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 any state (21yo in Alabama, Mississippi, Wyoming, Nebraska), or in most countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
Following, pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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A NiFTy LiTTLe TALe 09 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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There was only one way in which Jason could find out Kevin Leeds' address, without having to run to his laptop, for Xeno to voice-activate his GPS system.
"What happens if we show up and Professor Leeds throws us off his property?"
"He kicks us out," Jason replies, turning right around and saying, "but I don't think he will."
After all, Jason was thinking, it wasn't him passing off pickup lines to the professor in the hallway, back at Manfredi!
Totally out of sequence here, conversation more deserving attention an hour ago, Xeno says, "By the way, I'm not mad that you're choosing to room with that kid you met."
"Ian's going to be my new roommate, Xeno, like `not' a boyfriend or any shit like that!"
However, Xeno totally disagrees, "Well, if I were given the chance, I'd make him mine before another guy got any ideas about him!"
Not yes or no, Jason replies, "Like I said, we're room mates!" Giving Xeno's GPS a good slap, "How does this stoopid contraption work?"
"Oh my god!" Xeno exclaims, "you just punched out my $2,000.00 GPS system!"
Regardless, they arrive at Professor Leeds' home, which to Jason, looked like some `kooky' place, like Nike shoe boxes piled up into 2 stories, laid out horizontally.
"Not at all like where I grew up," Xeno says, entering the u-shaped driveway.
"Watch where you're going Xeno, before you hit that horse!"
"Oh my god!" Xeno's foot hits the brakes, before hitting the `horse', "I thought it was real!"
But it wasn't, only a garden decoration, life-sized, the horse stood there, almost like a symbol of welcoming a visitor.
"Yeah right Xeno... you probably thought `Transformers' were real too!"
Getting out of the car, Jason notices Xeno hanging back, "Aren't you coming in?"
"I feel a little strange about it. I don't know of any student at Manfredi who has gone over a professor's house. Uh, call me on your cell when you want to be picked up?"
"Sure," Jason replies. Then, with an evil grin, a sinister attitude, he asks, "By the way, who are you in such a hurry to visit, that you kicked me out of your car so fast?"
"Me, kick you out? You got out without me even saying anything!" Xeno protests.
Pulling Xeno's chain, Jason replies, "Yeah, I know. I'll call you." Still with Xeno meeting up with some trick, "I hope you're not too involved when I do!"
Before pulling away from the garden horse, Xeno says, "Fuck you!"
Turning to the horse, Jason runs his hand from the mane to tail, walking up the slightly curved sidewalk. "Nice!" he remarks to himself, at the meticulously manicured bushes and small trees.
Ringing the buzzer, Jason laughs, hearing something, a person, but an inflection of automation, Door bell!' Like any other teen, he had to try it out multiple times, laughing his buns off each time, Door bell... door bell... door bell... door bell... door bell...'
"What are `you' doing here?" hit Jason in the face, as soon as the door popped open.
"What am I doing here?" Jason makes it up as he goes along, "Um, do you always come to the door half-naked, Professor Leeds?"
All eyes, Jason took in the science professor, fresh out of the shower, toweled waist, surprised to hear nothing about flashing his hot bod, but a look of `wtf you doin' here?', to, "Have you had your breakfast?" The professor's annoying face morphs into a smile, showing his brighty-whities!
"Um, uh, I..." Jason stumbled upon words, extending from thoughts. If he was smart, he should have thought up what he was going to say, before Xeno dropped him off.
"Don't ask me why I'm not sorry to see you?"
"Uh, yeah," words seemed to lead Jason, "I was kinda wondering?"
Walking away, his back faced Jason, Leeds casually saying, "Put some coffee on while I go get decent."
Strangely, Jason's mind dropped the worried attitude and shrouded by the comfortable surroundings, slides back into his joking attitude, "Uh, don't do anything on my account!" Two seconds later, "Hey, where's the kitchen?"
He didn't get an answer.
Taking a self-guided tour, he found the rooms didn't exactly match up to the shoebox look from the exterior. Rather, some walls were curved, most doorways double-doors, like the one he was trying right now.
His face contorted, to match his disposition, Jason says, "Like whoa!"
Ready to assess the artwork lying about, sculptures, framed works and accessories which would turn the room into an artist's studio, Jason is interrupted by the touch of a hand to his arm, a familiar voice, "Let me warn you. There's not an artwork in this room which is valued below 10 grand. You break it, you own it!"
"Ten, huh?" Jason mulls it over. Growing up in a household, where a thousand bucks was more like `ten', he replies, "Which ones are the 10 grand?"
"I don't need anything broken today, thank you!"
Out in the hallway, the professor closes the double doors, takes a key from a cute little `nymph' holder and locks it, hanging it back up.
"Um, like what keeps anyone from taking the key and unlocking the door? Kinda stoopid, huh?"
Wise man, Professor Leeds says, "Next time you unlock the door and go in there, make sure you have your father's checkbook!"
Walking away, Jason didn't notice anything different from when Leeds entered the artist's studio, having exchanged the towel for a speedo, a tank top which looked a size or two, too small, which show off the ridge-line of his pubes and clanky flip-flops. About the speedo, he asks, "Going swimming?"
"I was thinking about it," Kevin says, leading Jason into the kitchen, through a luxurious dining area, complete with a table which looked like it sat 40!
"You have this many people for dinner?" Jason does the white glove test with his bare finger.
"`Did', at least my parents did, when they were alive and kicking!"
"Oh. They're dead. Sorry," Jason extends.
Dwelling on the living, Kevin moves along, filling a coffee machine, "Up for a swim?"
"Can't," Jason shoots back, "I didn't bring a suit."
Shrugging his shoulders, Kevin lets it go right over his head, "Then we'll go without!"
"Like oh my god!" Jason says when the professor kicks his flip-flops off.
Putting his thumbs in the rear of his speedo, Leeds peels it down over his ass. At his ankles, he shucks the suit, one leg at a time. "There! I guess that's that," he slaps hands together, like cleaning sand from them. "Wanna change into your suit?" he laughs.
Knowing the professor was calling his bluff, the eighteen year old slowly, very slowly, pulls his tee shirt off over his head. Holding it, he meticulously begins to fold it in mid air.
"Gimme that!" Leeds says, ripping the shirt out of Jason's hands.
"Oh, I get it," Jason replies to the rude rip, "you can't wait to see how big my dick is, huh?"
"9 and a half? Cut?"
As he goes for his belt buckle, Jason replies, "Got a ruler?"
Walking over to a kitchen desk, Kevin rifles through it, "I think Gerard might have one someplace in here?"
Stepping out of his jeans and looking around, like he was searching for something, Jason inquires, "You have a partner?"
Holding up a tape measure, like one from a hardware store, retractable, about ten inches standing up straight from the base of it, Kevin replies, "This is the house manager's ruler?!"
"Oh," Jason gets it, "Gerard is your house manager. That's cool. Better your house manager than your partner."
Kevin knew this was coming to something and rather than tax his rocket-science brain, "And why would that be better?" He retracts the measuring tool, tossing it back in the drawer and closing it.
Jason kept it to himself, easier to hold a man's mind and bod hostage when there's not a significant someone waiting in the wings, "Aren't you going to measure?" he nearly can hold his balls in the palm of one hand.
Coming right out, the science prof says, "Are you hard?"
An English major, Jason replies, "Hard-ly! Hey, do you mind if I call you Kevin?"
"Oh, did I drop my name someplace?"
Quick-thinker, the reason he stopped by, Jason figures it a good lead in, "Your full name is on the roster, however..."
Cutting him off, Kevin thwarts his perfect solution, "Oh right. What can I say... it's Sunday morning!" he laughs.
"What do you do on your Saturdays?"
Prepping the counter with ingredients which go into an omelet, Kevin brings out eggs, milk, cheese, a deli pack and suddenly stops mid-kitchen, arms loaded.
"What?" Jason replies, knowing damn well, when Kevin was shopping the fridge, he took the liberty to strip down to his socks!
"Socks," Kevin replies, doing a quick study of Jason's lower anatomy, before proceeding to the center island.
"What about'em?"
"Tacky. Doesn't at all go with the outfit."
In rebuttal, reaching for one sock, then the other, Jason says, "I figured I could wear these tacky socks, since you were wearing that `tacky' tank top?!"
"Touche!" Kevin replies, setting down the eggs, then peeling his tank top off. He then jokes, "Just don't let it get around campus, we were both nude in my kitchen?"
The joking continues, or maybe Jason not too jokey, "I won't," he replies, adding a moment of silence, then, "as long as you take me to bed?"
This is one time Kevin liked it, Jason laughing his ass off, rather than serious silence, him replying on a humorous note, "Maybe later."
Their nudeness didn't last too long, Kevin dealing out a chef's apron to each of them. However, there was only one chef's hat to be found, Kevin making Jason wear it.
"How do I look?"
Kevin doing some whisking, replies, "Like Bozo-the-clown!"
Looking the curved response from a pot bottom, hanging from a rack, the shiny steel reflects, "I think I need to shed these `boy locks'. Know any barbers around here?"
"Why?" Kevin replies. "I think you make a cute Bozo?"
While pinning names on each other, Jason tries out, "I think you make a cute Tarzan!"
"Oh really? Think so? Know how to use a whisk?"
"Of course," Jason weasels his way in between Kevin and the counter, taking the whisk from the professor's hand.
However, he did not use it right away for the intended purpose. An opportunity presenting itself, it was too good a situation to let die.
"Oh shit!" Kevin exclaims, when Jason places the wire whisk mid chest, sliding it down until Kevin's cock makes him put on the brakes!
"Oh sorry. I seemed to have lost control of the whisk. Y'see, I never really used one?"
Standing there with such an innocent, quirky smile, how could Kevin protest, not that he wanted to anyway, since the cold wire was very stimulating, "Well," he takes it out of Jason's hand, "I think you should write the company who makes these `stimulating' tools and tell them you found a new use for it!" He proceeds to whip the eggs; behind Jason's back.
"Be careful you don't get egg on my ass!"
"Why? You didn't shower this morning?"
Lifting his own arm, Jason smells his pit, "Uh sure... take a whiff!" he turns his armpit over to Kevin.
"Uh, no thanks. I don't exactly feel like barfing into the bowl of eggs!"
"Oh no! You didn't!" Jason exclaims.
"Oops!" Kevin replies, with a smile. "Sorry about that," saying what he didn't mean, "I didn't do that on purpose?"
"Liar!" Jason accuses. Reflecting on Kevin's careless hand holding the wire whisk, "It's still dripping down my asscrack! Are you going to let it just... drip?"
"Oh," the science professor stoopidly says, "hard to tell. I can't see what I'm doing with your hot bod in the way?"
Prone to as much as throwing a boner over a hairy guy, Jason says, closing his eyes, "Yeah, it's like the blind leading the blind!"
"Oh shit!" Kevin exclaims, dropping the whisk into the bowl of eggs, affected by Jason's hands, pawing his hairy pecs!
"Oh sorry," Jason opens his eyes, apologizes, "I thought you were the dog."
"I don't have a dog!"
"Oh," Jason carries on this heap, big charade, "I bet if you had one he would be this hairy," adding his famous, "beep!"
"Oh double-shit!" Kevin exclaims, backing away, while his hands shirt his hairy pecs.
"Yeah, I know," Jason laughs it off, "gets'em every time," he means tweaking a dude's nips!
Dropping his hands, "Do me a favor and don't go there!"
Upbeat, Jason asks, "Hey! Wanna play slave and I can do anything I want to you?"
Walking over to the counter, picking up the whisk and whisking, Kevin replies, "Why don't we play `make these eggs look like an omelet'. We've got a lot to do today."
Picking up on it, like Kevin expected him to drop in, "We?"
"Well of course. It's Sunday... the second day of `Saturday'?"
Jason, flummoxed, says, "You lost me right after the omelet?"
"We only have eight weeks till the Warrior Run'. You know what they say, time flies when you're having fun!'"
"Wait," Jason signals with the time out' signing, "time out here for a minute. Warrior Run', like what's that about?"
"Well," Kevin explains, "Y'see, a hundred to a thousand half-naked hot guys of all shapes and `sizes', gather together and we run through different obstacles..."
"I `know' what a Warrior Run is, Kevin!"
It stifled Kevin for a moment. After all, he never had a student from Manfredi in his house, which he wondered what the hell was he doing now, with not only a student, but an eighteen year old, not to mention, totally stripped down... "Good," he replies, "I thought maybe I'd have to waste my breath explaining it, when I know you're almost as smart as me!"
"Yeah, right," Jason replies, as Kevin starts on the cooking phase of their breakfast. "Like, where do I sign up?"
"Oh, you want to do it?"
"Are you giving me a choice?"
Jason was loving it, every time the professor turned towards the stove to attend to the omelet, the front coverup gave way to his nice melons and splendid, muscular back.
Stepping away from the stove, Kevin suggests, "Well, are you going to let this omelet burn?"
"I told you," Jason walks over, "I don't know how to cook! By the way," he twirls the turner over and over like an expert, "how did you?"
"We didn't always have millions in the bank, you know?"
Figuring he should keep the omelet shaped in a `round', Jason keeps pecking at the circumference of the pan with the turner, "Oh. Big difference, I guess, since we were born with silver spoons in our mouthes!"
While Jason was giggling, Kevin was thinking, divulging, "That would be you and your brother, Jordan?"
Setting the flipper down. Jason turns the gas off, "I never mentioned my brother, `Jordan'?" which set him off in a semi-panic stage. There would be only one way anyone at Manfredi could get personal information and this would be through opening his file. "I think someone has been snooping around?"
Throwing his hands in the air, slapping his thighs, Kevin says, "Hey, would you believe I didn't even know I had a sister?"
His worst fears, Jason stood there, scared shit, like he had just woken up out of a deep sleep and in bed next to him was Jenson Ackles, "Like oh my god!"
Figuring Jason knew where he got this tidbit of information, Kevin plays it cool, "What?"
"Like oh my god! How terrible could it be waking up, with Jenson Ackles next to me in bed?!"
"You slept with Jenson Ackles?" Kevin removes his mind from current matters.
"Only in my dreams," Jason reports.
"Hmm, I wonder how he is in bed?" Kevin goes off on a tangent. "Do you think he's a top or a bottom?"
It had made Jason more relaxed and since the conversation went off topic, he kept it there, "Uh, I think I'd leave it up to him. Man, it would be such a privilege to suck his cock?"
"Hmm," Kevin decides, "I thought more about tickling him with my spike!"
"Quick question?"
"Huh?" Kevin acknowledges.
"Do you `do' students?"
"Like how do you mean that?"
"Like, how you're thinking it?" Jason was wise.
"Oh. Well, I don't get personal with students, if that's what you're driving at?"
"Oh really?" Jason says facetiously, "Then how come I'm standing here in your kitchen with no clothes on?"
"You've got clothes on," Kevin replies.
"This apron? You call clothes?" Jason says, pulling the cotton fabric tautly over his front, shows `something!'
It leaves Kevin without words, smiling.
"What?" Jason looks down the front of him, first gazing down his bare, smooth chest, then focusing on the outside of the apron.
This could lead to where Kevin didn't want to take the conversation, so reverts to, "I thought maybe we'd talk family history. Did you know we're related?"
Playing it cool, Jason replies, "Yeah, isn't that quirky?"
Going back to the stove, turning on the gas, getting things sizzling, Kevin says, "You know? I always wanted a sister named Abigail?"
At first Jason giggled, at the joke', but then thought about what he had done, as no joke'. Walking over to the stove, he slips a hand in between Kevin's cloaked cock, turning off the gas.
"Like, oh my god!" Kevin jumps back, then turning to Jason, says, "Damn, I thought you were going to give me a hand job!"
"Do you want a hand job?" Jason thought maybe he would again stray from the reason he came to the prof's house.
Middle of the road, Kevin gestures with his face, "Maybe later. So. What's up?"
This was it, where Jason was on trial and had to tell his part of the story before surely being sentenced, "I know you're probably going to be raving mad at me, but I went into your personal file and..." he tells in few words as possible, which turns into a short dissertation.
"Well," Kevin lets all humor drain out of him, but then turns right around and in an upbeat manner, "tit for tat, I know you're going to be stark-raving mad at me, but I went into your personal file," he giggles, "and..." more giggles, "on your activity sheet, added the triathlon team?"
"My file? Like when did you do all this?" Of course he knew it `after' he visited the prof's file.
"After I found out we're related, but what concerns me now is, curiously, how and why that came to be? I'm sure my mommy and daddy didn't say anything?"
There were no false pretenses here now. Still, an ounce of humor floating around, "Can't I just give you a blow job and we can call it even?"
Standing there, egg flipper in his hand, arms crossing his aproned chest, Kevin says, "Sure, I'll take a blow job, but first I'll take your explanation for going to all the trouble of hacking into the Manfredi personal teacher files?"
Right off, Jason knew he wasn't in too much trouble. Kevin had done as bad a thing as he had, so who was there to point a finger? After explaining, Jason puts it to him, "What do you think?"
"Wild story," Kevin replies, "but we better get these eggs into our stomach or else we'll never do any team training today! Oh, by the way..."
"What?" Jason takes the potholder.
"If you want, I can hack back into the student personal files and change it back? You don't have to be on the triathlon team if you don't want to?"
"Nah, don't worry about it. It's better than the `knitting club!'"
"Manfredi has a knitting club?" Kevin questions, leading Jason out to the back porch. "By the way, have you noticed Dean Martin doesn't use any passwords?"
"Oh yeah, I was about to say that," Jason replies, "when I was explaining how easy it was to hack into both, the student and prof's files. By the way, you do that often?"
"How else do you think I build up the triathlon team?" Kevin laughs, "If I left it up for some of these dudes to think for themselves, there wouldn't be a team!"
"Dudes? Are you young enough to use `dude'?"
"What do I look like? Anderson Cooper? I'm like only 10 years older than you, `dude!' Way it looks, twice as fit as well?"
"Oh-h-h-h, hitting below the belt, Kevin?"
"Hmm, now there's a thought! Maybe later."
"Okay, so I walked right into that one. About the hacking escapades?"
Kevin continues, "Nothing. Saves a lot of paperwork and paper going from this office, to that office, only to wind up on Dean Martin's desk, which if he feels dubious, for no reason at all, might sign a student up for `knitting class', instead of a rugged sport like tri?"
"Do you bother giving your victim a choice?" Jason asks.
It was hot in the kitchen, getting hotter by the minute, Kevin bowing out of the top of his apron and allowing it unfold, down to his waist, reveal a few inches south of his navel. Force of habit, strumming a hand over his hairy mid-chest, he answers Jason's question with a question, "Do you want to be on the triathlon team?"
"Hmm, takes consideration, Kevin. I mean, if I became a knitter, instead of a runner and swimmer..."
"You don't happen to know how to ride a bike, do you?"
"Does it have training wheels?"
They stood, a smirky smile on each of their faces.
Picking up where they left off, Jason says, "Well I suppose if I don't join up, I'll probably never see you again out of your clothes?"
"Oh trust me," the humor returns, "you'll be seeing so much flesh, not necessarily me, it'll keep you hard!" Kevin pauses, saying, "Not unless you come out to the events as a spectator?"
"Kevin!" Jason blames.
After quickly thinking about Jason calling him by his informal name, kind of cute, "What?"
"How are you going to try to convince me to come out for triathlon, if you keep leaving me with alternatives? Now it's like a toss up between knitting or triathlon. Decisions, decisions!"
"Let me give you a hint," Kevin takes off his apron, "I'd go with knitting. You won't sweat, but one of the downsides, you don't get to shower with 30 naked guys. Tough choice, I know."
"Very," Jason replies, removing the tall chef's hat to remove the apron, plopping it back on his head, his curly locks shooting out the sides.
Before settling down to officially `eat', Jason had one last thing on his mind, seriously bringing up, "I just want you to know that I did what I did for selfish reasons. Sure, I could have set the record straight, when I mentioned to Poul I was related to you, but instead I guess... I'm a coward."
"Nothing that 30 laps in the pool, running 50 miles and cycling another 50 won't cure!"
"Make sure you have a stretcher standing by!" Jason replies, taking a fork full of eggs.
"Vivid imagination there, Jason. Did you ever think of becoming a Nifty writer?" Kevin replies, eating.
"What?" Jason questions, a look of misunderstanding on his face, all contorted with curiosity.
"Nifty. Website with coolest gay porn stories?" Proudly, "I just sent $100 in support to the dude who runs it and..."
"Kevin?"
"What?"
"The reason I came over here was to explain why I hacked into your personal file."
"I already know why," Kevin replies, casually sipping his coffee.
"You do?" Jason acts surprised out of his gourd.
"Yeah. Of course. It's perfect. Make me your uncle, so me, being a member of the family, can check you out on weekends to come over to my place. Brilliant! Just Brilliant! Now I know why they accepted you at Manfredi!"
Sounded good to Jason, though way off base, totally far-fetched, but accordingly, absorbing every word, Jason gave up on his reason, trading it off, "Wow! No wonder you're a `professor', to figure all that out!"
"Hey," Kevin knowingly had pulled off his little fib, "it comes with the territory!"
However, Jason decides to carry the charade a bit further, "You're something Kevin, to figure out at what lengths I would go to get in your bed!"
Kevin's face looked drained.
"I think it should work fine for us Kevin, working out all day long, getting sweaty, preparing for the Warrior Run, coming home, showering together, sleeping... that is, if we can get any sleep..."
Pausing, waiting for Kevin, the prof making up an excuse for keeping Jason `out' of his bed, "Are you trying to make me hard?"
"Oh, I thought you were already hard in the kitchen?"
"Maybe," Kevin stands. "What do you think?"
"Oh shit! Were you stroking yourself, or did I..."
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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.