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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CoMPany payLoaD 20
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Before his foot was in the front door of the bakery, Geoff was stopped, a hand to the chest, his worker, Janos Starc blocking him from entering, exciting news on his lips, "You'll never believe who steps into the bakery this morning?"
Geoff, a little wishful thinking on his mind, "Uh, Ben Cohen?"
In his broken, east-European accented voice, the eighteen year old says, "No," but didn't discount his feelings towards, "I wish! But no, it is Pete Savage! You know him, Austrailian chef? He has his own cooking show?"
Pressing right on past Janos, Geoff remarks, "I know Pete Savage all right." For years, Geoff always thought of what Pete Savage had coming to him, if he ever stood face to face with him again!
"Geoff, how are you?" Savage greets him, getting up from enjoying a pastry and tea.
There was not an evil, mean bone in Geoff's bod, unless his feelings provoked him into a situation which would require it. Right now, he was feeling it, grinding a fist into his palm, but old memories began to wear him down.
"You're looking," Pete glances down in front of them, Geoff probably wanting more to pound him into the ground than welcome him with open arms, "as good as ever."
Something was different about Pete, him not being able to put a finger on it. Being their relationship was in their late teens, that was about four or five years ago, time had healed Geoff. Back in his life, it put a temporary edge back on, but then, Pete's incredibly good looks, put a damper on his anger, him lowering his arms as he asks, "Why are you here, Pete?"
Looking around, not only Janos, who wait on customers had `big ears', but Pete had thought, on the flight over, what he had to say was meant for some place more intimate, "Do you happen to have a place where we can talk?"
Business had picked up on the street outside, but the tables were empty, Geoff leading Pete outdoors.
Driving right to the point, Geoff asks, "So Pete, what makes you drop everything in Austrailia to come visit with me?"
Pete knew Geoff knew, but answered the question, "You're the only ties I have with the US?"
"Oh yes," Geoff replies, folding his arms over his pecs, "I remember well, how important I am to you." He snaps his fingers, "What was his name, who had a plane waiting for your immediate departure?"
He felt like a heel, every good reason to having these feelings, Pete replying, "Jake."
"Jake," Geoff replies with a smirk. "Tell me. Did Jake fulfill his promise and give you everything he promised?"
It was a very sticky situation. As it turned out, Jake della Rosa did give Pete everything he promised, a nice career, first guest on a talk show, then opening his own restaurant, eventually a spinoff to a Tv show, "Everything he promised." On a somber note, "But nobody expected a forty-five year old, stealth figure of a man, to die at such a young age."
"Did you love him?" Geoff asks point blank.
"He met my needs."
Geoff again relaxes, settling his back into the chair. He had an inkling to what Pete was talking about. In their short, several month old relationship, Geoff could not say Pete was not good for him. On the contrary, Pete could get into some rough stuff, which could keep Geoff's joystick hard. A quick comparison in his mind, pitting Nolan against Pete, the comparing was a wide differentiation. A smirk of humor, he well knew Nolan could never stand up to Pete's pain threshold, would break after five lashes of a strap to the back, a fact Pete could take three hundred.
"What?" Pete picked up on the silent thought.
"Nothing." Forgoing any other talk, Geoff guesses, "I'm guessing you are back here hoping to pick up where we left off?" He said it bluntly, not in a way to lure or entice.
Put in a different manner, "I'm really sorry for what I did to you Geoff. I was immature. We both were only in our teens."
More guessing, Geoff asks something he already knows, "Your show has been canceled?"
Nodding his head, Pete says, "Yeah. I wasn't happy about it, but when della Rosa died, his death pulled the plug on everything. Maybe I'm not such a good chef after all."
Looking dejected, Geoff's sentiment began to turn, "I'm sorry about that, Peter."
Exhaling a laugh, he replies, "You're the only one that ever called me `Peter', you know?"
"It's your name, right?"
Peter replies, "Yeah. But look Geoff, I don't expect, if you choose to forgive me, of ever being a part of your life the way it was, but if we could just be friends?"
Thinking it over, Geoff rubs his scruffy black beard, fingers and thumbs toying at the `goatee' part, index finger sliding up and down the strip from lip to chin, him deciding, "How about a hundred lashes and we'll call it even?"
"I'd like that very much, only..." Peter fell silent.
Geoff jokes, "Rats! You're not into it anymore?"
Offering a quaint smile, Peter replies, "I am. So was Jake. Sometimes when he mixed alcohol and playing together, he could get rough."
Even though Peter was calm about it, Geoff became anxious, "What did he do to you?"
"Does scars on my back give you a hint?"
"No-o-o-o," Geoff replies, both hands reaching out, across the table to Peter's hands, cuddling them, "I'm so sorry Peter." Not that it mattered, "Recently?"
Geoff wasn't the only nervous one, Peter unraveling the tale, telling of Jake getting together his band of bdsm buddies, who brought their own `slaves' for an evening of fun. Peter wasn't the only one who suffered at the hands of drunk masters, others submissives receiving their share of whippings, gut-punching, ball-bashing, ass work with big toys and rough sex.
"I don't mean this in an unkind way, but it was worth it, the show getting canceled, losing the house and all, in order for the parties to stop."
"Doesn't sound like much of a party to me," Geoff says tenderly, still cuddling Peter's limbs.
"I know," Peter replies. "I miss our little get togethers at the Bear Lair' and The Chasm'." And then to stir up a little background on Geoff, "You still go there..." on the tip of his tongue, fading, "with somebody?"
Geoff admits, "I've met somebody. We've been there. Last night we met this other guy. A young, novice master. Very cute guy."
"You're training him, no doubt?"
"Of course. You don't think I'd pass up the opportunity to train some young hottie!" Geoff laughs.
"Geoff, do you think I could stay with you a few days until I get myself situated?"
Again, resorting to sitting back in his chair, strumming his beard with his fingers, Geoff replies, "I dunno, Peter."
"It's not like I was left destitute. I got some severance pay from the network." Divulging more info, Peter says, "I even have a lead on a new start in the city."
"I'm happy for you, but..."
All that excitement built up in Peter, was quickly extinguished, seeing him fear the answer. "It's okay Geoff. I'll figure something else out."
"What about..."
"Geoff," Peter cut him off, "I came to you first, not that I think you're a pushover, but you have a really kind heart. How would I know unless I `knew'. Anyway, if you're going to say try Zach or Randy, forget it. They're not at all like you. If I ever showed up at their doorstep they would as much kick me down the stairs before saying a word, not that I don't deserve it. I don't even deserve sitting here and talking with you."
Big decision on Geoff's part, he says, "Okay, friends. You can stay for now in the back room of the bakery, but no eating donuts in the middle of the night!"
Sidewalk view would have been no different for this town, two guys sharing a hug was normal to people passing by.
"Um, you wouldn't happen to have a temporary job, would you?"
"I thought you had a lead in the city?" Geoff tries confirming.
With pouty lips, Peter says, "There's no job in the city. I just thought if things didn't work out for me, with you, it would be a good out?"
"I see." Then, pertaining to Peter's question a minute ago, "Have you been talking to Janos?"
"He said you were looking for a dishwasher and all around cleanup man?"
It's what Geoff had left Nolan and Hewy for, bakery store chores, saying, "I'd love not having to run off at the break of dawn!"
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"This," James waves his hand in succession, pertaining to the whole room, "is overwhelming for me. I don't think I'd be happy doing this everyday."
After another bout of suck'n'fuck, Laurent had nuzzled up to James' armpit. Ever since James had mentioned his brother dripping hot wax on his nips, `maiming' them, Laurent had paid special attention, tongue-licking and softly lip-teasing them. "Good!"
"Huh?" James says, pressing his chin to his chest to look Laurent in the eyes.
"Living in the lap of luxury."
"What about it?"
"I'm not supposed to say, but it's not exactly how you and Tom will be living once this kidnap business is over and done with."
Recalling Giuseppe's plans in the dungeon, "Anything is better than playing slaveboy to some rich Arab!"
"We, Tony and me, thought maybe we'd take you home to our farm to live out your days?"
"A farm?" James show excitement, "You mean like slopping the hogs and feeding the chickens?"
On a different plane, Laurent replies, "We're more into grains, but there's a nice big, old barn with rafters, where," Laurent mocks throwing a rope into the air, "you can toss a line over a beam or two and make a fitting restraining setup for some fun?"
James replies with eagerness, "Oh Tom and Tony would have a ball, I'm sure!"
Showing disappointment, "What about me?"
Turning on his side, James' hand glides over Laurent's hairy chest, down the flank of his ribs, their chests touching, "I'd give you what you want, but I thought for myself, I would concentrate on the `love' aspect a little more," he seals it with a kiss.
"A turning point?" Laurent questions.
Perplexed, James asks, "In what respect?"
"When we first met it seemed everything was hinged on fantasy-roleplay."
"There's nothing fake about what I'm saying now."
Without words, James steps aside from the labels, top vs. bottom, dom vs. sub or the other namesakes, bowling Laurent over on the bed. From kissing, he `lowers' himself into the role of any ordinary lover, kissing the Frenchman on the chest. Looking up at Laurent's face, after hearing a soft coo, he says, "I bet you didn't expect this?"
"You keep sliding over my pubes and you're gonna get something you didn't expect!"
It's the first time James experienced even a nod of difference from the role Laurent had played. Then again they weren't into `labeling'. He found his own nips sensitive and now tried out Laurent's, which proved the point already cast, Laurent's cock twitching madly.
"Oh yeah baby!" Laurent said, James' bod moving physically from Laurent arching his back, lips mumbling sounds which said he was more than enjoying having his nips toyed with.
He gazed up, seeing Laurent far gone under his spell, but then hazily asks, "Ever had hot wax done to these?"
Without a straight answer, Laurent says, "Maybe when you get me strung up in the barn!"
"Tom had me lying down. If you're standing, the wax will run right down your stomach and..." his hand paves the trough.
"Um, I stopped twitching?"
James smiled. "Thanks for the subtle hint." From the time he doubled over onto Laurent's bod, James was growing in size as well. Sliding his hand between them, he found them at great lengths and circumferences.
Sliding down the fuzzy belly, James toyed with Laurent again, to see what he would say as far as feelings went, his tongue in drag, taking his descent all the way to Laurent's bellyhole and as Laurent had done to him, stuck it in. "Wow that's deep!"
James wore a smile and cackled to himself when Laurent slapped the back of his head, yelling, "Fuck it!"
Joking, James saluted, "Yes sir!"
He had no choice, his face in Laurent's stomach, his tongue at the perimeter of the deep bellyhole. With no feelings of what the taste would be, James was surprised, excited at how pungy it was. Following direction, however Laurent meant it to be, James dug deeper and deeper. Pure excitement took over, especially when pressed on by how much Laurent was enjoying his ministrations.
However, all good things must come to an end, but for this couple, good became better when James skipped over the bushy pubes and moved right in for the kill!
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"Balls any better?"
Tony, inverted in a faced down position, hovers his nuts and bolts over Tom's face.
"Hell with the balls. Keep doing whatever it is you're doing with my cock!"
Never expecting it, Tony had wondered what Tom was up to, after complaining about how sore his laden sacs were after the ball torture last night, reluctantly crawled on all fours and like a car backing into a parking spot, let his crotch items hang free. Disappointment was part of his gripe, because other then ball torture being the best thing on his list, or it could be evening out to lovemaking, Tony was very much into orally doing a guy over with tongue, lips, whatever it took to pleasure the man or men he was with.
"Lower," Tom commanded, still in control.
Tony couldn't believe how good it felt, spreading his knees and allowing his cock to drift lower, caught up on Tom's tongue.
The strange this is, as the minutes slipped by, Tom ordered `lower' once more. Now, because it made Tony feel ecstatically good, a mouth on his cock and not a hand to make his hard and stoking him up to coming, he took advantage. Little did he know it was unintentional.
At first Tom got into it, planing the sides of Tony's thick shaft with his tongue, but got worried after Tony spread his knees the second time. From appearance he knew Tony had `a big one', but stuffed into every crevice of his mouth, Tom wondered if the air supply would be cut off!
Then the moment came, Tom heaving like he was going to barf. Tony never shoved his knees together faster, ripping his dick out of Tom's mouth, turning around like a wrestler on the mat and yelling, "You okay? You okay?"
An amenity of the room, the lights were on `very low' and in this dim lit manner, still Tony could see the tears in Tom's eyes. He says, "Prolly the way we were doing it."
"What do you mean?"
"My cock, dropped down from above? If you're like me, sliding it in from being seated on the chest might make a difference?"
"Hmm," Tom ponders.
"By the way, in case you're wondering," Tony says for the hell of it, "you're as hard as a cucumber in heat?"
"Tony, have you ever seen a cucumber in heat?"
"Nope, but I've had one up my ass!" He giggles.
"Oh really? Was it as tight as `my cucumber'?"
Wanting his way, Tony was about to get it, responding, "I can't remember. Want to refresh my memory?"
Even though Tom was enjoying lying there, his tongue tasting the second cock he ever made love to, in his life, he favored massaging a love tunnel, so they both agreed on the matter.
"No. Don't get up. Stay right where you are!"
His experiences with his brother, Tom always fucked James either lying down on the bed, faced down or faced up. "What are you going to do," even though Tom `saw' what Tony was going to do.
"You'll see," Tony replies, using brute gymbod strength to hoist his ass over Tom's pubes.
In unison, their praises grabbed hold, the tip of Tom's shaft feeling up `ass', Tony sighing when he felt pierced by the rubbery sword.
"Have you done this before?" Tom asks, not that he really cared, bent on the awesome feeling of Tony sliding down his pole.
"First....time," Tony had trouble coherently answering, being stabbed right up the middle.
It took a while of probing, until Tony sensed rising up, coming off Tom's hard shaft, then settling down, it becoming more and more familiar and soon it was no chore and `old hat', jackknifing his knees to provide the spring to have Tom fuck him, without his partner moving a muscle.
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They had started in the tub, but after Hewy had to come, shooting his creamy onto Nolan's chest, Nolan was still left with a hard stick.
"I could do you?"
"You want to..." Nolan gulped, still looking to the fine creature in front of him, "do me?"
At twenty-five, Nolan was still a young man, but kneeling on the pavement of the tub proved a little harsh for his knees.
Taking an arm, Hewy says, "C'mon ole man!"
Nolan `could have' helped heft himself up, using one of the soap dishes, which had kept his arms stretched out, but saw opportunity, so reached up and took hold of Hewy's right nip ring. He didn't pull hard, just to simulate.
"Oh yeah," Hewy replies, cooing gently. Too, as he's helping Nolan up, he forces his right shoulder above his right ear, causing his nip to stretch.
"I'll have to remember that."
"What?" The twenty year old Egyptian couldn't put two and two together.
"Hot nip to service?"
"Oh really?" Hewy replies, Nolan still toying, "I thought you did a perfectly good job last night?"
"Wait! Was that your nip?"
"Geoff has a nip ring?"
"You've got a point there."
They stood there in the shower, without the shower running, how their minds seemed to run wild with hidden thoughts, coming to light through mental thoughts from eyes to eyes.
"Gosh, you're beautiful!" Dropping the toying hand, he grazes the side of Hewy's pec, moving in so their stomachs touch, Nolan begins weaving his way into Hewy's heart.
Lips touching, they separated, Hewy remarking, "Sure was nice."
Again, the eye contact, they stood there, staring, Hewy's left hand cozy with Nolan's right hand.
"It's almost gone," Nolan says.
"My erection," Hewy ventures to guess.
"No. Your come," Nolan wipes a finger full up, from just above his bellyhole, to center chest. He licks it. "Tastes good. Got more?"
"Not at the moment. Remember I came in here to piss?"
Still they stood there, a couple in the shower, without the shower running.
"Do you still have to?"
"Yeah," Hewy cracks a slight smile.
"Me too."
Standing there, neither broke their pose, Nolan saying, "You first."
"No you."
"No you."
"You."
"Will you just fuckin' piss on me, dammit!"
Hewy smiled, especially during, when Nolan took his cock and allowed the hot, yellow stream hose down his pecs, lower as Hewy ran out of ammunition.
Reluctantly, Hewy says, "Um, my turn?"
Knowing Hewy was reneging, Nolan let him slide, "I think it's I had to come... yeah, that's it."
Hewy didn't believe him, but they showered together, dried and then got ready to do something less exciting, like eat.
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"Well, well, well! What the `fuck' do we have here?"
Quite surprised, to say the least, Al Tarulli was caught in the thick of it, the thirty-eight year old's cock stuffed in David Schlesinger's ass.
"What are you up to?" Trystan asks, bending at the waste and looking under the sink, which David is bent over.
"Fuck you!" Juan says. Apparently David's wet cock in Juan's hand, telling all.
Meanwhile, back up top, Demont is eyeing up Al's ass.
"I guess we better go," Al starts to pull out.
"Damn shame!" Demont plays it their way.
"Huh?" Al says, halting after half pulling his drill-shaft half way out.
"Nah!" Demont gives Al a big wallop on the ass, sending him right back into David's mineshaft.
"Arghhhhh!" Al yells out, though he couldn't deny it felt so damn good.
It then became a farce, Al trying to back out, seeing the reflection in the jon mirror, Demont unbuckling his belt, same time his massive height and chest pinning Al's pubes to David's ass.
Having `words', Trystan had dragged Juan out from under the sink, over to another side of the jon, near the two stalls.
"Oh shit!" They both stopped complaining to each other when they hear Al scream out in pain, same time seeing Demont with his butt punched forward.
Man in front, David Schlesinger, tried to keep from going through the wall, yelling, "Oh fuckin' yeah!"
"You as big as him?" Juan asks.
"Bigger!" Trystan replies, rubbing the build up in his trousers.
"Could be cool," Juan surrenders.
Under the pipes, he was barechested, his pants open in the front, briefs anchored under his balls. Now, without inhibition, Juan stripped off both, leaving him with his socks on.
"Now," Trystan, who had little experience at this, other than conversation with Demont, puts on his best acting skills, demanding, "Now you little piece of trash, strip me!"
Juan gulped. Running around inside his Puerto Rican brain, all he could think of, was how hot this guy was being. Scrounging up a few bucks, he had done some guys who could get rough and the rougher they got the more it would make the blood pump and the grease flow.
"Make it quick or I'll use your fuckin' bod as a punching bag!"
"Yes, sir!" Juan recalled from one session with a trick.
Sir', Trystan liked that, it going immediately to both heads. His brain liked the calling, but down below, the command power it gave him also made his loins pulse. Upon hearing the meek' voice, he took total command, after his top half was stripped, "Belt."
Quick to fidget with Trystan's belt, Juan stripped it right out of the loops. As his paid trick had done, demanding to have it in his hands, Juan held the length of it out.
Not exactly sure what this translated it to be, they were both shocked when Demont pulls out and with one hand still steadying Al against David, grabs it out of Juan's hand, "Gimme that!"
Their attention was temporarily drawn away from what they were doing, Demont lifting the strap and lashing his `bitch'.
"Cool!" Juan said of it.
Testing, Trystan says with conviction, "I could be doing the same to you, bitch!"
Like Juan had done in the past, it was acting and by the good tips he got, he figured he was a very good actor. "Yes, sir!" he sad fast, his hands going twice as fast, disconnecting the button of Trystan's pants, unzipping, pulling down on the sides. He felt an extra zing, his master's hands on his shoulders as the master stepped out of the pants.
Juan might have thought he was working fast, but Trystan, with a bird's eye view of the chain of events in front of him and his own private service-boy, he had to have Juan's mouth and have it now, saying, "Fuck that!"
It wondered Juan what Trystan was up to, thumbs peeling off his own briefs, but he couldn't be more happier than a pig in shit, seeing the big, hard shaft pointing at him.
At this moment, labels didn't matter, Trystan hornier than hell, taking Juan's head and ramming his tool right in. It's after he got it in, he barks at Juan, "And I better not feel any teeth!" Though, Trystan wasn't sure he could be as brutal as Demont, yelling threats at Al Tarulli, ordering him to clamp down his ass muscle for a tighter fit, Demont carrying out his threats by the apparent ineptitude on Al's part, receiving the doubled belt across his shoulder blades. What the fuck though, Trystan not giving a damn, his only concern being the rounded lips of Juan, giving him an expertly crafted blowjob!
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"You've got a nice place here, Geoff."
Peter let his ass bounce a few times on the bed, sequestered away in the back of Geoff's shop.
Standing in the door frame, Geoff replies, "I had to have a place to stay when I first set up. Until I could get myself situated."
"You can come in and close the door," Peter says. "I won't do anything... unless you want me to?"
Since they had both entered the former storeroom, converted to a modest bedroom, Geoff had this dry taste on his lips. In the back of his mind, it began to surface, things from his teen years, right out of high school and meeting up with a college man, in his second year of higher education. He swung the door back and forth on its hinges, unsure of which direction he wanted to make it swing. Sure, Nolan was on his mind, but the power of his former lover seemed stronger, as if an aphrodisiac was arousing his senses, making him driven. Walking in, he closed the door behind him.
Standing there at the side of the bed, Peter was at the `right' height. "Only if you want to," he tried reading Geoff's thoughts.
It only took Geoff, his left hand, fondling himself, to send the message. Feeling Peter's hand making light work at dismantling his belt and zipper, he stare straight ahead, at an old Paul Wagner poster, the golden hairy bod, hand on dick... it made Geoff wise up to the situation at hand, especially when he sensed hands on his flesh, Peter peeling his jock down the sides of his bod.
He sighed to no end, as in the olden days, the expert blowjob Peter could give, engulfing Geoff's whole eight inch mass of man-meat and then with the head to the back of Peter's gullet, tongue massaged the sides.
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Almost every room of the guided tour of Nolan's mansion, Hewy and his guide felt driven to have some little love interlude. Especially in the music room, Nolan `show' Hewy the eight foot grand piano from tabletop view, having him lie down on it, reminding him, "Remember I didn't come?"
It was a little tough stripping on the piano, so they removed themselves to the sofas in front of the fireplace. One sofa held them, while the other became a clothes rack for everything they had on.
They took it rather slow, Nolan feeling a thirst to lick and taste every part of the twenty year old's bod.
The sofa, a two seater, was hardly comfortable when it came to where Hewy was rigid and up for a fuck, so Nolan obliged by bending over the arm. He was happy with the arrangement, because he had already gone too long without coming. Not only did he herald Hewy with the hottest fuck, but he later say it was well worth it, soiling up the side of the sofa, Hewy too late in cupping his hand to capture the gooey man-juice!
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`CoMPany payLoaD' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.