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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RancH HanDs 10 a continuation of `CoMPany payLoaD', WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Keying name after name from the disciplinary file, Art wasn't turning up many results. Unlike any time in his life at the habitat, he was sweating it.
No less than four times, has Dillon Li made mockery, "Well if you can't get a guy or two for us, there's always `you', Art!"
"You can forget that!" Art shot down his young protege, physically taking Li's hand off his shoulder.
"What about him? He's hot?" Dillon points to referenced picture.
"Forget Hans Gringold," Art hits delete.
Like he has known the dude all his life, "What happened to him?"
"Resourced out." Down to almost his bottom dollar, Art flashes the next file on the screen, saying, "Oh shit!"
"What?" Dillon leans in, his cheek almost grazing Art's shadow.
Mellowing out, a relief filling his whole being, Art replies, "I can't believe I didn't think of this before."
"Think of what?" Dillon replies, the Asian looking at the full bod picture. He was a little disappointed of course, the dude dressed in a suit, nonetheless thinking him very handsome.
"David Schlesinger," Art taps the monitor with the back of his hand.
"What of him?"
Twirling around in his swivel chair, Art chills out, placing both hands behind his head and in a relaxed position, smiles as he says, "What of him? I'll tell you what of him! According to Demont, this `David' is like a Superman to pain."
"You mean like `no limits'?" Dillon's eyes light up as he rubs hands together.
"As for myself, I don't know," and in a cheery response, Art says, "but I think we should find out!"
Right on the tip of Dillon's tongue, "I wonder how tight he is?"
"Not sure," Art turns around to look at David's profile, saying, "but you better experience fucking him in the beginning, because after I work his ass with my set of buttplugs..."
It put enough scare into Dillon, "Oh you bet I want a tight fit, so you keep them ass-stretchers away until I've had my hot fuck!" He laughs his ass off.
Art Smith wasn't worried. Nothing bothered him. In fact he was deadset on not only stuffing David's ass with up to an XXL-sized buttplug, not worried about a tight fit. Nah, he already had his sights set on his young protege!
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"Like oh my god! I feel like I'm on Dancin' With The Stars!"
When Nolan stepped out of the cabana, not only had the crowd doubled, but a lot of sweat was being worked up, guys bopping their cocks up and down to the sway of the beats. Doubling back to the bar, he `tries' to say to Thor, "Where'd everyone come from?"
He wasn't sure of the question, Thor guessing, "School is out!" mouths it.
"Oh," Nolan replies, bopping his head in not only agreeing, but to the beat. Right away, he knows guys `know' who he is, carving out a path to the bar. Nolan offers his accolades of thanks to each one. There wasn't any need for introductions, Serkan making it so, making sure they got out of the way.
At the bar, it got kind of squishy. Turning to his right side, Nolan meets with a dude he hasn't seen before.
"Hey, I'm Darryl Wotjek," he takes Nolan's hand in his, giving a hearty handshake, then saying, "You don't know it yet, but you and I will be working together."
A little under the influence, Nolan grins, saying, "Hot diggity!"
Taking it as a flirt, Darryl replies, "Cool!" Wrapping his hand around the back of Nolan's neck, Darryl pulls the two together, melding for a kiss.
"Oh!" he delays the separation, Nolan informing him, "I hope I didn't mislead you. I um... have a partner!"
"Mm-m-m, three... even better!" Darryl replies.
Their hairy bods were still touching and when Serkan returns, his hand goes in between, him barking, "Back off, Darryl!"
"Oh come on, Serkie!"
Taller than Serkan, if anyone looked like he should back off, it wasn't Darryl. Compared to Serkan's 5'8 or 9-inch height, Darryl could easily topple him.
"Thor put me in charge of Mr. Nolan. You have complaint, you go to Thor."
"No problem," Darryl directs to Nolan, saying, "especially when we'll be working together. Did they tell you I'm your new project manager?"
Nolan had a tough time hearing.
Leaning in to his ear, Darryl yells, "Project manager."
"Gotcha!" Nolan replies, but with reservations, "You're a little young for the job?"
"Twenty-three, but I used to play a lot in the dirt when I was a kid!" His yelling at the top of his lungs made his voice escalate at the end.
Normally, back at the office in the city, Nolan would have thought a dude applying for a job, this constituted a wiseass response, weighing heavily on whether he cinched the interview or failed. Of course, much mattered to Nolan's own formula for surface appearance: hot looking, certain way in which the hair was combed, or lack of, because bald dudes could get him tingling just as much as disheveled or coiffed with the help of some gel. Too, something significant lying around the zipper area could cover up his inhibitions regarding the hiring of a guy who joked' his way through an interview. Only difference between then and now, totally void of clothing made Nolan's research' a helluva lot easier. Light covering of frontal hair, made wet by a dip in the pool, added to Darryl's persona, making his frontal hair drip down his chest and stomach, like an artist's painting, the color collecting at his pubes.
Even Darryl noticed Nolan's fascination for the bottom portion of the artist's pallet, holding his junk as he got up from sitting, "It's here for the asking. Anytime you got the urge, Mr. H, all you have to do is buzz me. My number is 435." He smiled, brushing his thighs off, which for Darryl, extended up his bod, hands brushing his baby-fresh ass, releasing his hanging goods. It remained unchanged, the glistening smile, backing away from Nolan, then turning his ass towards the `seashore.'
Heading off his barstool, Nolan slowly made his way to the shoreline. Like others, he sat, then slid his bod into the water. A `little' was showing, leftover thoughts from Darryl's hot bod, poking up out of the water.
"Now you're going to get it!"
Nolan fell right out of his pose of checking out Darryl until his nude frame mingled out of sight among the other hot bods. To his rude awakening, "Oh hi there, hon!" he still fought for an upright, buoyant positioning, "I thought you were busy in the kitchen!" More importantly than `kitchen duties', Nolan, stretched out on the synthetic sandy shore, elbows propping him up from the fake waves lapping up his bod, as he cocks his head back and looks up, "Mm-m, now aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" he whets his lips with the tip of his tongue.
He knew Nolan was a little tipsy, so Hewy uses it towards his pranking advantage. Slapping his ass down on the wet sand, splashing water about, he says in a serious manner, "I leave you alone and you are checking out other boys?"
The humor drained out of Nolan as if a vampire latched onto his neck, "What? I didn't think... I mean... We didn't do anything... I mean..." Initial fright fleeing, Nolan rectifies, "You know there's no one else in my life but you?" His hand acts as the plow to worm his arm under Hewy's bod.
"I know!" Hewy lightens up.
"Whew!" with a sigh of relief Nolan throws sweat from his brow with the back of hand. "For a minute there I thought you weren't going to believe me."
"Oh I believe you," Hewy responds, however if they were in a place more private, he would have `handled this' in a different manner. Instead, "Don't you worry though. You'll pay for checking out that young dude's ass."
His humor had lightened up, but falling prey to what could work it's way out later to be quite a hot fantasy, Nolan says, "You're right. I accept full responsibility for my actions." Turning from a strict manner of speaking, more relaxed, "but what kind of punishment do you think I deserve?"
It wasn't tabu to hug your mate, as behavior protocol at Atlantis, as long as two guys or more didn't get too much into organ implantation.
"I think, maybe," Hewy swishes his ass to the right, butting up against his lover, "um, I could," he goes to wrap his hand around Nolan's soft cock, which is partially submerged, "figure out some kind of... severe..."
Lost in his own world, partially alcohol induced, the other, the extreme pleasure of his cock massage, Nolan lost track of his whereabouts, thinking of being in a more private enclosure.
"Excuse me, but do one of you have a story here to tell me?"
What a time for security to approach the two, Hewy's hand thoroughly enjoying bringing Nolan's cock from a soft state, into a rigid pole.
"Oops!" Nolan says, opening his eyes, realizing he wasn't back at their quarters. In the same position as gazing up at Hewy, he's a little taken aback by a speedo catching up the dude's loins. Before it registers this dude is `security', he turns around and parks his knees in the sand, addressing from a kneeling position, "Hey! How you doing?"
"Damn! Why does it have to be you Nolan?" Young, beefy, muscular nineteen year old, trussed up in his uniform, for Atlantis, a speedo and nothing else, except his demerit pad, the security officer addresses.
From his former employ at the Harrellsson building, along with many from the business, Trystan Carr had followed him out to the habitat.
Still in a giddy attitude, Nolan replies, "I `like' your uniform, officer!"
Standing, Hewy talks on Nolan's behalf, "And you are?"
If Hewy could feel a set of palming over his bod, this would be the case, "Hewy Zeitouny. And you are?"
Something clicks, "From `The Chasm', right?"
By this time, Nolan had risen to his feet, saying, "It's where we met. Remember? The young master who didn't know what he was doing?"
More confident now, Hewy adds, "Except where to put my cock?"
"He's got me on that one!" Nolan giggles.
Closing his demerit pad, Trystan says, "Yeah, okay. If I'd known it was you lying there in the water, I won't have bothered, but it's nice to see you again and..." he gets personal, "thanks for giving me a job when I needed it. It was really cool meeting up with Demont."
He was ready to leave, Hewy catching his arm, "Wait a minute Trystan?"
"Huh?"
"I don't think you should allow Nolan's position keep you from serving justice?"
Both Nolan and Trystan were perplexed by Hewy's mentioning, each responding, "Huh?"
"I think maybe it would serve Nolan some good being written up?"
One thing on Nolan's mind, kidding or no-kidding, he didn't want to cross paths with Art Smith, his immediate reaction, "Uh, I'm not so sure..."
However it was Trystan saving the day, "No. I'm not going to write him up and that's final."
"I wasn't meaning for you to `write' him up. You know there's other means of serving justice?"
It the two were questioning Hewy's motives before, more so now and he knew it!
"Why don't you come around to our quarters around nine o'clock tonight?"
"Really?" Trystan replies, a small stirring in his speedo.
Liking the idea right off, Nolan replies, "Cool!"
Putting a damper on two going at Nolan, Trystan declines, "Oh but I sort of have someone I'm..."
"Bring him with you," Hewy replies. Then, thinking he's taking a lot for granted, "as long as it's fine with Nolan?"
"Hey, you're the boss!" Nolan laughs it off.
"Okay, well I have to get going and make sure guys are behaving themselves," Trystan says.
"Nice job," Nolan says.
Getting it, Trystan replies, "Yeah. Nicer than working for you at the Harrellsson Building!"
Laughing and walking away, Nolan smote him with his words, "I hope you get him for his remark!"
Little did Nolan realize Hewy was already `aching' to do it!
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"Oh-h-mm..."
Demont thought it a fair shake, giving Heath what he wanted, working over his tense abs, kneading his nips with his tough fingers and thumbs, taking time out for some kissing, until Demont's grabby hands found out just how tough Heath's balls could be. With arms and legs outstretched and taut like an eagle, it was no chore to slip a finger under Heath's big globes and search for an opening, with his hard shaft in mind. Finding a tube of blue stuff, he gelled up his finger, lubed up the tight hole, slowly drilling it!
At first Demont gave Heath a bear hug from behind, driving his thick shaft in a centimeter at a time. Sensing Heath could take the pain, he smiled, grabbing hold of the front of Heath's thighs and drove the point of standing behind him, home!
For Demont, all he could sense from Heath was pain, but to Heath, his ass, other than an artificial means for stretching the lip, had never experienced such force in tearing him open, the surge causing him to belch out, "Oh-h-h-h-h fuck-yeah!"
However, that was a half hour ago. Now, for better fucking advantage, Demont had pulled out, dried up a bit as he unfastened Heath from his eagle-bound position and forced his chest over a bondage table. He didn't care if his cock had ass-juices slimed up and down the shaft, but the cool air drying out the sides made a need to have it lubed up again. Rather than blue gel, he made his `victim' do it.
"Gonna bust you wide open boy!"
If it was anything like when he was held up by cuffs and chains, Heath was all for it. Without the flimsy chains to brace his bod, Heath began to feel the effects of his bod draped over the bondage table, him cooing, "Oh yeah... Oh yeah... oh fuckin' yeah!" he yelled out in increments, according to Demont slipping back inside, an easier fit second time around.
Maybe things seemed wishy-washy, after Art Smith had handed Heath over to Demont, but the feeling now was more of a permanent thought, Demont shouting back as he uses the force of his torso to emphasize, "Get used to it!"
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Meanwhile, as they went to sit back down on the shores of Atlantis, Serkan comes towards them in a light jog, "Don't sit Mr. H!"
He was ready to, their cocks bobbing up and down with the motion of sitting, standing right back up, and answering, "What's up Serkan?" he also had it in mind this stuff about `valet', thinking Serkan was already working his way into the job!
"Thor. He tells me to tell you, we need to get back to office."
Nolan caught the `we', if seeming like he has officially appointed himself to the position. In a way Nolan didn't care. This wasn't the city, not the building he inhabited, but a more lax place, where rules could be bent.
"Sorry," he tells Hewy.
"No problem," Hewy replies, "I only had a little break and it's back to the kitchen!"
Going back to the cabana, Hewy told them he still had three quarters of an hour before kitchen duty was reinstated, so he hung out at the bar.
For approximately the past three hours, James Houten had been hanging out at Atlantis. About an hour of his incarceration, had been taken up by his brother, Tom showing him the ins and outs of the facility. Because it was preceded by James having a couple of those fancy drinks Thor made up, with the little umbrellas, James made a pest of himself every time Tom showed him an out of public place, James cornering Tom in `a corner' and like old times kissing or dropping to his knees to pleasure his brother.
One such place, a corner of a lab, where the two were in total private, James pleads, "Oh c'mon bro, I'm like so horny for you!"
Tom knew they could get busted for doing sex stuff outside their quarters, but he knew James wasn't the only one horned up, saying, "Okay, but do my ass first!"
Just like that! As if when they were in their teens, Tom commands his older brother, after bowing over a table, his ass right there, James parting it with his hands.
"Get your tongue deep inside, bro!"
Within a word, James divides up Tom's ass, sticking his tongue out and finding the pea-hole.
"Need some help there?"
"Oh-shit!" James retreats, jumping up.
Cross, Tom shouts, "Thor, don't you know how to knock?"
"Sorry," Thor replies. Then scanning the two of them, "You know if one of Art Smith's robots caught you two, he could..."
"We know, we know," Tom says, "now can we get back to my bro, rimming me?"
Closing the door behind him, audibly clicking the lock, Thor replies, "No problem." Being he didn't leave, meant Thor wanted to be included!
However, by now Tom was way beyond having his ass rimmed. Instead, it became a toss up, "I need ass to fuck!"
Thor says to James, "I'll arm wrestle ya for it?" meaning Tom's bulging 9c.
Taking matters into his own hands, Tom paints the picture, "No. Thor, you get on the floor. James, you sink into Thor and I'll fuck you!"
"Just like that?" James did have question about himself literally coming in between his brother and what seemed to quickly becoming his mate?
Thor knew Tom was getting mighty fidgety, keeping his cock in fucking order, stroking mildly, Tom's hand coursing over the fluted end, then back down the barrel.
"Who am I to argue with the boss?" Thor giggles, falling on his knees into doggie position.
"I don't know about this?" James wasn't sure.
Tom, anxious, replies, "Just forget it James?" He sideswipes his bro.
James bit his lip, watching Tom sink down to the floor, almost doing a pushup over Thor's ass. He stopped his radical thinking of taking up space between the two, his hand closing over his own tool.
Dominantly, Tom yells out, after stuffing himself into Thor's ass, "Bro, get over there and make Thor suck you!"
"Oh yeah!" Thor says when James stands in front of him.
James didn't need to make a move, other than freeze in place, Thor bracing his bod up on knees and one hand, his other hand stroking James, Tom's twenty-three year old mate feeding himself right up till the pubic bush is tickling his nose!
As it wound up, because both Tom and James were all primed, it wasn't long before the two were pounding Thor from the rear and at the mouth.
Hands behind his head, James slammed his torso to and fro, feeling his long tube go down Thor's throat, exit, do it again. Not much different, other than his 9c buried to the hilt, Tom exercised his hips as well.
It seemed like a simultaneous culmination of grunting, James' infilling of Thor's gut, Tom pulling out and shooting his wad on the small of Thor's back and Thor's own hand delivering a creamy load onto the lab floor.
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He felt very, very awkward, walking into the assembly at the big table in the room, dudes sitting on tall benches around the square, Denis meekly offering, "Uh, sorry I'm late. I lost track of the time."
Of the ten turning around to look, one head pops up and not particularly in a cross manner, says, "First time, we'll excuse it. Want to find a seat?"
He thought that went well, only Denis didn't trust it, letting it sit that he wasn't being issued the dreaded `demerit.'
Chances are, if he did in fact believe in Art Smith's system of justice, Gregg Blecic would have allowed Denis go scott-free. Unknown to anyone in his classes, he had this special place in his heart for blonds and Denis was meeting this criteria with perfect precision.
Some of the others noticed, the twenty-eight year old classroom professor paying special attention to the teen, ten years his junior, "Here are all the materials you will need.." Gregg hands Denis a portfolio.
There was everything in there, Denis pulling out pencils, paper, two books and several dvd's, remarking out loud, "Cool!"
Gregg wasn't the only one giving their full attention to Denis, the dude to his right, appearing to be a few years older, closer to Dr. Blecic's age, offers, "If you want I can walk you through these disks later?"
"Yeah, cool. Thanks," Denis replied, leaving an open space for finding out a name to match.
"Diego," he replies, adding a smile.
Innocently, Denis responds, "Yeah, sure Diego. Would be cool."
As would happen at the habitat, when a new member of the community arrived, it was like vultures to the prey, each making their stake, until finding out otherwise. That is, those who were not already tied down in a relationship.
Since the class was two hours long, there was a midway break of fifteen minutes, which students could rally inside the room or wander out towards small break rooms. Such was the case with Diego at the helm, "Hey, want to get a carrot juice or something?"
"How about a Coke?" Denis asks, allowing himself to be taken under the twenty-six year old's wing.
"Nah. They don't have any soda. Only healthy juices, but trust me, you'll get used to it. We all have."
"I guess that's cool," Denis replies. He's already found out from Terry, having read the prospectus, the habitat serves only organic products and everything is healthy, right down to the...
"Hey, if you got a minute, we can duck into the jon?"
Not onto Diego yet, Denis replies, "No thanks. Maybe after I drink down a carrot juice."
Diego knew Denis didn't get his slur', saying, "Yeah, okay." Whether he conned Denis into getting a blowjob now or later didn't matter much, Diego not caring when' he got his protein drink.
One of the class members entering the small break room, Joe exclaims, "Hey guys, how's it going?" yet his attention was on Diego.
"Good," Denis replies, "and you know, this carrot juice isn't half bad!"
Joe's eyes on Diego, he replies, "Not as good as an old-fashioned protein drink, eh Diego?" he hints, Joe slipping his dogtag into a slot of the vending machine and removing a bottle of dark juice.
It's then, the two sharing something between themselves, becoming obvious, Denis says, "So, what's up guys?"
Joe asks Diego, "What's up Diego?"
"I don't know," Diego replies, "what's up?"
Denis sat there, taking a sip and noticing the two with a hand around their bottles, the other of their two hands under the table, says something Doug said to him once, "I think I can guess what's up?"
"You want to duck into the jon?" Diego fesses up.
It's not the route Denis wanted to take, saying, "Nah, but you two go ahead without me," he finishes his carrot juice and walks.
Joe calls out to him, "Okay, but you're passing up Diego's hot mouth!"
Much to Joe's pleasure, Diego says, rising up out of his chair, the obvious bulge in his shorts, "Oh come on. Take me all the way!"
A wry smile on his lips, Joe replies, getting out of his seat, his hand making the tightness in his crotch look more immense, "It's why I followed you in here."
"Huh?"
"In case you couldn't get Denis to make it with you, stoopid!"
Little did either of them know it, while Joe was slamming Diego's ass against the sink, Art Smith was quiet in one of the stalls, taking a crap, listening to every sound. Not only words and voices, but he fondles himself upon hearing the sounds of zippers unzipping, dropping of pants to the floor and something which really got his hand pumping, squeaky sound of mouth slurping up the side of a cock or popping off the head. It was all good. In no time he had a raging hardon, wondering how to get rid of it?
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"Geoscience class isn't half bad!"
"Oh-shot-you-scared-the-hell-outta-me!" Johnny held the water can in one hand, his heart in the other!
Giggling, Eamon replies, "Well, at least you don't have the hell in ya anymore!" He waltzes right up to Johnny, giving him a peck on the lips.
"What was that for?" Johnny drops his `heart' and puts fingertips to his lips.
"I dunno. Maybe I'm starting to get sweet on you?" Eamon replies.
"Yeah, well just remember I'm an older man!"
"I know. Twenty-two years, eleven months and how many more days?"
"Tomorrow," Johnny exposes the truth about his twenty-third birthday, already previously discussed.
Eamon questions, "I have no idea what anybody would get somebody for a birthday present?"
Putting the watering can down, Johnny takes time out from his seedlings, walking over, caressing Eamon, "I think you'll do!"
"You're not getting sweet on me, are you?" Eamon questions him, the two staring into each others' eyes.
"Why? You're the only one allowed?"
Showing this wasn't a one way love affair developing, Eamon says, "Go ahead. Show me!"
"Huh?" Johnny questions Eamon's motives.
"Kiss me, stoopid!"
"Oh! That! Sure."
Staring a second longer, Eamon asks, "What?"
"Nothing. I just want to preserve this memory for our history."
"If you're not sure..."
"I'm sure," Johnny kept Eamon from escaping his arms.
"Then just shut up and kiss me, unless there's a problem?"
"Problem?"
Eamon furthers, "Like I might not be cute enough for you?"
That cinched it, Johnny not giving it another thought to why, after swearing off on the boys after his last ill-fated romance, chested-up with Eamon and passionately kisses him.
"Wow! Like I've never been kissed like that!" Eamon remarks.
Smirking, Johnny asks, "Well how many high school buds have you kissed in the locker room between football practice and the shower?"
"Football? I didn't play football. For your information I was a high school geek!"
Johnny laughed out loud, but then made his humor die down to reveal, "I ate geeks for breakfast!"
Getting the death stare from Eamon, it didn't sit well, him breaking off his hold, standing there with arms crossing his middle, "Oh, so you were one of `those'?"
"One of what?"
"Bullies?"
"No! You got me all wrong!" Johnny replies. What I meant... to say..." he was slowly melting, "What I meant to say is... you got me. Okay, so I was a bully, but I quickly learned my lesson when the hunter became the hunted."
"Hunter became the hunted?" Eamon asks in a sarcastic manner. "Like what's that supposed to mean?"
Speaking from his heart, Johnny says, "I was part of a high school gang, that is until they found out I was gay. The six or seven of them confronted me all at once, one saying he saw me underneath the bleachers at an away game, fucking some dude."
"I take it they were homophobic?"
Johnny replies, "And so much more, against gays, guys smarter than themselves, even Jewish boys who wore yarmulkes. If a guy wore one, he was taunted to no end."
"And you?" Eamon wanted to hear his story.
His lips upturning, smirking, Johnny tells, "It's the reason I wound up here at the habitat. After I got worked over by the gang and told I wasn't a `brother' anymore, I hobbled all the way home. One of them had called my papi, who wasn't anymore keen on loving gays than the gang. As soon as I walked in the door he confronted me with my homosexuality. I knew he knew and to lie would have been a bad thing. You don't know my papi."
Eamon already figured out it could mean bad vibes.
"So I told him. I told him his son was gay. Maybe I shouldn't have, but apparently he got the word ahead of me arriving at home. I'm not sure if he had planned it out, but I have a feeling it was a gut reaction to slap me around and I was in no condition to fight back, after the gang pummeled me. After he got done with his fists, he tore my shirt off, through my bod over the diningroom table, took off his belt and began whipping me. I can still recall his voice that night, `I'm gonna whip that gay-devil out of you, boy!'"
Feeling empathy, Eamon approaches Johnny, saying, "Oh Johnny."
"Yeah, well, I still have the marks to show for it, but it taught me one thing, that there was no love lost between us."
"What about your mom?"
"No. She wasn't there. It was only me and him, and going on that, I figured there wasn't any reason to stick around."
"Right. No telling what he would do, but also it's good all this happened, because it's probably changed your life?" Eamon poses.
"Probably. If I hadn't runaway I might be still with the gang, doing drugs, but more, with the same hatreds." Then, because they were in each others' arms once more, "I'm sorry I picked on you `geek guys'!"
Smiling, Eamon says whimsically, "That's okay. I'll get even!" he reaches behind Johnny and squeezes his melons!
There was one secret Johnny was keeping from Eamon, one which probably didn't mean very much, him thinking of himself as being a strict top. Right now, he didn't give it much thought, Eamon returning the kiss, apparently putting aside his former slant on geeks!
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`CoMPany payLoaD' - RancH HanDs may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.