% 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, Santa's village, school campuses, crowded beaches, campgrounds, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, dungeons, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, of 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 wanna barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story.
% States and countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject, abiding by their own laws and conscience. The 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 and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt.
Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have, over the years, consider adding some $upport for `internet $pace' or else I will have to start cutting steamy characters out of my stories.
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^o^ Concluding remarks ~ reading this story could make you stiff or gooey, so I would suggest not reading it in a public place...unless you're a breed apart from the rest, who likes to get noticed...just sayin'! :)
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"AGaiNSt thE GRoiN" 03
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
^o^
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Finally, Scott and Stewie made their move, at least to the dressing room, where they had stripped down.
"So, you're okay with going back to my dorm room?"
"Sure," Scott was fine with it.
"Cool. You've gotta meet my room mate, Grant. He's a real cool dude."
Before they left the `dungeon' room, Dooz had convinced Coach Mills he owed Scott.
However, Scott felt strange with the arrangement, Dooz wanting him to climb up on the table and have his track coach `kiss' his balls.
Stewie hadn't a problem with it, kneeling on the table, straddling Coach Mills' hot bod. He wasn't so keen about having his balls kissed, as much as pranking around, leaning back onto the coach's tall cock.
Then, the plan backfired, Dooz reaching in and swiping the fuck tool right out from under him, literally!
If Stewie wanted his ass plowed, he needed to pay to the piper, Dooz.
Watching all this bartering, it was interesting to Scott, though too much work, when lying with a guy, trading off amorous kissing, licking and then inevitable. Here, Stewie having to promise Dooz a thorough lick-job, which doing the custodians ass, kind of made Scott nauseous, `Ewe!'
It still stuck in Scott's mind, as they looked around for wardrobe parts, "You would really lick Dooz's ass?"
Thinking about his ass sinking down over Coach Mills' thick log, Stewie replies, "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do!"
He was laughing, but Scott was not. He had never seen Dooz's ass, but he figured it was hairy, just like every other place on his bod!
As for Stewie, "To each their own."
Switching subjects, Stewie says, "We get along good, huh?"
"I thought so," Scott replies, holding his jeans up.
"Oh," Stewie stops, looking down at his own junk, "I think these are yours?"
"Well, I sure as hell don't want them now," Scott says of his briefs, "after you bathed your balls in your own goo you shot all over coach's chest!"
"Yeah, and if Dooz wasn't in such a hurry to get rid of me and you, I'd have cleaned it up in no time!"
"Your own..." Scott couldn't find the word, settling for, "goo?"
"Yeah. Love the stuff. Can't get enough of it!"
Scott then has a flashback, to one time he's heard the same, "Sounds like Tom. I bet you two have a lot more in common!"
"Hm-m, 2 on 1. I like that combination!"
Scott tried to think how that would go, giving up. Then, he asks, "Tell me something. Just why are we going back to your dorm?"
"You don't want to go?"
He didn't have anything better to do, except the term paper, which he needed Tom, to finish up on, "Sure. Don't have anything better to do. Why?"
"Well, I came, but you haven't!"
"So?" Scott zips up his pants.
"It's just that I feel so bad you haven't?"
"You said your room mate has a boyfriend?"
"Right," Stewie replies.
"That's a lotta goo to be drinking?"
Stewie knew Scott was on to him, "Where on earth did you get such a foolish notion from?"
"Your addiction, by chance?"
"Who knows what's gonna happen, with 4 gay dudes in such a small space!"
Scott thought he'd stop in, but if he didn't like what was about to happen, he could always abort. Watching Stewie hold his tee shirt up, to put on, Scott says, "Aren't you going to take off the clamps?"
"Ri-i-i-i-ight," Stewie says, "I love the feeling of sore nips, rubbing on my shirt!"
Scott rolls his eyes.
Stewie walks over to Scott, "Go ahead. Pull'em off."
"Pull them? Like, not `take' them off?"
Picking up Scott's hand, Stewie places fingers, wrapping them around, the silver chain, saying, "Go ahead," drops his head back, looks to the ceiling, "I won't look."
Curious, Scott did give the chain a little tug, "It's stuck, good."
"Yeah. Just the way I like it. Guaranteed, it's gonna hurt like hell. Cool, huh?"
"Do it yourself."
Before Scott could unwrap his fingers, Stewie pulls on his torturer's arm.
"Wow-w-w-w-oo-oo-oo!" he howls.
"I can't believe you made me do that, Stewie!"
He should have turned around, stomped right on out of there, but something made Scott stay.
Fast recovery, not the first time Stewie has been `ripped off', "Cool, huh?" he looks down upon himself.
"Your nips, they're like...so red and...puffy!"
"Yeah, though they could be a little more swollen and sore."
He and Tom had never gone to this extreme, fingers and thumbs pulverizing, twisting and turning, driving Tom's cock into submission.
"Maybe we shouldn't go back to your dorm?"
"Don't like that. No one's gonna do it to you and, you said each to their own?"
"I did say that, didn't I?" Scott couldn't keep his eyes off the fat nips.
"Wanna feel?"
"Nope," Scott just wanted to get out of there.
Putting his shirt on, Scott never thought he would hear the end of how he did such a good job, making Stewie's nips throb!
%
Meanwhile, it had been quite some time since Dirk took Tom to his place, showing him what a real dungeon looked like!
After the tour, restraining devices, holding place which looked like a real jail cell, a working rack, tons of play toys, including incredibly big, fat buttplugs, a thing guys use at a beer party, funnel with a hose, which Tom was told was used to funnel piss down a boy's throat.
It left Tom joking, "So, when do I get to use all this stuff on you?"
In reality, on the way there, Dirk had been contemplating something he had been pondering for a long time. When he hit 40-years old, there was a disturbance in the force and he suddenly had the urge to switch. Frankly, he didn't know who he could trust, except possibly someone fresh in the bdsm circles.
"Well, I was thinking," Dirk hops his butt up on the side of the rack table, toys with one of the ropes used to secure a wrist, "you might like to try your hand at dishing it out?"
Finger on his own chest, Tom says, "You want me," points it to Dirk, "to do you...like torture you?"
At 46-years old, more than twice Tom's age, Dirk didn't at all play the part of a grandpa'. Maybe a father, he didn't at all look like the number,' muscle build, abs divided into six bulky sections, built pecs, each with a pink dot, fur cascading down the whole facade.
"We'll take it slow and see how it goes. Anytime in between, we feel like switching, we'll do it."
One thing which piqued Tom's interest, but wasn't really sure of the wanting, "I even get to fuck you?"
Walking up to Tom, Dirk moves his hands up Tom's bod, which catches in the tee shirt, "We won't know anything standing around, will we?"
Tom did feel a little weird, this guy, old as his father, maybe a couple of years more, stripping off his shirt, but as he did it, caressed his lips with his.
After the fact, Dirk says, "You like kissing?"
Tom did, but not sure with an older dude, saying, "If it'll get me out of security guard demerits, I'm all for it!"
Dropping the shirt on the floor, Dirk weaves his arms in between Tom's, saying, "You don't need to worry anything about that shit."
One thing Tom liked, about the kiss, wasn't the kiss itself, not which he didn't like it at all, but the handlebar mustache, starting under the chin and coming full circle. As they kissed, both of his hands felt the side of the stache.
"Like that, do you?" Dirk senses it.
"I like," Tom says, "all of you."
It made Dirk smile, thinking out loud, "Bet I know which part you like the most?"
It did occur to Tom, "Yeah, how come you didn't have me suck you off?"
"I dunno. Had a hankering to see how it felt with you controlling the flow?"
Tom did think it kind of cool, shaking Dirk's fat stick until it erupted, "It was cool, but..."
"Don't worry about it," Dirk says, "we'll have plenty of time to blow our loads. "What's your schedule like tonight? Homework?"
There was the term paper, but how often does a guy get to play around with a security guard from his school, "Nothing's up with me and the `rents are out of town, so I don't have anyone to answer to," Tom smiles, "except you?"
"Good. We're going to your place."
"What about here, where we are?" Tom picks his tee up off the floor.
"Got a house mate. Some of his buds from out of town are coming in tonight and he asked for use of the torture chamber."
"How selfish, he didn't invite you?"
"They're a bunch of nerd-types. Me, I like rugged!"
Tom never thought of himself as `rugged', but if he pretended hard enough, he was sure he could pull it off, "Well, that's a damn shame, but let's go?"
The whole ride over to Tom's house, Dirk driving his truck, he had thoughts of how this was going to go. For certain there was this feeling of doubt, based upon if others found out he subbed for a, "Hey, how old did you say you were?"
"Nineteen. I got a bad flu in elementary school and stayed back. Though, kind of cool being the oldest dude in high school."
"Fucked around a lot?"
"Only with my friend. You know him, Scott?"
"Oh, you...never mind," Dirk says, backing out the drive.
"What?"
Dirk confesses, "You had the hood on. You couldn't hear or see our conversation," yet he left out the visual, like when Scott pulled on the reins, harness he wore.
At the time, Dirk's reaction was, `what tha fuck, this little turd coming in here and thinking he was tough shit,' but now smiles about it, "Yeah, your friend is quite a character."
"Um," Tom's fingers spider-walk up Dirk's thigh, "if you like me tonight, will it erase the slate for Scott, too?"
"What? You want everything?" Dirk stops, before exiting the drive.
"Maybe more?"
Over 40, Dirk had kissed those days goodbye, but didn't realize he still had the good looks, nice bod and still appealed to the youthful crowd. At 46, he still play it cool, thinking any day he could lose something with older age, like the ability to shoot a hunk of wad, or genes shifting, putting on the weight.
"I might go for more."
To Tom, this didn't seem like the same Dirk Caulley, "What have you done with that `tough as nails' security guard?"
He still hesitated, backing out the edge of the drive, "I think it's time I set my goal of who I want to spend the rest of my days with."
"Me?"
"I dunno," it was the first smile Tom witnesses, "I'm still trying you out!"
Finally, Dirk backs out, getting a car horn scream at him.
An inch from getting broadsided, Dirk looks down at the windshield, "I oughta get out and fuck him and his buddies over real good!"
In jest, Tom says, "I thought you only do that at school!"
"Correction," Dirk didn't make a move, "I never got to do you, kapeesh?"
Then he backs out.
The car which almost collided, pulls in.
"Oh, that's your room mate?" Tom's eyes follow the car all the way in. "Looks kind of...young?"
"Yeah. Thought we might have something going, only I doubt very much he can take what you can take."
"Oh, so this is more than finding a best-friend-forever-partner-for-the-rest-of-your-life?" Tom puts the screws to him.
"For your information, smart-guy, I'm looking at the picture as a whole."
Tom wasn't thinking it, "That's what I thought, kapeesh?"
Dirk rolls his eyes.
"Is there a reason why we're not moving?"
"Yeah," Dirk says, sitting at the curb, right in front of his house. "Aren't you in the least bit curious?"
He was, but Tom decided to give Dirk's question a spin, "Sure I'm curious to how tight you are!"
"Fuck you," Dirk turns off the engine.
Tom, he was all revved up for a 1 on 1, helps dispel any notions, "Are we going in?"
"Only if you want to."
"Sure. Be cool having you on your knees in front of your housemate, my cock stuffed down your throat!"
Even though Tom knew, right know Dirk wasn't going to come through with the `fuck you,' it made him squirm in his seat.
%
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Scott asks.
Stewie, hurrying faster than Scott can almost keep up, "Sure I'm sure and if put a hustle on, we might get there in time to meet Grant's hot date!"
Sketchy details, once they reach the second floor, slow down, Scott asks, "And exactly when did you find out about all this?"
"Oh, I knew Grant had a date way before I even set foot in the dungeon."
"And just what if I decided to make you my prisoner for the rest of the night?"
Much as he wanted to meet his room mate's `hot' date, Stewie stops both them in their tracks, "Listen, you're a man Scott, but...you don't really have what it takes to be...what most guys like me, want!"
"Remarkable let down, Stewie!"
"Sorry to be so harsh, but it might help you in the future, if you decide upon this kind of playing around with a dude?"
Stewie didn't knock, which could be the usual, rules not set in stone, but it was just in time for them both to witness a heavyset dude, punch a muscle guy right in the solar plexus!
"Dayam," Scott speaks out before anyone else can jump the gun, "did you see how he took that?"
"Hi, guys," Stewie says, eyes glued to the cub.
"Stew, when are you going to learn to knock?"
Even though Stewie's roomie was reprimanding him, the muscle dude stare at Scott.
In turn, Scott answers before Stewie can make up an excuse, "You sure took that gut punch well?"
Nothing much was really said, other than Stewie, bragging to the cub he would love to learn how to take a beating like that.
Scott had gravitated over to the learning a name to put with the six-pack abs, "Hey, Grant here."
Not only muscular, Scott thought Grant masculine, sexy, some of the things he hoped to meet in a mate, "I'm Scott Juarez."
"Not of which I'm biased or anything, but you don't look Latino?"
Smiling, Scott replies, "I look more like my Irish dad!"
"Suarez, Irish?"
"My parents are separated, but my dad was never my real dad. I take my mom's surname."
Scott leaning against the bunks, stacked up, Grant sitting on the ledge of a computer desk, they chat.
On the other hand, Stewie was madly into the chubby look.
Adam alreadyshirtless, no-pants, but still in his bulging briefs, asks, "Before we go any further, I'd like to see what I've got to work with?"
Friends or more, Stewie didn't care, Adam talking his language, strips down.
A strange to the environment, but not to Stewie, Scott yells over, "Hey, you two wanna get a room?"
The cub yells back, "We're in a room, in case you didn't notice?"
Scott, more interested in chat, "Hey, you want to get a bite to eat?"
Smiling, Grant says, "I thought you were take out!"
Scott was hungry enough, but there were a lot of gaps in history to be filled. He had thought about it on the way over to the dorm and as Stewie had pointed out, he was sure all this whips and chains activity wasn't all it was cracked up to be. When he lay eyes on Grant, he was sure of it!
%
Stopped in Tom's driveway, Dirk remarks, "Your family has done well in the dry cleaning business?"
Exiting the vehicle, Tom says, "Yeah. Good enough to take off for two weeks in Fiji!"
"When did they leave?"
"They took off a couple of days ago," Tom replies, keying the front door.
Outside, the spacious front yard was littered with statues, a reflecting pool, water pouring out of a spout.
Inside, Dirk is faced with, "Wow! This place is unbelievable. I think I'll quit security and get in the laundry business!"
Strange paradox, as Tom sees it, "Maybe you should quit. In fact, they were looking for someone to run the main store while they were away, in stead of having to close it for a week?"
"What about the other two stores?"
"That's the thing, they have two good people to leave in charge. My dad's idea was to have 2 open a time and alternating closing the third. This way, only 2 of stores need to be closed 1 week each. Get it?"
Dirk, seemingly an entirely different person, pets a cat, "No, but maybe you can explain it to me in bed," he sets the cat down gently.
"So, do you want a beer, something to eat or me?"
"Tough choice. I'll take a beer!"
Tom acted appalled.
Then, out of character, Dirk starts laughing, "I was joking," he rushes over to thread both arms in between Tom, giving him a bear hug.
"Uh, does this mean I get to fuck you?"
"Do you want to fuck me?" Dirk is skeptical.
"Not really. I mean, I might want to try it sometime?"
This took them to the kitchen, chatting up the subject of Tom never really having the pleasure, it all sucking down goo, or Scott trying his ass out for size.
%
Although Scott was more interested meeting a guy covered in luscious fur, sometimes a person has to look beyond beauty.
Though, while talking, over a steak and fries, Grant's treat, he does admit he's not naturally smooth.
"Whew! What a relief!" Scott says.
Grant gets graphic on Scott, "Like, I only have some on my upper mid chest," Grant puts five digits on his chest, "a little around each," he circles a pec of his shirt, "you know, and a thin stripe down the middle. It's not like I'm...Adam, if you know what I mean?"
Scott knew, but he could be a tease just for fun, "No treasure trail?"
"Of course. How else do you lead a guy to the treasure!"
Scott had wanted to go on and discuss that detail, but lightened up on the gay sex, "So, what of walking in on you getting your gut bashed in?"
"Oh that. I know what it looks like, but us gymrats do it to each other...sort of, `who can take the most', without caving in."
Easy for Scott to relate, "I'd cave in," he laughs.
Not which Grant was focusing in, "Well, just for the record, a guy I fall for, doesn't need to be in the same shape I'm in."
"Oh," Scott swallows, sips, clears his throat, "have you met any of those kinds of guys, lately?"
"How old did you say you were?"
"I didn't," Scott replies, "but I'm 18. How old are you?"
"20," Grant says, adding, "so, you're still in high school?"
"Senior. Graduating in about one month, if Tom ever gets on the ball with his half of the term paper we're working on."
"A combined effort?" Grant pries.
"Yeah. We decided to write a profile about the sociological impact of music in the 1990's. It was Tom's idea to include gay artists."
"For years I've had a crush on Tom Goss."
"You're kidding?"
"Why? He's your favorite too?"
Well, no, but Scott did remember reading about him, "He's cool."
Grant senses something, but with friendly attitude, "Oh? Which of his hits do you like the most?"
First he bit a lip, not knowing he did, Scott saying, "I like all his songs!"
It made Grant laugh one syllable, then sit there with arms crossing his pecs.
"What?" Scott had a feeling Grant was onto him.
"Nothing. Maybe we can take in a Tom Goss concert sometime and you can sing all his hits back to me?"
Really digging Grant, not as wild as any of the guys he's known or met today, decides to clear the slate, "If I can learn any of the lyrics in time?"
"I thought so," Grant smiled a wide, toothy grin.
"You're not mad at me?"
"No, but you could make it up to me?"
Scott wondered, "How could I ever do that, my sin being so bad?"
"Well, we could have a gut-punching contest?"
"I'm dead!"
%
Before Tom and Dirk got into anything serious, they had that beer.
Dirk was thankful for one thing, "Nice that you're of legal age," he kicked back and took a chug.
"Are you talking about drinking or of `cuffing-age'?"
"Now that you mention it, I wonder how Steve is making out?"
Tom could figure out what was on Dirk's mind, but the name, "Steve?"
"And his car full of nerds?"
Thinking about it, Dirk had mentioned `housemates', but Tom was still sketchy, "You and Steve, are you boyfriends?"
Dirk paint a picture, "More my housemaid, who if he doesn't get every little detail correct, he pays for his sinful nature in the dungeon, which," he exhales, "is getting to be a old news."
"Let me guess, then," Tom, who was sitting backwards in a tall ladder-back chair, sums it up, "this `Steve' is your slave and since he's not getting much of an enthusiastic reaction out of you, is going elsewhere...or rather elsewhere and bringing the action back?"
"I'd say that is about the gist of it."
"Then, why not kick him out?"
Contorting his mouth in every which way possible, Dirk says, "You see, I know I let on it was `my' dungeon, but the truth of the matter is...it's Steve's house."
"Oh."
"So, if anyone gets to kick anyone else, it's Steve kicking me out on my ass!"
"Of which I guess I'm never going to get the opportunity to fuck?"
"Right now," Dirk says with no enthusiasm, "I have a mind to put you in charge and turn me into `your' slave!"
"Can I get that in writing?"
"No."
"No problem. Your word is good with me, Dirk!"
Putting the foot down he had on the kitchen table, Dirk says, "But I do have it in mind to go over there right now and give that bitch and his nerds a piece of my mind!"
"I'd give them more than that, if I were you!"
It was decided.
Tom came up with all the angles, telling Dirk, if he walked in there with him on his leash, it would show Steve he was still capable of picking up hot, young slaveboys.
"Yeah," Dirk replied, driving with a vengeance, "let that bitch know I still can tote a whip!"
"Uh, about the whip?"
"Don't worry. I'll just crack it over your back a few times for effect!"
"How about 1 time. Y'see, I haven't really taken any `real' lashes?"
"Don't worry," Dirk says, "I'll take real good care of you."
Then there came a lull in the conversation. Between 4pm and now, Dirk has felt like two different people. An insatiable desire to `harm' Tom, even if both knew it was a put on, and this evening, each getting to know the real person, he would surely be kinder with the strap in hand.
Pulling in the drive, there wasn't room, two other cars there.
"I wonder if Steve can accommodate us?" Tom asks.
"Any of those bitches touch any of my gear and there'll be hell to pay!"
"Um, can't we just walk in there and without checking, pretend they busted up all your stuff?"
It made Dirk smile. Between not really giving a shit about Steve, coupled with changed feelings for Tom, "I'd say we do some ball-busting ourselves!"
"Does this mean I'm going in as your..."
Dirk knew Tom knew what he meant, "Do you think you can pull it off?"
"What?" Tom says gleefully, "pretend to be you?"
"Wait."
They each got out their side of the truck, but met at the tailgate.
"Got an idea that'll make'em shit their pants!"
"The'll be wearing pants?" they both stripped shirts.
"Then we'll make'em lick up the floor!"
It took Tom seconds to think about it, shittin' the floor without pants, dudes lickin' it up, "Ewe-e-e-e-e!"
Even though Dirk was laughing now, Tom wasn't so sure his new `adult' pal was kidding!
Stripped down, both put on spare chaps and harnesses, black boots, which Dirk kept back there in case of emergencies such as this.
"How do I look?"
"Okay, but you really need to buff up."
It made Tom smile, leaving the `buffed-up' look to Dirk. He sure looked like he earned every line of his six-pack.
"Ready to make this happen, uh..."
"What?" Tom wondered.
"You gotta have a name."
"How's Tom?"
"Nah, something that's gonna rock their cocks."
"Well, I've always fantasized by being strung up and tormented by `Master Gerard'?"
"Gerard? Where the hell does that come from?"
Smiling, Tom confesses, "I think our history teacher at school, if he were here now, could help us...make them shit in their pants?"
"Yeah, kind of thought that myself, though I think he's straight."
"So?" Tom shrugs his shoulders, "Just because he doesn't want to have sex with us, doesn't mean he doesn't know how to swing a belt!"
"Hmm," Dirk rubs his stubble, "I'll have think about that one."
However, it was Tom telling him they better get a move on it!
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Copyright 2015 T. Chase McPhee
"AGaiNSt thE GRoiN" and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.