The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
JUNE Heats Up 02 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"Mike, you're a slob!"
They all laughed at Brendan's critical analysis of Mike's eating habits, pizza sauce all over his fingers, some caught in his stache.
"I know... I know," Mike replied, his answer partly muffled by ground up pizza between his molars.
Then to the crowd around the table, Brendan says, "I can't understand it. If he knows it, why doesn't he fix it!"
Kevin says, as he looks at Mike, "Maybe somebody needs to teach Mikey how!"
After wiping his paws and mouth with a napkin, Mike retorts, "You volunteering?"
"Sure, if it's sex I could teach you plenty, Mikey!"
"I thought we were talking pizza?" Jean-Claude interferes.
On Kevin's wavelength, Mike drops a hand to his lap and replies, "It would `have' to be the other way around!"
Catching on fast, Emre asks, "Would that not be police brutality?"
After laughing their asses off, Mike gets up and announces, "I've gotta get moving."
"Before you get towed," Kevin says.
"Towed?" Brendan asks.
"Never mind," Mike replies. "Private joke."
Even though Brendan was busting on him minutes ago, he cordially thanked Mike for introducing him to Jean-Claude. But when Mike says `you owe me', Brendan knowing what he means by it, he tells Mike, "Only joking about the sandwich Mike."
"Oh... sure. I figured so. I was just joking," even though Mike thought it to be a semi-serious possibility.
Coming to the door late, Jean-Claude bid him farewell. However, as Mike opened the door, the screen door flew open.
"Emre Temel. He lives here?" said the boisterous voice attached to the middle-eastern greeter.
From the other room, the boys must have heard. Emre comes running out, dividing a path between Jean-Claude and Brendan. In another language he greets the fellow who opened the door.
The unnamed as yet guest stuffs his duffle bag against Mike's front, "Here. You hold this, please."
Then Emre partially translates, "This my brother Gazi!"
Everyone had their attention on Gazi, but Mike tended to have a keener interest. Even before the duffle bag tapped him in the crotch, it was pulsing like he was having a heart attack. Instead, a `balls-attack'! Not much taller than his six feet, Mike was thoroughly checking out the slender figure. First to strike him was the thin trail of hair from under his lip, rounding the bottom of his chin. That's it. No other facial hair. His eyes dropping, two of Gazi's shirt buttons undone gave him a birds-eye view of the lightly haired chest.
"Mike?"
"What?" Mike asks, popping his head up, looking over the duffle bag.
"I am introduce you to my brother. This is Gazi."
"Hi," Mike shifted the camo bag around. "I'm Mike Knight."
"You are policeman," Gazi replies.
"Right. On the force here at Asbury Park."
Before Gazi could ask anything else, Jean-Claude was hauling Kevin off to the kitchen.
"Um, is there something I should know about Emre's brother?"
A bit squeamish, Kevin responds, "Uh yeah. Um, I guess you noticed he didn't come in alone? I mean like the duffle bag?"
Cutting through the bullshit, Jean-Claude asks, "How long does he intend on staying?"
"Oh! So you don't mind putting him up for awhile?"
"'Awhile', meaning how long?"
"Till Gazi can get a job. You know, find an apartment, get himself set up?" Kevin more hoped rather than offering a full explanation.
Cooling off some, Jean-Claude sulks on the matter, taking into consideration Gazi just happens to look very, very handsome, then makes up his mind, "I suppose we can't be kicking a guy out who is down on his luck, can we?"
"Like you did for me J-C?" Kevin replies sweetly, rubbing Jean-Claude's arm gently.
"Right."
When they returned to the foyer, Gazi was gone.
"Where'd Gazi go?" Jean-Claude asks.
Emre replies, "Mike, he offer to take Gazi to his place. He say he have lot of room."
Kevin and Jean-Claude exchange looks, Kevin saying, "I guess that settles that!"
%
"Where you park?" Gazi asks Mike.
"I'm only a few blocks down and to the right. Not a far walk," Mike replies.
In a demonstrative manner Gazi tells him, "You go get car and come pick me up."
Still with the duffle bag in tow, Mike replies, "I guess I could do that." He set the duffle bag down on the sidewalk.
"No. You take with you."
Mike stood there for a moment. In any other situation is was `him' giving the orders and others obeying. But seeing it won't hurt, the twenty-seven year old police officer hiked the bag up on his shoulder and took off down the sidewalk.
Little could Mike tell, was the way Gazi's eyes were following, taking in the sight of his ass tightly wrapped up in the uniform. Also, there was a reason why Gazi's hand was in his pocket! After Mike faded from sight Gazi looked around for something else to catch his eye. Keen as a hawk he was searching for something or 'someone'. Across the street he saw a truck pull up, a guy jump out the passenger side. Right away he started getting some good vibes, looking upon a young guy, shirtless. Looking both ways he darted between parked cars, first on his side of the street, then the other side. He walked up the sidewalk, all the time spying on two guys, one with a shirt, one without. The shirted one was right off x-ed from his mind, too old, but as he got closer he thought the shirtless one to be a year or two younger than his twenty-five years. When the older dude left the truck and disappeared inside the store, he made his move.
"Hey, you live on this road?"
"Um no. Helping my dad make deliveries. What's up?"
Gazi wanted to mention his cock, but still had to feel out the guy. "You know where the ocean is?"
Looking across the street, the fellow replies, "I think it's behind that building there. Maybe one or two blocks." When he looked back to Gazi, his eyes dropped vertically.
While the dude gave direction, paid attention in an easterly direction, Gazi very seductively unbuttoned two more buttons of his shirt. From the direction the dude cast his attention, Gazi had a hint. Acting fast he took the chance, "You want to see more?"
Right away the dude jumped on target, "Um, are you?"
Gazi cut to the chase, "I think you are cute and maybe I would like to see you? You give me number to call you."
With haste, the dude took out a crumbled up piece of paper, took the pen from behind his ear and scribbled. "My name is Rico Vasquez." And he finished writing the number down, handing the paper to Gazi. "Um, you think if it works out we could like meet more than once?"
Gazi's face lit up with a toothy smile as he replies, "Depend on two thing."
"What would they be?" Rico asks.
"If you good cocksucker and if your ass tight."
He assured Gazi he was an excellent cocksucker, able most times to do a guy twice, giving him twice the pleasure. Rico also told him his ass was real tight and would give his cock a nice massage. Then came the downer, "You have a place?"
Gazi wasn't folding his cards yet. If he played his hand right he possibly could be exhausting his balls tonight, so replies, "I call you."
"Cool!" Rico replies.
"How old you?" Gazi was curious.
"Twenty-two."
And then Rico clammed up, made like he was giving Gazi directions to the beach for the first time, when his father came out of the store. Back at his side of the street, Gazi watched Rico intently, seeing him getting all sweated up, his skin reflecting the sun off his sweaty bod as he carried boxes into the store. As the truck was peeling away from the curb, Rico looked over, across the street, till Gazi was out of view.
"Sorry I took so long," Mike said when Gazi got in the front seat of the patrol car. "I had to exercise my duties. Two boys got in a fight."
"How old?"
"How old?" Mike questioned Gazi's asking.
"I don't know. Maybe eighteen or nineteen. Why?"
"Maybe you should arrest them, no?"
Reading Gazi's mind, a picture of him was coming in loud and clear. Mike tells him, "Why? So we both can jump in the back," Mike thumbed the chainlink partition, "and fuck'em till the cows come home?"
"Cows?" Gazi asks.
"Never mind," Mike replies, turning and heading inland, the road towards home.
%
While finishing up the pizza, Jean-Claude nicely put it, "Next time, please prepare me for something like this?"
Emre and Kevin both hung their lowly heads, Kevin's bobbing up as he replies, "Sure, but Emre and me had no idea Gazi was hitting town so quick."
"Still, as soon as you know you should inform Jean-Claude," Brendan butts in.
Then the subject turned to Kevin and Emre when Jean-Claude announces, "Tomorrow I'm afraid it's back to work."
"Me too," Brendan seconds it.
"So," Jean-Claude asks, "what plans do you boys have for tomorrow?"
Kevin replies for the two, "Emre and I thought we would head out to the college."
Jean-Claude was pleased by Kevin's answer. Concerned, he tells them, "Well I don't mind lending you the money to start, but you both need to find jobs and promise you will work hard to complete your endeavors."
"We will!" Emre replies, even though he didn't quite get the whole gist of Jean-Claude's will.
"Sure. I was a good student anyway."
Not knowing much about Kevin and finding this out, Emre says, "You help me?"
"Sure."
Then the next twenty minutes was taken up with batting around choices for courses.
It was learned from Emre, "Even though I work, I like to draw."
Being an architect, Jean-Claude jumps the gun, "Buildings?"
"No," Emre replies, "I am an artist."
Thinking he was the same Jean-Claude figured Emre didn't mean it in the sense he did.
Kevin says, "Yeah, you should see some of his drawings."
"Like what do you draw Emre?" Bendan asks, sipping on his last quarter cup of coffee.
"The human or fruit in a bowl. Sometime I draw design of plants."
Funny thing, it set Jean-Claude back on the architect-theme, "Meaning you draw up floor plans of how plants are laid out in a garden?"
"I think I do what you mean."
"Hold it. I'll be right back."
Brendan, seeing Kevin left out asks, "And what subject were you gunning for Kevin?"
"Would you believe I'm nineteen and I don't rightly know what I want to do?"
"You're not the only on in the same boat Kevin. There's guys twice your age and they still haven't made up their mind. Usually the question I ask is `What kind of interest can you relate to as your life has progressed?'"
"Who have you asked that question to?"
Before Brendan could answer, Jean-Claude reenters the enclave, a large pad in hand, ruler and pencils. "Here... clear this stuff out of the way," he starts by placing his empty plate on top of Brendan's.
Kevin says, "Get used to waiting on J-C hand and foot, Bren!"
Brendan took it in stride, "I see what you mean!"
But Jean-Claude was too wrapped up in his idea to respond.
%
Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee
This story 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.....