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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JULY sizzles 03 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Wondering the action in progress in the back storeroom, Brendan and Jean-Claude were not too far off in their joking, Gazi causing one of the surfboards to almost take a dive sideways, yet it wasn't on account of his hard shaft causing it! "Yikes!" he yells out, able to catch the board by way of bending over, enveloping half of the board in one hand.
A smile coursed D'Artan's face, his thumbs latched in the waist of his board shorts, looking down upon Gazi as his head was about equidistant to his crotch. "All I have to do it unveil it and it's yours?" he talked of his crotch.
"If I drop this you will have a sore foot?" Gazi replies. And after watching D'Artan for a few seconds more, he steps out of character and asks, "Please help before arm falls off?"
Seeing this wasn't to go along as easy as he thought, D'Artan reaches down and gives hands, "How could I refuse such an order?"
They held each other's gaze, D'Artan handling the surfboard as if a piece of plywood. He took his attention away briefly from Gazi's hold on him to set it against the wall. "You're safe now," he replies, slapping hands together after making light work of the obstruction which kept the two at bay.
"You give me hand?" the twenty-five year old Turkish man asks, again putting aside his more macho-like attitude as his bod lays sideways to the floor.
"Yeah," D'Artan spoke it softly.
As it went though, Gazi uses his bod as leverage, making D'Artan's knees cave in, his knees coming to rest to Gazi's right side, his chest gently falling forwards.
His back to the floor, Gazi accepts D'Artan's soft approach. Their faces inches apart he says, "You suck me now?"
Thought to be a tender moment approaching, it was not exactly the phrase D'Artan was hoping for. In fact no words were really necessary, in his opinion. Everything seemed to be set up for the perfect, romantic moment. "I don't think so," came D'Artan's reproach as his hands elevated his bod, chest parting from chest.
"But... but?" Gazi questions D'Artan's motives.
"Look pal, I think you better do some soul searchin' before you decide about leading some guy on?" D'Artan answers, looking down to the floor as he brushes back his curly locks.
Gazi didn't get it. "You don't want to fuck around? I mean I could pay for board?" He extends the offer as he gets to his feet.
"Pay for a board?" D'Artan runs it by Gazi. "You sure had `me' fooled. Man, the way you were coming on to me..." and then seeing he was playing the fool, "never mind. Um, we better go see what the others are up to."
Standing there in the back room with a bunch of oblong objects, Gazi wondered how come this man' wasn't turned on to his charms. He thought he was being led to the back of the surfboard shop to empty his load. He thought about the part regarding fooling' D'Artan. If D'Artan was expecting more than a quickie `hit and run', then what was he looking for? Gazi thought he was putting a down payment on a surfboard. It's was always the way it went for him, the barter system. His hot ten-inch tube up a guy's ass would always get him what he wanted. As a preteen it got him the necessary things in life, food for him and his brother via the back room of the neighborhood bodega, doing the Latino clerk, some warm clothes from the security guard at the fancy department store or for himself, a passing grade in school whereas he would have flunked out. After high school graduation he didn't pass the requirements for college, let alone have the
loot to get him through, so he spent his time making money the only way he knew how. There were plenty of customers about, including some college dudes eager to hide their gay sexuality, married dudes for the same reason, some office workers on lunch who he happened to meet while taking a leak at the town park or a cop who had scared off the office workers only to have Gazi to himself. Now here was D'Artan. What was he looking for?
"What happened back here, Gazi?"
Turning towards the entrance way Gazi faced Brendan.
"Happened? Back here?" And then with innocence, Gazi replies, "Nothing."
Entering, standing with his back to the wall, Brendan folded his arms across his middle. Putting two and two together, Emre's views of how Gazi picks up loose change and what transpired after D'Artan had returned from the back room, in a relaxed state observes, "It's not the impression I got when D'Artan came out to help us, on his mind telling us that you' should think about getting a real' job?"
Even though medium-tanned skin, Brendan could detect the reddish glow. "I thought maybe he understand, but no."
"It seems to me D'Artan is not the one whom needs comprehending."
"What that mean?"
"I think you better start thinking about your future Gazi. Right now, the impression I am getting from what I've seen so far is you are headed on a one way, downhill, death spire."
"Huh?" Gazi still didn't get it.
"Trust me. In my line of work I've seen guys like you come and go; good looking, got the build above and below the belt, thinking you are easy prey to any bottom who's hard up for some cheap sex, but what do you think it's going to be like twenty or thirty years from now when you've lost all that boyhood charm? That is if you don't die from some disease you pick up along the way?"
"Die? I can't die. I have to take care of Emre and Tariq!"
"Tariq?" Brendan questioned. Emre's name fit a face he knew, but the name `Tariq' was new to the ball game.
"Ah yes. Emre? He not mention our little brother Tariq?"
"No he did not." And not that he wasn't already very fond of Emre, but he did have concern for Jean-Claude's feelings, "They say it comes in threes. Is this the third surprise your family has been keeping from us?"
"Things copasetic back here?" Jean-Claude popped his head in the door.
Brendan and Gazi stood there, staring.
"Yes? No?" Jean-Claude tried stimulating conversation. Without a reply he informs them, "Because the boys have found something suitable to ride the waves, but I thought you should take a look Bren?"
"Sure," Brendan acknowledged, but also left Gazi with, "I think you and Gazi have something to talk about. Did you know Gazi and Emre have a little brother named Tariq?"
"No I didn't," Jean-Claude replied.
And then passing by his lover, he directs also to Gazi, "and if it involves this guy I don't think it would be fair to keep him in the dark?"
"Me? But...." Jean-Claude tried getting something out of Brendan, instead was left facing Gazi.
Left alone for the second time, Gazi wondered why life could not be so simple. How come D'Artan could not just be formidable, lay down on him, start sucking him, accept cock up his ass for payment of the surfboard? Why didn't Emre ask Jean-Claude about Tariq? He wasn't getting anywhere, his anxiety building. Normally cool, calm and collective, he wondered why he was building up such a sweat. Rubbing his hand on the front of his shirt, he found it wet with perspiration around his peclines. Too, his armpits were showing signs of his nervousness.
He didn't want to believe it so, because Jean-Claude was liking Emre very much. He thought he and Kevin had hit it off and thought of their relationship as a match made in heaven', yet now he was having this unsettled feeling about the Temel family. He didn't want to name the trait, sneaky', but then again, in life some little things would have to be overlooked in order to make other things fall into place. Not wanting to believe it came from Emre, he centered his thoughts on, "So Gazi, what about your little brother Tariq?"
"First," Gazi became totally with comfort about telling, "our little brother Tariq is not so little..."
Jean-Claude wondered in which sense Gazi meant, since he sat on the corner of a table, one leg higher than the other, draping over the edge so the toe of his other leg could balance his bod on the floor. Same time, his crotch seemed to bulge with livelihood. To keep himself focused, he dismissed thoughts like these. "Age?"
"Tariq is seventeen. Almost eighteen. And he very much like Emre and me."
Wondering, Jean-Claude came up with, `sneaky'? Also, already having done some analysis he's found the personalities of Emre and Gazi like day and night, except for one thing they held common; their sexuality. He didn't want to name it, so instead put the pressure on Gazi, "In what respect?"
"Respect?"
Knowing Gazi didn't get it, most likely thinking along the lines of the Aretha Franklin song, he shuffled his thoughts and asks, "He's not Turkish?"
Gazi replied in an absurd manner, "You don't know Emre and me? We're gay?"
"Um sure. Of course I know. So.. Tariq is gay and now what else?" Jean-Claude pushed on.
Then he learns some things Emre did not explain, as Gazi tells, "You see, Tariq, he like Emre and me. He not like living with our mother. Our mother work all the time and when she not work she see this man. This man do not like children. Tariq say he don't want to get beat no more and..."
This made Jean-Claude straighten up out of his relaxed pose of leaning against the doorway. "Beat? You mean Tariq is a victim of abuse by this man?"
"That's what Tariq say. He say he need to get out. He want to run away."
He wasn't sure how to handle this. One very good reason for knowing Brendan came to mind, "Uh hold on there a minute Gazi. I think maybe Brendan could do some good in helping us here."
In Jean-Claude's absence, Gazi stood up and for once forgot about his `livelihood' and began looking at the assortment of boards. He planed his hand over one lying flat across a couple of sawhorses. It was rough and Gazi began to think this is one D'Artan was working on since it did not look to have the sheen the others had, nor felt soft like the lacquered ones.
"I made it myself."
"Where is Brendan?" Gazi asked.
Taking up Jean-Claude's pose in the doorway, D'Artan broke the same pose and walked over to where the slab of long, oval wood lay. "He's talking with Emre. There's a sudden interest in your little brother.
Gazi stood there, his back to the surfboard, leaning his butt on the edge, his hands curved around the edges and tucked underneath. "I think maybe J-C get Brendan to talk to me."
Unknown to Gazi, when D'Artan left in a huff, he had mellowed out quite some upon talking with Kevin, Emre and Jean-Claude. He found Emre to be polite, sincere and a very nice personality overall. He wondered what went wrong in Gazi's case! But then again, the more calm which settled over him, the less anger filled him and he was thinking of trying to see if he could make another go of it. He had often heard that liking certain things could be termed a fetish' and in a way it's what he thought of liking tan-skinned men. It was the first thing which struck him when Gazi walked in the door, not to mention they seemed the same height. There were other 6'2-inch tall guys on the Jersey shore, but none fit the other superlatives in his search. Of course one was lacking, but he was willing to work' on it. "No. They left to go back to J-C's place," D'Artan spoke it in a silky, soft tone as he inched his way up to Gazi.
"Maybe I should go too!"
One problem. D'Artan was blocking him.
Too, even though he said it, Gazi wasn't moving!
"Y'know if I had been a little more understanding before," he placed his hands on Gazi's thighs.
"Yes?" Gazi smiled, thinking things were on the mend. Right away his pulse-meter began to register.
"Maybe we could' have gotten to know each other a little better?" D'Artan's hands worked faster, sliding up and under Gazi's shirt. He felt it' and voiced his opinion, "I love the feel of a hairy Middle Eastern man."
"That cool," Gazi replies and jumps the gun, stripping his shirt off overhead. "You want, you can lick, no?" Gazi thought he said something wrong when D'Artan backs off, removing his hands from his bod.
Before losing interest, D'Artan strips off his surfing tank top.
It put Gazi in a perplexed manner. "What you do?"
"When they left I locked the front door," D'Artan replies as he fingers the lining of his Quiksilver shorts.
Gazi sits there on the surfboard, his eyes on D'Artan's lower half, mouth open a little bit and tongue in cheek.
After he drops the dried out suit, kicks it up and catches it in hand, D'Artan tosses if to the side, commenting to himself, "Two points", as the shorts hang perfectly over a rudder on an upended surfboard. "Now you?"
And as he misreads D'Artan's intentions, Gazi kicks off the sandals Mike Knight `lent' him and begins to disrobe. "I know you want me!"
"You don't know' how much I want' you Gazi!"
Gazi thinks he's got it made when D'Artan bowls him over, hands going towards his pants, the belt unbuckled, stripped from the loops, busy hands making light work of the zipper. He can feel it, as his crotch is unveiled, the giant bulge within being set free, he is already moaning in expectation of having a warm mouth encompassing his tall shaft. He allows D'Artan to re-situate him, moving him onto the board like surfing on his back.
"Hold on. I'm ready to take you for the ride of your life Gazi!"
"Wait! What you do?" Gazi is taken aback as D'Artan scoots up the board, his knees barely on the edge, their cocks dancing together.
With Gazi's wrists in his hands, D'Artan pins them to the top of the board. "First things first!"
And before Gazi can say more, D'Artan has sealed his lips. He still feels he has the upper hand as D'Artan's tongue travels down his stubbled chin.
"What a dish you are!" D'Artan says before lapping at the almost black-haired chest rug.
"Oooooh... oooooh... ooooh... yeah..." Gazi illicits in pulsing tones, "you make Gazi feel good!"
Licking over the dark brown nips, D'Artan found his way down the hairy path dividing Gazi's abs. Within the time span of only a few minutes, he's contemplating every move, thinking about any moment of taking Gazi. Then, down to the wire, to the place where hair separates navel and nuts, he stops and like he's surfing out on the waves, hops off the board. "I can't do it!"
"Can't not do what?" Gazi says after being more than startled. "You go good. You make me stay hard. See?" he holds his ten inches in his hand, it standing upright in the held hand.
"No, no. You don't understand," D'Artan brushes Gazi's thinking away with the wave of his hand.
Lying there, his elbows propping him up, Gazi follows D'Artan's pacing.
"No," D'Artan replies, "you don't understand," he reiterates, "this wasn't meant to be."
However, unknown to D'Artan, there has been one particular incident in Gazi's life, a time four years ago, when Gazi was twenty-one, when he did something very crazy, something which went against his will, giving up his cherry so he could provide a meal for Emre and their brother Tariq. It was a matter of money - a lot of money. But here, no money was being offered and the stakes were not for his family's welfare. He might not know much about relationships, but he sensed it enough, D'Artan being torn between something and something else. He wasn't great with words either. "You tell me what you want."
"No," D'Artan spoke as he faced the cabinet which held his surfboard grooming supplies, "never mind. I.. I guess I had things all figured wrong." Then his head whipped around when he felt a pair of hands on his torso.
"A man... he teach me one time... he say it good to be tender..." And tender Gazi was being. It wasn't the rough or hurried sex he was used to. Somewhere in between there came this man who wanted something gentle, slow, something more than the quick suck and fuck for a hundred bucks. Sure, after several meetings with his trick, Gazi found out how it could be by taking things slow. And like that time when he was twenty-one, turning twenty-two, he recalled the moves put on him.
And so tender were Gazi's hands on D'Artan's waist, he was able to turn his bod and face Gazi. "This is the way I wanted it, but..." he was going to say the opposite meaning of what was happening now. Wanting Gazi so bad, D'Artan was ready to sacrifice the slow love-making, but now found it unnecessary to even say or think the opposite. D'Artan did wonder for a second whom this man was who was able to tame Gazi's emotions, but then achieving the same, it didn't matter.
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After Emre tells all to Brendan, Brendan thought it a good idea to call Mike Knight. After all, Brendan was a state trooper and thought perhaps the local police might be better at handling this sensitive matter. Getting off the phone, Brendan tells all, "Mike says to leave it to him, but he would like me to bring Emre down to police headquarters."
Then Kevin brings up something of concern, "Why should Emre bear all the weight of this on his shoulders when Gazi is the oldest?"
"Because you see..." Emre is reluctant.
Next it was Jean-Claude's turn to be `sneaky', but not in the manner in which he previous was thinking. Rather a hunch, he poses to Emre, "Something is still not right here and I'm very much having my doubts about Emre telling the truth?"
Kevin was right on Jean-Claude for such a remark, "You have no fuckin' idea how hard it's been on Emre and his brothers. How can you..."
Emre's arm there, to keep Kevin from talking to Jean-Claude `in his face', gave suggestion Jean-Claude might be right. "You hold on a moment, Kevin?"
Looking down upon himself, Emre's hairy arm stretched across his middle, Kevin asks his lover, "It's true? You.. you're holding back?" And thinking they've been over every inch of Emre's former life in their own private time, "You... You've held back on me even?"
His look told all.
"But like you an me.. we.. we trust each other.. you..." and then in a whiny tone Kevin says, "Oh man..."
"I am sorry Kevin."
And for the moment, Jean-Claude and Brendan let the two alone.
Brendan says to Jean-Claude, "I hope they can find reason to reconcile."
"It's not like Emre's been seeing some other guy while making love to Kevin?"
While the two distraught lovers tried working out their differences in the living room, Brendan and Jean-Claude moved into the kitchen.
Brendan went to the fridge for something to munch on, opened it and then said, "I'm not hungry," and closed the door.
"I wonder what the big to do is about now?"
"Who knows?" Brendan says, pulling out the chair across from Jean-Claude and taking a seat.
"I can't understand how everything so right can suddenly turn upside down?"
Then out of the blue, Brendan asks, "Do you think you can take on a third boarder?"
Only one name came to mind, Jean-Claude uttering, "Tariq? You think this is what it will come to, Bren?"
"Look at the facts. Legally Tariq is underage. If it comes to where Gazi is telling the truth...."
"Is there doubt where you don't believe him?"
Brendan sits back, places his hands behind his head and stretches. "Really I think Gazi is a good person. He cares about his brothers or else why would he have started hustling for a buck?"
"True, other than sexual gratification for himself?" Jean-Claude fires back.
"I don't think this is the case. Look at him and D'Artan?"
"I suppose D'Artan saw something in Gazi or else he would not have gone back for him."
Brendan smiles at this.
"What?" Jean-Claude questions the gesture.
"I'm thinking of my own scenario."
"Which one?" Jean-Claude doesn't get the connection.
In a relaxed, wondering manner, Brendan tells, "Oh, that day on the turnpike, spotting some handsome lug in the car, staring straight at me.. damned if I knew what struck me enough to memorize the license plate and want to brave getting into a heap of trouble to pursue finding out who was in the back seat!"
Playing, Jean-Claude says, "Oh, so it was Kevin you were really after?"
"Not meaning to brag, but I kind of have that effect on young guys... the uniform, good looks, suave manner I conduct myself..."
"Oh really? The way you were handling those hoodlums one would venture to guess?"
Rather than pursue anymore detail, Brendan places his arms at his sides, hands folded on the table in front of him. "Regardless, what about Tariq?"
"What do you think I should do?"
His head still swimming in thoughts of before he tracked down Jean-Claude, Brendan says, "This seems to be all one big mess, but as I see it, Gazi is going to want to spend a lot of time with D'Artan and I'm sure Emre does not want to see Tariq put in a foster home. If another suitable place is not found for Tariq, then fostercare is the only alternative as I see it."
"Then again," Jean-Claude voices opinion, "I'm not so sure I'm ready for `daddy-hood'!"
"It's not like you're going to be changing diapers, Jean-Claude!"
"Still, I'm not sure if I'm fit as a parent for a teenager."
Half-joking, Brendan says, "Why? You were one once, unless you fucked that up, which I highly think not?"
"Hmm.... actually this couldn't have come at a more perfect timing."
"Why do you say that?"
"Tell me Brendan, how fast were you planning on moving in?"
"Oh, I figured I wait til I've had one more go at `between the sheets', then make up my mind!"
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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.....