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, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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AUGUST apprentices 02 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"How'd it go?" Jean-Claude asks Brendan as he walks in the kitchen.
Tossing his keys over the hook on the key rack, Brendan replies, "No go."
"What?" he asks, dropping the wooden spoon back into the pan of pasta sauce. "What do you mean `no go'?"
"Budget cuts. Everybody's experiencing them these days, so the position is not materializing. In fact the whole program is kaput!" Brendan spells it out, his hand gliding along and taking a steep dive towards the floor.
"What a crying shame!"
"Yeah, tell me about it," Brendan replies as he takes off the sport jacket and places it over a chair. He helps himself to the fridge, removing a gallon of milk.
Jean-Claude goes for a glass in the cabinet. He holds it while Brendan fills it.. "So what are we going to do?"
Sadness between the two is felt, but Brendan tells it like it is, "I was actually dreading going back to work on the turnpike." Looking up into the kitchen environment, "I was picturing myself as `being around', more part of the community." Then gazing downwards, faces reality, "Damn it!"
The curse is what Jean-Claude was feeling too, but didn't say it. Both knew if Brendan had to go back to his old job there would be less quality time for the two. Plus, Brendan would be spending much of his time commuting.
"Something else will come up," Jean-Claude said, putting his arms around his lover, using Brendan's back as a pillow for his head. His arms folded around him, his hands grasped unintentionally over rounded pecs.
"I suppose," Brendan replied, turning around and accepting his fate. "So, what's for dinner?"
"Something made up for an intimate little dinner party."
"Oh? How would that go?" Brendan questioned.
"Seems our new employee, Sebastien has suggested a `boys night out' to celebrate Tariq's freedom from oppression and the four are going to eat out. So," Jean-Claude starts helping Brendan forget his troubles, first working the tie from his shirt, "we happen to have the evening all to our lonesome selves!"
"Mmmm," Brendan said of this.
As it had gone, up until this time, it was Brendan doing the honors, but being Jean-Claude intended on lifting spirits, took the initiative to strip the tie rapidly out of Brendan's shirt. When Brendan went for the top of button of his shirt, Jean-Claude's hand swatted it away.
Brendan made like he was looking up at the ceiling, only his eyes were closed.
His lips at Brendan's Adam's apple, Jean-Claude unbuttoned the shirt, revealing more of Brendan's light covering of chest hair. Unintentionally he went to pull the shirt to the side to get a lick of pec meat, but a button popped off. "Oops! Sorry!"
Snapping out of it, Brendan replies, "No problem. I only have one white shirt and it's like eight years old. I should think about getting a new one."
"When's your birthday?"
"October twenty-first." It wasn't a base which was covered. "When's yours?"
"November 11."
"Remind me to write it down later!"
They smiled at each other. Then, slipping back into the romantic mode, Jean-Claude didn't bother with unbuttoning anymore.
"He-e-e-ey!" Brendan exclaimed, looking down upon his bare bod to his pants.
"I've always wanted to do that!" Jean-Claude said with a toothy grin.
Brendan had a grin on his face too.
"What?" Jean-Claude questioned the look.
"I've always had this fantasy."
"Oh?" Jean-Claude irks him on.
"Yeah. Decked out in my state tropper's uniform, captured by an incredibly hot guy, tied to a chair and then made to submit!"
As he dragged the shirt down Brendan's shoulders, revealing his full-facing of hairy chest, Jean-Claude jokes, "Be careful what you wish for!"
"Mmm," Brendan replies to that. But he became more interested in Jean-Claude unbuckling his belt!
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As things went along naturally, Emre and Kevin paired off, taking a seat in one side of the booth at the Pizza Villa, Sebastien being the gentleman, allowed Tariq in first, his butt sealing the entrance.
"A round of beers?" Sebastien asks.
"Tariq.. He is not of age."
"Huh?" Sebastien was floored. "You fooled me!"
"I am seventeen, but I will be eighteen when next month comes," Tariq replies.
"Big deal," Kevin says of it all. "I'll have a Dr. Pepper."
And so it went, the four having a great evening, chowing down pizza and drinking up a storm, first time Emre and Tariq tasting Dr. Pepper and liking it. To round it out, Sebastian, having his taste buds set on beer, opted out for the same.
"I am like so full!" Kevin says, putting both hands on his stomach and forcing it to make it look bigger than it actually is. He quietly burps.
"The pizza is very good here," Tariq says.
Sebastien says, "It is apparent since you ate more than half our pie!"
"I am so sorry," Tariq replies.
"I'm joking," Sebastien replies. "No problem, because I know I couldn't eat more than three pieces anyway." Same time he was seeing a difference in the Temel brothers. He knew of Gazi, the boldness, almost brash attitude. Emre was outgoing, but very reserved at times and polite. As for Tariq, he sensed a sensitivity and humble being. Yet, he respected the right and wrong of things and knew he better wait till Tariq turned eighteen before diving into anything. Sebastien had this feeling if he didn't weigh his feelings and say something, some other guy might get his dibs in first. "Maybe we can do this again sometime?" He looked at Emre.
Kevin answers right away, "Yeah, it'd be cool. Hey, you're going to show us how to do something surfing, right Seb?"
"Sure," he replies. In fact if the table wasn't in the way he would've jumped up and given Kevin a hug for the lead into, "Want to learn how to surf Tariq?"
"I don't know." And then to Emre, Tariq asks, "Are you going to surf?"
Sebastien could've kissed Kevin again, when he exclaims, "Sure! We're all going to learn how to surf!"
With it settled, things fell into place, all except the bill. Sebastian was nervous, studying it upside down as Kevin held it in front of himself.
"No problem gents!" Kevin tells them. "Compliments of the boss!" He whips out a fifty and slaps it on the table. "J-C told me it's because it's our first day on the job and we all did such a fine job." He elaborates, "Even though Seb and I had more fun getting wet!"
"Yeah but what he's leaving out is when he turned the jet on my balls?"
"That hurt you!" Tariq says, putting a hand on Sebastien's thigh..
"I only had it on light spray," Kevin claims. "Besides. I wasn't aiming for his balls."
Then it came out, it was an accident, Kevin mistakenly turning the jet away from the side of the building and Sebastien accidentally being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
However, for right now, everything Kevin said was working towards Sebastien's benefit and what happened this afternoon faded as Tariq kept his hand on Sebastien's jeans.
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Brendan ate dinner without a shirt, Jean-Claude still in a tee shirt, jeans and his favorite Williams-Sonoma cooking apron. They sat at opposite ends of the table, but often leaned over the kitchen table to kiss.
Jean-Claude had uncorked the first bottle of wine.
Brendan did the honors for the second bottle and when it was gone, so was the main course and half the evening.
"How about dessert in bed?"
Smilng, Brendan loved the idea, pushing his chair back.
Before departing the kitchen, Jean-Claude pulls a bottle out of the special refrigerator used to house wines. "I've been saving this for a special occasion."
"Romanee-Conti 1990?" Brendan reads it off the label.
Jean-Claude smiles, knowing his lover didn't know about wines. "Just be careful how you handle it. One bottle costs $5,800.00."
"Wha'tha'fuck?" Brendan replies, sitting up and holding the bottle to his chest, until he realizes the coldness of it to his bare skin. "Five thou?"
"And eight hundred. I got a good deal. Six to a case." He wasn't bragging, but Jean-Claude loved seeing Brendan's expression. "But it's not going to be cold too long, against your chest!"
"It's making my chest cold," Brendan said, a smile on his face as he carefully set the bottle on the table and placed a hand midchest, feeling the cold spot it left.
"Oh really? I guess I'll have to warm it up!" He bent over and kissed right smack in the middle of Brendan's chest.
"Mmmm," Brendan replies.
Jean-Claude jokes, "A bit hairy!" He spat out his tongue as if accidentally eating dirt.
They kissed, hugged, Jean-Claude rather taking on the bottom role of working his tongue down Brendan's bod and nuzzling around the edge of his bellyhole.
"O-o-o-oh!" Brendan replied, a shiver taking over as if the AC was on full throttle.
Then Jean-Claude got up off his knees. "Why don't you uncork the wine and bring it upstairs?"
"You kidding? I'm not touching a bottle of wine worth six grand!"
"I'll get the glasses... meet you upstairs."
So, Brendan was left there in the kitchen with the nervous task of popping open a $5,800.00 bottle of wine. It wasn't as difficult as it seemed and his nervous attire probably made it seem more difficult. "Whew!" he exclaimed out loud when, after uncorking it, it almost slipped form his hands. "I gotta get a grip!" He then stood immobile for a moment, smiling to himself, thinking about last night, of how his lips got a grip on Jean-Claude's lower apparatus.
"You coming Brendan?" Jean-Claude checked from the top of the stairs.
It jogged his memory, "Be right there!" Brendan took extra efforts to handle with care, carrying the bottle in two hands, much like a priest with a sacred offering. He climbed each stairstep with deliberation. His left arm steadied him on the railing. He let out another `whew' when reaching the top stair. Approaching the bedroom it remained open only a fraction of an inch. He pushed it open with his toe. "What's this?" he asks, the room illuminated by a dozen or so small votives, set about the room. "What the...?"
"Oops! I've been captured!"
"J-C, what is this?"
For the moment, Jean-Claude stole away Brendan's nervous thinking about the expensive bottle of wine he held in his hand. Lying there in bed, Jean-Claude lay, decked out in Brendan's state trooper uniform.
"I'm your prisoner. Come and get me!"
Taking it like a joke, Brendan laughed. "But that's `my' fantasy!"
"Glasses are on the desk."
A circle of candles lit up two glasses. He poured out two drinks.
"Oh and don't forget to check out the chair."
"The chair?" Brendan says. He sets the glasses down and pulls the wooden chair out from the desk. "What's this?"
"I thought we could make my capture a little more realistic?"
"Rope?" He questioned, holding several loops in his hand.
"Yeah, c'mon. I'm getting hard already thinking about you tying me down to the bed and having your way with me!"
He thought it kind of looney, but liked the idea of having his way with his lover. And it being the two had already downed two bottles of wine, there was little holding Brendan back. Taking the rope he approached the bed.
"Are you a good cop or a bad cop?"
"Me? Very bad. I'm so bad I could be somebody's worst nightmare!" Jean-Claude made up as they went along.
"You look good in my uniform," Brendan breaks from the script as he stands at the side of the bed with the rope in hand.
"Here!" Jean-Claude says, placing both arms above his head. "Tie me to the bed so you can give me what's coming to me!"
Reluctance played little, if no part in this charade. Both had consumed enough wine and were ready for some uninhibited fun.
As he tied one hand, straddled Jean-Claude's chest and tied the rope to the other wrist, then to the iron bars at the top of the bed, he started in on the scene, "Bad cops like you Officer Lomberiou..."
"No. Call me by your name," Jean-Claude called the shots.
He thought it quirky, but kind of cool, so addressed his captive, "Bad cops like you Officer Okano, need to be dealt with."
"What about my trial?"
What a ham! Whooping out with laughter befitting a monster, Brendan fills the room with the hideous sound.
"You sound so real!" Jean-Claude says.
"You wait til I get out my brass knuckles!" Brendan says, acting the part very well as he cracks his knuckles while straddling Jean-Claude's lower half.
"I'm scared," Jean-Claude replies.
Brendan starts laughing.
Jean-Claude laughs.
Next, Brendan leans forwards, takes the collar of his own uniform and starts tearing it open. "Time for punishment copper!"
It got very steamy in the room, what with the candlelight, Brendan slowly tearing his own uniform to shreads, his tongue and mouth taking on the delightful task of soaking Jean-Claude's chest, his nips being nibbled gently, hands fidgeting with his belt, then the standard New Jersey State Trooper's uniform slowly being removed. When he was down to almost nothing, down to bare skin, except the arms of his shirt, Brendan again approached. This time he hadn't a stitch of clothes on. He dragged his already hard cock up Jean-Claude's bod, his intent to playact, not go through their usual motions.
"No! Please! Have mercy! I've never sucked a man's cock before!" Jean-Claude pleaded.
"Get ready copper. I'm stuffing all thirteen inches down your gullet!"
Jean-Claude gasps, "You're thirteen inches, Bren?"
"No, it's the script you fool!"
"Oh!" Jean-Claude replied.
Then the two started laughing, Brendan saying, "I should make you suck it!"
"I dare ya!" Jean-Claude dared him.
"You do, do ya?" Brendan replied. His cock sat on Jean-Claude's stomach. It wasn't no thirteen inches, but nine and a half was significant, enough to weight heavy on meaty skin. He moved further up and further, until his cock lay on Jean-Claude's chest. "You still dare me?"
Jean-Claude smiled.
Inching upwards, Brendan pushed up on his knees and reached his hands high, his palms settling against the wall. His cock hung an inch from Jean-Claude's lips. Looking down upon his lover something snapped. It put him right out of the roleplay. He couldn't do it. "It's over."
"What do you mean it's over?" Jean-Claude questioned him, but kind of knew why.
"It's just wrong. The whole thing. It's wrong.. If anything it should be me lying there and all tied down, you doing stuff to me," Brendan complained as he untied Jean-Claude's hands.
"I thought you were liking it?"
"I was. I mean I thought I was, but trying to make you suck my cock... it's not going to work."
Jean-Claude rationalizes as he rubs his wrists, "But if it were the other way around?"
"Let's not think about it. Can we just have a nice quiet evening?"
"Sure."
And they did. They drank down $5800 of wine, emptied the bottle with only spilling a little bit. But from this night on, things became more oral, both contributing to sucking cock, nips, balls, but only Jean-Claude doing the `top' deed.
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Kevin and Emre sat about twenty feet away from Sebastien and Tariq, leaning against a hill of sand and reeds.
"Would it be alright if I put my arm around you?"
"Okay," Sebastien replied and he did the same.
"I think Emre think it is okay for you to like me, if you want to?"
"Aha! But the question is, do you like me?"
Tariq bends forwards a little, looking across Sebastien's tee shirt, then says, "Emre and Kevin are kissing."
Sebastien thought he knew what Tariq was driving at here, so offers, "Maybe we should do some?"
He was right, Tariq doing the leading, pressing Sebastien over into the soft sand, still warm from baking all day. He didn't care he was getting sand in his hair.
"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" Sebastien asks, which was not meant as a compliment.
"I kiss a guy two, three times. It is okay?"
"Fine," Sebastien replied, even though he lied through his teeth. But he figured if Tariq was going to learn, somebody had to teach him!
A half block down the beach, Kevin asks Emre, "What's the matter?"
"It is not you," Emre responds. Even though his bod was pinning Kevin's to the small incline of beach, he stopped every now and then to look up towards the boardwalk.
"Will you forget them Emre. Believe it or not, even though I've only met Seb this morning I trust the guy."
Emre looks at Kevin, who is right in his face and says, "If you say he is okay I believe you."
Kevin just smiled. It seemed like everything was going his way. Eight months ago he would have had his doubts, but because some kind-hearted people like Jean-Claude, Denny and Mike Knight, even though it took some convincing that Mike was on his side, he's come a long way into acceptance of the present course of his future. And probably the first serious thing to come out of Kevin, he returns, "I'm not great with words, but it means a lot to me you think it, Emre."
"They are getting up. We go!"
It happened quick as lightning, leaving Kevin on his back.
"I give you hand."
Making it seem like Emre was superhuman, taking his hand and placing his foot next to his lover's, hoisting him up out of the sand, Kevin bashed his chest up against Emre's chest, hugging him tightly. They ended their evening affair with a kiss and then hand in hand headed up to where Sebastien and Tariq stood in the sand.
"I... we, didn't mean to rush you guys," Sebastien said when the two were two feet away.
They, Sebastien and Tariq, stood inches apart, Sebastien clutching and elbow in one hand, his other hand rubbing his shirt at the shoulder. Tariq swung hands back and forth around his bod, touching them behind his back and then adding an almost nonexistent clap at the front.
Kevin didn't know what Emre thought, but he guessed they felt nervous about showing their affection, even though it was apparent in the dim night light.
The four walked the beach, pairing off, Emre and Kevin still hand-holding, Sebastien and Tariq with no attachment. When they got back to the condo, Emre and Kevin entered, while Sebastien and Tariq said their farewells right outside the door. Tariq entering, allowing the screen door to slam on purpose, broke up their sweet kissing.
In the hallway, along the wall were Tariq's belongings, the oversized backpack, the suitcase and duffel bag. He stood there for good reason. Tariq had never been in the home. Though, in a matter of a minute, Kevin and Emre were in transport from one room to the other.
"I don't know where he's going to stay!" Kevin exclaimed.
"We have to ask J-C, I suppose," Emre guessed.
Done with their rather long evening, dinner, then a miniscule amount of cop-roleplaying, followed by an unusual awesome round of sex - each time it seemed different and unique - the two trampled down the stairs Jean-Claude his casual tee shirt and sport briefs, Brendan in a tank and what resembled a speedo, but not much of it seen because the tail of his tank covered the juicy parts.
"Have to ask J-C what?" Jean-Claude questions their question!
Kevin handled it, "Where do you expect to put another boarder? The guest room is like..."
"Pipe down," Jean-Claude denounces Kevin's noisy mouth, his hands gesturing the same. "The conclusion we've come to is perhaps you and Emre will need to dispense with..." he fished for a word and came out with, "motion in the bed until we figure out what's what?"
"Like you mean `sex'?" Kevin spells it out in black and white.
From where Kevin and Emre had just come, the four hear, "I wouldn't mind taking up some space in here if it's alright?" The four move into the livingroom Jean-Claude flicking the wall switch to illuminate their way.
"Trust me," Jean-Claude advises, "the leather couch is comforable to watch Tv, but as far as sleeping..."
Kevin puts it in perspective, "You wouldn't get a good nights sleep, Tariq. It squeeks like hell!"
"Precisely," Jean-Claude agrees.
It was tough arguing, with the seventeen year old lying down on it, his hands stretching up above his head, not even reaching the arm of the longer-than-human sofa.
Brendan was paying attention, but he took note of Tariq's tee hiking up and the thin treasure trail marking his skin from his deep bellyhole to when it ended at his beltline.
"What do you think?"
Everybody looked at Brendan.
"What do I think about what?" Brendan asks.
"The sofa. At least until we figure something better out?" Jean-Claude asks.
"Well," he summises, "being it's going on eleven I think it a wise choice, as long as Tariq is satisfied with it?"
"It is fine," Tariq replies, sitting up on the edge. When he gets up, his clothing releases some sand crystals.
Emre says something to him in his native tongue.
Tariq follows up with asking, "Jean-Claude, do you have sweeper?"
He wasn't keeping score, but taking note of who called him what and so far, continually, Tariq always referred to him with full name, Brendan and Emre fluctuated, but Kevin had it down permanently as `J-C'. In the closet, in the kitchen, there's a broom and dustpan."
"I'll get it," Brendan replies, scurrying away.
"I doubt our neighbors would appreciate hearing the vacuum running at eleven o'clock at night!"
By the time Brendan returned, Kevin and Emre had brought Tariq's things into the livingroom.
"I've got it," Brendan said, starting to sweep away the sand from the taut leather furniture.
"I do it," Tariq replies, his hand stretched out as if for a handout.
Brendan surrendered the implements.
"We can take it from here," Kevin says, which meant the `oldsters' were no longer needed.
"I think they were trying to get rid of us," Brendan tells Jean-Claude as they restore the bed to it's previous freshness.
"Right. However I think it's great they seemed to have bonded."
"Meaning, Kevin, Emre and Tariq or Tariq and Sebastien?"
As Jean-Claude climbed into bed, Brendan following with kneeling into it on the right side, he answers Brendan, "Sebastien. Now there's another part of the puzzle. Y'know I didn't even get to talk to him much today? And I just realized it... he didn't fill out any paper work. He just waltzed right in and started to work!"
"Like me working my hand up your shirt?" Brendan replied.
It was like their first time in bed tonight, pushing Jean-Claude's tee shirt up his abs, his tongue already seeing some action, right up the middle of the hairy stomach. "You taste better now than you did before, you know?"
"I could shower?" Jean-Claude teased.
"Oh no you don't!" But Brendan made light work of stripping off Jean-Claude's tee shirt. And while he inconvienced him, Brendan made an effort to remove the briefs. Before he got comfortable, he tore the tank top off over his head and shimmied out of his own briefs. They started into the lovemaking, but soon both passed out, into dreamland.
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Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee
This story 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.....