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 04 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Taking Mark, at his nephew's word, Bruce headed back to the shop, even though he well knew the dungeon was all set for tomorrow's get together. In the back of his office, a hidden half-refrigerator, he pulled out a Heineken and lay back in the swivel chair of his desk. In the middle of his second chug, Shea rushes in.
"Bad luck! The weld on the trailer hitch broke!"
"Not again?" Bruce sits up. "What are you doing with that thing, Shea," meaning the hitch, "treating it like one of your dungeon boys?"
From frantic, because his livelihood depends on dragging a trailer of lawnmowers around town, to mellowing out at the thought of his favorite pastime, Shea responds, "Not half as much as I like to treat a dungeon-trick!"
"Still, rough?" Bruce chides.
Seeing the bottle in Bruce's hand, "Got another?"
Reaching down into the fridge, Bruce tosses the green bottle across his desk.
Catching it, Shea asks, "So, tell me about this Mark and Steve couple?"
"You met them once, remember?"
"Once. Right. I'm supposed to remember everything about them?" Shea replies sarcastically.
Rattling off the details, Bruce says, "Not exactly a couple, brothers, Mark is 19. Steve is 20 and in college. Come September, Mark will be headed off to the same college. Nothing much else to tell, except, and you better keep this to yourself..."
"Cross my heart," Shea swipes a finger across soiled shirt and sweaty chest.
"They've been close," though Bruce refrains from calling it the love story is it, "since they were young teenagers. Being they knew each other pretty well, they have `fun' with each other regularly, acting out stuff pretty much like when the gang gets together in the dungeon."
"How come you didn't invite them to play with us?"
"Because," Bruce says, "they have wanted things to be between the two of them. And now that their father has found out..."
"What?" Shea deprives himself of a fulfilling sip, "their old man found out?"
Centering on the one time Shea has met his `nephews', Bruce says, "Yeah. You met him too, you know?"
"I did?" it stirs Shea's memory banks. "When?"
"This morning."
"This morning," Shea thinks on it, rubbing his course beard.
Smiling, because he already knows Shea is gonna love this, "The guy who told you where to get off? The one who you said you would love being on your knees for?"
"That one?" it occurs to the burly, Irish, muscle-man. Seeing an angle to all this, "Well, who's gonna keep the old man busy while you're playing with the kiddies?"
Trying to throw Shea off course, "Rick's going to be there with a friend."
Shea says, "That's nice. What about this other guy?"
This was supposed to be `discreet', to both parties, Rick and his friend and the boys and their father. Yet, Bruce knew Shea could keep things secretive. Then again, "I thought you already had somebody in mind to play with tomorrow?"
With a thirst for a hot, straight man to dominate him, Shea replies, "I'd cancel out on Paul Wagner to play with this hotshot!"
"Really?" Bruce didn't really doubt it. However, wasn't against, "You think you can invite Paul to play with me?"
"Shut up. When are we getting started tomorrow?"
Bruce upends his bottle, saying, "Probably around noontime."
"Shit! I'm cutting lawns till 1."
"Hmm, I wonder if Matt likes to play with sweaty guys?" Bruce cunningly responds.
"Matt? That's his name?"
"Yeah."
Smiling, Shea says, staring into space in a dreamy mood, "Matt. Master... Matt... has a nice ring to it."
Giggling, Bruce says, "I doubt Matt will have a clue to how to act the part of a `master'!"
Demonstratively, like they were working a dungeon scene right now, Shea dictates, "Then it'll be `your' job to mentor him!" He chugs back the rest of his bottle.
"Me? But I've got to make sure the boys are playing it safe in the gym, plus Rick..."
"Rick, hmm..." a scenario, all together different starts to foment in Shea's mind, "might be nice if Matt and me teamed up on Rick and his friend?"
"But I have no idea who or how involved Rick's friend is, Shea."
"Rick's a masochist. His friend has got to be a hot top... Hmm, just maybe..."
Whereas Bruce already had his Saturday planned out, he put his foot down, "You're the extra person, Shea. We have to go with what the other guys want to do."
"Gr-r-r-r-r!" Shea let out a forced bear snarl, then all friendly-like says, "Okay. We'll see what happens," he accepts it.
Overall, as Shea left Bruce's weld shop, catching a ride with one of his workers, leaving the truck, on his mind wasn't anyone but the `hot guy' he met in the shop this morning.
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Sitting out on the back patio, chugging some beers down themselves, Matt looks at his two sons, on the lounge sofa, "Y'know, if I didn't know you boys were brothers, I'd think..."
"That we're two gay guys in love, dad?" Mark asks, sitting with Steve on his left, lifting his right hand, pulling Steve's chin to the side, giving him a peck on the cheek.
"Were you looking for my reaction?" their dad asks.
"Yeah, I have to admit, I kind of did it for that reason," Mark replies, laughing.
They all had chugged down two beers each, on their third, so the conversation was kind of `floating'.
Then, Steve got a little crazy, "Like what would you think of this, dad?" Steve reaches up and under Mark's shirt, looking at his dad while he rubbed Mark's stomach.
He could have been repulsed, sitting there across from his sons, watching them carry on like they were a gay couple, but Matt wasn't at all phased, being okay with `gay' guys, after knowing Bruce for all these years. Too, because he was feeling the buzz of three beers, "Fine with me. Whatever you guys want to do!"
"Really?" Mark carried things further, tearing his tee shirt off overhead.
Sarcastically, their father replies to the strip off, "Whoopee! More!" After a whistle, laughing his ass off!
Steve follows, his shirt coming off.
Matt says of his sons, "Oh yeah. I forgot," a hand goes to his crotch, "if I were gay, I'd be rubbing my crotch, right?" Matt proceeds to drop a hand to his junk, giving it a massage with his folded hand.
Mark, the dom of the two, picks up a sofa pillow, throws it at his father, accusing him, "Dad, you faggot!"
They all laughed.
Then Mark and Steve, the 19 and 20 year olds not feeling a bit inhibited, sought an all out assault on each other's lips, hands planing all over each other.
Steve breaks off the brotherly, love and affection, staring across the way, "Hard yet, dad?"
For the three, the whole scene became a joke, at least the way their father was taking it.
Mark jokes, "Anytime you feel it hit you dad, come on over and jump in!"
More laughter followed. It was only the 4th beer which began sending Matt over the edge, "Don't make me make you eat your words, son!"
They laughed harder than ever!
"Anytime you're ready, dad!"
Mark had to exclaim to his brother, "Steve?!" when he lifted his ass and reseated himself to his left, leaving a space between both brothers.
"Why not?!" their dad slapped both knees. Because of the amount of beer filling his gut, he hiked up, his ass rebounding in the chair. "Oops! Let's try that again!"
"Need some help, dad?" Mark and Steve get up, eat taking a hand, Mark leading his father around the coffee table.
Nothing happened, except them talking up old times, Matt falling asleep, a deep sleep at that, on Steve's shoulder.
"Now, just keep dad quiet there, while I go make a phone call!"
Steve didn't have a clue to what Mark was up to, but went on trust. The way his brother said it, he knew he was up to no good, but went with it.
Coming back in the room, holding his cell, Steve couldn't guess whom his brother was talking to, until he hears, "Great, Bruce! Bye!"
To Steve, "Uncle Bruce'll be here in ten minutes."
"For?"
Waiting for his brother to pop the question, Mark was dying to tell, "Picture this... dad waking up, later tonight or even tomorrow morning, tied out, naked and eagle-spread on one of the tables in Uncle Bruce's dungeon?"
"Cool, but?"
"Don't you get it? Dad will probably never remember what happened and think we all went there and `did something'!"
Steve suddenly shows excitement, saying, "Hey, not a bad plan. Maybe even Uncle Bruce can get a headstart on us tonight, instead of waiting until tomorrow?"
"I dunno. Uncle Bruce said he had to finish welding a customer's trailer hitch," Mark says it cunning, like Dracula, "who knows what will get Uncle Bruce going!"
Standing, accidentally forgetting his father was conked out on his shoulder, Steve gets up.
"Ste-e-eve!" Mark says in a blaming way.
However, after both froze in place, observing their dad, he was still conked out.
"Whew! That was a close one, Steve!"
"I know," he says, approaching his brother, but if Uncle Bruce is busy tonight," he places a hand on the side of Mark's torso, weaving the other in place on the other side of his hip, Steve continues, "`perhaps', you and I can get it on?"
Mark smiles, playing up the worn out gay phrase, "Like how do you mean that, Steve?"
Already known, the two brothers had been getting it on since teen-hood, as soon as they realized what pleasure there could be in a man to man relationship.
Steve uses the curves of Mark's torso to bring his own in sync.
Taking the bait, Mark smiles, accepting his brother's lips and soon the two are one, kissing.
It didn't last long, only an instant, of something a little more than brotherly affection, Mark saying, "What are we going to do when you find some frat-boy to run off and get married to?"
"You're going to be there with me next year, bro," Steve gets this wild idea, "and maybe we can find a dude who likes a threesome?"
Mark didn't shoot his brother down, the two standing there, staring into each others' eyes, smiling. After a brief interval, Mark utters, "Maybe."
`Saved by the bell', Steve says, "That's gotta be Uncle Bruce!"
Mark jests to himself, because his dad was out of it, "Sorry we have to do this dad, but it's just too fuckin' crazy `not' to do it!" He laughs.
"Okay, so what do you two instigators have cooked up here?" Bruce inquires.
Explaining it like he did over the phone, Mark lay down the facts, "We take dad to your shop, to the dungeon, tie him down and wait until he wakes."
Mark's conspiring brother says, "Yeah," he laughs, "we'll tell dad some wild stuff he did and then tell him it was a joke!"
"If you guys get me into trouble..." Bruce warns.
"Be cool Uncle Bruce," Mark assures him, "with dad you can `do no wrong?'"
"True," Bruce agrees, looking at the bod on the sofa. "Is he out?"
"It's why we need your expertise, Uncle Bruce," Mark says.
Bruce and Mark helped Matt to the door, Steve doing stuff like holding the door, then opening the door to Bruce's 4x4.
Mark says, "We'll follow you."
Either happy with being with his boys, which is probably part of it, but a little too much beer, seemed to help cushion what Steve saw this afternoon. After Bruce left, they didn't really talk up a storm about Steve hanging from the rafters and Mark whipping him.
Pulling up to the station, Bruce parks, another truck pulling up next to him, but it wasn't Mark and Steve. They parked on the other side of Bruce's truck.
"Oh shit!" Bruce said to himself. Not recognizing the truck, he did connect with the passenger, Shea!
Shea jumps out, coming up to Bruce's window, Bruce saying, "I didn't finish your trailer hitch yet, Shea."
Ready for a customer complaint, instead Shea says, "Fuck! It's him! What did you do to him?"
He didn't see Mark and Steve creep up on them, Mark saying, "Uncle Bruce didn't do anything. We were having a talk over good times and dad..." Mark had to stop, because answering the dude's question, he realizes Shea isn't hearing a word he's saying.
Instead, Shea's attention passed by Mark and focused on Steve, only because Steve initiated the `checking out!'
Knowing `the code', Mark says to Shea, "This is my brother Steve."
Before anyone else could say anything, Bruce offers up information, "You met these boys once, remember?"
Shea says, "Yeah, it's coming back to me."
Steve says in a sketchy manner, "You're that guy, Shea, aren't you?"
"You know about me?"
Rather fill in the blanks the expected way, Steve asks, "Got some free time? We were headed down to the dungeon?"
"A boy after my own heart," though Shea's heart was beating only a little faster. It was his nads making him lick his lips with desire.
"What about dad?" Mark asks, Shea ushering his brother to the front door of Bruce's fixit shop.
"You've got Uncle Bruce," Steve replies.
However they had to wait anyway, the door locked. When Shea saw Mark having a tough time carrying his father, he bore the brunt of Matt's weight.
Temporarily, Steve and Shea suspended their conversation, leaving off with whether Steve liked ball torture.
Once in the shop, they headed for the cellar door, which led them downstairs. A narrow passageway, it wasn't meant for bringing a groggy man down those steps, so Shea was elected to piggyback Matt. Twice he stopped on the steps, almost sure Matt was going to awaken. Hitting the bottom step, not only Shea, but the rest sighed a sign of relief, making it to the basement floor without Matt snapping out of it.
"Where do you want him?"
"Bondage table?" Bruce suggests.
Right now Shea was caught in the middle with emotions runny freely. Seeing Matt in the truck cab, his balls started churning up, wanting to be on his knees, like he pictured it earlier on today, after the one-time meeting of Matt. After staring into Steve's face, things seemed to fall prey to topping, rather than bottoming out.
Studying the situation, throwing a curved smile to Steve, already Shea had it established in his mind, `the best of both worlds,' replying, "Might work."
Steve had his priorities already set, suggesting to his brother, "Why don't you go help Uncle Bruce with the weld, Mark?"
Back at the house, it was him and Mark, but Mark wasn't at all bent out of shape if his brother wanted to have a hot time with another guy, "Yeah, I might have to some welding myself someday. How about it Uncle Bruce?"
Bruce agrees, saying on the way out, "Be fair Shea."
Joking, Shea says, "Of course I won't!"
However, Bruce had confidence in Shea. He knew Shea wouldn't take a man beyond what he could take, unless he wanted to prove to a man he could take more than he could take. Bruce always wondered about that, `take a man beyond what he could take, unless he wanted to prove to a man he could take more than he could take', the welder once again thinking on it, but like all the other times, deeming it not important. Except to for the man being abused!
Walking to the stairs, Bruce doubles back, saying, "I mean it, Shea. Safewords and stick to them!"
"Fine, fine," Shea says, walking Bruce back to the stairway.
Walking back to where Matt lay out on the table, Shea asks, "So what's the story with the old man?"
Steve says, "Mark and me wanted to play a joke on him, figuring when he woke up, we could have tied down to the table or something and because he had one too many beers, wouldn't remember anything. Got any ideas?"
Remembering the attitude from this morning, Shea had plenty of ideas. Yet, looking up suddenly, at Steve on the other side of the bondage table, he asks, "How about some hot ball torture?"
"Hm-m," Steve thinks it over, "I don't think dad would go for that too much."
"I wasn't talking about your old man?"
"Oh! Right! Me? Um, I haven't really had much done, other than somebody groping me?"
"Cool!" Shea's eyes lit up. "Then why don't we get on with it?" Like day and night, from nice to nasty, Shea barks, "Strip!"
Steve's eyes go bug-eyed before he realizes, "Oh! Right, we're doing the master-slave thing. Cool!" he says, going right for the tails of his shirt, tearing it off overhead. "Like what you see?"
"I'll like it more when you drop your pants, boy!"
"No problem," Steve says. He was nervous, a little, and not really into the master-slave thing, except a few stories he's read on the internet. One thing he hopes for, as he kicks off his sneakers and unbuckles his belt, "Um, do I like get to see what you look like under the clothes?"
"Maybe. These clothes don't come off until I see what I have to work with first."
Steve did his thing, stripping down to his big balls, Shea immediately pleased with the findings, shuffling both around in his hand.
"Oh shit!" Steve shouts out, feeling the pressure.
Then there was nothing, no feeling, the two facing each other.
Shea says, "Whenever you're ready boy?"
"For?" Steve not having a clue.
"I should make you ask."
"For?"
"The privilege of stripping down your master?" Signifying Shea thinking Steve's balls worthy of torture.
"Oh sure," Steve replies. "Okay if I strip you down?"
"Sir?" Shea suggests.
"Sir?" Steve gets it wrong, "I thought you' were the sir' and me the `slave'?"
Inhaling, thinking Steve almost comical, Shea says, "I was telling you' to call me' sir?"
"Oh right!" Steve gets the connection, suddenly remembering, "You're the Sir', the master and I'm the slave, the boy'."
More of a suggestion, Shea says, "My cock is ready to bust these pants wide open, waiting for your lips to get on it?"
"Oh cool! I thought you were just going to torture me. Yeah that's cool," Steve hurries it up, lifting Shea's `O'Rian's Landscaping' tee shirt, carrying on, "I love sucking cock. You'll see. I'm pretty good at it too. You want me to suck your balls?" Not allowing Shea to get a word in, "I love rolling a guy's ball around in my mouth. Hey," he goes for Shea's belt buckle, "do you think I can fit two in my mouth at once?"
"Depends on how big your mouth is, boy."
"Cool!" After stopping a moment, goes to it, opening the front of Shea's pants.
Shea didn't let Steve get too far, allowing the 20yo to split his zipper down the middle. With one hand he parked his briefs under his balls, his other hand on the top of Steve's head, coaxing him to his knees.
"Cool!" Steve says of the hard shaft, the tip staring him in the face.
Figuring Steve was going to go right on with his appraisal, was Shea ever wrong, Steve opening up and taking his 8c right inside the wet interior.
Like he has said before, being truthful about it, a boy with a talented mouth, Shea gloats, "Oh damn, boy!"
Steve had never worked over a `ginger' man's cock before, so with a strong desire to taste the red hair, popped off, skiing down the slope of Shea's hard meat and licked at the hairy pubes.
He got a rude awakening, Shea grabbing up his shaggy mane and barking, "Forget that boy. Just get back on me!" In addition to the manhandling, Shea put both hands on the back of Steve's head and shoved himself back in, like parking a car in a garage.
Not use to the treatment, a guy's cock shoved to the back of his throat, Steve puts both hands on Shea's torso, counterbalancing himself in the removal, yelling, "Dammit Shea, you almost suffocated me!"
He could have laughed, should have laughed, because - you had to be there - Steve looking so adorably cute, but Shea, `sticking to the script', returns, "That's grounds for punishment, boy!"
Steve, suddenly realizing what he's done, responds with a cool, "Oh. Right." Then realizing where this could go, "Oh yeah, right! Cool! You want to punish me! Yeah! Let's do it!" he stands. Jumping the gun, Steve says, "Cool, you want to whip me on the back with a belt?"
Since Steve was suggesting it, Shea had an idea it would turn Steve on. Same token, it wouldn't exactly be turning him off, but switched the implement, "I was thinking more of a flogger. Stings more!" he laughs.
"Sure. Cool!" Steve is all for it. "How do you want me?"
"Hmm," Shea stands there, his right elbow parked in the palm of his left hand, index finger tapping on his lips, a ploy he's used before to implement fear in his victim, as he perused the dungeon, shifting his eyes from the `X-frame', to the hooks in the ceiling, chains hanging down...
"Oh cool! How about this?" Steve suggests the `X'.
Shea preferred staking a guy out eagle-spread, but it was turning him on, the kid's suggestions, but rather than having Steve put one over on him, "I already picked it out for you. Get them feet up there and spread!"
"Oh man," Steve says, feeling the wood with his hands, as Shea fastened his wrists to the leather cuffs. "I always dreamed of being in a real dungeon and some hot `master' dude torturing me."
Walking around to the other side, Shea has the same connection, though looking to Steve's father, lying on the bondage table. For a short time, a fantasy-dream takes over Shea's mind, him in Steve's place, Steve's father decked out in chaps, harness, tied, where he couldn't move a muscle, his hot fantasy-top screwing him up good!
After shackling Steve to the `x', he thought he would ask a few casual questions, "You're ol' man, he um... gay?"
Seeing this as an `in' to playing around with Shea, Steve says, "Why should I tell you anything?"
"What tha?" it caught Shea off guard. However, thinking of this as a good `opener', Shea walks up to Steve, grabs the back of his head, snaps it back by his hair clenched in fist, "When I ask you a question boy, I expect an answer!"
It was a joke, in all due respect, humor drained from his bod, suddenly replaced by excited fear, "Um, like, sorry, um, sir."
"That's better boy, but it's still not going to spare you the lash. A boy's gotta learn his place," Shea shoves Steve's head forward on the hinge of his neck.
"Yes,... um," Steve gulps, "sir."
Knowing this Steve's first time, like always, Shea gently swishes the flogger over Steve's shoulder blades, over lower back, then finishes off the tease by gliding over Steve's ass cheeks, with his final offering, "Ten lashes, but if I don't get answers, it'll be twice that many."
Shea didn't get what he expected, respect, Steve hollering out as the first lash of the flogger was given, "Akk! Oh-shit!"
Short and sweet, the multi-fronds of the leather flogger thrown over Steve's upper back, both parties got a jolt from it.
Shea, even though he was wishing it were the father and not the son he play with, enjoyed the response from his victim, thinking of how it could be, a different hand doling out the punishment, him receiving the tantalizing flogger over his own back.
For Steve, the initial sting was cause for grief, but as his balls began churning, his cock pulsing, it play a part in his next move, whether to comply or abstain.
"One down, nine to go," Shea continued with fear tactics.
Inhaling, Steve gripped his hands around the wooden planks of the x-frame. He didn't say anything, just breathed, until it became necessary to squint his eyes, and after the delivery of the next lash, "Oh shit that stings!"
Shea didn't let up, went right through the next nine without reserve.
However, as he was ready to slam Steve's back with number ten, a hand formed around the wrist of his whipping arm, a voice, "What the fuck do you think you're doing with my son?"
With nine lashes behind him, literally, Steve wasn't feeling as much pain, as euphoria, but `that' voice gave him clue to why he wasn't getting his last due, "Dad?!"
As for Shea, even though he didn't know the tone of voice, with Steve's clue, he was like in space with tense pleasure, the idea of another man stopping him from `doing his duty' of punishment and as Steve patronized him, "Uh, you're son?" And to get Matt riled up, "Is this your son I'm whipping?"
Matt had no idea this was a setup, but knew Shea from this morning, had knowledge of Shea meeting his two boys on occasion. What was throwing him, was this big self-declared tuffguy showing reserve.
Even though out for forty-five minutes, but waking up on a black-padded table in his the basement of his close friend's business, knowing what it was used for on the weekends, Matt figures something in progress. Bruce has often shared a scenario or two, a scene of sadism vs. masochism, of how it goes when a guy's churning balls can let a hot dungeon overwhelm.
And like when he left Bruce's weld shop earlier in the day, bidding tuff-man-Shea farewell, he welcomes the opportunity, "You bet your ass it's my son and I don't take kindly to what you're doing to him!" He hoped he sounded convincing, as Bruce would drum up in his mind a fantasy scene of power.
Dropping the flogger out of his secured hand, Shea says, "Oops!" Totally out of character, Shea follows up with, "I'm so sorry about the stripes on your son's back."
Steve had had enough explaining, "Dad, this is like my fantasy and you're like.... ruining it?"
More concerned than a college frat's fantasy, Matt walks up to his eagle-spread son, "Stripes, huh? I don't see any stripes?"
His remarks split two ways, Steve saying, "No welts? Shit, by the way it stung there should be one or two?"
"For his sake," Matt didn't drop the ridiculing manner in which he spoke, "there better not be as much as a scratch!"
Shea, his balls tingling, was hoping Matt examined his son's back, scrutinized it for every little piece of evidence, hoping something was overlooked, perhaps a tiny millimeter of a mark from the flogger.
Impatient with his father, his boiling balls helping to tee him off, Steve badgers, "You don't get it, do you dad? I `want' Shea to whip me... or do to me with whatever he wants to do!"
Wanting to help Steve out, Shea taps Matt on the shoulder, with a courteous, "Uh, excuse me, but..."
What Steve had said, didn't completely register. Coupling the redness of his son's back, then the tap to the shoulder, knowing who, Steve turns around and with quick retribution for his son's `misery', as he saw it, socks Shea right in the stomach!
"Ugh-h-h-h-h..." Shea says, holding his stomach with both hands.
In reality it didn't phase Shea that much, but in a strange way he had the desire to please, make Matt feel good, so faked falling on his knees like being hit in the gut with a baseball bat.
In reaction, Matt looks at his own fist, saying, "I didn't think I hit you `that' hard?"
With frustration, Steve surrendered to sagging in his bondage.
Giving in to his guise, Shea stands up, saying, "You didn't, but if you're into it, I'd like to take a lot more?"
"More?" Matt wasn't getting it, "More what?"
Steve, trying to turn his head around, fits it in the pocket of his shoulder, "He wants you to like, work'em over, dad?"
"Work you over?" Matt responds to Shea, eyeing up the tuffguy image.
The conversation opened up, Mark finishing the welding of Shea's trailer hitch, Bruce as his mentor, addressing the gathering of three, "Everyone having a good time? Oh, I see you're up and around, Matt?"
"Yeah, just in time to see this big bully whipping the living daylights out of my Steve?" Matt replies.
After a quick examination of Steve's back, Mark says, "Looks like he didn't even do anything!"
"Didn't do anything? Didn't do anything?" Matt gets riled up, reporting to the opposite side of the x-frame holding Steve's bod. "You didn't happen to notice how red his whole back is?" Matt quizzes him with a sarcastic attitude.
Bruce tries to calm him, a hand to Matt's shoulder, "Matt, you gotta calm down, buddy."
"Shut the fuck up, Bruce. This is between me and my boys!"
Bruce shuts the fuck up, walking over to where Shea is following the whole scene, the ginger muscle bear getting hornier by the second over Matt's brash attitude, wishing it was he and not Bruce taking the flack.
"Hot man, Bruce."
Looking down, instead of up', Bruce can see how hot' his buddy is making Shea, "In light of how Matt is taking all this, I think you better find a different way of getting rid of that hard stick, Shea!"
Out of context, Shea asks, "How much the weld job on my truck set me back?"
"$100."
"Give ya a $100 tip if you set me up with Master Matt?"
Bruce knew what Shea was after. If he could, he would have done it for nothing, but, "I really don't think he's..."
Grabbing Bruce by the straps of his wife-beater, Shea went off on him, nicely, "You make it your business or you can forget me and the boys comin' round here to play!"
It was a valid threat. Bruce knew the guys were talking up going to another guy's basement, even though his shop was closer. But to lose that status, `the man with the dungeon', he pries Shea's hand loose, "I'll see what I can do."
`Do', Bruce was thinking pessimistically, creeping slowly over to the father and son trio. As he approaches, he senses a lull in conversation, down to silence, "So, what's happening over here?" he steers clear of Matt, standing with Mark. "Anything?" he says, peering back and forth from father to son.
Matt, stood there, shaking his head back and forth, saying, "From the mouths of babes..."
Mark replies, "I told dad," something exchanged earlier, "change with the times or get left behind."
To the statement, Matt says, "I don't know where they picked this stuff up, but they tell me they aren't going into this without doing research on it." Talking man to man with Bruce, his dearest friend, "They're men, Bruce."
"That's what I was trying to tell you," Bruce replies.
"Yeah," Matt replies, approaching Bruce, hugging him, "and I'm sorry I told you to shut up, not so nicely at that."
Hugging was giving Shea a misunderstanding of ideas. Now, it wasn't all about being thrown on an x-frame or gut-bashing, but rather Matt's cock and where it should be put!
"All these years, Bruce, rearing the boys up in being gay, when, `where was I?'"
Bruce let Matt get it off his chest.
"And now this? I owe you a lot Bruce."
"Oh really?" Bruce sees this as `opportunity knocking'.
Looking over at Steve, strung up eagle-spread, casually talking with Mark, Matt replies, "Yeah. First the `gay' issue and now, this bondage stuff," turning back to Bruce, "I'll never be able to pay you back, you know?"
"Isn't that what friends are for?"
Matt looks at Bruce, then decides on something, "I know this is untypical of me, but... I really love you, Bruce and maybe this will explain it more in `your' terms of how I feel," Matt gives Bruce a big hug, but instead of his chin parked on Bruce's shoulder, he lines up lips!
Off in the distance, observing, Shea says to himself, "Damn I gotta have him," his codpiece ripped off, one hand on his balls, the other keeping his 8c bulked and hard.
Resolve, the two hug, Bruce looks over Matt's shoulder. Little did Shea know, their conversation wasn't on Steve and Mark, but how Matt could start paying Bruce back!
Meanwhile, having a little chat of their own, Steve says he's not turned on with the scene, that it's bad vibes having Shea carry on with the whipping and other stuff, with their dad there.
Mark, unleashing his brother from the x-frame, says, "Steve says the scene is not happening for him. We're going to go catch a beer."
They didn't say or encourage their father, so Matt figures he's unwanted. Though, there was Bruce, always Bruce, so before and if he was going to get approached to join them, "Sure. I think I'll hang out with Bruce."
"Cool dad," Steve says.
Little did the boys know, Bruce and their father were talking up a storm. Standing there, Bruce was filling Matt in with some last instructions.
The brother departing, Shea got tired of waiting in the wings, walks over to where Bruce and Matt are standing.
Before, his chin on Matt's shoulder, Bruce was well aware of Shea stroking up, his churning balls helping to keep him hard. Reporting back to Matt, like play by play action, Bruce told Matt how he should handle it, making sure he uses his best acting skills!
"Hey guys, how about we join then in raising a mug or two?" Shea asks, in approach.
Matt turns to face Shea. Taking a deep inhale, he does exactly as Bruce has prompted him to do, with direction to humiliate, threaten, take liberties to not only be vocally harassing, but get physical with Shea, and a deep voice, "Did I tell you you could touch your dick?"
Shea grins, like it's some kind of joke.
Partly because it was Shea's hand on the giving end of the flogging, making Steve's back all red, Matt didn't hold back, "And wipe that smirk off your face!"
Almost as loud as a crack of a bullwhip, it could be heard in the basement dungeon, Matt slapping Shea up the side of his face.
"Oh shit!" Bruce replies. To his recollection, no one every did that to Shea, not this rough top!
It stunned Shea for a moment, his palm feeling up the heat of Matt's strike. From startled, back to smile, then plain-faced, he stood there.
Matt was more than a little nervous, but like he would make a presentation to a group of benefactors for one of his architectural drawings, he kept his feelings to himself, projecting instead a tough exterior, actually mimicking one of his tough partners in the firm, one, Antonio Fiero, "Why don't you get out of that stupid looking Halloween costume and get your ass up on that frame?"
Oh shit!' Bruce only thought, thinking Matt had guts to call Shea's $1500 leather outfit a Halloween costume', which in fact Shea prided in wearing because almost everyone complimented him on the choice of boots, chaps, harness or when he wore it, leather vest and cap, finished off with gaunlets and bicep straps. He was ready to see a fist coming up, swinging!
Instead, holding the straight face at eye level with Matt, Shea began dismantling the harness.
However, Shea wasn't the only striptease to watch, Matt unbuttoning his shirt! Bruce said it out loud, but knew the other two didn't hear, "Man, this could be the ultimate hardon!"
So far, he wasn't the only one living with this opinion, Shea, opening the front of his chaps, his cock letting loose a sinewy strand of cum.
"Did I tell you, you could come?" Matt days demonstratively, repeating something Bruce told him to say, reacting as tutored, turning his hand over and striking his fingernails over the barrel of Shea's cock!
"Argh-h-h-h-h-shit!" Shea drops his pants, both hands going for his sore dick.
For sure, Matt was scared this time, Shea looking at him like he was going to punch his lights out.
Seeing the same thing, but unafraid, Bruce intervenes, stepping between the two, saying in a pompous manner, "If I' were the master, I wouldn't dare' allow my boy to even `look' at me in such a way. No, it would be grounds for punishment!"
More like a clue to what to do next, Matt, after having finished stripping his shirt, follows it clear and simple, "Hurry up and get out of that, boy. I want those pants!" Matt starts unbuckling his own belt.
Bruce wasn't sure about that one. For a landscaper, having to shell almost $2000 out for a leather outfit, to have to part with it...
He and Matt watched, Shea bending over to undo laces, trying to keep his sagging chaps from falling over his black boots.
Bruce had given a clue, not picked up by Shea. Having spent more than half their lives together, Matt knowing some things about the gay lifestyle, predominantly sex and the risque way in which it is often thrown around and joked about, walks around Shea, to his back and even though he's never stalked a man's ass, looks at Shea's ginger-covered rump, saying, "I like what I'm looking at."
"Huh?" Shea says, looking between his legs, seeing Matt's feet there.
He didn't see Bruce's feet and even though it wasn't Matt's hand running over his hairy ass, Shea was getting more than goosebumps thinking it was Matt.
"Yeah... Mm-mhm!" Matt continues the charade, "Would be sensual feeling these baby-hairs on the barrel of my thick cock!"
Shea gulped, turned his head, right before Bruce stopped the hand-grazing.
"You got those boots off yet, boy!" Matt shouts.
"Not yet!" Shea replies, bending back over again.
Wham! Matt's right palm slaps Shea's ass cheek!
"Oh shit!" Shea gasps.
"Well hurry it up! And while we're at it, the name's Master Matt!"
He no longer dilly-dallied, undoing those Doc Martens faster than a speeding bullet, removing them with a slight balancing problem, because his chaps had slipped down to one ankle. Too, his half-disheveled harness was swinging back and forth across his chest.
Viewed by Bruce, he would equate it to Shea having a nervous attack or something, one thing he would never characterize him ever being found guilty of.
They didn't laugh out loud, but almost couldn't hold it in, Matt and Bruce's grins showing how much they were humored.
%
"How do you think dad took it?" Steve questions his brother.
"He'll be okay. Give him time."
There was something about Mark which irked Steve. He knew there was something being held back. Whenever, he knew that look, Mark telling him something, Mark looking away, then turning the subject over to something else, this time, `college.'
However, Steve was wise, "You asked me if there were any hot professors in the science department, like yesterday?"
"Oh, did I?" Mark replies innocently.
Like Steve had heads up over Mark's obviously trying to hold back on an issue, he had his own, giving Mark the silent-stare.
Telepathically, though it seemed, Mark says, "Nothing much. Uncle Bruce confided in me that Shea thinks dad is hot."
"Dad? Like `our' dad?" Steve slaps his beer mug down so hard it makes a gunshot noise, his beer tsunamiing over the lip of the mug.
Mark sarcastically replies, "No. Uncle Bruce's dad, dimwit!"
"Uncle Bruce's dad is dead."
"Yeah, so who does that leave?"
"Okay. Never mind. What else did Uncle Bruce say?"
Sitting there, taking baby sips, Steve takes it all in, with one outcome, "Dad a ferocious', monster-top'? I don't think so."
"That's what I told Uncle Bruce. I guess we won't know until tomorrow morning, will we?"
"Dad's going to be in the dungeon all night?"
Again, with a half-filled mug of beer, Mark stands, asks, "Need another beer?"
Steve sits there, silent.
Smirking, Mark sits, "Okay, so Uncle Bruce says Shea has this mad idea that he's in love with dad."
"But dad is straight, dah?"
"You know that. I know that. Uncle Bruce knows that, but try to tell this Shea dude... I don't know."
Steve chugs back the last of the beer spit, "I guess the only way to find out is wait until tomorrow morning!"
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~ThE eND~
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