The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'
"Living In The Lap Of Luxury" 03 The continuing epic fantasy of the `Buffalo Boys' wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Where did your friends go?"
Dario was the first to admit to Reinken, "Uh, they wanted to go get more acquainted, if you know what I mean?"
"In other words, see which can talk the other into getting fucked?"
"I guess, since both are tops."
Moving the subject away from their boyfriends and into their own ballpark, Zek asks Reinken, "When you think we can play?"
First sitting, then adjusting himself, Reinken lay down on the same lounge chair, placing his hands behind his head, flaunting his thick, blond pits, smooth chest and stomach, the darker treasure trail that led to his rather plump cock, reflective of the two studs before him, wanting to play his game.
"No time like the present, but I want you boys to know what you're getting into."
"Well," Dario starts out, looking to Scott, readying to do another cannonball into the pool, "are you going to make us wear clamps on our nips?"
"First of all, we play in private. Secondly, I will not do anything that you don't okay first. Third, we use safewords all the time."
"Safe words? What are safe words?"
Zek adds, "There are unsafe words?"
Reinken laughed at their stupidity.
"First, let me ask you boys something," Reiken questions the two, "are you into the bondage and discipline, or does it also interest you to take some pain?"
He's hoping they go for the whole works!
"I would like to try pain," Zek admits.
Dario gestures going along with his friend.
Going on to explain the meaning of shouting out green', yellow' and `red', the safewords, Reinken also tells them of the intensity of pain.
"I have no idea how much I can take," Dario tells him.
Zek agrees.
"Being that you two are new to this, I wouldn't give you the amount that I would, say, give Scott here."
So intent on Reinken's instruction, they hadn't noticed Scott standing in their midsts.
"The clips," Zek asks, staring at Scott's pecs, the clamps tightly secured to each nip, "they hurt?"
Scott returned his answer, "Not too much. In fact, whenever they wiggle around, it feels kind of nice. At least that's what my cock thinks!"
Dario and Zek glanced from chest to pubes and back.
"Come here, boy."
"Yes, sir," Scott replied, walking over to the side of Reinken's chair.
Reaching up, with both hands, he goes for the clamps. Squeezing, he removes them from Scott's nips.
"Aiiiiiiiiieeeeoooooooooh!"
"Did I tell you that you can touch them, boy?"
"No, sir."
"Then get your fuckin' hands off your nips!"
"Yes, sir."
Scott let his arms drop at his sides. He shuffled back and forth between feet, hoping the sore, tingling feeling, in his chest would hurry and go away.
"I... I don't think I could take that," Dario told Reinken.
"Not me, neither," Zek seconded it.
"Oh, I wouldn't be using the full force of these. See this screw?"
Both look over to the tiny screw Reinken toys with.
"Yeah," Dario answers for both of them.
Zoom in on the tiny screw, Reinken turns, they watch as the metal jaws of the clip draw farther apart, creating a gap.
"Plus," Reinken adds, "for beginners I place these," out of nowhere, he produces a small rubber tube, "over the sharp teeth, to lessen the pain."
Trying to equate the sharpness of the alligator clip, to the effect it caused, Zek turns his head sideways to Scott's chest, eyeing up his nips, unclampped.
"I do not believe you have screw almost taken out and... look, Dario, no blood draw out from skin."
Zek's finger wavers a centimeter or two from the Asian's perky red nip, swollen and protruding out of the mass of black chest hair.
Daring him, Reinken says, "Go ahead. Touch it if you wish."
At the same time, they see some type of eye-language happening between Scott and his sir.
"That'll kill him, wouldn't it?" Dario inquires.
"What do you say?" Reinken directs to Scott.
Even though Scott would prefer they leave his tender nips alone, he knows that from past knowledge, when Reinken poses a question in this manner, the answer better be `yes'!
"No problem," Scott tells them. "Touch my nips all you want."
"Damn!" Dario says, "If that were my nips, all red and swollen like that, it'd hurt like hell."
No different from Scott, but trying to be brave, he wants to please Reinken, the man who means the total world to him. In fact, in Scott's eyes, to say anything negative, would present a feeling of embarrassment. So, he braces for what he knows will be coming. Squinting his eyes, he drops his head back, as he gets a double whammy. Dario has taken on his right nip, while Zek gentle rubs his left nip between his finger and thumb. Immediately, when Scott reacts, they stop.
"Hurt bad?" Zek asks.
Reinken jumps in with, "Oh no. He's loving the feeling, aren't you boy?"
Trying to come back to reality, Scott lies, "It... it feels," he swallows, "awesome!"
Just what Reinken wanted to hear!
"Are you sure?" Zek asks, unbelieving.
"Of course he's sure," Reinken reinforces Scotts decision. "Show them what you can really take, Scotto!"
Dario mouths, `Scotto', upon first hearing of the nickname. However, what becomes a more pressing issue, is staring at Scott's pecs, looking at the eighteen year old Asian take his own irritated nips in his fingers and thumbs and mercilessly torment them.
"Whooooa, that's so awesome! Can I try that?"
Four heads pinpoint the stranger among them, Frank Kelly, standing there, gazing at Scott tweaking his own nips. A smile begins to grace Reinken's face, as he realizes what might be the scope of Frank's interest. Scott's taunting of his pecs becomes second interest now, his cock realizing a new pleasure to be zoned in on.
In an instant, the twenty-six year old master is up out of his comfy lounge chair, his cock bobbing up and down, ready to make conversation with the newcomer to their circle.
"That's enough," the master tells his slaveboy. Then, turning to Frank, he tells him. "Go ahead. Play all you want."
"Cool!" Frank says, as Reinken paves the way to his boytoy.
Zek and Dario, now veterans to the nip-twisting action, cheer Scott on.
"Yeah.. take it, Scotto!" Dario cheers.
Reinken adds, "Oh, he can take it much harder than that, can't you boy?"
"Yes...sir," Scott says with shy apprehension, but nevertheless, wanting to please.
With interaction among the four of the younger set, Reinken uses the opportunity to skim over Frank's buff bod. Making like his cock is reacting to the torturous nip action, softly stroking his 12.5c, his eyes are really peering down over the five foot, ten inch stud's shoulder. As a bottom boy would do, looking at a delicious cock and set of balls, Reinken's salivation is due to wanting to run his hands over the Irish lad's near smooth chest and stomach, run his index finger down the tight blond trail and feel the interiors of the deep navel and make some meaningful play below the hot bellyhole trail.
"Like playing with my boy?"
"Hell yeah! Makes me jealous."
Reinken knows all too well Frank's desires. Falling into the realm of Timber Creek misfits, the Turtle Lodge, he's had a feeling all summer that Frank Kelly wanted this.
"I guess I was right about you."
"Huh? How does that go?" Frank asks, but already knows Reinken is on to him.
Turning his attention to the matter of his found out secret, Frank discontinues ravaging Scott's pecs. Zek and Dario follow the conversation, as it unfolds.
"I saw how you got hard everytime you played with your cabin-mate. If I allowed it, you would have played with Josh more so?"
"You knew about that?"
"I think the saying is, `it takes one to know one'?"
Dario butts in, "Yeah, that's it!"
Already getting into the D/s mode, Reinken turns to Dario and says gruffly, "Did I tell you to speak boy?"
Unlike Scott, Dario replies, "Oops!" first piacing his hand over his mouth, then cheerfully saying, "sorry about that."
Zek giggles.
Reinken asks Frank, "Are you with anybody? Josh?"
"Not really. Josh wants to hang with the two hitchhikers the bus driver picked up. I thought at first they could be interested in some BDSM, but I think they're more into sex."
"Nothing wrong with integrating sex into our activities. These two new `boys' have my balls churning. How would you like to have some fun right now?"
"Cool!" The eighteen year old shouted out with excitement.
Still gazing over Frank's shoulder, Reinken could detect Frank took more than an interest in having some fun.
"One thing."
"Sure. You're the boss."
"I get to fuck `anybody' I choose."
Now Frank wasn't so sure about going off and playing with Reinken. After all, he wasn't about to give up his virgin status.
Spinning around, Frank puts his hand on the German's shoulder, replying, "Tell you what, Reinken..." Frank waited to see if he minded him calling him by his name. At camp, the Turtle Lodge boys had been required to address him as `sir'.
"I'm listening."
"I think the same rule should go for me. What do you say?"
"Hmm... I might just amend the rules this once. Let's go."
Reinken and Frank lead the way for the other three, heading across the expanse of the indoor pool grounds, headed for the sleeping quarters, a separate area of the modern mansion.
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"By the way, I want to thank you for bringing me out to dinner with you."
"I think Nick can agree that we like having you around, Dil. Don't we Nick?"
"Yep."
"Nick, what did I just say?"
"Um, what did you say, Douglass?"
"Yeah. I want to find out how far back you have been following this conversation before you decided to let the guys at the table behind us, draw your attention away!"
Nick couldn't contest the fact that the three guys, directly across from them, facing Dougie's back, had stirred up his gaydar.
Sitting up alert, Nick replied, "You just asked, um..." dropping his fork into his lasagna, flustered, he says, "I dunno. What did you say?"
"I hope they're cute enough!"
However, by the time Nick and Dougie finish up their little innocent quarrel, it's Dil they find glancing over, across the way.
Not looking at his dinner guests, Dil says, "Especially since I don't have any money on me, it's nice of you."
Like conducting an orchestra, but with his fork, Nick asks, "What's he talking about?"
"Seems like everybody has seen the candy, except me!
The three fellows opposite Dougie's rear hadn't taken notice, until he turns to face them.
"Oh...hi," Dougie says, feeling like a total idiot. He relays to Dil and Nick, "Now wasn't that fucking embarrassing?"
Nick, giggling, tells him, "Um, by the color of face, I'd say `yes'!"
Dougie rolls his eyes.
"However, the cute guy on the other side of the table is like making goo-goo eyes at Dil."
Dougie rolls his eyes again and tells Dil, "Did you have to wave to him?"
"He's kind of cute. Besides I think he's gay."
"Of course he's gay," Nick responds. "Why would a guy be making a total fool out of himself, in front of his friends, over another guy, if he wasn't gay?"
Dougie takes a quickie glance over his shoulder.
"Hmm... I wonder about the other two studs?"
"Yeah," Nick says, "the blond with the stache is kind of on the hot side."
"He is cute, but I thought the other blonde..."
"Not my blond!" Dil gets defensive.
"Hee heee.."
"What's so funny, Nick?"
"Nothing. I just think it's a coincidence how they are all blonds."
"Why?" Dougie asks, "You don't think they are related, do you?"
"Come to think of it, the two on the left could be partners, but definitely the one flirting with Dildoboi here, is a loner."
"Isn't he adorable."
"Why don't you go over and introduce yourself," Dougie prods Dil.
"Oh no. I couldn't do that. What happens if the other two guys don't like me doing that?"
Turning to Nick, Dougie impresses, "Nick, go over there and tell the guy Dil wants to meet him."
"Wha... are you crazy? I'm not breaking up their little luncheon to.. the nerve!"
"Please?"
This time, it's not only Dougie doing the begging, with those cute, persuasive eyes. As if two against one, Dil puts on that grin that turns his kisser into a `begging machine'.
Slowly, Nick pushes away from the table, throwing his napkin down. Walking away, he grumbles. Two minutes later, after Nick talked to them, the two on the left stand from their seats. The stached blond pulls the table a little to the side. No one is more surprised than Nick, as Dil's guy manuevers himself around the table edge, without even standing up.
"Oh wow. He's in a wheelchair," Dil says.
"Why? Does that bother you, Dil?"
"I don't know."
"Well you better not let him know that, after all the fuss you two made over each other."
"Maybe he's not gay."
"Or maybe you don't want him to be gay, now?"
Before Dil could answer, Nick had returned, the three blondes in tow.
Nick introduces, "Gentlemen, this is my partner, Douglass Hazard and our friend, Dil."
"Hi," is all Dil said, which put a damper on meeting the guy in the handicapped chair.
Like butter in a frying pan, all the cheer melted from the guy.
"Um... hi..."
Dougie hoped that Dil would dummy-up fast!
"Well, um, this is Steve and Matthew."
One answers, "Steve Kestner and my partner, Matthew Diggles."
"Oh, where's my manners?" Dougie questioned himself, rising up and taking each of their hands. Then, slighly bending, asks, "And you are?"
But Nick beats him to it, saying, "This is Peter Newman."
The one called Matthew, remarks, "I thought I recognized Nick from the Culinary Arts Forum magazine."
"Really?" Dougie questioned. "I didn't even know he was featured."
Thinking about it, Dougie hadn't even known a `Culinary Arts Forum' magazine existed.
"Yes," Nick informed, "Four months ago. My father opened an exhibit in Milan and we happened to be dining at the Cafe La Trieannle, coinciding with their article on the design of the furnishings, not to mention the wonderful food."
Suddenly, Dougie shined along with the celebrity status that glowed, in relationship to Nick's personality, on display at the moment.
"Do you live around here?" Dil asked Peter, as the other guys went about their chatting it up.
"No way. I mean, it's a charming town and it does have it's esthetic qualities, however I much prefer the city."
"You mentioned the esthetic qualities, Peter?"
"Well yeah. Before the accident... the reason I'm pinned down to this chair, I used to throw some decent pottery."
"How did... that happen, if you don't mind saying?"
"Let me grab my glass of wine and I'll tell you. Oh, you don't mind if I sit here with you, do you?"
"Not at all," Dil replied.
Looking at Peter do a u-turn, grab his glass of wine and return, he stood amazed.
"I could have reached that for you."
"Thanks, but I learned a long time ago, well not that long ago, that I had to more or less fend for myself."
In less than four minutes, a table exchange had taken place. Peter sat with Dil. Nick, Dougie, Steve and Matthew made themselves comfortable across the way. They also did the proper thing, exchanging dinners.
"Thanks, Steve," Peter told his friend.
"You're welcome, babe. Anything you want, just give a yell over. Um, you too, young man," Steve also keyed Dil into, "on me!"
Dil thanked him.
"So, how did you..."
"Wait! Can we have a toast?" Peter more insisted, raising his glass of red wine.
"Okay," Dil accepted, smiling, as he allowed Peter to pour some more in.
"To us," Peter said plain and simply.
"To us," Dil seconded it.
Taking a hefty swig, the two gulped down their first round.
"I liked your toast, Peter."
Peter found Dil's hand on the table.
"I meant it."
"You're moving kind of fast, aren't you, Peter?"
"Maybe. But... okay. Look, I'm sorry."
Quenching the vitality out of Peter, it told Dill that Peter could be sensitive.
"Don't be. Um, you can move fast, if you want. I mean..."
"No, it's okay, Dil. You see, ever since the accident, I've had this tendency to jump the gun with every cu... cute guy I meet and... well, you can guess the rest."
"Have you," Dil sensed a touchy subject here, but went ahead anyway with his questioning, "um... like made it with any guys, since... you know?"
"Hey, the legs might be paralyzed, but the plumbing still works perfectly!"
That put their dinner back on the jovial stage. For the second time, Steve came back to their table.
"Everything okay here guys? Having a good time?"
"We're doing okay Steve. Thanks."
"Okay, but if you need anything, just holler, babe."
"Steve seems like a nice guy."
"Yeah, he is. The best. So is Matthew. Hell, if it wasn't for those two guys, I'd...I'd..."
Dil could see that Peter began sinking back into some past memories.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"I dunno. Do you really want to hear about it, Dil?"
"Yup, but not til after our next toast."
"To?"
"To us!"
After the clinked and drank, Peter began telling the tale of that fateful night.
"It's bad enough I was drinking, but I should've known better than to leave a frat party with a driver that was far more drunk than myself. Now I'm paying for it."
It was Dil's turn to touch Peter's hand. It was warm.
"Everybody makes mistakes, Peter. Some are small and don't matter. Other's, well they could big mistakes, but we have to drop it and get on with our lives."
"Yeah, okay. I know that. I went through tons of therapy. Whenever I talk about it, I kind of fall back. Know what I mean, Dil?"
"Sure. I've made my mistakes too. In fact, one really big one and I'm thankful, well for Nick and Dougie, that they helped me out of it. So, continue with your story, Peter."
"Okay, so we left the party and I was drunk out of my skull. Next thing I remember it this big crashing sound, then rolling over. I didn't have my seatbelt on and my head hit the ceiling of the car. Later on, I was told we crashed through the guard rail and rolled down an embankment. The cops told me that I was thrown out of the car and my legs wrapped around a tree, the wrong way."
Peter could tell the Dil didn't look upon what he said as a pretty picture. It wasn't.
"I'm so sorry, Peter. What else did they say?"
"The police, not much. Except for this one, a rookie. He told me I was cute."
"Really? Did you get his name?"
"He came to see me a few times in the hospital, but he said he was already attached."
"What a shame," Dil told him.
"Not really. I mean, if I... no, that's dumb."
"What's dumb?"
"Yeah, I guess it could be real... do you believe in fate, Dil?"
"I believe that what's going to happen, is going to happen and there's nothing we can do to stop it. Sure, we can do things to keep from getting into trouble, but we can't stop the world from changing from night into day and back again."
"I didn't expect all that, but you're right."
"So, what is it that you were about to say, Peter?"
Smiling, Peter replied, "Well, if Jason, that's the cop's name, had kept on coming to see me, I might have fallen for him."
"And what's wrong with that? I assume he's gay... oh man."
"What, Dil?"
"Here, I'm assuming you're gay."
"You? There I was, sitting over there," Peter exercises his thumb, directing it to where their four friends sit, "and I could've been flirting with a straight guy!"
"I can assure you that's not the case, Peter."
"Same here."
"Okay, now that we got that out of the way, what about Jason?"
"He's gay. At the police station he's in the closet. Was."
"What happened? He didn't get into trouble, did he?"
"No really."
Peter put on a grin like telling a joke.
"What happened?"
"He was in the closet, until the sarge made a play for him in the shower one afternoon."
"Nooooo way! How did that go?"
"The way Jason put it, it seems that the sarge had waited, nearly stalking him. Jason, under the shower jet, felt a pair of hands on his torso."
"Awesome!"
"Yeah, except Jason said it scared the hell out of him, at the time."
"And it was the sarge?"
"Oh yeah. You'll never believe what the sarge said to him."
"I give up," Dil said, not even venturing a guess.
"He said to Jason, `don't turn around or I'll plug your ass full of ammo!'"
Maybe the wine, but most likely the infectious way Peter had of telling the story, but Dil began having the best time of his life. Steve came over one more time, to tell them the four would be stepping up to the bar. He plunked a cellphone down on the table, telling Peter to press `69', when he wanted to go.
Dougie came over to check up on Dil, asking, "Having a good time?"
"Yes, I am, Dougie. Thanks."
"Cool."
Before Dougie left the table, he bent over and gave Dil a kiss on the cheek, signifying how happy he was for him. Dil wasn't so sure about all this, sitting there with the twenty-three year old gay guy, in the handicap chair.
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"Can you see out of your blindfold, Zek?"
"No. I can't see anything but black. You, Dario?"
"Nope, but I sure can feel my balls."
"Same with me. Is this how bdsm goes?"
"I guess so. I mean, I don't think there's any rules, other than the way Reiken makes them up as he goes along."
"I like this torture!"
Dario didn't have to voice his opinion. His crotch was telling him how good it felt to be lying on the bed, arms stretched above him, spread out, to the bed posts. Before the blindfold went on, he saw how Reinken positioned Zek, a mirror image of himself, except Zek's arms had been tied, stretched out, to the bed posts at the foot of the bed. Both of their pairs of legs, stretched wide, opened the passage for their cocks and balls to meld together. To help them stay in place, Reinken had first tied nooses around each of their sets of orbs, then together, creating one mass out the pairs of ball sacs. After massaging their massive tools, into straight, stiff columns, he tied them together, lacing them up from bases to heads.
"Ooooooh, don't do that!"
"Why, Zek? I thought it felt kind of... um, good?"
"Yes, but when you move, it make it feel too good!"
Even though it had been before noontime, Reinken bound the two to the bed, trussed their cock and balls up, together, blindfolded them and said, `Good night', to return at his next convenience.
"Oh fuck is this torture!" Dario called out.
Even Zek kept badgering, "I want to cum so bad!"
"You're telling me... this is killing me."
"Don't move so much. Everytime you move, Dario, it make my cock stroked."
Dario didn't have to be told that. The same occurrence happened to him, with each little squirm.
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To Be Continued....
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.