A Nifty Little Tale

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.

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A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 01 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

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"Altoni... Manfredi... Institute..." spoken ever-so-slowly, absorbing every word, from the sign over the foyer of the soon which he would be enrolled in for the next 3 years, Jason stopped rattling off words, when he heard a dude mention, "Early Greek, would be my guess?"

Turning his head, shucking his hoodie away from the side of his face, Jason Croft looked upon another soul, who his immediate thoughts, this dude would be part of the makeup of the special school for boys. Maybe he was at the wrong' kind of special' school!

Energetically, the dude put his suitcase down, held out his hand and offered the initial greeting, "Hi. I'm Evan Blout."

On the shy side, nobody would have recognized the slow to address trait, dwarfing a lot of 18 year olds, with his 6'2" stature, "Uh, yeah," Jason was slow to react, placing his hand in Evan's palm, "Jason Croft. Uh, nice to meet you too." He slips his hand though Evan's palm like it had WD-40 sprayed on it.

It was a flimsy handshake, not a match to Evan's firm grip, in which his schoolmate lost out quickly.

Lost for words, the slack was picked up by other boys arriving.

It only gave Jason and Evan a few split seconds to check each other out. Jason in his hoodie and jeans looked totally opposite dress of Evan in his dark blue suit, complete with white shirt and blue-patterned tie, brown-rimmed glasses.

"Uh, I think I see somebody I know," Jason said, even though he didn't know a soul, making a private path to some other dude in a hoodie.

Once in the crowd of boys getting off a public service bus, Evan lost full sight of Jason, except for the top of his hoodie.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Evan didn't make a move, standing there, still facing Jason's hoodie, wondering if the person talking to him, was talking to him!

"Sir?" he heard again, with a tap to his arm.

Turning around, he faced an `angel'! Immediately focusing on the blonde hair and blue eyes, he smiles. Instead of posing as a person who worked at the school, Evan goes on the level, "Oh, I don't work here," and as he did, copy-cats his last move on Jason, "Hi. I'm Evan Blout."

"Hey," he answered, with a slight hint of being a foreigner on American soil, "my name is Jouke Koenraad. It is nice enough to meet you."

Language Arts was one of the fields of study which fascinated Evan, him putting the accent with the features, "You're Scandinavian. Let me guess, Holland?"

They held right hands of greeting each other for quite some time, Evan suddenly realizing they were not behind closed doors, rather out in public. And since he was not out, quickly withdrew his five digits.

Noticing, Jouke, reading the gesture like a book, says, "You don't have to worry about stuff like that."

"Like what?" Evan very well knew `what'.

"Were you still in the closet at home?"

It the remark which threw Evan for a loop, but rather, "You know I'm gay?"

"I think you Americans says this, `it takes one to know one?'" Jouke replies, standing there and smiling.

Some of the students who attended the Alton Manfredi Institute probably could compete with the intelligence of some rocket scientists, but Evan wasn't there yet. Still, his parents weren't paying $49,500.00, based on an ordinary senior high school student's I.Q. "I've heard some guys possess this thing called gaydar," Evan assumed was the case.

"No. The thing is," Jouke pondered over his words before speaking his mind, "I had this feeling, by the way you were looked at me when you turned around... Like you..." Sometimes bad with turning his Dutch thoughts into American-English, "Liked me, because you liked what I looked like?" He hoped Evan got what he was saying?!

Even though Evan wasn't 100% sure, he replies, "Yeah, that's it!"

"Awesome!" Jouke replies. Because he liked Evan's reply, "Do you have a roommate yet?"

With an ounce of distraught of the inflection of his voice, Evan replies, "I heard that high-schoolers don't have a choice who they get for a roommate."

Eager to try out the word, Jouke replies, "Bummer!"

Then suddenly, there was no time for anymore words, a gentleman, all tidied up in a suit and tie opens the double doors of the school and with other men and women accompanying him, asks the security guard to call the crowd to order.

Evan and Jouke are forced down the steps with their luggage, joining the massive crowd of young men.

First impression, Jouke is greeted by a guy, "Will you watch the fuck where you're going!"

"Sorry," Jouke said to the guy whom he accidentally `crushed' a toe!

He was thrown back a little by mild-mannered Evan's comment to his ear, "He should be thankful it wasn't your luggage hitting him in the balls!"

Astounded, but finding Evan funny, he laughed, right at the tail end of everyone else calming down. He took note of getting a dirty look from the headmaster. Apparently, the `Hrumpf' was meant for him!

Then, right on, like nothing happened, the headmaster gets all cheery again and goes on with his welcoming speech.

The dude whom Jouke, says to his buds, "Same fuckin' speech as last year," he twirls his finger in a circle, "and the year before that and so on and so on..." then noticing Evan staring at him, "Who you lookin' at asshole?"

"Um, uh," Evan was suddenly lost for words.

Then! His knight in shining armor appears, shuffling between the arrogant dude's fellow class members, "He's looking at the school's head cum-sucker!"

Since they were not paying strict attention to the headmaster, the two were singled out by security and made an example. Not even seeing it coming, but from 2 feet away, recognizing the cubby-looking security guard, Davide San Giorgio, wading through the crowd of males, Evan and Jouke knew who was in for it.

Pulling on the back of the hoodie, Evan says, "Get out of here, Jason!"

"Oh shit!" Jason replies, doing a quick maneuver, ducking down, duck-walking through two of the cum-sucking asshole's circle of friends, down an aisle, coming out in front of the bus, quickly running around the other side and reentering the crowd on the opposite side. Before he pops up again, he unzips his hoodie and removes it!

The cum-sucking asshole was pulled away from the bulk of students and paraded up to the front. He became the perfect example for the headmaster to give his speech on how returning, third year students, "who are in their senior year at Manfredi, think they know it all. Let me tell you, gentlemen," even though Samuele Hawkins-Jones III, the headmaster, firmly believed hardly any of these young men to be `gentlemen', "it is the reason you are here, to become know-it-alls and that is why..."

This had happened every year for the past two school years and for the college-aged 2-year students at Manfredi, it was no different. Somehow, even if a student sneezed during Hawkins-Jones' big welcoming speech, they would be emancipated from the crowd and made an example. However, the headmaster had hit pay-dirt this time.

Standing there in the crowd, Jason pay close attention. With conflicting emotion, he watched and listened, the headmaster first naming the dude in trouble, always formally, Mr. Xenopolis,' said so fast Jason didn't quite remember past the Xeno' part. There were a mixture of clothing styles, even though inside the school complex, everyone would be lookalike zombies, dressed in proper uniform, dress shirt, tie, dress slacks, black spit-shine shoes and for assemblies and special occasions, a matching jacker. Nevertheless, on this dress-down day, his vision directly focused up on the dude standing next to the headmaster, all which was on Jason's mind is how the Greek dude looked without the loose shirt. Already, the white, thin-fabric shirt showed off a mass of hair underneath. The v neck, unfastened by 2 buttons, gave a hint of what lay beyond the white cotton. His eyebrows lifting, something uncontrollable for Jason, when he notices a dude

with more than ample packaging, it happened right now, which made Jason form a tight o' with his lips. A silent whistle escaped, thinking on, how big and how long'.

Unknown to Jason, 2 dudes down the row from him as he checked out `Xeno', some dude was checking him out!

With the conclusion of the headmaster's speech, which everyone who has been there before, knows the drill, rooming paperwork posted on the board just inside the door, the crowd begins to disperse.

Play it cool, Jason waits `his turn', letting all the other guys go before him.

The dude who was 2 guys down from him approaches, "Hey, the big Greek make you hard?"

Eyes squinted, Jason says, "What the fuck?"

Laughing, "Tall Greek dudes with all that fuzzy chest hair turn me on, too."

Yeah, hairy guys turned Jason on, but if a big-dicked dude was smooth, Jason would take him on, regardless. However, to blatantly prove this dude wrong, like throw off the scent of him checking out Xeno, "I like smooth guys."

"Oh," the dude said in a tone, like he was disappointed. Then, in a brilliant turnabout, the dude lifts his tee shirt, exposes his `built-fat' bod, with the only visible hair, a thin trail exiting his bellyhole, touchdown at his belt, "Hey, I'm smooth!"

Jason expected worse when the dude hiked his tee up and rather impressed, "Not bad." Being nervy, Jason takes the tee and pulls up above the pec line, "You work out?"

"I'm still a work in progress," cutting to the chase, "but if you ever need to get off and not preoccupied, I can give you my cell number?"

Not half bad, Jason thought the dude kind of cool, especially where he wasn't dripping with pick up lines, nor throwing himself at him. "What's your name?"

An instant hand comes out, not fully extended, popping out right next to the bare flesh of the dude's stomach, tee flopping down, "Pablo Miguel Aristo Fonseca, but you can call me, `Mutt'."

"Jason," Jason shakes his hand. "Why do they call you mutt?"

"Long story, but we better get moving."

While on the way indoors, `Mutt' filled Jason in on some of the quirky things at Manfredi. For instance, firsthand, if you didn't like your roommate or had another guy in mind, it was easy to fix. "For $50, under the table, the dean, Casper Martin, will adjust a room change for you." Mutt laughs, "If you don't have 50 bucks, he'll take a hot fuck!"

"Oh really?" Jason replies. He got a little jiggle from that. Even though his parents were loaded, or else he would have never made qualifications for the prestigious school, luxury living on campus, a $13,750 difference, than living in a dorm off campus, Jason had hoped there was a `barter' system in place.

He was very, very discrete when it came to whom he met for sex. Not that it was anything against anyone, it's just that... Jason loved men and with it, male-sex felt so good, a mere handjob would not do it for him. Also, ever since he was 16 years old, the priority had been doing it with an older man. This kept the 18 year old out of the mainstream melting pot of gay guys in high school, except one individual. Getting it on with older men, in their 20's, 30's, 40's, one or two older dudes he's met along the gay highway of life, he's pretty much had the panorama of what happens behind closed doors.

First things first though, he and Mutt scan the boards for their name, last, then first.

"You're over here," Mutt took Jason to the far left. "It's by the high-schoolers, then us college guys," he places his right hand on some sheets to his right.

"Croft..." Jason scans the list from the end of the B's, into the C's. First he finds the room number, "2-100?"

"2-100!" Mutt exclaims. "Oh my god!"

"What?" Jason replies.

His second year at Manfredi, Mutt knew all the ins and outs, "Nothing, except 2-100 through 2-108 is like the elite' quarters. Like, the rents have got to have a few million in the bank?"

Laughing, Jason thought Mutt an okay guy, saying, "Yeah, right. They got it, but I don't got it!"

Checking Jason out in a different way, Mutt asks, "Like, how did you spend your summer?"

"Kickin' around," Jason replies, "my older bro and I took a trip to Costa Rica to do some surfing, then hopped across the big lake to Hawaii, dinner a couple of days later in Tokyo, then... New Zealand and rounded out the trip with," and he knew this would gross out Mutt, "a delectable dinner of fried rat in Hong Kong!"

He didn't have to wait for Mutt's answer, "Really? Ever have gopher on the rotisserie?"

In reality, seeing the rats on oversized toothpicks, skinned from the neck down, head still attached, Jason barfed. Mentioning it gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach, "Uh, the rats were enough. Gopher... I don't think so."

Smirking, Mutt says, "Yeah, well I passed up the gopher, if it means anything to you?!"

His finger still on the board, Jason floats it to the right, stopping at, "Graham, Graeme?" He looks at Mutt.

"Don't look at me. You're the first `greener' I've met."

"Greener?"

"Yeah, slang for first term students," Mutt fills in the blank. "And no, I don't know who Graeme Graham is, but only one way to find out?"

On their way, Mutt gives Jason the tour, whatever shows up along their route, including Dean Martin's office. Every office had a plate glass window, wavy appearance so all which could be seen is a blurry image of whomever was behind it. The Dean's office is no different.

"Hold it a sec," Jason says.

"What tha?" Mutt asks.

However, he knew Jason was up to no good, opening the door, excusing himself, "Oh, I thought this was the main office. Sorry," he closes it.

Knowing what it `bought' him, Mutt asks, "So, how do you like Dean Martin?"

Nonchalantly, Jason replies, "Eh, I dunno. If it ever came to it, I'd give him the opportunity to save me $50!"

It made Mutt think about that. The conversation sway from Mutt's tour, to finding out, along the path of life, certain men whom turned Jason on. Mostly it was repeat execs, in town for a meeting, a phone call away from Jason meeting them at their hotel. Other times, it could be the guy who made eye contact at the pumps, while Jason filled up his red 2013 BMW B6, a little present from his father upon graduating from the 11th grade.

The figures were rolling in Mutt's head like a slot machine, coming up with 6 digits, when Jason mentions his BMW B6!

He relates one little chapter of his whoring life, "Yeah, there was one guy, a junior exec, working for my father, right in the same office and he never caught on. Man, did he have a tight ass!"

Throwing hint, Mutt says, "I have a tight ass, you know?"

Jason knew, from the time Mutt approached him, he was looking to give him a blow job and like he already knew, if it made Jason hard and horny enough, he would put his ass on the spit. He tries to dissuade, but leaves the door open, "I really have to get to know a person first."

After saying it, Mutt nods, "We're here. 2-100."

In case the other dude, Graeme Graham was already there, Jason crept in like there was a baby asleep.

There wasn't any `baby', instead, first off, Jason amazed, like his room at home, the jon was right off a wing of the bedroom.

Coming from it, this over-6' dude is walking from it, towel wrapped around waist, "Hey, how's it going?" He says with a `Davy Crockett' inflection, grabbing up Jason's hand in welcoming him to their room.

"Graeme Graham?" Jason asks, because the name didn't seem to at all possibly fit the figure?

"No-o-o, Graeme opted out for a room which didn't have so many windows. Acrophobic. Looks like I lucked out though!"

Whoever this dude was, with the Appalachian twang, Jason wasn't worried about why Graham was out and the cowboy in. Other than a towel around the waist and the straw cowboy hat, it was a good lead in for Jason, "Nice hat."

Taking it off, he pounces it on Jason's head, "Fits perfect. It's yours!"

He turned to go about his own business, doing a recovery pirouette, "Oh, I'm Jeff Calhoun. Friends call me Jeffy' or plain and simple, Calhoun'." As he turns to go to the closet, the wide open windows, with no window treatment, he can see perfectly from the second story, "Oh-h, nice view!"

Jason and Mutt wander over.

Mutt says, "Now you know why these rooms get the big bucks!"

There were two reasons actually. From Jason's first perspective, it was the vista, a panoramic view of the whole valley, beyond some of the school buildings. Part two, it was the part Calhoun enjoyed most about the view, overlooking the olympic swimming pools, two of them. After guys checked into their rooms, the rest of the day was deemed free time, meals the exception. Some had wandered down to the pool.

"Mm-m, who's that hot steed?" Calhoun asks, his eyes glued to the pane.

Looking down, the seasoned member of the group, having passed from high school', through his first year of the 2-year college, Mutt says it like, what has this dude got that he hasn't', "Oh, that's Dean `Jerkoff'."

"Don't lie to me, boy!" Calhoun's face switches to Mutt, then quickly back to the pool.

`Oh man, would I love to lie to you!' Mutt thinks up, a secret desire forming like a hot scenario in his mind. How could he not get so turned on to a tall Tennesseean, decked out in a pair of briefs, corralling his male anatomy?

Then the clincher, "C'mon," Calhoun snaps his fingers, nicely threatening, "don't make me hurt you!"

Whether Mutt forgot, Jason standing there in the room with them, he plays up his crotch, at the very thought of Calhoun `hurting him', "Dean Cummings, that's his name."

"Cummings? Hm-m, I wonder if he lives up to his name?" Calhoun says without turning this time, seeing Cummings take a leap off the high dive.

Meanwhile, Jason watches Mutt, still with feeling at the zipper, finally remarking with a philosophical bearing, so only Mutt could hear, "What's the big `stim', Mutt?"

"Stim?" Mutt gives Jason his full attention.

With Mutt facing him, Jason's eyes first dart to the mid part of Mutt's jeans, then addresses him, "You started out small when we came in the room and now... hey man, you better hit the jon before your jeans cut off the circulation!"

Sassing back at Jason, Mutt retorts, "Or maybe `you' can take care of it for me?"

With calm, Jason comes right back at him, like he's reciting from a personal, private set of rules for himself, "Hey, no offense, but I don't dig cubs."

"Your rule sucks!" Mutt replies.

He thought it no biggie, but apparently he had hit a raw nerve, the Hispanic-Greek-Italian cub marching right out the door, slamming it behind him.

Which, drew Calhoun's attention away from the window, asking, "What the hell was that about?"

Perhaps his presence wasn't for multi-national cubs, but Jason could only stare at another busy hand and because he thought probably the tall Tennessean noticed, him noticing, he hypothesizes, "You prefer handjobs to blowjobs?"

Grabbing the towel, unveiling himself, like a precious work of art, Jeffy says, "If you're willing, I am!"

"Nice," Jason replies, walking towards him.

He was totally surprised out of his gourd though, Calhoun's big fist catching the front of his tee shirt up in a wad, "But if you don't do a good job, I'm warning you.. I can be a rough son of a bitch!"

"Hey," Jason acts unconcerned and as cool as a cucumber, says in a laid-back tone, as he grabs Calhoun around the wrist, in a matter counter-force, "let's get you off first and then take you up on the S&M later?"

Another thing to get Calhoun's ball pumping, "Hell yeah! You like to play?"

"For pay?" Jason replies, before sinking to his knees.

Bargaining, Calhoun says, "Depends on what I have to work with." Though, he forgets much about it, feeling wet tongue on his cock!

If Calhoun thought this was going to be a slow, sensuous blowjob, with all the trimmings, cockhead to the back of the throat, lizard tongue up and down the sides, he was wrong.

First time, if it involved something more than a blowjob, Jason knew exactly how to keep the customer' at bay, stopping, wiping his wet mouth off on the trick's stomach, saying, "And when and if I decide to play' with you, we play on my terms."

"Uh, sure," Calhoun agrees, showing great disappointment over the delectable blow job being interrupted and whereas his cock was surrounded by hot saliva, a cool breeze is cooling his cock off, which wasn't totally bad.

Going back to work, Jason forces Calhoun's cock in between his lips, like it's entering a pea-hole of an ass, then like before, coaxes it back, from the pubes to the tip, exposing it to air, "And by my rules."

"Dammit, will you just get with the blowjob!"

Kneeling, Jason's ass falls to the heels of his sneakers, looking up, "Well, if you're going to get all sassy with me, Calhoun, I..."

"No, no, no, no, no," his hands flail in Jason's face, "I didn't mean anything by it, except..."

Reason he stops addressing Jason, is Jason, with his rounded hair cut, flopping a little over his ears, a flip over his forehead, the thin stache and scruff along his chops, the smile completed the handsome features, but also helped to provide the onlooker with a handsome view, just makes the look like it commands attention.

"Okay, no more talking. I'm going to work you now, until you're ready to cum. Man," he holds up Calhoun's cock, spotchecks, Jason thinking his lips, tongue and throat has worked it up to at least a `9', "can't wait till it's at the back of my throat and I'm feeling your jizz shoot right on down!"

Jason knew how to work a man. He's been doing a guy off and on since he was sixteen years old. With his business intelligence, coupled with excellent math skills, he had concocted the means by which he could be off, doing his own thing and not have the `rents worrying about his absence.

First thing he did, upon entering high school is make friends with a guy. Gay, which he knew as soon as he found out there was a difference in the human race, he had studied men to a `T'. Since he was designated some kind of genius way back in elementary school, he didn't waste that intelligence, finding out about all the necessary things in life. That is, according to how he perceived living his life.

Right off, in second grade, his thirst for knowledge about males switched on, when his class adopted a student teacher for half of the year. Of course he's seen men, on the street, at church, supermarket and other places, but not one which took up a major part of his day, five days of the week. Mr. Gravetelli would show up and slowly take over Miss Swan's duties as a teacher. Sometimes Jason would go beyond daydreaming, trying to picture `Tony', as he found out from another teacher drawing his attention in the hallway, Tony without his jacket, tie and shirt. Just for curiosity sake, after seeing different builds of men and boys on the beach and at the pool, he wondered which one Tony matched up against.

For sure he wasn't at all like his dad. Being in a big, big house, called a mansion, Jason hardly ever saw his dad in anything but pants, shirt and shoes. It was only when the family took a vacation, usually to a foreign country, which had a beach, he'd see his dad without a shirt. He wondered why, he, himself, wound up being such a skinny kid and his dad looked like this big `bear', sagging pecs and the stomach, big belly, which you couldn't see his navel at all. It was the only way he could describe a chubby man, all covered in auburn, brown hair, from the top of his shoulders, over his chest and hell, it just kept on going over his belly and... into his swimming trunks.

Even his older brother, Jordan was a little on the chubby side, but nowhere as gone as the old man. And slowly, his mom being the same way, Jason soon developed the impression he was `adopted', because his bod type didn't resemble any family members, him being this skinny, little squirt!

He never put on the pounds, except in muscle. In high school, it was strange he never caught on to the sports rage, except lifting weights. It became his passion, as far as extra curricular activities went. `Then' it happened.

His last year of high school, eleventh grade, he already knew he was accepted into the school for special institute for young men, who had more upstairs than the regular student, so did a little overtime working out in the gym. In the bowels of the building, it bordered the dirt underneath the basketball courts and boiler room. At times it could get steamy hot down there. On this particular day in May, in Florida, the temps had already peaked. Doubled up with the boiler, to provide hot water to the building, it was like `double-sweat-day'.

It was forbidden for any athlete, in any aspect of the sports program, to remove their shirt. However, the elements daring him, Jason had stripped his off. Still, it wasn't enough. Halfway through some incline barbell presses, he drastically needed a `wipe off'. He was in a quandary though. He didn't want to put his tank back on, or else it would soak the sweat right up. It made him laugh, thinking upon the first time he jerked off in school, not having the notion to clean his crotch off, his briefs soaking up the goo. Anyhow, the next best thing would be the paper towel dispenser in the jon.

Upstairs, the gym boasted quite a layout, 8 pissing stalls, 4 caged in toilets, a row of sinks and next door, showers.

Downstairs there were no showers and the jon consisted of 2 pissing stalls, 1 toilet and a sink, all lined up in a row, the toilet to the back of the jon.

Walking in, Jason got the scariest fright of his life! There, the associate coach of the football team, fresh out of college, 25 years old, was humped over a sink, grabbing the edges like he was holding on for dear life, Jason exclaiming, "Coach Johnson?!"

One of the seniors, who wasn't too educated, which Jason figured it was his own doing, having known the twelfth grader, was right behind coach, both their gym pants and jocks on the floor.

"Mike?" he knew, because Mike worked out sometimes the same time as he, but always with a different spotter.

"Whatsamatter Croft? You act like you never saw a man assault another man's ass?"

Shocked, especially after the narrative, Jason says, "No, I haven't. Why would I want to?"

He wondered, `what?', when Finnegan stuttered, stopped pounding Coach Johnson's gut against the lip of the sink. He gave Jason this funny, strange smile.

It prompted Jason again, "What?"

"Nuttin'," he says and regains the pace of drawing back and stabbing coach with his fat dagger. "Finish what you came here for and get out. I'll talk to you later."

Taking a wad of paper towels with him, it seemed to Jason he had sweated more while talking with Mike Finnegan, than hoisting the barbell over his chest. One strange thing, which he quickly forgot, Coach Johnson didn't say one word to him, not even a `hey there, Croft!'

Regardless, as he finished his workout, it was tough to concentrate on what number he was on, with all the hollering coming from the jon. Soon he just worked to failure.

It didn't take long to saturate all of the paper towels, but for whatever reason he didn't feel right interrupting Mike and Coach Johnson. A minute later he didn't have to worry, the two coming out of the jon.

Coach Johnson was dressed in his proper outfit. Only difference, he thought he noticed him walking with a little limp. He walked right past him, without even a turn of his head. Coach's attention on the door out of there.

On the other side of the coin, Mike Finnegan, who was built like a wrestler, because he was a wrestler, slowly walks out, shirt over his shoulder, thumbs playing with the elastic of his gym shorts, to get it to the right fitting place around his torso, saying, "Oh man does Johnson have the tightest fit!"

Sitting on the weight bench, Jason was facing the loaded bar, nervously playing with the litter of paper towels. Even though they were all wet, with the jitters, he wiped off sweat beads here and there, shoulder, chest, and in doing so, tried his hand at conversation, "You do... `that' often?"

Wiping the sweaty towels off the bench, Mike Finnegan threw a leg over and sat down, facing Jason, "It's called fucking, in case your smart, know-it-all science teacher didn't get to that chapter yet!"

Honestly, Jason didn't know all the rough terminology, but by the time he got to eleventh grade, he had heard words like fuck', mainly in cursing, like, fuckin' shit' and the assortment. Speaking on his course studies, "We've covered the human anatomy and sexual intercourse." Jason didn't want to let on too much, so he let it be as that.

After saying an explicative, Mike says, "Books ain't nothing like man-on-man sex!"

Sure, by eleventh grade Jason and a few other kids in this Florida town had shown they were way above what other kids in school strived to be, but unlike the others, Jason had always kept his cool, play it cool, but right now, sitting face to face with Mike Finnegan, the sweat dripping down Mike's ginger-haired bod, perhaps his ego got the best of him, "I `know' about man to man sex!" he boasts.

"Hm-m," an evil smile came to Mike Finnegan's lips, the small utterance, which made it seem like the devil was using Mike as a ventriloquist dummy, "is that so?" His arms go around the front of his bod, hands tucking into his pits, arms lined up with his bulky pecs.

Then, the funniest thing happened, Mike's right hand drops, his fingers, creeping towards Jason's gym shorts, made Jason push on his feet, launch himself backwards. Only, there wasn't anymore bench left!

"Oh shit, Jason! You okay?"

He `was' okay, seeing the tip of Mike's cock falling through a leg of his gym shorts!

Mike reaches a hand out, "Give me your hand!"

They both worked out, so it wasn't an imposition to easily pull Jason up to his feet, saying, "I'm okay."

When Mike hoisted Jason up, he could almost feel the sweaty fibers of Mike's ginger hair on his own bod. For an interval of silence, the two stare at each other.

Thinking something romantic might ensue, Jason was shocked when Mike asks, "Hey, you want to fuck me?"

He knew what Mike was thinking, this dumb kid, not even knowing what fucking a man's ass was like, scrambling to get his thoughts together, but Jason comes right out with, "I'd love to fuck your ass, Mike!"

"What?" his confidence faded. In reality, Mike had a cunning plan to switch things around and much like Coach Johnson, have Jason on his knees, prepping himself up!

"I'd love to fuck your ass, that is after you firm me up some?"

Looking at him snidely, he gave Jason a straight face. Possibly it was because Mike was thinking, then mellows out, smiling, "Wouldn't be your first time, would it?"

Shrugging both shoulders, Jason's full smile says it all, but he clues Mike in, "More like my fiftieth or hundredth time?" he gives ballpark figures.

Slowly, it rolls off Mike's lips, "Fuck-in-hot! Hell yeah!" Still, not breaking the trance, "I'd like to see what you got?"

With most dudes, Mike was the control freak, but after falling off the bench, Jason figured something must have shook up his own brain, "Cool. Well, I've got a class, but we can meet up later, if you've got a place?"

He wasn't as well off as Jason, living in a small saltbox at the edge of town, "Uh, `snot going to work out for me, I..."

"No sweat then," Jason says. "Meet me in front of the school at bell and I'll drive us over to the hotel."

"You're paying. Right?" Mike gulped.

"Sure."

Little did Mike or anyone know, how one of his tricks', Ross Coen, who happened to have almost as much loot as his father in the bank and also a business associate of his father, had permanently rented the penthouse at the local luxury hotel. Once a month, Ross was in town on business. All other times, he gave Jason carte blanche' to use his hotel space, even an unlimited tab!

"I'll pay," even though he didn't have to pay, "as long as the service is good!"

Little had Jason known, Mike had stalked him, incognito, for the whole school year. He was a top, could be domineering to the point of bullying, but first time his eyes lay on Jason, everything was different. He reeked of muscles, spoke his mind and of course it didn't hurt to know a guy, who's dad had millions in the bank! All in all, the biggest difference between Jason and any other guy in school, was servitude. Mike used to get off at night, dwelling on Jason and his muscular bod, down on his knees or whatever position Jason' willed. This really made Mike think about it, because, like he had Coach Johnson, belly over the sink, it could very well be Jason having him doggie style on the bed. That first night, his hand wrapped around his joystick, Mike didn't give a fuck Jason was fucking' him. He even pulsed his own ass, as if Jason was doing it to him right then and there!

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Jason was having a good time sucking Calhoun's dick, but it wasn't a big turn on. Probably the hottest dick he's ever sucked, belonged to Chad and Derek, two surfers who happened to be in town for an event. His family was rich. It was easy for them to get tickets to any event. His father had connections.' And so, there he wound up, with the ability to talk' to any of the surfers who were competing in the event, which happened to be for charity. How they met and the circumstances, didn't matter. What came afterwards, well, at 17 years old, Jason had never sucked `2' cocks at once and this was quite a chore. Too, he's never been fucked at both ends. Another landmark in his man2man adventures!

"I better get upstairs and shower," Mike Finnegan says.

A split-second memory of surfers and since he felt more on the same page, same plane, same level of social status, he chose to cause a rift in the balance, based on his former meeting with a cop, who wanted to be on the victim end of being interrogated, "Oh, Mike?"

"Yeah?" he turns back to Jason, the shirt almost falling off his shoulder, like a chip.

"Don't come anymore today."

Walking back, Mike Finnegan says, "Ain't we the bossy one?"

Playing with the cop, Jason thinks back on being in the ninth grade and how Officer Ponti threatened him, driving without a permit, him not caring who his father was or it being his brother's car. Like, it was `scary', but then Marco smoothed things over, offering something in lieu of a ticket or worse.

Nonetheless, the two teamed up and Jason found out two guys got together, not only for strictly sexual pleasuring. It was the first time, even though he was scared shit to do it, questioned Marco three times, before slapping the cop on the side of the face. It was the beginning of a very, very strange friendship. Marco lived alone, way out by the swamp, with no neighbors for miles around.

Jason had questioned, first time he had the police officer pick him up on a street corner near his home, drive him out to the swamp and set eyes on the small, L-shaped home. It wasn't a dump, kind of nice, but, "Out here in the swamp?"

Marco follows up with, "Yeah, where nobody can hear me scream. That is if you're up for it?"

The first time he met Marco Ponti, was when he borrowed his brother's car, only to drive to the store. Even though he was eligible for a Florida's learner's permit, he neglected to follow through. Being brave, both he and his brother, Jordan, felt confident, no cop would pull over a Jaguar xke.

Okay, so Jason couldn't drive in a straight line. Not one of his superlatives. However, his inability to do so, caused him to meet one of the nicest guys, adult-wise, he's ever met.

As soon as they got out of the car at the swamp house, Marco, whom Jason was to find out was 28 years old, sunk down into a servant position of lowliness.

At first he was like a mentor, arm over Jason's shoulder, bestowing upon him, "You like to play games, right?"

Then on his knees!

"Yeah," Jason replies, feeling indebted to Marco for not giving him a ticket or worse, since he was driving without a permit. Was nice of him too, to allow Jason to follow him to the store, following him to make sure he got home okay.

So, what brought up the subject of discipline and more between the two? Jason's initial attitude. He had seen his brother, on a couple of occasions, curse out an officer of the law, sometimes to the cop's face, other times when the cop was researching his driver's license. Though, this one police officer seemed to let it go over his head. Now, grown up and 16 years old, what does Jason discover... it's the same cop who pulled his brother over!

Marco continued to confide, "You like to play cowboys and indians?"

"I'm a little old for that?" Jason replied, at the time.

Even though he was only 16, when Marco took Jason into his house, he offered him a beer. It was that first time at Marco's place, Jason had learned his brother, Jordan, had received an education doing some wild stuff. Marco called it a fetish and convinced Jason, if there were two consenting parties, there wasn't a thing wrong with pursuing it. Nevertheless, Jason was to return to Marco's house in the swamp many times, doing stuff to Marco he never even knew was allowable, in the hobby sense and, he didn't have a problem doing the stuff because it got Marco's cock very, very hard and dripped a lot of cum. He could swear, torturing Marco's cock and other parts of the male anatomy made him really shoot a volume of hot cum, unsurpassed...

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...as he thought about it now, with Mike Finnegan, "I can do anything I want to you?"

They were on the same page, talking the same language, Mike replying, "As long as it doesn't leave permanent marks!"

With that, Mike Finnegan left the gym and Jason in a dreamlike state.

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Now, on his knees, finishing up licking the cum off of Calhoun's cock, he goes for broke, since Marco had explained kinky stuff could involve a vast array of weird stuff, "You like getting tied up?"

Calhoun, unknown to Jason, suddenly felt new tingles, "You into whipping a guy with his own belt?"

Getting up, on the same level, Jason replies, much along the lines of something Marco used, "Whatever you want, I can deliver?"

"Back home in Tennessee, whenever a man got in the mood, he'd travel out to the Woodlands."

Not knowing the place, why would he, never having been to Tennessee, "Never heard of it."

Looking point blank at Jason's bod, Calhoun says, "Some guy would have a field day with your nips. His specialty and if the sub didn't mind it, he'd pulverize'm!"

Looking down upon himself, tight chest, dark, salmon-red nips, adorned with tiny points, Jason says, "Yeah, well I've mostly done it to other guys."

Turning his back to Jason, placing his right hand on the back of his left shoulder, Calhoun says, "See this?"

Jason looks.

"The little red line?"

"Maybe," Jason wanted to agree.

"Feel it."

It's not exactly how Jason wanted to get his hands on Jeffy's hand, but places his fingertips on the top of the shoulder.

Then, Calhoun placed his on top of Jason's, saying, "Feel it now?"

"Like little ripples?" their eyes met.

At the time, it wasn't a laughing matter, though Jeff Calhoun was enjoying every minute of the whipping. The dominant he was coupled up at, at The Woodlands, a gay nightclub, which on certain nights doubled up as a bdsm dungeon, complete with some outdoor facilities, since it was way off in the woods by itself.

He happened to choose the outdoor' playground. Trusting this guy, Tankard', on advice from Eric, who knew his father. He figured Eric would never lead him astray, especially when his father helped Eric with the mortgage of The Woodland, when he fell behind in his payments.

Nonetheless, Jason reports back to Jeff, "I've whipped a guy."

Feeling like, like microwaves of euphoria are being transmitted from Jason, to his own bod, Jeffy says, "Oh, we've definitely have `got' to pursue this!"

"But the scar on your back?"

Jeffy replies, "Yeah, I took one helluva whippin' that first time, but... it wasn't my last! Now, we better get ready for lunch?" he nods to the clock above the door.

Over the years, as Jason dwell on this just now, entering another phase of his life, like a timeline, hints of different events roll by, starting with him first coming out, to himself:

• Jose, the gardener at his father's house, Jose's son Roberto, who came home from college during summer months and worked at the house, landscaping, documents his first '69'

• Ross Coen, his father's business associate, which became a once-a-month rendezvous for sex, there was a lot of hugging and kissing, Ross taking his load every time

• the guy at the service station, offering a way out for Jason, when he left the house without his wallet. Whereas Jason thought he would be bottoming, it was the first time his cockhead was at the back of a guy's throat when he came

• Chad & Derek, the two Australian surfers, in town for the international surfing event

• Sal's younger brother taking over for him when Sal had a heart attack. If Sal ever sucked a cock like his younger brother, he `would' have a fatal attack! But it was a good thing Jason liked pizza!

• then there was the cable guy and his assistant. While the boss was on the roof, he and the assistant were doing their own installments!

• And of course, Marco Ponti, tough policeman during the day, victim of an interrogation on the weekends!

• Most recent though, at the end of is junior year in high school, Jason happened to, at the fault of the school, show up for a placement test late. All the other students had gone home. He did think it strange the superintendent, Mitch Marshall, was the only one in attendance. However, he did hear the super tell the last proctor it wasn't necessary for her to stay for one' student. Jason did' wonder, why a 3-hour test was so late, 5 o'clock in the evening. He never bothered scrutinizing the form letter for careful erasures and changes in numbers. "You don't mind staying for me?" he asked Marshall.

"If you don't meet Manfredi's requirements, they wouldn't allow you to attend the institute, will they?"

"You got that right," Jason jumped on it.

"Start whenever you feel like it," Jason heard the lock on the door `catch'.

Reporting to the front of the room, Marshall takes his jacket off, "Get convertible. Would like a water?" he holds up a bottle.

There was something happening here, which Jason, by now in his life, having covered some sexual territory between two men, detected. He wanted to check `something', so replies, "Sure. Give it here."

One thing, which he wasn't planning on, he figured Marshall would toss the small, plastic bottle of water. Instead, he walks towards Jason, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

"Thanks," he said, smiled and noticed of the proctor's crotch.

Also, the way Marshall smiled back, it was more than a `thank you'.

Figuring if this took 3 hours to complete, Jason would be out by 8pm. An hour into writing, Jason stops, asks, "They won't lock us in the school, will they?"

If he could only read Mitch Marshall's mind, he would discover that not a bad thing at all! But no, they wouldn't. However, it was a good lead in for Mitch, "Possibility," he looks at his watch, even though a big, fat-fuckin' clock was hanging on the wall!

"I still have a lot of work to do. It'll take me 2 more hours, Mr. Marshall?" Jason contests.

"That does present a dilemma, doesn't it, even though I don't have to put them in the mail to Manfredi until Monday."

There was an angle the super was working on here, however Jason knew, around home this weekend, Jordan would be off to a golf tournament, the `rents off on a trip to Rome, in regards to his mother's art business and himself? Do like he always did when this scenario happens... what he wants!

"Sure wouldn't want to get locked in the school. I mean, 5 days of school are enough!" Jason jokes, laughs.

Laughing along, Mitch, who has unfastened his tie, lets it hang down his shirt, had opened his shirt to a hairy `v', cools it on the laughter, seriously saying, "You could always finish is under my supervision, someplace else?"

How did Jason know where this was going. Lying, he says, "My place, it's always crawling with people," what he neglects to says, on purpose, the occasional trick he sneaks in, usually a guy around his own age.

It left the subject wide open, "I `was' thinking of my place. Nobody there on the weekends, except lonely ole me!"

"Cool," Jason replies. "Just let me stop by my place and pack a few things," thinking secondary, "I `am' staying the weekend, right?"

Now, knowing they were both in the same playground, Mitch replies, "As long as we can keep each other happy and hard!"

Jason was cool with that, but when they got out to the front of the school, Mitch tells Jason there's no reason for him to go home, stating he lives in a very secluded area and if they went around all weekend without a stitch of clothing, only they would know!

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While Jeffy and he were getting ready for lunch, Jason had lightly touched on what he and Mitch did for the weekend.

With Jason facing the mirror, Jeff Calhoun behind him, fixing Jason's neck tie, he asks, "Did you ever finish the test?"

"Yeah, but Mitch and me had to both laugh. When he sealed the stickum on the envelope, he still had cum on his lips!"

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Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee

`A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe', and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.