% 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.
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
^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'! :)
%
"AGaiNSt thE GRoiN" 04
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
^o^
%
Scott and Grant had gotten far as their hearts had intended on going.
Grant, 20-years old, had been in a relationship roughly every 10 months, since senior year of high school.
After Grant gives Scott a summary of each, he lay there, hand up between the pecs, rubbing the fine, hairy follicles.
"If I'm counting correctly, you've coupled up 5 times?"
"Six."
"Oh," Scott recounts, "right, the guy who lasted only a week. Forgot about Dan, there!"
"Over the summer, I thought about it, after my older brother..."
"The straight one?"
"Not Jonathan," the straight one, "Caleb?"
"The `gay one', right," Scott's head is turned, smiles.
"Caleb, he gave me good advice to play the field, worry about graduating and then think about settling down."
There was one itsy-bitty detail on Scott's mind, "I see, but what happens if you meet a guy who's a knockout, that you really like and you don't want to toss him away, for the next one?"
"Then I'll take Jonathan's advice, which totally discredits Caleb's suggestion. I mean, Jonathan, he's a marriage counselor...he should know, right?"
If Scott had picked the gay one', it would be over when he walked out of Grant's dorm room, so, "I'll go with straight!'"
The two, lying side by side, Grant up on one elbow, head resting on his hand, while he `play' with Scott's chest, a finger making paths through the hairy jungle, says, "Well, then I suppose, since I'm kind of crazy over you..."
Grant had all intentions of mounting Scott, knees at his sides and replacing his hand with tongue.
"Hold that thought," Scott was sure Grant was going to move further, but had to take his cell phone, "It might be Tom."
Of course. It wouldn't be Scott's mom, since he was supposedly doing an overnight with Tom, meaning there was only one dude who would bother him on a Friday night, "I'll just be a second," he hops off the side of the bed, placing his cell to his ear.
While he chatted with Tom, Grant for certain was going on-the-wagon', with Jonathan's lecture on restraint.' Like himself, he knows Caleb, how many relationships he's been with. A wider gap in age, Caleb 27-years old, there's been more failures. Slowly his mind drifted from Caleb, back to Scott, walking around the room, while listening to his friend talk. When Scott stands sideways, it only serves to make Grant's mouth water. Not only crazy about the thin layer of hair curving over pecs and stomach, but the excitement he apparently has instilled in Scott, his cock at an angle, yet fully loaded!
Disconnecting from Tom, Scott says, "I'll have to give you a raincheck on whatever was on your mind...my buddy said not to worry, then turns right around, saying not to worry. Trust me, I'm worried."
"Is he in trouble?" Grant fluffs his balls after moving to sitting on the side of the bed.
Scott did `slap himself' again for mentioning how big they were, an error, because he didn't hang with Grant all for the sex...an after thought, that would be something different.
Grant asks, "I dunno, but did sound like something was up?"
"I'd say, if Tom was worried he wasn't going to be around tonight, for whatever reason, it's something to worry about."
"Hmm," Grant analyzes the situation, "did Tom happen to mention where he was?"
"Yeah, at Dirk's place. Said he'd text the address."
At which time, Scott's phone sets off a jingle.
Sitting on the bed, thigh to thigh, Scott explains, "That was quick," answers, hears Tom talking to someone, lowers the cell a second, conveys to his bed-mate, "told me he had to run out front and look at the number on the mailbox!"
Grant leaned, like a puppy dog's head hanging over Scott's shoulder, thinking how he could get used to this.
Listening in, Grant hears only a few words, among them, the number and street name. Instead of a text, he hears the street name, `Valentino Drive.'
Hanging up, Grant's on it, describing the area, "Affluent!"
"Is it, now?"
"You've never been to Palma Heights?"
"I'm a poor boy, remember? I never had reason to!"
In their conversion, after the two found out each were not interested in rushing into a full blown fuck session, Scott discovers Grant's first mom, his stepmother, had died of cancer. Caleb and Jonathan were a product of that marriage.
When a person is born with a silver spoon' in their mouth, it means money'. Grant, it could have been a silver Rolls Royce, for all Scott knew!
"I'm sorry," Grant says, "I didn't mean to..."
"Act like some rich boy?" Scott fills in the blanks, adding, "Have you seen my briefs?"
Grant was thinking of a different term, the one which rhymed with `witch', "Did I sound like one, when I was explaining my history book to you?"
Scott says, "I didn't mind at all that you monopolized the conversation, going on and on about yourself," makes like a clucking chicken, "brag-brag-brag-brag-brag..."
"Shut up. Heads up, poor boy!"
Catching his briefs midchest, Scott reflects on his feelings getting bent out of shape, "I thought `you' were the one who liked to get hurt?!"
Going for some clothes, Grant, wanting to rather please Scott, instead of contradicting him on something as trivial as a few jabs to the gut, fist to the abs wall, it registering much lower, utters, with a smile, "Our first fight."
He did `get it', Scott sensing Grant's sweet remorse, "Well, if you feel that bad about it," he steps into his briefs, pulls them up, but not all the way. With still his cock hanging out, "then how come you're not down on your knees, beggin' for mercy?"
"Um," Grant keeps focused, "because you're more worried about your friend and not feeling my lips around the barrel?"
Finally, even though it took much courage and strength, the two put off on their little sexual romp and clothed their nakedness.
Dirk drove.
Scott not only made sure he was buckled in, but held onto the door handle for security, "You want to slow down?"
Turning into Valencia Street, the name Tom had given, Dirk removes his foot from the gas pedal and brakes.
"Great. Instead of getting smashed up against a tree from your erratic driving, I get whiplash!"
Grant, smiling, says, "Nonsense," he didn't mean about his driving, "you can only get whiplash when hit from behind!"
Turning to Grant, Scott saw the smile on his lips, "Glad you think it's so cool, because tonight I'm giving you `whiplash!'"
Next thing, Scott's complaining, "Do you think they could make the 7 any smaller?"
Turning on Valencia Drive, it was only a matter of minutes, they checked mailboxes at a slow pace.
While Scott searched mailboxes for numbers, Grant counted mansions, "It's this one," he stops in front of a rather smaller house than the others in swanky Palma Heights.
Glancing at Grant, his face told of his confidence, as much as he pondered on the whiplash, Scott says, "If you knew the place, then why did you make me go blind, looking for a number?"
It didn't occur to Scott, it wasn't counting houses which brought them to this spot.
Though, Grant knew, if who was inside, were the same bunch, it only was a question of time Scott found out, "Well, it's not like it's my first time here?"
This threw Scott for a loop, "What do you mean it's not like...your first time here, Grant?"
His name said, like he was in a heap of trouble, "You don't remember me saying I went to `Catholic' high school?"
"I dunno," Scott replies, honestly not remembering, "did you?"
Truth is, Grant doesn't remember mentioning it. More in his mind is twiddling with the hair on Scott's chest, "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, but yeah...I've been here before, because..."
Tom acted like Grant was asking permission to speak, "Spill your guts?"
"Um, Catholic school... Your school? My school? Dirk? Um, I knew about the secret wall behind the book case? Any of this making any sense?"
It did, but what didn't make much sense at all, were two Palma Heights Security cars pulling up on all sides of Grant's car!
"Oh shit!" Grant remarks.
He and Scott look through the sides windows, back, peering at what looks like patrol cars, "You got that right," Scott replies.
It clicks, the reason they were headed there, originally, now surrounded by officials wearing navy blue uniforms, some insignia patch on the shoulders, names on brass plates attached to chests, unreadable from where they are situated.
"Get out of the car," they hear, in a brash, commanding voice, one of the officers tapping knuckles on Grant's window.
Scott did notice something very, very strange. When they did exit the car, the men did not look exactly like cops. They did have the uniforms, belt on the waist, billy clubs, little leather pouches at the back, whereas one of them took handcuffs. One thing missing, were guns!
Another clue that something fishy was going on here, only one set of handcuffs were taken out.
Scott watches, a lone officer making Grant stand legs apart, arms flanking the hood of the car. Taking each arm at the wrist, Grant's arms are drawn behind his back.
Hearing the click, Scott says to the officer behind his back, "You're not real cops, are you?"
Head extended a little over Scott's shoulder, the `cop' says in his ear, like he's whispering love poetry, "Oh really? You think so?"
Scott could feel more than breathing, the man behind, his chest up to his back, which also made the officer's pubes line up with the crease of his ass, "I know so!"
With that, Scott takes a chance of being thrown in the slammer, elbows the `cop' in the midsection, hard!
"Ugh-h-h-h-h-oh-shi-i-i-it!"
What a scene, Scott the only one duped, watching as both, the arresting officer and Grant laughing their asses off!
The officer Scott knocked the wind out of, bent over, holds his stomach with both arms caressing his abs, breathes heavily.
"Looks like he got you good, Morgan!"
Scott can't believe it, even though he's found them out, "Grant?"
From laughing out loud, to gaining composure, Grant says, "Yes?"
There was nothing really to explain, Scott already guessing most of it, "You were in on this?"
"In on what?"
In glancing around, at the whole scenario, Scott finally recognizes the `7' on the mailbox. More importantly, he takes notice of the officer he elbowed in the stomach, more than his gut being affected!
If it had not been for Tom, in the first place, years ago, introducing Scott to the fine art of feeling pain, both wanting it as much as a need to have it, he could have been less sympathetic, "So, where does this fantasy roleplay go, from here?"
Not what he thought, Tom in trouble, the officer whom read Grant an abbreviated version of his Miranda rights, takes the helm, "I've got my prisoner. Once you cuff yours, we'll be headed to the charity event."
"What tha?" Scott is totally out of the loop.
Not a direct explanation, the cop whom he tucked his gut in, balances on one finger, the cuffs, extracted from the pouch at the back of his belt, "Wanna even up the score?"
Grant's arresting order, already escorting him up the drive, says, "Sorry to have duped you, Scott, but c'mon. It'll be fun!"
Cuffs dangling off a finger, when Scott's attention totally comes into focus on the other cop, he notices the little brass plate affixed to the uniform, "Rocco? That your first name or last?"
Still rubbing his own stomach, the two lean against Grant's car, "First." Then, with the stop of consoling his ribs, "Rocco," he offers the same 5 digits, turning slightly towards Scott, "Rocco Trisotti."
Looking up the driveway, watching the other officer roughly manhandle Grant, till they are out of sight, into darkness, Scott, not totally in a fog over what has transpired, "I'm Scott."
"I know," Rocco smiles, while clutching Scott's hand.
"You know? How would you..."
"Tom," Rocco tightens lips around the upward, cursive smile.
"Dammit, I forgot! That's why I'm here," Scott finally realizes.
"I know. Tom has filled me in."
The smile lingering, Scott also realizes something up with why Rocco is acting so cool, "Oh? And how would that go?"
Rocco convinces Scott, if he knows the whole story, things would fall into place more convincingly, "Tom and I, we were teamed up with Dirk and Steve and..."
Explaining, Scott finds out Tom not a rarity, liking to have his stomach muscles tested by a big, hot fist!
Not stopping there, he finds out Tom not to be in harm's way, but rather part of a fundraiser, charity to set up a program to stop bullying, at his own school!
His only reaction is, "Oh."
From the team action, Rocco and Tom set up, side by side, bets placed on who could take the most gut-punches, he changes topic, "You're lucky to have a friend like Tom."
Scott knows that, "I'm not so sure about that now."
"Hey," Rocco slides right down the side of the car, butt landing on the pavement, "Tom didn't fill you in on all the details, because he wanted to make it a surprise."
Looking up at Scott, Rocco could not deny he wasn't getting a thrill from the crotch view, "Wanna join me down here?"
With attitude, Scott's knees cave in, "Sure. Why not?"
Rocco moves his bum to the right, closer to Scott's hips.
"So, besides being Tom's sidekick, how else do you figure into all of this?"
Before the fundraiser activities got underway, preparations were to be made, like moving dungeon furniture around, to accommodate invited guests.
"Tom, Grant and me, we were chosen for the gut-punching challenge. After I lost to Tom..."
At least Scott had one thing to be proud of!
"My duty was finished, far as that goes. Then my job became escorting guests, from the driveway, into the event."
"Let me guess," Scott picks up the pace, "you and your buddy pull up behind unsuspecting motorists, make them get out of their cars and then start harassing them?"
"Really?" Rocco exhales a giggle, "Like, who was harassing who with their elbow?"
"I knew you were fake cops," Scott replies, regarding tucking in Rocco's gut.
"I won't hold it against you, the assault."
"Oh really?" Scott knows Rocco is kidding, smile never having worn off. "Does holding your pubes up against my ass count?"
He was loosening up, Rocco noticing Scott's meltdown, "Um, not which I wouldn't mind having it the other way around?"
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the one in uniform?"
This time, faced with a toothy grin, Rocco says, "Man, wouldn't that be sweet?"
Suddenly, the two stand, hearing another vehicle approach, Scott saying, "Time for you to spring into action?"
"Nah," Scott replies, again the smile returning, "my only assignment had been to apprehend you!"
Scott then gets it in his head, "There's something you're not telling me."
"Oh, there's a lot I'm not telling you!"
Sure enough, Rocco allowed the passengers of a parked car, 4 guys, parade right by him and up the drive.
"So," Rocco starts unbuttoning his uniform shirt, "ready to exchange clothes?"
Wisely, Scott says, "One problem, the name on your chest reads, `Rocco'?"
From out of a pants pocket, Rocco whips another badge, "No problem now," he holds it up for Scott to look at.
"It's got my name on it. How did you manage that?"
First, gloating a bit, Rocco replies, "I designed it!"
"But that doesn't explain how it got that way?"
"Dirk. He's got an engraver. All we have to do is program the name into the laptop and it engraves a name onto the pin."
By this time, with Rocco's shirt stripped, Scott was in a more playful mood, "What else did Tom say about me?"
Rocco, thinking this as giving the go ahead, starts working Scott's tee shirt up, "Uh, everything?"
After the first full chest embrace, kiss on the lips, Rocco backs off, "One of the things Tom told me is, you'll be attending the same college I go to?"
"What?" Scott questions, like he didn't hear right. Then it occurs, "How old are you?"
Full blown answer, Rocco says, "I'm 19 and in my freshman year at Rootpeter College. Tom says you and him are headed there."
"More," Scott provokes.
Hands already having Scott's tee up to his pecs, gives a tug higher.
"No," Scott stops him, "I meant, what else did Tom say?"
Tom said some things, but never took it this far, "He said to make sure I get your shirt off and lick your sensitive nips, then take you back to somewhere secluded..."
"Time out!" Scott again keeps his shirt from going overhead, "I know Tom knows I have sensitivity there, but I get the feeling the rest of what your saying, is more about you?"
Also knowing the kinky stuff Tom and Scott have experienced, "Would be cool if you and I found a nice, quiet place for you to harass me further?"
Another car pulls up and empties out. One of them, a dark dude, probably from `the islands', having an accent, says to Rocco and Scott, "I'm under arrest for your duress, officers!"
Holding out both wrists, to be cuffed, Scott says, "In case you haven't noticed, dude, I'm not in uniform?"
The other 2 with him, grab the `perpetrator', "That's okay. We'll take it from here," they grab, roughly manhandle the twenty-something dude, hauling his ass up the driveway.
"So," Scott picks it up, "what were you saying about a secluded place?"
Scott felt it a little weird, Rocco jumping in the driver's seat of Grants car, but come to find out, almost everyone at the party is connected in some way or another; dominant, sub, neutral, gay, straight."
"Straight?" Scott, sitting once again as a passenger, remarks.
"Of course. You don't think we only play with our own kind?!"
"Where are you taking me?"
Rocco smiles, "Don't worry. Tom's in good hands and you are too! I told him I'm taking you to my place. It's just out this street," Rocco makes a left out of Valencia, "down this way," onto the main thoroughfare, which is not much traveled, "2 blocks" and "we're here!"
It wasn't the usual night out, but for Scott, this last year of high school has had its quirks, "I feel like I'm in a dream world."
Rocco didn't stop, traveling up the dead end street until the hood butted up to a wrought iron gate, big house behind it by several hundred feet.
"Just a press of a button," the gates begin to open.
"You're rich?"
"Not yet. Just the `rents. Someday I would like to be, but first I'd like to find my place in the art world. If I make some loot along the way, that's cool!"
By this time, Scott thought Rocco was cool!
%
Back at the bdsm fundraiser for bully counseling, Tom had gone against Grant, bets all placed and the activity ready to start.
Both, stripped down naked, for total effect, it also helped to draw in more bets. Staked out, in the middle of the room, eagle-spread, both were back to back. Chains were attached to both wrist an ankle cuffs. Except for their heads bobbing up and junk hanging down, their bods resembled an X.
"Are we done?" Dirk made sure he looked those in the face, whom did not place bets.
In turn, this brought enough shame on them, they made sure they were in.
Dirk waits, "I suppose their ready. Now, let's see who our lucky gut-punchers will be!"
When they took a chance, betting on either Tom or Grant, those who could get their jollies, raging hard-ons, out of punching a dude in the stomach, their duplicate stubs went into a bucket. From it, 2 tickets would be drawn. First winner had their dibs out of punching either Tom, or Grant first.
"Avery?"
`Oh shit!' Tom thought, this big, burly, bearded bear stepping forward, eyeing him up.
Of course, this was made to make him sweat. However, instead of being frightened or intimidated, Tom smiles and winks.
"I'll take this boy."
Both exchange smiles, watching the `bear' warm up his hefty-built knuckles, rubbing hand over each.
Tom, he was madly in love with the physique and whole aura about the bear, saying, "Love them barbells through your fat nips, Sir!"
Now, rubbing up and down Tom's furry tummy stripe with the back of his knuckles, the bear says, "Would sure like to feel your tongue on `em, boy and other places of interest!"
What Tom had gotten from his conversation with Grant, a guy would show up with an escort, or might arrive on his own, but might surely go home with someone, not necessarily the dude he came with. This theme was running right through Tom's mind at this very moment, Tom fanning the flames, "Got a hairy ass?"
He could tell, the bear, looking to be in his 30's, certainly was being moved, a hand to the crotch, "More than there, boy!"
Then, Dirk comes up with a brilliant idea, "Why don't tweak this up?"
Ed Familiari was there also and taking Dirk's lead, steps between Tom's legs.
Dirk, between Grant's legs, begins to wrap some twine around the balls, at the bottom of his cock. Then, over and under, he separates Grant's balls in half, making them bulge, larger than life!
When both Ed and Dirk are done with their chore, Dirk says, "Okay, hand me your end, Ed."
"Sweet," Ed remarks, watching Dirk tie Tom and Grant's sacs together.
The whole time, there is cheering. Some of the bottom roleplayers are wishing for the same treatment. Of the lot, many are saying they have never witnessed seeing two dudes, with their balls tied together!
"Let the `fun' begin!"
Dirk laughs his ass off!
Even though it looked like even gut-punching, Tom's gut-puncher, Dominic, held back. Smartly, he wanted some kick' left in Tom for the after-party!'
%
Scott had to admit, as he enter the front door of Rocco's parent's place, "I've never really done anything with anyone, except Tom?"
"I've been with a couple of guys," hinting, Rocco says, "nothing as serious as I would like it to be."
Instead of being led upstairs, to the bedroom, Scott figures Rocco is leading him to the back of the house, the kitchen perhaps.
Truthfully, it had been the direction Rocco was headed, "Hungry?"
"I'll take a water, if you have it?" Scott returns, ready to lean against a counter.
Instead, Rocco takes a bottle of chilled wine, "This okay?"
A freshman in college, he's drank plenty of wine, beer, "or we can drink water?"
Putting it in perspective, Scott says, "I'll be in college next fall. I suppose I should get ready for all those beer parties, huh?"
Feeling guilty, Rocco places the bottle back in the fridge, "I forgot, my dad was saving this."
"For?" Scott pries.
"I think, my uncle's birthday party," though a little white lie, Rocco's uncle's birthday not for another few months, most likely, as usual, he would be spending it with his partner!
He hands Scott a water bottle.
"Thanks," Scott says. However, when Rocco pulls it away, "Hey!"
Walking towards the back door, he treats Scott like a puppy who doesn't know any better, "C'mon. Fetch!"
He could've tackled Rocco over the water bottle, but Scott like the playfulness. On purpose, he rushes, reaching far short of the grab.
"You have to be faster than that!"
When the back door opened, sensor lights kicked in, lighting up the yard.
Scott saw his chance. Instead of a reach this time, he went far out for the prize, tackling Rocco, right into the swimming pool!
"Ai-i-i-i-iee-e-e-e!" Rocco's voice trailed off as they went under.
Surfacing, Scott says, "Oh no!"
Like something was terribly wrong, Rocco questions, "What?"
"Our clothes...they're all wet. How ever are we going to get them dry?"
"Well," Rocco turns comedian, "we could get out of the pool first and then, out of our clothes?"
Climbing out, Rocco first, Scott eyed up the pants sticking to his ass like glue, "I bet this was your plan all along?"
"You mean," Rocco turns, offers Scott a hand, "pretending to bring you out to show you my art studio, only to have you tackle me and deep-sixing us both, to get us naked?"
"What art studio?" Scott is a little nervous.
"The one in the back," Rocco slowly opens his unbuttoned shirt, peeling it back, "which we can't tread into with our wet clothes?"
By halogen light, Scott admires the reflection off Rocco's chest. He thirsts to touch the wet rug, so reacts by walking over.
"I know, I'm a magnet for hot guys!"
If there wasn't a compliment thrown in for himself, Scott might have passed up the opportunity, "You think I'm hot, do you?"
"Soon as you got out of the car!"
"That was like, so long ago," Scott replies, Rocco working hard to get his tee shirt off.
"Need some help?"
However, Scott can't seem to get his head out, letting go, his tee becoming a hooded mask!
"Now that would be a rough kiss!"
Rocco does something about it, finding the right place to tear a little hole, which gets bigger and bigger, until it gives way.
"Phew! Now I know how it feels to get water-boarded!"
Not thinking about that, Rocco's gets closer, chest and stomach, lips closing in. Scott's shirt totaled, he gives it a toss.
"My shirt!" Scott breaks off, hearing the wet ball break the water surface.
"Was," Rocco replies. "Don't worry. I've got plenty upstairs. I'll get you one in the morning."
Unsure about this, Scott replies, "I'm spending the night?"
"Tom told me you were staying the night with him."
"Uh, yeah," Scott says, painting a line down Rocco's wet trail. Now sure how to handle his shyness, "but that was with Tom."
"Don't worry. I'm not going to ask you to tie me to the bed or do any of that kinky stuff."
"Sounds like you and Tom had quite the conversation?"
"Long story. It's complicated!"
"Well," Scott figures, the only way to find out, starts at his belt buckle, "why don't we get dry and check out your studio, so we can un-complicate matters?"
Rocco wasn't against this, making it like a fundraiser contest, seeing who could strip the fastest!
Entering the side door, Scott remarks, "Looks like an old barn."
"In it's day, it served to board horses. Now it's just me, my art work and the occasional squirrel!"
Totally in the buff, Scott caresses himself, "Cold in here." He didn't care about his cock and balls. They stay warm, nestled between his legs!
"I'll make a fire."
Thinking of a different kind of fire, Scott uses the words Tom has used over and over, "I bet you will!"
It made Rocco smile.
Following him over, Scott remarks, "There's a fireplace you don't see every day."
"Yeah. Keeping horses warm, without central heat, they needed something practical."
It was a monster of a fireplace, stone in origin, slate tiles on the floor, rug a distance from the hearth, which made Scott say, "Is this where we should sit to keep warm?"
"Are you kidding? Once this fire gets roaring, it'll burn the buns right out from under you!"
Though, watching Rocco, squatting down, lighting the fire, stirring it, Scott bit a lip seeing the curvature of those buns!
"That's it for now," Rocco stands, brushing both hands off.
"Do I get the tour, before bedtime?"
Turning, facing each other, each glance to the other, "Sure, now that we know what each other looks like...down there!"
Scott jokes, "Yeah. Typical, aren't we?"
Rocco returns with, "Well, it's always good to know what a man has to work with!"
They didn't stray far from the fireplace, but a few feet, Rocco moving some junk off the sofa.
"Smells."
"Me or the sofa?" Rocco asks.
"You," Scott smiles, knowing he meant the sofa!
"That's good," Rocco jumps into the sofa, lying the length.
Scott stood there, asking, "Wanna make room for me?"
"Plenty of room," Rocco parks hands behind his head, relaxed position.
Calling Rocco's bluff, Scott jumps all at once on top.
Face to face, Rocco complains, "Damn, you could have kneed me in the balls!"
"I did that once to Tom, only because he begged me," Scott sent a message.
"Not my thing."
"Oh? Then, what exactly is your thing, Rocco?"
Other than gut-punching, which Rocco loved the sensation of a man's fist socked into his solar plexus, especially after or during a workout at the gym, "This?"
Scott felt inadequate, allowing Rocco to do the leading. At first there was a lot of kissing, until Rocco weaseled his way out from underneath.
"You almost dumped me on the floor?" Scott complains.
"Yeah, uh, not as good as the floor," Rocco says, standing up from the sofa, walking over near the fire place.
"I thought you said we were going to burn our buns?"
"Yeah," Rocco's face turns into one big smile, "and I love your matchstick!"
It's not that Scott wasn't feeling something, just he didn't realize it, feeling his own tube, "Damn, you're right!"
It made Rocco laugh. Usually, how it went, a guy with a big shaft couldn't wait get with the ass massage. He attributes it to inexperience, "So, you want me to take care of that?"
"Maybe in a little while," Scott still is nervous.
Switching off the topic of his 9-inch matchstick, "So, tell me what Tom told you."
"You want me to start when you were 5-years old, on the playground?"
"Nah, you can fast-forward to the good parts!"
Rocco, not wanting to dwell on history for the whole evening, "Not much we probably didn't talk about, you guys discovering each other, coming out, then Tom finding he had this special," he put it in quotes, "activity and how you put up with him, exploring stuff."
"Yeah," Scott smiles, "I did think he needed a shrink, until..."
Relating, Rocco says, "You found out it has a sexual side to it?"
"Yeah," Scott sits up, from lying on his side, "I couldn't believe it, just talking about it, how it made Tom get hard!"
"Not much different than when we were on the sofa, huh?" Rocco replies.
"Yeah, guess not," Scott reckons, lying back down.
Then, it was like Rocco wanting to pork Scott's buns, lying behind him, both watching the fire flicker.
What neither viewed was watching it die down to a flicker.
In almost darkness, Rocco got up, walked over to a cedar chest and removed a big, bearskin blanket, custom made to fit two. Lying back down, he covered himself and Scott.
It took Rocco a few minutes to fall asleep, lying there on Scott's furry pillow. At first he dwell on Scott, not only good looks, knowing he was smart, but not sure if they were a good match. He fell into a deep slumber, thinking about Scott not the perfect match for him. Though Tom, now there was a man he could `get into!'
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Copyright 2016 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.