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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"5b & 6c" 07 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"I don't hear a peep coming from inside," Justin whispers from the door-ledge of 5b, as they return from Mr. Pinques' gay club.
"They're probably sleeping. After all, we left them six hours ago. My feet hurt."
"I suppose you're right. Besides, Adam's a twenty-eight year old man and..."
"He's `that' old?"
"How old did you think Adam was?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Gino guess-timates, "No older than twenty-five, I suppose. But, if they are asleep, I'd say let bygones be bygones."
"You're right, Gino. Now, do I get to empty those balls again?"
"Ooooh, do we have to tonight?"
"Geesh, Gino. It's not like you have to do any work. All you have to do is lay there and let me lick!"
"Oooohkay."
"Did I tell you how much I liked your moves tonight?"
"Only about seven times."
"Well, here's number eight and man were they stuffing your g-string. How much of that do you get to keep?"
"It goes into the `cubeboys' pool, then we divide it four ways."
"So, how much are we talking here?"
"Why? Are you interested in a cube?"
"No, thanks. I don't think having a lot of boys whooping and hollaring at me, is my thing."
"Oh, they don't mean anything by it. Besides, half of them are drunk and will not even remember it tomorrow morning. Besides, I think you had a couple of good moves yourself!"
"For real?"
"For real and maybe you can show me some moves tomorrow?"
As they cross the borderline, from hallway, into 6c, Justin reminds Gino, "It `is' tomorrow morning."
"Oh yeah. I knew that.... ooooh my aching feet."
"How about a nice, hot bath?"
"That would be wonderful!"
In two minutes time, Justin had the water splashing off of Gino's legs.
"I could learn to like you babying me like this, Justin."
"Well, if you lived on campus, we could do what the swim team does."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. They use the hot tub down at the gym for more than therapeutic cures."
"Hell, what are hot tubs for anyway?"
There's a pause, as Justin tells Gino to lean forwards. He slips down, behind Gino, his half-hard cock sliding down Gino's back.
"Mmmmmm....Once we get wedged in here, I hope you have a plan for getting us out of here, Justin."
"Sure. I have a crowbar right next to the tub here."
"Crowbar?"
"I'll just make like I'm doing a pushup and....'oops!' I guess we're stuck in here."
But, as the water rises, so does the buoyancy principle kick in.
"What'd I say?"
"You're just lucky."
"Speaking of which...."
"Lucky?"
"Yeah," Justin tells him, "I think it's more than luck that I met you today."
"Um, yesterday?"
"Is it tomorrow already?" Justin says facetiously
Gino states, "Isn't that what you said before?"
"Right. Now you have me thinking about Adam. What do you think happened last night?"
"Well, we didn't find them up here and Adam wasn't sleeping out in the hallway, so there's only one place they can be and that's in 5b!"
"Do you think Professor Ladner is over being mad at us?"
"Could be.... oooooh... this is like the best bath."
Of course it is. Gino has never experienced sitting on a cock, wedged in between his asscrack. He's never had a pair of arms under his own, hands casually exploring his hairy chest, wet. He's never had his submerged bellyhole played with, as well as points on the southern front.
"Why don't you just give up your room at the dorm and move in with me?"
"Okay."
The instant answer upset Gino's buoyancy, causing him to suddenly lurch forward.
Tidal wave!
"Is that okay', like in yes'?"
"If I didn't feel strongly about it, I wouldn't have answered so quickly. I'm usually one to think things over, but hey, in reality, I've had all night, haven't I?"
"Have you?" Gino questions him.
"Well sure. At Mr. Pinque's, I had a chance to really let things set in. I mean, look what I'm getting. A guy with a great sense of humor, sensitive...."
"Like right now?"
"Now?"
"Right. Like my asscrack is feeling mighty sensitive."
"No, doofus. I meant like your feelings, like from the heart?"
"Oh. `That' kind of feelings."
"But while we're on the subject of `feeling', I love feeling up your hairy bod..."
"Dry or wet?"
"Either way... plus I love toying with `special places'."
"You do, do ya?"
Turning his head, Gino pulls his neck muscles taut, trying to reach behind him. They have an abbreviated kiss.
"Oh yeah. That too... you're such a great kisser."
Of course, all of this has gone to Gino's head, but he's not above feeling the same feelings in which Justin does.
"You know what?"
"What?" Justin asks.
"You're such a really sweet guy. You kind of.. of... are growing on me."
"So, are you really serious about having me move out of the dorm?"
"Question is, are you really interested in shacking up with me," Gino puts it to Justin.
"Like... yeah. Sure. I think I can still get a partial refund on the room. But...."
"But what? Regrets?"
"Only one."
"Oh? How's that go?"
"My roommate."
"What about him?"
"I never got a chance to see if he's gay!"
"Well, supposin' he was. Which of us would you take?"
Justin takes his time thinking, revealing, "I think I like the one with the sensitive bellyhole!"
To bring his point across, Justin sticks his finger in Gino's navel, giving it a few little jabs.
"Mmmmmm....."
They don't talk for away, enjoying each other's company. Gino just lays there, with Justin's palms rubbing his bod, up and over his nips, then back down, feeling up his cock with a few strokes. Suddenly, when his hands up to his chest, they slide back down, remaining immobile.
"Justin? Yo! Justin?"
"Hmm..."
"Are you asleep?"
"Hmm..."
"C'mon. Time for daddy to put you to bed!"
Getting up, the water drains off Gino's bod, as he helps Justin up.
"Careful now. Watch your step."
"Sorry," followed by a big yawn, "I dozed off on you."
"It's only 5:30."
"AM or PM?"
"In the morning."
"What day is it?"
"Well, yesterday was Saturday, so it's Sunday morning."
"I have to be up by eight."
"Oh, you go to church?"
"Yup. Every Sunday."
"Well, can't you just skip for this week?"
"I would, except it's my turn to teach Sunday School."
"Sunday School? Y'mean little kids?"
"Yup. Nine and Ten year olds."
"Well, I better get you into bed. Forget about my balls!"
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Meanwhile, downstairs, in 5b, there's a stirring in the sheets.
"Are you up already, Thomas?"
"I have to take a leak. Don't go away, Adam."
"Not in your dreams."
While the twilight still seeps into the room, the twenty-eight year old stays put, hands behind his head, splaying his hairy pits, fields of dark brown hair, visible in the moonlight, across his chest.
"Guess what?"
"What?" Asks Thomas.
"I think I'm getting `hopelessly devoted to you'."
"I can't believe it!"
"What'szat?" Adam asks, figuring he's said something corny.
"While I was taking a leak, I'm standing there, the thoughts in my head, humming the same tune."
"Are you sure you weren't singing to the toilet?"
"Yeah right," Thomas says, lying down in the bed. "Actually I was thinking it more last night."
"Oh? When was that?"
"Right before we heard prowlers outside our door."
"Do you think it really was Gino and my baby brother?"
"Of course. Who else would be in the hallway at four in the morning?"
"Then that explains the running water."
"They were showering together," Justin assumed.
"Sounds suggestive."
"It's only five thirty."
"Five forty-five?"
"Big deal. Fifteen minutes. Are you always precise at work?"
"Always. I run a tight shop."
"By the way, what do you do?"
"I manage an art store. Artists bring their works in, I display them and we split the profits."
"Really? Do you have any really, really big sellers?"
"Once or twice."
"For instance?"
As they're talking shop, Adam nestles in the pit of Thomas' arm, all snuggly.
"Well, there was a famous sculpture, Monte Drawbridge..."
"Monte Drawbridge?"
"Shhh, listen!"
"Okay. You've got my undivided attention."
"Monte's third sculpture, `Gates of Pearls', utilized pearls and water, along with metal. The waters tumbled, recycling the pearls. The size took up about a quarter of my shop."
"Big!"
"And heavy. Monte took a cut in price, on account of it sprung a little leak in the middle of the night."
"Oh no. Did it ruin your shop?"
"It stained some of the marble tile. Monte paid for the replacement."
"Wati!. I think I've heard of him."
"You have?"
"Yes. He conceived and designed the fountains for the fine arts building at Lake Quinn Community College."
"Right. I knew that!"
"You did?"
"Yes, I was at the dedication ceremonies," Adam says.
"When?" Thomas questions him.
"Last year at this time. No, wait, it was in October, not November."
"Oh, I wasn't here then."
"Yes and when is it you started?"
"I was commuting from New York since summer session and moved here permanently last weekend."
"Never say permanent," Adam added.
"No?"
"Well, if we're getting along this well, in a month's time, I might just have to kidnap you and take you home!"
"And where is home for you?"
With that said, Thomas flips over onto Adam's bod. He rests his arms across Adam's chest and starts doodling with the curly chest hair.
"Western Hills."
"Oh, where the elite reside!"
"I'm on the outskirts of Western Hills. I fall short of the `mansion' category."
"Oh, by the way, you never said how much Monte's sculpture went for?"
"It went to a buyer in Western Hills, for $68,000."
"Normally I'd make a 40% profit, but because of the floor damage, we settled on 50%."
"Nice cut. About how much my gold flute ran me."
"You have a gold flute?"
"Easy, you almost damn well broke me in half, Adam," Thomas said, as Adam sat up in excitement.
"Well this I've got to see."
"I don't have it with me right now. I don't feel safe leaving it around here. It's in a safe in New York."
"I don't blame you, Thomas. However.... if..."
"If what?"
"Hmm... if you ever decided to end your lease and be looking for more permanent' sleeping arrangements, I have a safe in my mini-mansion'!"
"Really? So what does a guy have to do to break a lease?"
"Mmmm... I like the sound of that."
Maybe Adam didn't realize it, but his twenty-four year old host has been rubbing his privates against the mattress for the past ten minutes. Once again lying down, Adam shimmies down in the bed, Thomas perching himself up on hands and knees.
"Something you'll learn about me, Thomas. When I see something I want, I don't hesitate to go after it!"
"Ooooooooohhhhh!" Thomas moaned out loudly, arching his back, when his meat, suspended in air, came in contact with wetness.
Grabbing Thomas' asscheeks, Adam used the downward leverage to fill his mouth with Thomas' 9.5c, swallowing it.
"Mmmmmm," Adam groaned, pursing his lips, massaging the sides of Thomas' barrel.
Already built up to the hard stage, Thomas felt he needed more action. Sitting on his knees, he swiped Adam's treat from his mouth.
"Ready to move in!" Thomas joked, as he put Adam's legs up on his shoulders.
"Yeah... Take me... Get yourself inside me... yeah..." Adam coaxed.
"Oh man are you tight."
Thomas wet a finger and pushed it inside Adam's cherry hole.
"Arrrrrghhhh," Adam groaned.
He groaned even louder, as Thomas forced the tip of his 9.5c tool inside. He wasn't without mercy, backing out and forcing it in, each time with more `words' from Adam.
"Ohhhh shiiiiit! Take it easy...."
"'This' is easy."
Each time Thomas fit a little more of himself in, he backed out, making it really easy on Adam's tight hole.
"Ooooooh... ooooh... arrrrggghhhh...."
"Would you believe I'm in?"
"In in or?"
"All the way in. Man you're so nice and tight."
"Better than my blow job?"
"I'm not answering that!"
For the next hour and a half, Thomas loosened up Adam's tube, before going on to claim him!
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Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.