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.
PaTRick'S LuCKy CHarM 04 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Their very last day of freedom, before the boys began summer jobs, the two sat on boulders and skipped flat stones over the surface.
"I still can't believe you lucked out and got a job at the country club," Jason said, skipping his stone with such animosity, went `kerplunk' and sank.
"At least we know we both had a fair shake, applying at the same time?"
"Oh yeah and did I luck out. While you're serving up mint juleps to hot guys all summer I'll be schlepping cow manure all over creation!"
Patrick comes back with, after scoring a perfect skipping, "And you don't think there will be some hot dudes on the job?" He adds 'for instances', "Some business dude will be home on his day off? The occasional Fedex driver who passes you by and gives you the once over, doubling back after his delivery? The homeowner out washing his car while you`re planting daisies?"
"Those are all myths Patrick. Things like that don't happen in real life."
He almost voted to differ, then wasn't sure he could be 100 percent correct, since he drew up those scenes from the DVDs he watched at Tony's place.
As for Jason, he called them bogus encounters, but somewhere deep inside he didn't dismiss the idea it could happen.
"Heeeeeeeey!" both boys lashed out when a giant-sized rock hit the surface, splashing lake-water up all over their bare bods.
Jason complains, "What tha fuck?"
After laughing his ass off, Tony says, "I'm up for it if you are, Jason!"
Changing his outlook regarding the splash hitting him in the chest, wetting his shorts, Jason replies, "I wouldn't mind getting some 'sweet' revenge!"
"Revenge? Yours or mine?"
Patrick followed the volley back and forth.
"Yours? How would that go Tony?"
"Trespassing?"
"Hell, that's old news Tony." And in a dominant sense, Jason makes up his own rule, "Since I took your ass it gives me the 'in' to walk anywhere on your property!"
Slowly the two had gravitated towards each other with each slinging of words. "Is that so?" Tony asks standing almost on Jason's toes.
Patrick stood there, eyes wide open, his mouth forming an `o', when Jason said to Tony's face, "Well who else are you going to get to fuck an old man like you?"
Patrick said to him, "Even if you're kidding Jason, that's `not' a very nice thing to say to Tony."
At first Tony's face was contorted, a picture of anger, his eyes squinted shut, but then he did something which shocked both boys. "If I didn't like you so much, you're ass would be swimming on the other side of the lake, but Hell!" He lightened up, "You sure give a damn hot fuck!"
It was Patrick's turn to roll his eyes.
"What're you waiting for Tony? Lead the way!"
So for the rest of the afternoon Patrick again watched DVDs, this time with Tony's knowledge. He even picked out the best one's for Patrick before he and Jason retired to the bedroom.
"And oh," he held the door ajar and stuck his head through, "I replenished our stash of Oreo's and there's plenty of milk!"
Patrick said, "Thanks, Tony," and then laughed, hearing Jason telling Tony to strip and get his ass over on the bed!
Before kicking back, Patrick raided the Oreo stash and poured himself a tall glass of milk. Opting out of the sofa, he relaxed in Tony's recliner. Getting comfortable, he accidentally slipped back, his glass of milk slurping over the edge of the glass. Lying out straight, he took inventory. The glass was mostly still full, yet he had felt ice cold dribbles down his stomach. He uttered three little giggles when he spotted his bellyhole. His deep innie was a reservoir, milk captured in the sinkhole. Laying out almost perfectly straight, a wicked idea came over him. Keeping a steady focus on his bellyhole he carefully reached to the package of Oreos. Snatching one up, he intently kept his bod from even the slightest jolt. From overhead he lowered the cookie and with the slightest of ease allowed the rim of the chocolate filled cookie touch his bellyhole. Softly dunking it, he watched the cookie sop up the milk. Unnoticed, he didn't hear himself moaning
some soft tones, but he knew the cookie was making him feel good. He didn't have to feel up his cock. It was acting on its own accord, getting harder by the passing seconds. He smiled when over the dunking cookie his cock jumped straight up to attention whenever he flexed' his pubic muscle`, causing it to bounce on it's own.
But he didn't wish to lose his first load on his bellyhole play. "Oh dammit!" he said when, enroute from stomach to mouth, the soaked cookie took a dive, slamming into his chest. Then he did something he didn't do last time. Taking some of the soft chocolate wafer in each thumb-finger, he set it on each nip. "Oh fuck is this hot!" Patrick exclaimed out loud when the grit connected with his nips, the massaging action making him feel oh-so-good!
Things started to get messy when Patrick finally resigned to drawing his cock into the core of things, his chocolatey fingers doing some heavy shaft-massaging, switching from pubes to chest to massage both nips. Still testing his bellyhole for sensitivity, oh yeah - it was still there, as his arching back told him, with his right hand poking dead-center in his stomach and his other hand taking up the slack with his cock.
And when Patrick finally reaches the point of no return, ropes of cum shot out like an oil rig hitting pay dirt. Since it felt hot to cum, the semen felt boiling and he rubbed it in, mixing it with the Oreos, smooshed on his stomach and got a second jolt, massaging with both hands over his pecs.
It was quite a workout for him and as he rested, tried regaining some of his cardiac response, he closed his eyes, thinking how beautiful it all was. For now, when his right hand ran into contact with his lucky charm, Patrick thought how lucky he was that Tony liked Oreos too!
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From that afternoon, which for Jason and Tony stretched their activity into the late evening, Patrick rarely ventured out to the lake. What they had talked about, came to pass, the end of high school relaxing their friendship. Even though he didn't see much of Tony, between their last two weeks of high school and summertime, Patrick knew Jason was seeing plenty of him.
Last few days of school breezed by, most seniors not even showing up. Having some college info to fill out, Patrick was there almost daily. However, Jason was not. Upon returning home his uncle whom he lived with says, "Oh by the way, Jason called. He asks that you return his call."
"Thanks Uncle Pat," Patrick replied. He had a feeling of why Uncle Pat never married, but it was never brought up, so Patrick left his questions be for now. In turn, he never brought up the fact of himself being gay. Yet, call it intuition, whatever, Patrick had the feeling his Uncle Pat `knew'.
After the third ring, Jason picked up. All he really wanted to say is Tony had invited him to come and stay at his place while attending college.
"Why would you want to do that Jason, when we can commute from our own homes?"
Patrick waited for an answer and as he supposed, it was for his assumed reasoning, Jason having a place to park his cock whenever he got the urge!
And Jason even communicated, if Patrick wanted, Tony was extending his invitation to him also.
"Nah," Patrick replied. "Tell Tony `thanks', but Uncle Pat said something about, if I wanted to, I could stay on campus in one of the dorms."
Jason went on to boast that the dorm sounded like a great idea, telling Patrick there would probably be tons of guys wanting a dick up their ass and to `go for it'.
"Thanks Jason," he obliged, but knew it would not be anywhere near the way Jason dreamed it up, at least for himself.
After graduation, Patrick made the decision to stay on campus, for all the `right' reasons, yet he would still reside with his Uncle Pat while working his way through the summer.
His first day of work at the country club, Patrick was `supposed to be' waiting tables or helping guests with luggage, but happened to be in the right place at the right time. He was at the desk, putting a guest's luggage on the small 'U' cut out of the long counter when his boss, David Alvarez, hung up the phone with a thud. Patrick didn't know any Spanish, but knew what Mr. Alvarez said was not pleasant! Patrick stood there, staring, but not being rude, only inquisitive to why he was at all upset.
Suddenly a finger is pointed at him, Alvarez calling out, "You!"
"Me?" Patrick threw his right palm to his chest, looking around.
"What's your name?"
"Me? I'm Patrick. Patrick McFee."
"I'm relieving you of your duties."
He thought the worst, Patrick turning dismal, saying, "I'm being terminated?"
"No young man. On the contrary. Today is your lucky day! You're being promoted!"
And so, with Alvarez calling another waiter-bellhop-jack of all trades to assume Patrick's job, he took Patrick to the room where they stored the country club's wardrobe.
Walking around the racks, Patrick followed, Mr. Alvarez pointing out different garments, removing them from the rack.
Patrick's arms gobbled up the white shirts, jackets, bow ties and lastly, "What size shoe do you take?"
Happy over the turn of events, Patrick was dismayed over one fact and voices his opinion, "Mr. Alvarez, I can't take the promotion."
"You have to!" A shaky pleading to his voice's rendering. "Why would you not `want' a promotion, lad?"
"I can assure you Mr. Alvarez, I'd really like to, but this bellhop uniform cost me ninety bucks and..."
"Oh that's no problem whatsoever," he replied.
Standing there, clutching what seemed to be roughly five hundred bucks of clothing, uniforms for a job he had no idea of what he was getting into, Patrick watched as Alvarez reached into his pocket, emerged with a wad of green' and began peeling a bill off. "I don't have change. Here. Keep it," he said of the five 20s. "And, if you play it smart you'll be getting ten times that amount in tips!"
Patrick wasn't sure what the wink meant, but getting a hundred bucks back in his pocket felt good, as a start. It was no time like the present to also inquire, "Um, Mr. Alvarez...."
"David. Please... call me David."
"Okay. Um," and he was reluctant. Part of his life, growing up with his Uncle Pat, he learned a lot about manners, about respect your elders' and never had he called an elder' by his first name. Mr. Alvarez seemingly over thirty-five, falling into that category.
"So, what is it lad?" he asked, placing three pairs of shoes into Patrick's full arms.
"Um, just what is it I will be doing for my promotion?"
Taking an empty box, Alvarez helped Patrick place the items gathered, into it. "A very prestigious position here at Granite Lake Country Club, I assure you."
It seemed to Patrick, David leading him on and on without getting to the bottom of this whole thing, so he made his first statement, dropping the rest of the furnishings into the box and secondly, sternly asking, "I'm going no further until you explain exactly what I'll be doing this summer," and he surprised himself, feeling comfortable with, "David?"
Then, going into detail, Alvarez explained how this young man from San Antonio was to show up tomorrow, assuming the position of social director and, "that was the young man on the phone. Seems he took a higher paying job near home." And not that it was required, "I am so desperate for someone to take the position. I hope you will consider it lad?"
This morning when Patrick set foot on country club property he was nervous as all hell, but feeling things out, he composed himself and replied, "So let me get this straight," and he went for the jugular, "if you don't have a social director starting tomorrow, it's your neck?"
Really, if Alvarez didn't find a social director, it would be added to his list of duties and he already was quite stressed with wearing a few hats. And even though he would not be fired over it, the manager being afforded a short time to secure the services of a social director, instead of his personal alibi, he left Patrick with his own reasoning, "I suppose you can put it that way."
Not greedy, but seeing how shifty Alvarez could be, avoiding telling him like it is from the start, he figured he better get the rest straight before stepping into the position. "So, how much am I going to get out of this promotion?"
"How does eight dollars an hour sound?" Alvarez accompanied it with a huge grin.
"Eight dollars? I was making seven dollars an hour as a waiter and bellhop and it sounds like a social director is going to be a helluva lot more work?"
Already Patrick was working the lunch schedule, which would also include one day during the weekend, but when Alvarez told him, "Very similar to your old schedule, except maybe two nights a week, one full boat on Saturday and oh, a Sunday once in awhile when we have a special presentation and oh! Before I forget to mention, the Granite Lake Golf Classic?"
It didn't take a genius, though Patrick's straight-A grades at school could classify him as such, the hours he roughly totaled up, came nowhere close to the thirty hours of his original job. "Y'know Mr. Alvarez..."
"David."
"David," Patrick reformed his statement, "I take it you are hiring me because you think I am a smart guy?"
"Oh yes. The minute I saw you I knew you were a highly intelligent person!" he lied.
Patrick knew Alvarez was handing him a line of bullcrap and he wasn't one to let people walk over him - most of the time - so he addressed Alvarez point blank, "I'm glad you think so. In fact I got honors grades in high school math and after tallying it up, off the top of my head I figure I'll be working forty to fifty hours a week. Correct me if I'm wrong?"
He still didn't want to make it sound like more than it is so settled for, "It's a possibility."
Shrewdly Patrick put it, "I think I could do the job for twelve bucks an hour."
"Ta-twelve? That'll break the summer budget, lad?"
And while he was at it, while he was being so bold, which turned Patrick on as much as the leather-harnessed-harem master in the DVD he watched, he set the record straight, "And by the way David, `lad' is a dog's name. My name is Patrick. Not Pat or any other variations, just Patrick. Or if you prefer, Mr. McFee?"
"I'll try to remember that."
"And if I do my math correctly, if you don't hire another waiter, I think maybe this might be the solution to where the extra money is coming from?"
Actually, even though he didn't confess it, Alvarez was getting Patrick for a bargain, promising the out-of-towner fifteen an hour. Also, he liked Patrick's logic, referring to not hiring another waiter. It would be a good way to beef up the slush fund and whatever `slush' was leftover after the summer normally would become his bonus! "I like your thinking lad... I mean Patrick," he said it like he feared for his life. "So can you start tomorrow?"
"What about training?"
"I'll have Salvatore work with you until you feel you can do it on you own."
Patrick wonders, "How come Salvatore hasn't been appointed the job if he knows how it goes?"
Truly, Alvarez did not wish to divulge Salvatore's real' job around the country club, which included things like seeing to the special needs of the some of the male members who returned again and again and again, so told Patrick, "Salvatore has a very special job here at Granite Lake Country Club. He's sort of what you would call a floater'."
And Alvarez thought it very bright of Patrick, coming up with an answer where he tried his best to make up, "Oh I get it. He sort of goes around and makes sure the employees are doing their jobs and if they need some expertise, Salvatore helps them out. What a nice guy!"
`If he only knew', Alvarez was thinking!
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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.....