from the fac's table, taking the time to reload and... "Hi. I have to work right now, but I was wondering if you would like to call me?" It happened so fast! Rahul appears, hands him a slip of paper and without even taking `yes' or `no' for an answer, vanishes back into the kitchen. Sitting back down at a different table, it didn't even register, Mutt with his plate in front of him, eating `his' picked out lunch. Instead, Jason stare at the number on the slip of paper, which read, `Rahul Mehta's cell,' then 10 numbers. % Meanwhile, back at the headmaster's office, Cristano Xenopolis', his last year at Manfredi Institute, was on the line. Not really, but it's how Samuele Hawkins-Jones would keep up the charade, only to serve his own good. He also had all the answers, knowing exactly how Cris' father would take the news of causing a raucous at Manfredi. "Hm-m," is all Hawkin's-Jones said in a hum, staring at Cris, after the last bout of gripes, concerning the summoning of his father, which unknown to Cris, was a total sham. Being Cris' third year here at Manfredi, the headmaster has seen a change, Cris becoming more agitated. Even though he picked Cris' brain, he knew more about the situation than he let Cris to believe he did. Instead, he tried drawing it out from the source, "Why `do' you hate your father?" "I don't hate my father!" Cris was adamant, a definite change in blood pressure set forth. Instead of understanding, it fed Hawkins-Jones' mental and physical being to rile up the 21 year old. Right about now it was starting to register, his hand in his lap helping it along as he answers, "I suggest you settle down, Cris. Shouting won't get us anywhere?" He didn't think he was. Maybe only an elevated tone, but not yelling, but still, since things were not in his favor at the moment, "I'm sorry." "Sorry?" He knew what the headmaster was after. It's not the first time Cris has been in this office, replying, "Sorry, sir." "I'm glad we have an understanding, you and me, Cris. I think it would be a good idea if you started this semester off on a more peaceful foot. I think you should spend tonight at my place." If it had been the first time, when Hawkins-Jones made suggestion of it, back in Cris' senior high school year, he most likely would have reacted the same, with question. Now, with having gone home with the headmaster on numerous occasions, Cris wasn't at all phased. So what it would cost him a small price to keep his father off his back, sucking and fucking around. After all, he knew Hawkins-Jones to have one of the tightest asses he's ever fucked and the headmaster sure had a seductive manner in which to harden him up. Weekends away from campus weren't bad at all. Sometimes the headmaster would have parties, keeping Cris' cock flowing, guys of all ages standing in line to suck him off, his pick of the litter to fuck. Towards the end of last year it became a little more frequent, when he would rather be on campus with his friends. Though, his main concern was to keep his father out of his life and whatever he had to do, to do it, it was `life'! % "What are you going to do now?" Mutt asks Jason. Still toying with the paper Rahul gave him, Jason replies, "I don't know. Maybe see what Calhoun is up to?" Having hoped for the unreachable, Mutt says in a glum tone, "Oh." Not insensitive to Mutt, Jason replies, "Hey, why don't you come hang with us?" "Really?" Mutt replies. Leaning back in his chair with confidence, "You want `me' to hang with you guys?" Knowing Mutt wanted to, Jason jokes, "You don't want to?" Backing his chair out from the table, Mutt says, "Let's go!" Last ditch effort to reconnect with Rahul, even if only seeing each across the room, proved unlikely, Jason waiting a few seconds. Mutt had said he had to take off for the mens room, in a hurry. It bought Jason a little time. He thought of walking over to the kitchen and peeking in, but also one of the rules, students are not to enter the kitchen without Chef Howland's permission. This is why Jason lingers 15 feet away, staring towards the swinging doors, hoping to catch even a glimpse of Rahul. It didn't materialize. Standing around, he soon realizes the time flying by, remarking out loud to himself, "Where the hell is Mutt?" Right after saying it, a grin fills Jason's face. Of course. For what other reason would a man, going to the jon to relieve himself, be detained?! Mutt finally showing up, Jason accuses, "How was the dessert?" Walking out of the dining area, Mutt says, "I can't believe you got into Manfredi, Jason." "What?" he didn't get it. "You're so stupid, man." "Oh really and how would that go?" Jason questions. Having all the answers, Mutt replies, "Of course you were thinking I was gone a long time because I was sucking a guy off?" It was what Jason thought, him mellowing out his excuse, throwing it out, "Well, it did cross my mind, Mutt." He could have gotten mad at Jason, but Mutt didn't have many friends at Manfredi, especially handsome, muscular, what he hoped, loaded cannonballs and matching cannon, but overall thought Jason cool, "For your information and future reference, head for the closest mens room right after a meal or else you have to run to the jon on the next floor up, sometimes. "Oh," Jason replies, after stepping into the hallway, seeing the now shorter cue of students waiting to get into the jon. "Sorry." Mutt could have been angry with Jason, instead turns it around, "Did it make you hard thinking it?" Jason turns it around, "Do I look hard to you?" "There's a little bulge," Mutt's attention diverts from Jason's crotch, to his face. "It's how I look soft," Jason replies. Curious minds have to know, Mutt asking, "Um, like how big are you... Soft?" With no one else in the hallway besides the pair, Jason didn't feel awkward sharing the truth, but play around, "Maybe as big as you?" Finally reaching 2-100, they casually walk in, Jason checking, "Calhoun? You around?" Finding silence, "I guess Calhoun's off some where." Turning around, facing Jason, who has closed the door, Mutt says, "I guess it's... You and me!" "Yeah," Jason replies, avoiding the issue, cock size for right now. Walking over to his laptop he installs the plug, connecting it to the power source. Right behind him, Mutt asks, "Got a printer?" Jason could have sworn something bumped his leg, "No. I was informed we can use the printer in the library." For the moment he wanted to cancel out the previous conversation, but for love of want, Jason brings it up again, and rather bluntly, "Did your cock just graze my leg?" Shocked is how Mutt looked, standing there with hands on his hips. But he felt good about the opening up of the conversational vein, "Could have. Um, do you like need, `evidence'?" Leading each other on can be kind of fun, but this wasn't exactly the scenario Jason was used to. Sure, Mutt was kind of a good looking chubby dude, but the situation wasn't lending itself to the sort of cuddling up, nuzzling each other with lips on the ear, working it up to some sweet kissing, before whipping it out. With all the gobble-de-gook in the middle, not a strange thing to how Jason has worked a man before, he walks right up to Mutt, places hands on his belt buckle, saying, "Maybe I should take a look?" Mutt backs up, pulling Jason's hands away, "I thought you didn't do it with just any guy, Jason?" Jason just smiled. "What?" Mutt was now asking the questions, wondering. Walking forward, Jason places his hands on Mutt's hips, "I love it when a man plays hard to get!" This was kind of weird. Sure, Mutt has had campus sex with a few guys, 2 to be exact, in the 2 years he's been at Manfredi. However, none has been with such a hunk as Jason Croft, "Why would you want me?" Having sensed this, Jason replies, "I know you're a sensitive guy, so don't take this wrong, but... It would be nice to have an occasional fuck buddy?" He didn't take it the way Jason had thought. Matter of fact, Mutt was tingling with excitement, "Fuck buddy? Are you for real, Jason?" "Sure. I do you. You do me. No strings attached." Jason smiled, apparently forgetting about Rahul for the moment. After all, with his track record of sexual performance, the 18yo muscle-stud hasn't experienced the kind of emotion when jumping in the sack with a dude. Not the kind that's destined to last a lifetime, which is probably why he's experiencing temporary amnesia! However, it's not exactly how Mutt was feeling at the moment, looking up into the 6-footer's brown eyes, which stare back at him, looking so, so sincere, replying, "Oh man, Jason. I can't believe it!" "Can't believe what?" Jason had no clue, turning around, going about his business, doing the usual thing, reaching for the back of his tee shirt label, pulling it off over his head and shaking out his shaggy locks. "Some guy taking an interest in me? I mean," Mutt, even though he's already eyed Jason up and down, "a fat guy like me having a relationship with a..." The shirtless gaze leads to, "A muscle-stud?" Breaking off the spell he had over Mutt, Jason replies, "Hey, loverboy... Don't get your ball all twisted up in something that's not what it looks to be... Okay?" "I'm not," Mutt replies, though the lovebug has already bitten him, the aura still lingering. Placing a hand on Mutt's shoulder, because Jason wanted to make sure the message was communicated loud and clear, "Occasional fuck buddies... Read my lips, `occasional'?" Even though head over heals into the feeling of someone with an interest in him, instead of Mutt having to seek out and plot how to meet up with a guy, "I `know' what the word means, but like..." out of desperation for man-sex, "Use me whenever you want to... If you can't get anyone else?" This hit a raw nerve, making Jason recant his words and thoughts in his mind. Placing a hand on his new fuck buddy's shoulder, he says, "You know, you're pathetic, Mutt?" Accepting it, the ginger-haired cub owning up to his situation in life, unattractive towards any muscle guy on campus, according to Mutt's longings and desires, he confesses, "Yeah, I know. I'm a real slut! But I can't help it if I'm attracted to guys dripping in muscles?!" Smiling at Jason, that quirky little look, he presses Mutt's nose with his index finger and in a true act of kindness, "You're cute!" Dropping his arm, the muscle-stud turns around, "Oh, and remember... This is only between us?" "Sure," Mutt was all for it, under any conditions, "whatever you want Jason, you got it!" Going for his belt buckle, because whenever Jason was home alone in his room, with no shame, parading around the house, loved the freedom of shedding all, except his briefs, he unbuckles, unzips and parts his pants flaps. Watching the whole sexy ordeal of another guy stripping, let alone the guy who just `proposed' to him, Mutt licks his lips, the silent language speaking louder than words. However, not sure of Jason's intentions, Mutt asks, "You want a blowjob now?" Even when not at full mast, Jason's briefs show what he was carrying in the treasure chest. Under the delusion, Mutt stares, "I mean, you look like..." Figuring this as good a time as any to christen the moment, Jason replies, "Why not?!" Going to it, his way of stripping off his shirt, Mutt places his elbows on the outsides of his shirt, turns it inside-out pulling it up over his rounded stomach. Being nice, Jason says, "I took notice, there's not many of you ginger-boys around," he giggles. Standing there, shirtless, Mutt looks for approval, "Am I okay?" Of course, Mutt couldn't help it, having missed Jason dropping his briefs while he stripped his shirt over his face, looked down, before up, to pursue conversation. "You sure are okay," Jason said kindly, walking over and running the back of his over Mutt's shaggy, ginger treasure trail, starting about mid-stomach and on down to the 20 year old's navel and back. Jason's stare made Mutt stare back with a smile on his face. Joking, Jason, going for Mutt's belt buckle, says, "But we're not gonna get it on with these in the way!" "Cool!" Mutt replies, staring in Jason's face, then looking down at hands in action. Right after Jason slips the spindle out of a notch in the belt, the door swings open, "Hell yeah!" Closing the door, Calhoun approaches the two, seeing Jason working Mutt's belt. Freezing up, Jason stands there a moment, not sure how to respond to what looks like a guy readying up another dude for sex. Thinking he was being snagged, in a way Jason didn't wish to be, starting up some sex with a cub, instead of a rippled-abs dude like himself, he's totally bonked when Calhoun strips his shirt to the front of his chest, saying, "Which end can I have?" "What the fuck?" Jason replies. "You're too slow!" Calhoun says, balling his tee shirt up, aiming for a bed, then pushing Jason out of the way. "Hot!" Mutt says excitedly as Calhoun commandeers the dismantling of his pants. "You like cubs?" In his Texan drawl, Calhoun replies, "What the fuck would I care, as long as a dude has a tight ass!" Again Mutt replies, "Hot!" Stepping over to them, Jason says, "By the way Calhoun, I already claimed his ass?" "Really?" Calhoun asks, as Mutt's pants fall to his ankles. "Wrestle-ya for it!" Did Jason have a choice? None whatsoever, Calhoun sweeping his leg, had Jason on his back in no time at all, flinging them into a full-fledged wrestling routine. Mutt didn't mind, watching 2 shirtless guys squirming on the floor. It also bought him time to strip down. Even though the wrestling match kept his mind preoccupied, Mutt grew partial to the maneuvering partners, Calhoun with pants, Jason, one leg still in his floppy briefs! "Okay, okay, pardner! I give!" Calhoun gave in, signaling with the customary tap of a hand to Jason's arm, in a strangle hold. Replying, Jason giggled out, "Learn some manners, Calhoun... Next time you ask before encroaching on another man's property!" Mutt wasn't about to make it public, but it seems Jason's words had more meaning than Calhoun's mind could gobble up, the Texan, sprawled out faced up, his hands to the carpet, glancing back and forth, settling on interrogating Jason, "You two have a thing going?" Setting the record straight, Mutt offers, "We're occasional fuck-buddies!" "How occasional?" Jason seemed like a third party, Mutt saying as he looked at Calhoun stroking his cock through his pants, "Maybe more occasional than I thought!" He ended his presumption with tongue hanging out of the side of his lips! It's watching the two, while kneeling, Jason thinks maybe he's off the hook, making peace, "Y'know," he begins slowly, "I really like staring a guy in the eyes, while he's slowly working me?" "Yee-hah!" Calhoun calls out, springing to his feet, knowing Jason has given up rights to Mutt's ass! It was no hidden secret, how Calhoun loved this idea, unzipping, his bulge popping right on out. "Oh my god! Like how big do you get?" Mutt stood there, dramatically conveying his feelings over the stiff wood. Even though he didn't, Jason exclaims, "Oh shit! I forgot! I got an appointment with Dean Martin!" Neither Mutt, nor Calhoun show emotion, the fact being administrative offices closed for official business on the weekends. It's only this particular weekend, during registration, a student could make a prearranged appointment. Being totally ignored, Calhoun picking up where Jason left off, it falls on deaf ears, "Well, I better be going." At first, yeah it would have been hot having experienced the ginger-cub's blowjob and maybe doing more, but how he figured it, it didn't take much for Mutt to suddenly lose interest, which was fine with him! Then, after dressing again, holding true to his word, having an appointment with the Dean, Jason sets out in no particular direction. However, a possibility of his own power of suggestion, he gravitates towards the administrative offices. % Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee `A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.