The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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ChANGe WiTH ThE TiMEs 01 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Between welds, Matt would get a word of two in edgewise, regarding his two teenage sons.
As he watch Bruce Barnes finish off the last weld, raising his shield, his friend asks, "What are you going to do?"
The whole reason behind Matt bringing up the fact of, finding his two college-ared sons, home for the summer, his twenty year old son, Steve, stripped and hanging from the rafters of their basement home, his nineteen year old brother, Mark, wielding a belt, slapping it up against Steve's back, "I don't know what I'm going to do about it Bruce. What can I do about it? You're the man?"
Putting away his welding tool, Bruce replies, "I guess I know where you're going with this?"
Bruce's auto shop was kind of stuffy. During applying welds to the frame of a 4x4, he didn't want to be disturbed, so kept the bay locked down.
"You're my only hope, Bruce," Matt says, holding Bruce back from stripping off his unbuttoned shirt, totally immersed in man-sweat, his hand to Bruce's forearm.
"I really don't know what you expect me to do, Matt?" he peels back the shirt, exposing his sweaty chest.
"Well, if you don't know, maybe one of the fellas in your club can figure it out?"
"It's kind of ridiculous, you know?"
"What is?"
Picking up a pack of baby wipes, snatching one out, Bruce dabs a pit, wipes across both pecs, "When I first explained to you about the club, Matt, you were all ears and curious about what we did..."
"I know. So?"
"Because you have known me for years on end, you didn't hesitate to trust me that this wasn't something weird, that I wasn't a weirdo doing weird, kinky stuff?"
"I know. So?"
"So, what's the problem, Matt? Your boys are just having some fun with each other. No different than when I was their age. Well, maybe a little younger than they are now."
"That part I can accept, Bruce, but what are they not telling me, if they are keeping it to themselves or are doing it with other guys?"
Bruce questions, as he slips another baby wipe down his abs trail, "Did you ask if they did bdsm with other guys?"
`BDSM', the four individualities which made up the acronym, Matt knew well, Bruce having explained it to him, the sport of playing out fantasies, which served a purpose of classes of men fulfilling their desires, the givers and the takers.
"No. My mind was totally immersed in what they were doing and Mark explaining it all to me. And another thing?"
Bruce was ready to be entertained by hearing about Steve loving having his back caressed by Mark's belt, "What?"
"I think they're gay!"
"No-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!" Bruce replies, slapping both hands to the sides of his face, his jaw hanging open in a perfectly rounded `O'. "Not both of them?" he questions with curiosity, but then breaks the pose, a toothy grin across his face. "Oh my!"
With squinted eyes, Matt stares at his shirtless bud, like `cut the act?'
Then getting ready for what he knows is coming, Bruce asks, "What?"
"You `knew' they were gay and never told me?"
"Um," Bruce's face strays from Matt's accusing eyes.
Finding his accusations correct, Matt reiterates, "You knew!"
Then, not meant to make excuse for himself, only shedding common knowledge, which could very well be the case between same peoples, "Of course I knew. How could I not?"
"They told you?"
He truly did not want to make it seem like their own father was the last to know, Bruce saying, "Hmm," he looks up to the garage ceiling, rubbing his afternoon shadow, "I think they might have mentioned it to me?"
"When?"
"Hey," Bruce tries to soften things, throw a little humor into their deteriorating conversation, "you'd make a good interrogator. Want to come down to the club some night?"
"I'm not joking here, Bruce!"
Perhaps Bruce was trying to figure out just how to unwind all of this scenario unfolding, reason why he was cracking jokes, but he could not contest the fact, his friend from childhood was turning him on. If he had time to reflect, it could have provided some means for hardening up the shaft between his legs, himself on the taking end, maybe tied to a chair, the stocks, or even best scenario, a `horse', a piece of dungeon furniture made specifically to poke a man in the ass!
"Never mind," Matt takes his jacket, feeds his hands into it, "I'll find out for myself. I've told both Steve and Mark to make sure they are at the dinner table tonight. I'll get to the bottom of this, with or without your help!"
Bruce asks, "What time is dinner?"
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Meanwhile, back at the mansion, Steve lays down on the bed, Mark applying some salve to his back, saying, "You took it good bro!"
Returning the compliment, Steve says, "You handle the strap real nice!"
"Only doing what Uncle Bruce instructed me to do, `take it easy!'"
"Sometimes I think you could do it `harder'?" He tries looking over his shoulder, Steve hugging the pillow, cracking a little smile.
Mark says, "I was feeling it way before you were, bro!" he says of the tip of his hard shaft touching Steve's ass. While his hands were busy massaging Steve's back, Mark's cock was seesawing up and down the crack of his ass chute, some salve `accidentally' getting down in there!
"Whenever you're ready bro!"
"I don't know if I'm ready," Mark play the cat and mouse game, though his hand on his cock, guiding it towards its target, was enough to answer both their minds, without words.
"Oh!" Steve says, warning, "Take it easy with your weapon of mass destruction, will ya!?"
Mark was beyond making jokes, his tongue in between his lips as he searched for the opening. "Point of no return, bro!" he yelled out, piercing Steve's ass ring.
"Oh-h-h-h-h!" Steve bit his lower lip.
An hour before this happy moment, their father happening upon the basement scene, Mark had lowered the rope which had been affixed to both tied wrists, sending Steve's bod to the cold pavement of the unfinished room. Mark had said something about having to carry Steve upstairs, at which point Steve got to his knees, but waiver when standing. He didn't `fireman' carry Steve upstairs, rather offering up a pair of shoulders for Steve to twine his arm over. Between the basement and Mark's room, the two talked about the ensuing conversation between mostly Mark and their father, before he stormed out of the basement, telling them he would be at Bruce's shop and make sure they were at the dinner table.
Being nineteen and twenty, college frat, sometimes they would skip out on their dad for dinner, at which point, instead of Matt coming home to a big, empty house, would eat out.
However, right at this moment, the basement, the whipping and their father were the furthest thing from their minds.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Careful!" Steve curves his spine backwards.
Mark jokes, "Wimp! How do you ever expect to fare when Uncle Bruce invites us to his club?"
Reopening Pandora's Box, Steve says, "Do you think dad got it?"
"Hey, he wasn't screaming livid mad and if you took notice, dad wasn't like, surprised too much at what we were doing? Don't you think he must know how Uncle Bruce spends some of his free time?"
"I think he knows, but at the time I was more thinking about how the next lash was going to feel?"
Snickering, Mark says, "You're such a glutton for punishment, bro!"
Even though he tried coaxing his brother into entering nice and slow, soft and refined, he replies, "I know. Like, when are you going to start punishing my ass?"
"Oh, you mean like this?!"
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Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee
ChANGe WiTH ThE TiMEs, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP