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, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states 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.
PLaY FoR PaY 06 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"
Then there was a hiccup!
It was two in the morning when Coach Mike Brat filled the doorway of his bedroom. Light casting a shadow from behind, illuminated the scene enough to make out the two figures lying in 'his' bed. Mike could guess, without a doubt, who it was, but not detect who was spooning who. Though he knew he left his colleague behind with one of the team members, so most likely, unless John or his young sex-friend were into bed-hopping, it had to be the same two he and his companion left on the living room floor.
At two in the morning and having beat the gay night club floor to death for four hours, except for taking time out for a leak, which took up some time since the dude in the urinal and he exchanged enough glances to get them both way too horny, Mike was quite sweaty and warranted a shower. However, too, he was as tired as a dog and forsaking the shower both in mind and swatting it away with his hand through the air, Mike stripped his shirt, let his pants flop to the floor and climbed into bed. At this point Mike didn't give a hoot to the identity of the man in the middle!
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"Fuck!" Rick said to himself. It was the third or fourth time since midnight he had punched his pillow, a ploy in trying to find the right position for comfort. Before retiring he had showered and found something to eat. Hours earlier, as he sat at the kitchen table of his small flat and picked over last night's Thai food, he pondered over, not Wali and Hans working him over with belt and fist, but stationed his thoughts mainly on Steve.
He carried his thoughts to bed and finding a temporary place on the mattress, more his position of lying on his back, hands behind his head, looking up like he was watching Tv, instead he visualized Steve, on the sidelines during his consensual play with the two college jocks. He actually smiled, remembering Steve's cheering on a spectacular moment when Wali and Hans fell into sync, Rick's stomach imploding with the gutpunch, but then his stomach rounding outwards from the sting of the belt on his back. Oh how he wished it were Steve's fist punching him in the stomach, or Steve's hand on the belt which pounded his shoulders and back.
Rick then fast-forwarded to the part after the pain, the part where Steve finally used his ass to appease his nine-inch torture tool. His eyes were open, but Rick closed them, thinking of something more than having his ass punished. Instead he pictured it more a sexual act. Slowly, his left hand, Rick was left-handed, found its way down his chest, stomach and over his bellyhole, hand feeling up his treasure trail till he hit pay dirt - the treasure. Already sexually excited, Rick gently stroked himself in the dark and sooner than later, had a raging hard-on.
"Oh yeah, Steve," he cooed out loud in the dark of his bedroom, his hand stroking up, the palm of his hand going over the rounded head of his cock, using pre-cum lube.
Rick hadn't realized it, but the shower he took two hours ago was like it never happened, not with him working up a sweat over 'Steve fucking him'. About the time Mike was finding John and Jac, synced with the time Rick was losing control, spraying his own stomach and chest with manseed.
It took a few minutes for his head to clear, for Rick to realize he was in his bedroom and under Steve's spell. As he thought about it, Rick discovers 'Why does life have to be so unfair?'
It's then Rick's memories returns to growing up. At this minute he was feeling sorry for himself for not achieving a status of finding a relationship which met his needs, yet which would satisfy that of his partner. In the face of sadness, Rick smiles. Suddenly, at two in the morning, life returns to his late teen years of growing up. Both he and his brother wondered why things about each other could not have surfaced earlier on in each of their childhood. Why did it have to wait until he was sixteen and his brother eighteen for them to confess to each other what they kind of thought all along?
Rick even smiled deeper, thinking of the day Justin got mad at him, loosely throwing around the cliche, "Suck my dick!"
He giggled, thinking of that day long ago in their bedroom, of his brother's reaction when he sank down on his knees, fished his cock out of his briefs and gave a lick! Now, at this very moment he was laughing out loud, thinking of Justin's face, as his jaw dropped open.
From that little squabble over Rick borrowing his bro's favorite baseball cap earned him a few things. First, a cock to suck for a couple of years, because Justin lived at home while going to college for that amount of time. Then, informing Justin he thought he might like it a little rough, the two slowly working into some whipping and punching. And lastly, as if cementing their relationship, Justin awarded Rick the prized baseball cap.
"Hey!" Rick shouts in the dark with renewed vigor. "I think I still have it!"
Light shoots throughout Rick's bedroom as he turns on the lamp and jumps out of bed. At first he minds it, the sticky stuff sticking to his hairy front, but then, "Fuck it!" Now, hyped up over finding Justin's baseball cap, Rick laughs at himself upon scooping up some creme and licking his finger off. "Bummer!" he says when he can't find it on the top shelf of the closet. However he does find 'something else'.
"Oh cool!" Rick says, taking the Nike sneaker box down from the shelf.
He uncovers some things he thought he threw out when he moved, some of Justin's creations. Justin had sacrificed for him a gold chain, rigging it up with two clothespins so his brother could tease his nips. Rick remembers that first time of how it hurt so bad, Justin clamping them down on his pec spots. He also remembers that he wasn't the only one thinking how 'cool' it was. Moving on, Rick finds, coiled up, the soft leather belt Justin used to hit him with. Rick smiled, thinking how reluctant Justin was to strike his back with the belt. In the middle of the morning, Rick was giggling, remembering himself badgering his brother, "Would you just fuckin' do it!"
Rick then laughs out loud even more, thinking of how he jumped across the room, hopped around like a bunny, his brother yelling, "Oh shit bro! You got like a fuckin' red stripe on your back!"
Smiling, Rick remembers how he and Justin hightailed it to the jon, the two looking at his back, sure enough the red welt stretching across. But did that stop Rick and Justin from having their fun?
Slowly, it dawned on Rick, Justin wasn't there, but the memories he had of many afternoons of playing, when their folks weren't around, to them was an ordinary way for two brothers' activity of growing up together. Stuffing the contents back into the box, he threw it back onto the closet shelf. Crashing back in bed, he reached for the lamp to douse it. His foot touched something in the bed. Reaching down, he recovered an item which escaped the shoebox. Lying back, Rick dangled Justin's handmade nip clamp contraption from his hand. Smiling, he looked down upon his pecs. Recalling that first time, the bite of each wooden jaw and the reaction, it made him giggle a little. Not only was he laughing about the initial sting, but even more so the hurt upon Justin ripping the clips off! Now, taking each clothespin in hand and finding his nips in the hair and dried cum he teased himself. "Oh man Justin!" he exclaimed. Finding a perch for each clothespin, Rick
sighed as they grabbed up his nip-meat. Without much of another word he turned out the lamp and lay there, one hand on his cock, the other toying with Justin's gold chain.
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At five o'clock in the morning the day was just beginning, but for the dull shading of Mike Brat's bedroom, it was still relatively night time lighting. Jac didn't think anything of it, waking with his eyes closed and feeling a pair of arms around him, one under him, palm caressing his stomach, another arm between his arm and bod, cupping his left pec. Upon feeling his morning wood starting to pulse, Jac didn't think anything of moving the hand from over his bellyhole, to help him feel that early morning, joyful bliss. "Mm-m-m," Jac coos, feeling the third hand come alive and start to tantalize his frat cock. It would have been oh, so sweet bliss, except Jac chooses to open his eyes. He first questions the back facing him, "John?"
Even in the dark, a toothy grin could be seen, Mike Brat answering Jac look over his shoulder, "Hi there!"
"Oh shit!" Jac yells out, jumping out of Mike's embrace.
What he didn't realize, John was on the edge of forever and tossed right over the edge!
"Oops! Sorry," Jac says, looking over the side, seeing a faint outline of John, splayed out on the floor.
"Yeah. Sorry," Mike says.
Jac then realizes, "Hey! You're laying on me!"
True, when both rushed to the edge of the bed, on their minds was the welfare of their coach and colleague. Neither pay mind to how they got there.
Lifting himself up, Mike says, "Yeah, but I got my briefs still on?"
By this time John was kneeling at the side of the bed, taking them both off course, "Is there a reason why you are in bed with us, Mike?"
"Um, maybe because it's my house? My bedroom? My bed?"
Following the match like ping pong, Jac focuses on John, "And just where did you and Zach go?"
Jac thought it a good question!
Standing at the other side of the bed, of course the two were checking Mike out, him responding, "You mean before or after we had sex?"
"You and Zach had sex?" Jac exclaims, like it was appalling.
"Sure," Mike replies nonchalantly, "why not? How about you two?"
Standing, at Mike's eye level now, John replies, "I think that's 'our' business?"
"Well that's not fair. You asked me and I told you?"
John reminds, "You 'volunteered', Mike!"
"Oh yeah. I guess I did," and getting technical, "but Jac asked?"
"We kissed and sucked a little, okay?" Jac replies.
Digging out of curiosity, Mike asks, "You two didn't fuck around?"
"No," Jac replies. Like getting even, "Did you and Zach?"
John loved it, standing there and letting his twenty year old bedmate work his colleague over with the questions and answers.
Getting clammy, Mike replies, "We might've done something."
Loving it, John stood there watching Mike sweat it, as Jac pressures him, "Zach's got big balls. Can you fit both in your mouth at once?"
Mike was so wasted last night, he had to think on it, finally surrendering, "Uh yeah, as I recall I 'think' I tasted his nuts."
Then it was field day, John asking, "Oh, so you lubed Zach up?"
Right now, Mike was beginning to feel sorry he even started all this up. Scratching the back of his neck, a nervous reaction, he unfolds the truth, "Well ya see, I ran into this guy in the jon and started sucking him off, but Zach came in looking for me and.... and they both kind of 'shared'?"
Wise to him now, John says, "They fuck you at both ends, Mike?"
Reluctantly admitting it, Mike says, "Uh, yeah. I took the dude's creme down my gullet and then when Zach was ready to come, I swallowed his load."
Rubbing it in, John asks as he rubs his hands together, "So! What's for breakfast?"
Mistakenly, Mike asks, "You don't want to hear the rest?"
So, after Jac and John slipped some briefs over their buns, they joined Mike in the kitchen and they heard all about Mike not only became a receptacle for cum, but a few, who were into it, sidestepping the urinal, which brought uneasy reactions from both Jac and John!
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"I can't believe how you can do me twice in a row, Jake."
Jake replies to Tom, "I'd never be able to do it if your talented lips weren't able to get me up again?"
"'Suppose," Tom replies. As the two lay in the bed, he asks, "So, would you be interested in using me regularly?"
"You make it sound like you're a whore Tom!"
Slipping out from under his twenty year old team mate's hairy bod, Jake asks, as he searches for a towel, "You didn't fill me in on all this 'Play for Pay' business. What gives?"
Having a towel tossed to him, once out of bed, Tom replies, "Basically you're either on the giving end of the receiving end."
Smiling, Jake replies, "Hm-m-m... you know where I stand!"
Keeping a straight-faced demeanor, Tom says, "It's not all about sex either."
"Oh? How would that go?" Jake inquires, stalled at the door to their room.
"The other part of the equation is you're either into 'giving' or 'getting' pain."
Being Jake a freshman and Tom a Junior, he relied on his knowledge and participation, "Which would make you 'what'?"
To answer Jake, but to also stimulate an interest in the freshman, classifying him into a category, Tom answers with the question, "How would you feel about helping me get ready for this year's activities?"
Unknown what he's asking, but knowing what a nice guy Tom is, Jake is game, "Sure. Just tell me what we have to do."
Not sure if Jake would renege if he spelled it out in a certain way, Tom says, "Do stuff for me to help build up my resistance." He had already recalled the last year, having missed out on making extra money his freshmen year, but how jumping right into the prearranged sessions, it was a rude awakening, especially regarding those activities resulting in physical pain.
"No problem," Jake replies. "Push ups? Crunches? Run some laps around the track. I can help you." With his towel wrapped around his waist, Jake reached for the door handle.
Tom's hand on Jake's hand, keeping him from turning it, Tom goes all out, "More like punching me in the stomach or....."
"Punch you in the stomach? Are you for real, Tom?" Jake says, shrugging his room mate's hand from the door knob.
As the door closed, minus his room mate, Tom pondered his selection of words, thinking there no other way to dive into a conversation of this sort. However, thinking over late last night, of sucking Jake and receiving the benefits of lubing up his room mate's thick cock, he hoped he hadn't blown it, wanting to taste and feel the same effects on future nights.
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"So, what does everybody do on a sunny Saturday around here?" John asks as he sits at the kitchen table, eating a forkful of eggs with Jac and Mike.
"Um, hang out at the park and try to pick up a trick?" Mike jokes.
However, John is not taking it as a joke and the conversation flings back and forth.
Jac follows the conversation like watching Roger and Novak, Mike saying something like John should try it sometime.
Finally, it's scaled down to Mike suggesting at least attendance at the gay dance venue, John saying, "Maybe I will!"
Then, with a smile, Mike says, "The music gets going around nine tonight?"
Now Jac intercedes, "I think Mike's asking you out John!"
"Oh but...." John goes to say something about him and Jac already striking it up.
Cutting in, Jac says, "Nothing wrong with the four of us going."
Seeing the odds, Jac and John against himself and the insinuation of a third, the two probably thinking of Zach as the fourth, Mike says of it, "Uh, Zach, he's really a nice guy, but I don't think we're cut out for anything long term."
Thinking Mike is suggesting the two of them, John asks, "Well you don't mind Jac coming along do you?"
"Of course not," Mike says with drama, "by tonight I should be able to dig up somebody to go along."
Hinting, John says, "Maybe one of the guys you pick up in the park today?"
"Speaking of which," Mike gets up from the table, "I better get in the shower."
The three had reported to breakfast in their briefs, Mike having slept in his low-risers, John and Jac making it a joke, exchanging boxers, John taking the ones with the little moose on them.
"Oh by the way," Mike pounds out a drum rhythm on the doorway, "how about you two playing house and clean up breakfast?" He didn't leave room for response, hightailing it away.
John asks Jac, "Is that your final answer?"
"Is what my final answer?"
Nodding to the empty door frame, "About doing the dishes?"
"Are you asking me because I'm the 'man' of the house, John?"
As he turns on the sink water John replies, "I don't think we made that distinction last night?"
With all this talk about keeping house, Jac naturally gravitated to where John stood at the sink, lining his chest up with his coach's shoulder blades. Slipping arms in between John's arms and sides the eighteen year old's hands feel up a hairy stomach and chest. "Do you think I'll possibly have another chance at it?"
Wiping his itchy nose, John turns around to say something serious, "Look Jac...."
"I'm looking," Jac is staring at John's nose.
"What're you lookin' at?" John stares at his own nose, going cross-eyed. What he hasn't realized is, the hold Jac had on him from behind, now their bellyholes have aligned, Jac still holding on.
"Your sudsy nose," Jac flits away the foamy substance with his hand.
Talking to Jac behind his back was tough enough, but now the thirty-six year old faced him.
"As you were saying?"
It was a toss up. Either John couldn't find the right words or was too terrified to tell Jac he didn't think they were suitable for pairing up. So, he left it as, "I think we would make a good dancing couple."
A wry smile on his face, Jac knew it wasn't what John really wanted to say. Being a very perceptive individual he left room for thought, "Or just think, we might get to the dance and come home with somebody different!"
At first John show horror on his face, thinking it was something he said or how he went about it, which put such a thought into Jac's head, however realizing not, he mellowed out to a smile, "You think you're being smart?"
"I hope my high high school grade point average wasn't for no reason?"
Grabbing a towel from the rack, John puts it between them, "You dry!"
Jac differs, "Um, ever hear of a dishwasher?" Walking over to the appliance, Jac pulls the handle, lowering the front.
Looking at it strangely, John asks, "What the hell is that contraption?"
"I hope you're kiddin?"
"Yeah," John says with a chuckle, handing Jac a bowl, "but me and computers... we don't get along!"
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`PLaY FoR PaY' 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.....