The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in 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. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'
"The Tidelight Zone" 01 (M/M oral anal) wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Sundown, in case you boys haven't noticed?"
Three of the four surfers watched the horizontal motion of the waves, their hands over their eyes, arms out straight to their right sides, as if saluting the sunset.
Elton's remark, to Officer Blair seemed a strange one, "Mehmet sure looks smooth out there, doesn't he, Steve?"
Policing the beach, he assumed the same position, his hand protecting his eyes from the sunrays that helped the day to depart from its earthly triumph, as he watched the surf-rider.
"Sure does," The twenty-six year old officer replied, unconsciously adding, "Very."
While the three bare-chested, Speedo-clad youths ran to greet their Egyptian friend, Officer Blair departed, continuing on his patrol.
"Be sure to tell Mehmet I said he looked good out there."
"You bet, Steve," Marc replied, as the three hustled towards the shoreline.
"Hey, Elton, why doesn't Steve just come out with it and say he likes the guy?"
"Give it time, Anthony."
"Like me, I saw that I wanted you man, so did I hang back?"
"Everybody's different, Anthony. Give Steve some space. He'll come around," Elton told his nineteen year old lover, rustling his dark brown, bushy hair.
"Yeah, okay."
"Hey Mehmet," twenty year old Marc called out, as Anthony and Elton chatted with him about his awesome surfboarding.
"What is it, Marc?"
"Steve said to tell you that you looked good."
"Where is he?" Mehmet inquired, looking towards the lay of the land, then up and down the beach.
"You know. He had to go finish his rounds, but he wanted me to make sure I told you."
"Oh."
The other three watched for a few seconds, as Mehmet stood there, his face to the wind, as if a dog following his master's scent, catching it, as it floated down on the tail breeze.
"Mehmet, it's sundown. We've got to go. I promised Steve."
"Yes, alright."
Packing their boards under their arms, the four lit out for their room at the Fairmont Kea Lani Maui hotel. Nineteen year old Elton Morrison III and his family had been on holiday, when the nineteen year old befriended Mehmet DuVailer.
Come to find out, Mrs. Morrison's sister, Jane Trivette, had a sister-in-law named DuVailer. This was the sister's cousin. To Mrs. Morrison, however, any relation, near or distant was to be considered an immediate part of the family. She had been equally fascinated the cousin had married an Frenchman, whom shared an Egyptian heritage and marveled at the handsome offspring.
Deep down in side, she always knew Elton to be `different' and wasn't at all surprised when he divulged to her his gay sexually. His father was not thrilled, but soon came around, with the mother's help. Sally Morrison and her sister Jane had been friends for life, living but a high fence apart. They often shopped, lunched together and attended the same bridge club. Mr. Trivette had passed on two year's ago, just after Marc graduated from high school. He never lived to see his son's first day of college. Again, it had been Sally to the rescue, when Jane came to her, heartbroken at hearing Marc tell her he was gay. It's through her son's and Marc's revelations that Sally had formed a parent's support group, through their church, for parents of children, coming out. It has made all the world of difference, for so many folks.
Francine DuVailer agreed to move their lodgings, so the Morrison's and Trivette's could get to know each other. Sally made all the arrangement's, with the Fairmont Kea Lani Maui, situating the DuVailer's within walking distance of their own hotel room. Through some very persuasive tactics, she gave in to Elton's whim, to arrange a suite for himself, Marc, Mehmet and Marc's friend who came along, Anthony Bosco.
"Beautiful, El. Man, how did you convince your mom to spring for this?"
"Told her I needed some time alone with you, Anthony. Y'know, breed you... make her and dad some grandchildren?"
"How about trying right now?" Anthony asks Elton.
"Not horned up enough."
"I can take care of that. No sweat, El!"
"Hey you guys... you mind?"
Marc's head nodding, gave them the hint to cool it on the multiplication tables. Staring out the long glass pane, to the ocean, Mehmet stood, one hand on his torso, his thumb tucked into the elastic of his speedo, his other hand freely rubbing his lightly tanned, dark-haired chest.
Placing both hands on Mehmet's shoulders, Marc moved his chest almost up to the young Egyptian's back. He rubbed gently.
"What's irking you Mehmet?"
"Oh... nothing, Marc. I think I could have done a better job at surfing the waves today."
"Yeah, I think so, too."
"You do?" Mehmet replied, acting surprised.
Not wanting to dive into the impending subject, Marc deviated to another.
"C'mon, let's go get some dinner before these horny bastards start multiplying like bunnies!"
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Reporting back to the beach patrol station, Steve Blair entered the locker room. Before he reached his locker, he already had unbuttoned the front of his light blue shirt.
"Hot one, huh Steve?"
"Oh yeah. Tell me about it, Jerry."
"All the other guys are gone. If you want, I'll wash your back -- you wash mine?"
"Sure. Get the shower warmed up."
"Already did, Steve. Just waiting for you to do a striptease for me!"
"Yeah right, Jerry."
"Hey, what's the matter Steve. You act like you're in love or something!"
"Is that shower hot yet?"
"I'm getting on it... I'm getting on it..."
Steve smiled, watching the five foot, nine inch paunchy man walk away. He could tell by the tanned ass that Jerry did some nude bathing out back of the beach patrol building. It wouldn't be unheard of, seeing a fellow officer on his lunch hour, sacking out in the secluded, high walled area, without a stitch of clothing on.
Keying the lock, Steve peeled his shirt back, pulling it from his pants. A hand rubbed his hairy, brown chest, lubed up with sweat. His right palm passed over his left nip. Closing his eyes, he sighed with pleasure. He smiled, when he remembered, seeing from a distance, Mehmet, looking upwind for him today, as he hid behind the palm tree. His right limb proceeded to follow the dark, tight trail to his beltline, where the other hand met it, to unfasten the waist hardware.
"Hey Steve, you're bleeding the faucets dry!" Came the loud shout from the distant shower room, that broke his daydream.
"I'm coming. Keep your shirt on!" Steve yelled back.
Quickly undressing and stuffing his pants in the locker, his shirt balled up and on top, Steve hightailed it to the steamy room.
"C'mon Steve. You look as tense as hell."
"Yeah, I am a bit."
"A bit? My foot, Steve."
It wasn't the first time that Jerry offered to use his magic fingers on Steve's shoulders. Under the heated streams of waters, they became sublime, combing out a day's frustration.
"Oooooh," Steve groaned, as his head tilted to the side and back.
"Feel good, does it?"
"Oh, you know it does, Jerry."
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Continued..........
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.