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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"For Sale By Owner" 03 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Are you sure about this, Greg?"
"Alex, you're not getting cold feet now, are you?"
"No, but...."
"Think of it as a future investment."
"Okay, but if I don't want to strip down to my briefs, then..."
"Alex, it's not like you're this big business tycoon, peddling his wares."
"I know."
"So, if somebody sees you in your skivvies, don't worry about it."
"I just don't want to see my picture of me in ten years, in a gay night club with only boxer shorts on."
"And what would be so terrible about it, Alex? Teenagers do crazy stuff. Besides, what's wrong with free advertising?"
"As long as the goods stay in the package."
In the long line, Greg whips out some bills.
"My treat tonight."
"Fine."
Greg can see Alex's timidity, yet for himself, he can't wait to loose his shirt and pants. He can't wait to hear the raves or maybe the opposite. Still, this is very exciting.
"Nice shirt," the guy taking the cover charge, says to Alex."
"Thanks."
Good thing Alex didn't let on to Greg he designed and constructed the shirt last week, or he'd be selling every stitch off his bod! Not only the fact the guy liked the shirt, it's obvious he liked who filled it, handing the cover charge back to Alex, for half.
"That's mine!"
"Was!" Alex says, grinning, stuffing the $20 into his shirt pocket.
"Wooowww!" Greg says.
Alex can very well reflect the same look, as they take in the mass of dancing guys, more than half with no shirts on. Without knowing it, the cover-guy trailed behind them.
"I'll hold that shirt when you're ready."
"Who's taking the money?" Alex sarcastically asked.
"C'mon. Give me a break."
Greg says directly into Alex's ear, "Ask him `which one'?"
"My name's Kevin.... Kevin Norris."
Greg was standing there and then suddenly, Greg wasn't standing there.
"Heeey. Where did..."
"He'll be well taken care of."
"What do you mean? Bring him back!"
"I have some nice guys for friends. They'll show him around, introduce him to the DJ's. He'll have a great time tonight."
"But he's supposed to be having it with me!"
"If figured so, but I thought we could too."
"No thanks!"
Stepping forward, Alex strode into the mass of dancing bodies, on the prowl for Greg.
"Hey, watch it!"
Some guy was shoved past Alex, almost tearing his shirt.
"That was a close one."
It was the stinker who stole Greg away from him.
"What do you want?"
"A dance?"
Kevin bounced around to the rhythm of the beat, staying in the groove as the rest of the dancefloor. Alex stood there, arms folded across his chest, motionless.
"Where's Greg?"
Seeing he wasn't getting anywhere, Kevin informs Alex, "Over by DJ Gerard."
Like a protective shield, Kevin paid attention to Alex, ushering him through the crowd.
"Heeeeey! Where did you go?"
"Me?" Alex screamed at the top of his lungs. "Where did `you' go?"
"Hey, meet Tommy, Jack, Jase and Dan."
Alex could see Greg wasn't having a too terrible time without him.
"Where's your pants?"
Being barechested was already noticable and accepted, but without a stitch of clothing, other than briefs, his briefs, was shocking, even though Alex knew it was the plan. So shocking, all Alex could do is stand there, watching Greg dance around, the contents of his briefs being juggled around!
"He made them!" Greg made it a point to tell Tommy, Jack, Jase and Dan.
"They're awesome!"
Being the closest, in earshot, Kevin Norris revealed the first gut reaction. Alex sort of melted.
"You like them?"
"Sure do. What have you got on?"
Maybe other guys were used to Kevin Norris' hand going down the inside of their pants, but he was about to get a rude awakening.
"Get your dirty hands out!"
Before his fingertips even made an indentation, Alex's hand was on his wrist, removing it's subtle touch.
"Hey, I'm sorry man."
"Yeah, me too. C'mon Greg. We're outta here."
But Greg wanted to stay.
"No, Alex. Give him another chance."
"Yeah, like he's really sorry."
"I am," Kevin pleaded, with his puppy dog eyes.
But Alex wasn't giving in and left. In the parking lot, Greg pleaded, "C'mon Alex, I'm sure the guy is sorry."
"How would you know. You don't even know him."
"He's Mr. Pinque's son."
"Pinque? His name is Norris. Kevin Norris."
"Sure," Greg shivered out, as he wove in between cars in the lot, "who would really want themselves names Pinque?"
"Some Frenchman with figidity hands."
Alex keyed the door.
"C'mon Alex. I want to stay."
"You stay. Go back and find your clothes."
Alex revved the motor up.
"But Alex. Tonight we were supposed to be together."
"We still can be, Greg."
But Greg was seeing things differently. That Alex was blowing this all out of perspective. Devon warned them things could get a little risque at the club. Still, Alex wasn't buying it. He knew Greg would be staying and himself going. So, he put his righthand behine the passenger seat and turned to back up. A figure was standing in the way of his car. He could very well guess it wasn't Superman!
Rolling down the window, he tilted his head out, shouting, "Move it or lose it!"
"C'mon. Give me one more chance."
Alex gave him one more chance alright, then started backing out of the spot. Kevin jumped out of the way, a frustrated man. It started out where Alex kept thinking he was over the creep'. Then, as he passed by the high school, past the Jolly Burger, his thoughts softened. He had already memorized the face and thought of Kevin has handsome. Still, why did Kevin have to go and blow it by trying to get his hand down his pants? Next he thought about how wasted the night was, wearing his own brand of boxer-briefs and not given the chance of stripping down to them. He thought over to himself, I prolly would have chickened out anyway'!
Returning to his basement, Alex couldn't sleep. Now, along with not showing off his briefs, he wondered if he was unduly tough on Kevin Norris. He pulled out of a box a pair of briefs. A new style. A pair he's not even shone Greg yet. Standing, he unbuttoned his custom made shirt and took it off. He stood there, looking in the mirror. Would it had been so tough to show off his nice, smooth pecs? He looked down his body, dropping his pants at the same time. He thought he looked good. Not an ounce of bodyfat. He smiled, counting for of the sixpack he was trying to build. Still, he thought the tight trail of dark brown hair running from his navel to boxer-briefs was awesomely sexy!
Now it was time to show off to himself. They were constructed of pure silk. Same shape as a pair of tightey-whiteys, but ink-blue, with a light blue paisely design imprinted. With them hanging onto a finger, he shimmied his way out of his briefs.
"Here goes nothing!"
Scooping up his teen cock and balls, he pulled the silk up around, enveloping them. With the silk briefs pulled up to about two inches below his navel, he reached down to adjust for comfort.
"Oooooooh... they feel awesome!"
Silk touched his genitals, his hand bathing his cock and balls in the material. As he did, he began to get hard. Closing his eyes, he meant to think of Greg, but instead the suave features of Kevin persisted. Sudeenly realizing his delusion, he opened his eyes. Still, he thought the briefs sensuously perfect, but relating to Kevin Norris, brought on a feeling of scratchy, itchy. Taking them off he did an impromtu slingshot, shooting them back in the box. It brought him a little cheering up, making points' and the fact is had elasticity to it. He closed the cover of the box and put it up on a top shelf. Here's to the future'!
Next thing, his cellphone rang, giving him a jolt.
"What's up?"
It was Greg, wanting a ride home.
"This isn't a trick, is it?"
He wouldn't put it past Greg, even though he trusted him. But no, Alex picked Greg up at Mr. Pinque's, without incident. Waiting outside, fully clothed, Greg was ready.
"Did you have fun?"
"For awhile, but it wasn't much fun without you."
"What about Tommy and his friends?"
"Like I said. They weren't much fun. It's you whom I wanted to be with. I mean I have to admit I tried dancing, had one drink, but you know what, Alex?"
"What?"
"I couldn't get into the scene."
"Did you see Devon?"
"Yeah and he was asking for you."
"He was?"
"Yup and guess what?"
"What?"
"He advertised your G-string. I have orders from thirty-two guys."
"You're kidding?"
"I kid you not. Devon made them each give you a $25 deposit. Here's the list."
"Well don't give it to me now. Not while I'm driving."
"You need to loosen up. Kevin Norris really upset you, didn't he?"
"Kevin. What about him?"
"Nothing. After you left... he said you almost ran him over."
"I was going under 1 m.p.h.!"
"He was joking about it, but didn't joke when he told me what he did."
"He told you what he tried to do?"
"Yeah. He figured you and I were good friends, so told me the whole story."
"Everything?"
"Sure. He told me he tried to stick his hand down your pants and you stopped him. `Said you almost broke him wrist."
"I didn't almost break his wrist. Geesh! This Kevin Norris sure has a vivid imagination!"
"He didn't say it like you actually did it."
"So, what else did he say?"
"Nothing, except one thing."
"What?"
"He wanted to order G-strings for the dancing boys."
"My G-strings? How many?"
"Enough for you to retire on. Fifty."
"Fifty?"
Alex did some fast math, while standing at the red light.
"That's $3,750!"
"I know. Isn't that cool?"
"Cool? What is Kevin going to do with fifty G-strings. I counted only eight dancing boys."
"Oh, his father has another club. One for lesbians."
"I see. Still sounds like a lot."
"Don't complain."
"I'm not."
"So, you want to go to your place and do some more stuff like we did last night?"
"Greg, if you don't mind, I'm kind of tired."
"Sure. No problem, Alex. I'm tired too."
So, Alex dropped Greg off at his house and went home.
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©2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author. 1916 wds
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