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.
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JUNE Heats Up 03 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Nice," Jean-Claude said of Emre's drawing, sipping a cup of coffee while occasionally gazing over the Turkish youth's shoulder. "Nice," he added further comment when Emre drew another few lines, his free hand adding a pat-to-shoulder, a signal to emit feelings Emre was pouring out favorable talent onto the graphed paper.
With Jean-Claude's ruler in Emre's hand, moving about the oversized paper, his pencil moving quickly, Emre soon announces, "It is rough. What you think?" When Jean-Claude leaned in, taking a close up view, Emre got a closer view of Jean-Claude, the side of his face, morning stubble formed over the side of his chin, a silhouette of tiny hair follicles rounding, in his opinion, the most perfect chin. "I like you with beard."
It was obvious to Jean-Claude, as he was checking out the detail of Emre's plantscape drawing, Emre wasn't on the same page! "Uh thanks there Emre, but I haven't shaved yet."
"And you have that much beard?"
Jean-Claude smiled, mostly out of the thought of him being checked out and the follow up, the innocent manner in which Emre presented himself. Instead of getting into it he renders, "Now over here. It looks like a dead end," he points to the plan.
"Oh yes. I figure maybe small pool with fountain. Maybe marble figure to the wall? Maybe ivy grow up wall?"
"Yes. A dark green vine against white marble. I think it would work."
While Jean-Claude and Emre talked shop' in the kitchen, Brendan and Kevin were going to watch the game' on Tv, but it was raining in Chicago.
"Ever play chess?" Brendan asks.
"Checkers, sure, but no. Never chess."
And they never did get to play chess. First thing to cross his mind when he was setting up the board, Brendan asks Kevin, "So, Jean-Claude tells me you two met at the soup kitchen?"
"Right," Kevin replies.
"And where were you before you landed there?" Brendan asks, setting the bishops in place.
Slouching in the easy chair, Kevin's hands are stressed behind his head, elbows outwards so his fuzzy pits jut out from the sleeves of the tank top. Looking over Brendan's head, as if into another dimension, he answers, "It's such a long story. Seems like it happened like centuries ago."
"Want to talk about it?"
"If I wanted to, don't you think I'd be talking to a shrink?"
Brendan saw he picked the wrong choice of words, or perhaps Kevin was so touchy on the subject he stood to keep it to himself. "Um, sorry I asked. So, you want to get on with the game?"
Seeing he was short with Brendan, unparked his arms, leans forwards and says, "No... I'm sorry Brendan. It's just that... well I'm kind of like the happiest I've been in my whole life and I'm trying to forget the past."
"No problem Kevin. I can see you're able to deal with it, put it behind you and move on. And by the way, being an officer of the law I wanted to commend you on standing up for those perpetrators in the subway. What you did for Emre is an admirable thing."
Loosening up, Kevin states, "Yeah. Funny thing is I not only did it because I thought the guys doing it, but..." and he left a smile on his face.
Brendan helps out, "For `personal' reasons I take it?"
The present began to draw on Kevin's past, venting, "Y'know I couldn't believe I was defending a total stranger when like years ago I had to be careful even to say the right thing to a person. You don't know what it's like growing up in a small town where everybody knows everybody and along with that everybody knows everybody else's business. That is unless you keep your thoughts to yourself." Then, with the animosity building, Kevin stands, paces away from Brendan saying, "I can't believe I trusted Weldon with my secret and then the fuckin' bastard started spreading it around." Then, turning abruptly back to Brendan, Kevin balls up his right fist and punches the palm of his left hand, saying, "Y'know I wanted to hurt him bad?"
Knowing Kevin for only a short time, Brendan could have figured he was capable of it and maybe at the time, could rightly have done so. However he's known enough of Kevin to almost swear the nineteen year old could never pull off anything as dastardly. Relaxing on the sofa, he asks, "And did you ever get the chance?"
Resigning to lowering his butt back into the chair, Kevin lets out a long sigh, "No. In fact I never saw Weldon again. I heard his old man found out he was gay, shipped him off to boarding school. I mean think of it Brendan... how else would Weldon even get the notion I was gay? Takes one to know one if you know what I mean?"
"Apparently," Brendan said of the situation. "So this Weldon goes off to boarding school and leaves you with taking the scorn of the community."
"You got that right."
"And there weren't any other gays you could confide in?"
"None. At least if there were they were keeping it tight-lipped."
"And how did you happen to come across this Weldon fellow?"
By this time Jean-Claude and Emre were filtering into the living room, walking in on their conversation.
Kevin brought them up to date, "Brendan and me are talking about people finding out about me being gay." And then like he wasn't interrupted in thought, "I found out about Weldon... well I guess it went like we found out about each other in the jon in the high school gym. I was in the stall next to him. I'm not sure if it was him checking out my cock first or me checking out his, but it developed into a mutual kind of thing."
"Was he big?" Jean-Claude asks.
Giving Jean-Claude a `look', Brendan says, "Jean-Claude honey, why don't you come here and park your ass next to me?"
Kevin smirks, saying, "Yeah. Just in case Brendan has to gag you!"
Emre takes up the arm of Kevin's chair.
"Sorry," Jean-Claude surrenders his wise ass comments and begs for apology.
"This is good story. Kevin tell me it. You listen. It is sad and happy."
Kevin confesses, "Yeah, sad right up to where I met J-C. Well almost all sad."
Brendan was probably the only one who didn't know about the older guy in Kevin's life, the only citizen of the biased town he lived in, who provided a sanctuary for Kevin when things got too bent out of shape.
"And still, even though I had a neutral place to go to, I had to face everyday life doing the norm, like going to school and returning `home'."
News to Jean-Claude, Brendan wraps up their talk session with, "Well Kevin I think you've helped me make up my mind about something."
"What's that?" Jean-Claude asks.
"I had an offer about two months ago to assist the coordinator of the Sexual Assault Crisis Intervention for gay teen boys and have felt unsure of whether it's for me, but hearing about Kevin's dilemma, well I think maybe I should give it a try."
Putting aside his humor, a melancholy feeling comes over Jean-Claude. Placing his arm over Brendan's shoulders, he says, "I think it would be a wonderful gesture, hon."
"Hun?" Emre asks as Kevin and he stare at each other. The only `hun' he knew of was Attila-the-Hun, drawn out of his history class at school.
"I think they're getting like serious," Kevin replies.
"Me too?" Emre says, his hand sliding along the back of Kevin's shirt. And unlike the two men, the two extract a sweet kiss from each other.
"Yeah, but wait till you hear what it involves, Jean-Claude." Brendan replies.
They took it in the kitchen, realizing Emre and Kevin were settling into something more than informative conversation.
With the sofa bare, Kevin leads Emre over to the soft cushions, gesturing for him to lie down. Kevin kneels, his right knee to Emre's left thigh, the other squashed in between the back of the sofa and his right thigh. Standing up tall on his knees, Kevin takes the tails of his tank top and pulls it off overhead, shaking out his locks.
"You are beautiful," Emre says of Kevin's bod, the light covering of reddish-blond hair over his pecs, thin, defined trail running down between his teen abs.
"Oh? And what do you find `so' beautiful?" Kevin replies, placing his arms behind his head, sitting up tall, drawing in his abs and flaunting his nicely sculptured bod from neck to navel.
"All of it," Emre replies, reaching up with both hands and locking on to Kevin's pecs, rubbing them from side to side and back.
"Ooooooooooh that feels so, so nice!"
"You like?" Emre asks the understatement.
"I'm yours babe. There's nothing you could do to me which I would not object tp!"
And from having his eyes closed, seemingly looking up to the ceiling, Kevin lowers his head, opens his lids and looks down at first feeling Emre's hands busy with his belt.
"Oh yeah. Go for it babe!"
And after Emre opens up Kevin's jeans, draws the flaps back, revealing the bulge in his briefs, he asks, "You take them off for me?"
Standing, Kevin finished up what Emre started, each step taking a leg of pants off. Soon Kevin stood there barefooted.
"You even `more' beautiful now!"
"Oh really?" And relaxing his position to kneel again before Emre, Kevin says, "Time to make `you' beautiful!"
As with Kevin, Emre's chest boasted of a carpet of fur, only of dark brown hair and more furrier than his own. Unlike the thin trail from midchest to navel, Emre's trail was wider, tight in the middle, but when it reached his navel, it swirled around in a wide-stretched path. Whereas Emre pawed his way around Kevin's bod, Kevin used a different method to stimulate Emre's chest and stomach on his way to his pubes.
"Mmmmmmmmm-oooooooooh that is so nice!" Emre exclaimed, arching his back when Kevin's tongue licking southward from midchest, then lickety-split back up.
Fanning out to the west, Kevin licked around Emre's dark nip, the only visible skin on the twenty year olds chest, along with the other nip, which was soon attacked. After his tongue wet down Emre's chest-to-stomach trail, darted in and out of his navel, Kevin comments, "You taste so sweet!" He didn't think he would get into it, but Kevin lingered at Emre's bellyhole, tongue-fucking the deep recess, softly biting along the edge of the pronounced innie. After a thorough tonguing, he began to unwind the stimulation, his hands hinting of the place he would be tantalizing next, unbuckling Emre's belt buckle.
"No! Do me more here?" Emre nicely demands, adding a smile as his index finger presses his skin in at the navel. "I like what you do to me there."
Kevin still attacked Emre's lower torso, while filling the request, his tongue darting in and out of the tasty, pungent bellyhole.
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It wasn't much different in the kitchen. Sure, Brendan got started on topic of the criteria for the Sexual Assault Crisis Intervention bureau, but Jean-Claude slowly began interjecting other thoughts, in the form of hands on activity and before either of them realized it, Brendan had Jean-Claude stripped, his pants at his ankles, his back leaning on the kitchen table and leaned over, feasting on Jean-Claude's hot stalk.
"I think I need more stimulation!"
Much like a signal, Brendan surrendered to Jean-Claude's thoughts more than once throughout the late evening-early morning hours. A miniscule difference in doing it in bed, as opposed to the kitchen table-sex, Brendan had to pop off Jean-Claude's meat. "You drive a hard' bargain, J-C." Strange thing, when casually talking, it was Jean-Claude', but during mansex, whereas things could progress rather quickly, the short form name-calling worked for the best.
"You have such a way with words, hon."
But the sweet, wordy expression didn't slow Brendan down, him sprinting with a knee onto the side of the table, kneecap butting up against the top of J-C's shoulders, Brendan hastily leaning his chest down, his pecs a quarter inch from J-C's abs region, his neck stretched out to accept the tall shaft.
"Ooooooooooooooooooooh!" Brendan replies to J-C's ministrations, his arms around Brendan's torso, fingertips digging into the ass crevice, seemingly the objective to separate Brendan's mounds, but with his sex-mate's determination to pull the already hard, leaking cock into his mouth.
Part of the sexual frenzy, J-C is feeling highly elated at both the taste and the sounds of Brendan's response.
Brendan on the other hand, is feeling any less joy, perhaps more as he releases the big all-day-sucker, arching his back, which makes J-C's approach useless because Brendan's position is driving his tool downwards.
And because the opportunity presents itself, J-C does the natural thing, licks his finger than goes exploring in the hairy cave right in front of his face.
"Ooooh-fuck-yeah-man!" Brendan calls out.
In response J-C says, "Bet you wish it was something more than my finger in there?"
Even with J-C's tongue licking at the head of his cock, a finger in up to his hand just about, is not satisfying enough, when in his mind he knows where J-C is going with this.
"I figured so!" J-C exclaims when Brendan dismounts him and the table.
So into it, Brendan even takes J-C's hands, helps him to sit up and launch himself off the table top. Right away Brendan parks his frontal region there, his cock and balls hanging off the edge.
"How accommodating!" J-C explains, his hands going into de-'tail'. Still with all of his facilities engaged...
Unlike Brendan who was so out of it, all he wanted was to pull on the opposite end of the table with his hands, so his cock and balls tugged tightly against the other edge...
J-C, ahead of himself, eyed up the soft butter on the counter, his hand buttering up his hard shaft more lucratively than a knife. And after his hands pulled apart Brendan's ass mounds, it left his other hand to force his hard, buttered up shaft forwards.
In, to the hilt, the two had quite a stir when they heard Kevin say, "Fuck yeah!" The two were tidying themselves up, buckling belts, the tank top hanging over Kevin's shoulder as they came upon the pair.
"What tha?" Jean-Claude says, his head turning around on his neck-hinges, his cock slowly backing out.
"Who fuckin' cares!" came Brendan's response along with his hands being released from the edge of the table, reaching behind him as his cock and balls backed off from the table-lean, he hands adding leverage to keeping the buttered up cock lodged in him.
"Maybe J-C needs help!" Emre was bold to say, slapping him lightly on the ass.
On the other hand, Kevin sided with Brendan, "Oh he's going to need more than that Emre!" And yelling, "I'm here for ya Bren!" he butted his front up to J-C's back, driving him deep within!
"Kevin you-u-u-u little....."
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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.....