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 safetymatters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
PaTRick'S LuCKy CHarM 13 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"What's up Uncle Pat?"
Whereas Uncle Pat stood at the stove, stirring up some spaghetti sauce, Patrick waltzed in, a hyperactive mood unfolding about him.
"Oh how you doing there Patrick?"
He was about to tread on soft ground, telling him the episode at Dom's café, but since he came out of it without a scratch, he ditched the thought. "First day was awesome! I did tell you I got a promotion?"
Between Uncle Pat working, running a household and trying to keep a boyfriend incognito, it must've slipped his mind Patrick was going off for his first day of summer work, until it was too late. "I don't think you mentioned it."
"I got a promotion!"
The two laughed it off, Uncle Pat giving his nephew a congratulatory hug. "I hope you got a raise along with it?"
"More than what Jason is making shoveling cow shit!"
"Is that so?" And then taking Patrick under his wing, he ushers him into the kitchen. "Supper is almost ready, if you want to wash up?"
Even though he had doused himself in the pool, his after-pool activity had reactivated his sweat glands, but there was something else for Patrick to get off his chest and it was drawing to an ultimatum, since he had invited Ke`ala to drop over if he wanted to. "Uncle Pat, I've been meaning to tell you something."
"And I've been meaning to tell 'you' something."
Patrick smiled, knowing, "Jason told me about meeting some guy who thought he was me."
Uncle Pat figured Jason had sorted out his thoughts and knew the odds about him being straight. At the same time, he knew as much, saving Patrick a nervous explanation, "And I have a sneaky suspicion about Jason spending so many nights here?"
"I kind of had a feeling you knew Uncle Pat, but I had no idea about you."
"None?"
"Well Jason sometimes said it, but I always told him he was wrong."
"Just to set the record straight, I am, but right now the guy I had last night, whom I thought would develop into something more, proved to be a wild goose chase."
"Oh I'm sorry," Patrick said as he faced his uncle.
"It's okay. Really. There's plenty of other fish in the sea!"
As he left to wash up, he sensed Uncle Pat was saddened. Yet, there wasn't much he could do other than maybe have somebody over to cheer him up? He got on the phone right away, dialing the main desk at the Granite Lake Country Club.
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"I think I should be going, Salv. My mom's going to be wondering why I'm not home for dinner," Jason said as he started for the door.
"Wait!" Salv says, throwing his back against the door. "They must've run into traffic. Give me five more minutes. I swear it Jason, it'll be so-o-o-o worth your wait!"
In two days, Jason's horizons have expanded ten-fold. From his working relationship with his boss and his association with Salv, and Salv's `friends', he's received quite a sexual education. Of course a lot of it he knew in theory, but now a lot of it has been put into practice by either himself or Salv and the guests who have visited his bungalow.
"Five minutes," Jason was giving the three college dudes.
"Trust me, Jase. You wouldn't regret it." And meant to build anticipation and buy him some time, "You will not believe the pleasuring you're gonna get!"
By all means, Jason was getting fidgety, but at the same time his cock was ruling his heart and at this point he didn't care if he missed his mother's home cooking!
Then the knock came, Salv smiling, promising, "Get ready for the most fuckin' hot time of your life, Jase!"
Entering, the first was a mideastern man, nice tan, one to envy for a Westerner. Following, two guys, like Salv said, college dudes, in their twenties.
"Hey Mohamed, how you doing? This here is Jase."
"Jase?" Mohamed asked before greeting.
There was a reason, one which Salv quickly corrects, "I mean `Master Jase'."
Jason mouthed the calling to Salv, `Master?'
Already Mohamed had turned to the other two, so Salv left Jason with, "Play along. I swear, it's gonna be so much fuckin' fun for you!"
Wise to Salv, Jason knew he wasn't going to be the only getting something out of this!
"Strip!" called their attention to the trio near the door.
Fully clothed, waiting for Salv's guests' to arrive, Jason stood there and watched as the two college jocks began stripping down. "What the fuck?" Jason suddenly gasped, upon seeing under the shirts, the two wearing doggie' collars.
When Mohamed looked over at them, Salv explains, "Um, Master Jason here," he puts his arm around Jason's shoulders, "is new to the kingdom, Mohamed."
From the stern look a smile came to the mideastern dude's face. "You do as Mohamed say and you will learn. I be your mentor."
Getting a poke in the back, Jason tried to think of the right response, saying, "That's cool." Total surprise came when one of the collared dudes knelt, the other one getting a sucker punch in the stomach.
"Ugggggh!" he belched, holding his gut and doubling over.
Turning to Jason, Mohamed tells him, "Boy-Travis. He will learn his place." Then, addressing the other one, "And this is Boy-David. He is yours. If he fails you, you punish him."
`Punish him?' Jason thought to himself. How could he possibly lay a finger on this adorable blond, muscled Adonis?
"I suppose we get to break the other one in?" Salv asks Mohamed.
Instead of answering Salv, which was a self-explanatory statement, said by Salv to instill fear, Mohamed instead turns to Jason and says, "If you like, Master Jason, you keep him. I have others willing to serve."
"I've got a question," Jason asks. At first his attention was directed to Mohamed, but then a diversion was created when Boy-David began attacking Jason's wardrobe.
"Boy-David is preparing you," Mohamed was swift to clue Jason in.
"Cool!" Jason then said, feeling hands at his belt.
Instead of just unbuckling it, Boy-David pulled it from the loops. He held it out horizontally in a straight line. Jason looked at him holding it. Mohamed instantly knew Jason to be a novice.
"You take it," Mohamed took it from Boy-David's hands.
Jason took it, but felt silly because he wasn't getting the gist of why.
Salv intervenes, "What Master Mohamed is trying to say is, if you have to discipline Boy-David, use the belt."
"Use the belt? Like you mean hit him?"
Mohamed informs Jason, "It is expected of a slave to receive due justice."
Joking, Jason says, "Doesn't he get a trial by jury first?"
Paying no mind, not even laughing and with all sincerety, Mohamed takes the belt from Jason. He tells, "Boy-David, assume the position!"
"Yes Master Mohamed," Boy-David replies.
When the three entered they were in street clothes. Now Mohamed donned a leathery looking outfit, tight leather pants, leather straps criss-crossing his hairy chest and stomach and as for the boys, they wore nothing but the leather collars around their necks and leather cuffs around their wrists, a metal ring attached to each.
"If you are displeased in any way it is your responsibility to communicate to the slave."
His palms were sweaty and he rubbed them together as Jason thought, `Is this dude for real? Is he going to do what I think he's gonna do? And David's going to let him?'
Sure enough, as Jason summised, while Boy-David stood there, feet shoulder's-width apart, hands behind his head, elbows to the ceiling, his bod outlining a perfect swimmer's build, he watched as Mohamed tore into his back with his own leather belt.
"Oh fuckin' shit!" Jason called out. Much to his amazement, Boy-David didn't! He walked up to him, looking closely at the red welt. "Fuck that's gotta hurt!"
Boy-David stood there in the same position, looking straight ahead. There were emotions tearing at Jason. For one thing, `David' hadn't done anything wrong and Mohamed had whipped him across the upper back for no reason at all, except to prove a point. Jason wasn't stupid though and kept his thoughts to himself. He didn't care if he made himself sound stupid, but he didn't want to embarrass Salv.
"You can put your arms down now," Jason said, rather softly, touching one of Boy-David's worked out biceps.
"Thank you Master Jason," Boy-David responded.
"And you don't have to call me Master Jason. Jason will do fine." However, Jason followed to where Boy-David's eyes shot, across the room to where Mohamed and Salv were having fun' with Boy-Travis. He kind of got the feeling it would not be good, so amended his order', "Okay, call me Master Jason... whatever."
Suddenly, his attention was drawn back across the room to where Boy-Travis was kneeling on the floor. "That's fuckin' wrong!" Jason said to himself, but he knew David was listening. He walked over there and voiced his opinion by sending Mohamed off balance, prying loose his foot from crushing Travis' balls.
"No-o-o-o Jason!" Salv tried stopping him.
"What the fuck is this Salv?" Jason stood his ground.
In seconds Mohamed was face to face with Jason, looking into his eyes with a vengeance. Slipping between them, Salve formed a `T' with his hands, repeating over and over. "Time out guys... time out... time out..." and then trying to explain it, "Mohamed, he doesn't understand."
"What don't I understand?" Jason differed. "You've got your boot on some guys nuts and grinding them into the floor. It's just not cool!"
At first Salv's chest pressed up against Mohamed, his back against Jason's chest. He turned to Jason, separating the two. "Uh, Jason, we've gotta talk."
The whole time Salv and Jason chatted, the trio who entered fifteen minutes prior faced them, like an audience at a concert.
"Okay, we're all set Mohamed. You see, Jason here didn't understand Travis.. I mean Boy-Travis was doing this consentially and... well, if it's all the same to you, Jason wants to hear it from Travis... I mean Boy-Travis."
Mohamed and Jason locked eyes, but Mohamed broke off the fixation and motioned towards Boy-Travis, "What about it boy?"
Boy-Travis spoke from where he knelt on the wooden floor, "It's okay if Master Mohamed steps on my balls or does anything to my balls. I know it's tough for some to think about this, but ball torture turns me on, as do other things, like getting punched in the gut. I work out at the gym and I like having my abs tested."
Salv helps out, "And that's how Boy-Travis is punished, by getting gut-punched. It's like Boy-David. He is punished by whipping on the back."
Jason's head turned around on his neck to face Boy-David, "You `like' getting whipped on the back with a belt?"
"Yeah, it's a real rush," he replied.
"Did I give you permission to speak boy?" Mohamed directs to Boy-David.
"No, sir," he replied to the tall Arabic man.
Jason has the audacity to say, "He's not yours. Remember, you gave him to me?"
Mohamed first looks at Jason, then over his shoulder to Salv.
Salv shrugs both shoulders and says, "You did say something to that effect, Mohamed."
"Hmm," is all Mohamed said, pondering his own words.
Maybe he was waiting for Jason to back down, but Jason had more moxie than most guys and instead passes right by him. He ignored him completely and gave Boy-David his undivided attention, "C'mon, get dressed. We're leaving."
"Hold it right there!" Mohamed commanded.
Ready for a fight, Jason would not spare the knowledge of knowing karate, something he learned when he was twelve. Maybe he only studied for a year, but he knew enough to go for the crotch first and with `Frankenstein' here he wouldn't hesitate to raise a foot! But he was totally surprised when Mohamed walked over to Boy-David, reached up around his neck and released the leather collar. "You are free."
"Thank you sir," David replied. And as Mohamed walked back to where Salv and his other boy were, David again said, "Thanks for everything."
He didn't understand alright, why David was thanking him for being mistreated. As they left Salv's bungalow, Jason had a million questions on his mind.
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There was a knock at the front door and in anticipation Uncle Pat kept on Patrick's heels, wanting a glimpse of his Hawaiian friend.
Both were disappointed, but Patrick was filled with anxiety, finding Austin Barredo at the door instead. "Austin?" Patrick greeted him.
"Yes, I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but I needed to have this police report filled in for tomorrow morning and..."
"You in some kind of trouble, Patrick?" his Uncle Pat asks.
Shifting hands, a thin manilla envelope from right to left hand, he offers up his free hand. "You must be Patrick McGilly. I'm Officer Barredo." And as they shake hands, Austin tells, "This should take no more than a few minutes. May I continue?"
Whereas Uncle Pat felt alarm, his nerves calmed a little by the wide smile on the police officer's face. "Very well," he replied, opening the screen door much like a cop would open a cell door to allow a prisoner to go free.
Knowing things could get hairy here, Patrick says, "I didn't tell Uncle Pat what happened today."
Before Austin could respond, Uncle Pat jumps the gun, "Somebody want to tell me what this is all about?"
On pins and needles, Patrick sat there at the diningroom table while Austin got to the point, but Patrick was grateful he left out some of the nitty gritty details, like cuffs fastened to his wrists and being strung up like a slab of beef. More or less what the report entailed was, as Austin utilized the word, kidnapping' and alluded to held against his will'.
"Why didn't you tell me Patrick?"
His head hanging lowly, Patrick replies, "I'm sorry Uncle Pat. I wanted to, but... It didn't seem important.."
"Important? Since when does anything which concerns the welfare of my only sister's lone son be unimportant?"
"I know Uncle Pat," Patrick weighed the issue against the love and care his Uncle Pat has provided over the years. "But nothing really happened to me and... I didn't want you to panic. You've taken good care of me and I didn't want you to get upset. I suppose I made the wrong choice and I'm truly sorry Uncle Pat."
Silence would have continued to hang in the air, but a rap came at the front door.
"It's probably your friend," Uncle Pat spoke up. "You better not leave him hanging."
Patrick excused himself, went to the door and let Ke'ala in. As they walked to the diningroom, Patrick refreshed Ke'ala's mind, telling him about not telling his uncle. As they proceed into the diningroom, Uncle Pat feels like a third party to a conspiracy, Officer Barredo rising to greet Patrick's friend.
However, it was an education for Uncle Pat, one he liked as excitement welled up inside him, seeing the police officer give this Ke'ala a hug, of course after Patrick had done so. He already was suspect to Patrick and his friend having some sort gay friendship in the upstart, but when Austin hugged' instead of handshook', it gave him inclination of some more information regarding Austin's personal data.
Things couldn't have worked out rosier. Like Austin had said, it took all of ten minutes for his report to be filled out. He was ready to excuse himself, but by this time Uncle Pat had already taken a fancy to the way Austin conducted himself.
"Have you had your supper yet, Officer Barredo?"
"Matter of fact I haven't," he replies to Uncle Pat.
"Well you're welcome to stay if you don't have any other matters to attend to?"
"Not in the least," he fed himself into Uncle Pat's hands. And like one reading the other's mind, he says to Uncle Pat, "I would be just going home to a lonely apartment."
Already following Uncle Pat into the kitchen, Patrick and Ke'ala left to set the table, Uncle Pat saying, "We can't have you doing that now, can we?"
But the steam coming out between the lid and pot made for a hasty trip to the stove. "Excuse me a second, Austin!"
From the distance of across the room, Austin took in Pat's figure, the broad, rounded shoulders, biceps filling up the short sleeved tee shirt, shirt tail hanging over the pants, the `nice' ass clinging to the light blue denims, everything in perfect enough of proportion which would make a man's mouth water! "Smell's good, Pat!"
As his hand stirred the contents of the pot, Pat's other hand held the lid from the edge. He smiled as he turned his head. "Want a taste?"
"Of course," Austin says, as the bottom of his chin almost touches the top of Pat's right shoulder.
Right away, getting something more than a message of Austin wanting to try out his homemade pasta sauce, he lays the wooden spoon down, covers the pot and turns the gas off. Turning around, his hands slip around Austin's waist. As they kiss, Pat moves Austin around like a two-step, pinning his back to the refrigerator door.
As they break off their kiss, Austin, who has moved his hands up Pat's tee shirt, tells, "You feel so nice."
"Like hairy men, do you?"
"Yeah. Especially `fast', hairy men!"
"Uncle Pat, do you want us to use...." Patrick starts out his question, Ke'ala standing there in the wings.
With the upper button of Austin's navy uniform undone, Uncle Pat rebuttons it. Either he already knew the question, or didn't, but answers his nephew, "Um, use the good china... um," he coughs, "why don't we? For our guests?" he looks to Austin, then addresses Ke'ala too. Even though his tee shirt wasn't tucked in, he does so, the tips of his fingers running along the sides of his beltline.
Patrick makes Ke'ala busy, taking the exquisitely patterned plates out of the china closet.
"What do you think?" Ke'ala questions Patrick?
"These are very nice plates."
"No. I mean about my Austin and Uncle Pat?"
A smile on Ke'ala's lips gave Patrick inclination, he `lied' about the quality of the plate!
But rather dwell on Patrick's uncle their mutual law-inforcer-friend, Ke'ala alludes to, "I think I am curious to see how `our' summer turns out."
Patrick had the same curiousity, after Ke'ala mentions it, but pursued his original idea, "But what do you think about my Uncle Pat and Austin?"
With Ke'ala assuming the position of the two in the kitchen, Patrick knew he wasn't winning this conversation!
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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.....