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" 41 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Kyle?"
"Yeah, Scott?"
"I really appreciate you finding me a job at Braddocks..."
"No problem," Kyle cut him off, not meaning to.
"But I think I'll stick with the bakery job at Guerra's foodmarket."
"What?" Kyle responded as if he was appalled by Scott's decision. Calming, he inquired, "But... why?" Then stealing a look across the middle of the car, he spots Scott hanging his head low. Placing his hand on Scott's forearm he says, "I'm sorry Scott. You're the one who should be making your own choices. Don't let me pressure you."
"I appreciate all you're doing for me, Kyle."
"I know. Maybe after you've been at Guerra's for awhile you will want to move up."
"Maybe," Scott settles for. "Hey, look!" he exclaims, looking ahead, into the traffic.
"What did he say his name was?" Kyle asks, eyes on the road, an occasional glance to the guy on the bike.
"Reiko Richter," Scott replies. "You're slowing down?"
"Yeah. Open your window. Say hello to him."
"Really?" Scott asks.
Before he can talk Kyle out of it, they are cruising right next to Reiko on his bike.
"What do I say?"
"Yell `hey' to him."
"Hey?" Scott questions.
Before Scott can yell out, Reiko is stealing glimpses, into the car. Scott yells out, "Hey!"
Slowing down, the Sebring moves past the bike rider.
"He'll catch up!" Kyle says, as the traffic pressures him to move.
True to Kyle's word, Scott, looking through the passenger side mirror, sees Reiko pouring on the sweat to even up the distance between himself and their car. "Oh good!" Kyle calls out as they get a red light.
"Cool," Scott says, loosening his seat belt, sticking his head out the window watching Reiko pull up to the door.
Standing there with the bike between his legs, Reiko asks, "Have we met?"
"Don't you remember?" Scott asks, all cheery, as Kyle ponders over one of the 'oldest phrases in the book'.
Putting a finger to his head, the twenty-three year old biker tries to recall, "Ty's?"
"Ty's?" Scott questions out loud.
Kyle upon hearing, says only so Scott can hear, "Gay bar down on Christopher Street."
Catching the explanation, Scott replies to Reiko, "Nope, it wasn't at Ty's."
"Gay Pride Parade?"
"Nope. Never been to one. I met you in the middle of the street." Scott smiled, knowing Reiko wasn't getting it. Elaborating, he explained, "I got out of the car and stripped off my shirt? You happened by and tossed a paper in my window?"
"Maybe that's it," Reiko replied in a chipper mood, "I guess I don't recognize you with your shirt on!"
Light turning green, Kyle was ready to step on the gas when Scott opens the door, stepping out.
"What the hell you doing, Scott?"
"Hold it a sec," Scott replies.
Well, Kyle didn't think it a total waste of time, braking the car, peering across the street, seeing a guy waiting for the bus, catching himself saying, 'nice'!
"This help jog your memory?" Scott asks after hastily unbuttoning his shirt.
"I think my memory's coming back," Reiko says, staring up Scott's bod, running a hand over left pec, stopping at the dark brown midchest patch.
It didn't occur to Scott, mesmerized with Reiko's touch, that onlookers were taking on the spectacle, plus cars leaning on their horns behind Kyle's car.
"Scott! We gotta go man!" Kyle pleads, though his attention focused more on the 'suit' across the way.
Closing up his shirt, fixing one button, Scott informs Reiko, "I gotta go."
"Wait... take this," Reiko says, putting a business card in his hand.
Acknowledging, Scott jumps back in the car and the two speed away.
"Where does he work?" Kyle immediately asks, seeing the card in Scott's hand.
"Metropolitan Opera??"
Rather than even trying to jump the yellow light, Kyle slams on the brakes, stealing the card right out of Scott's hand.
"Shit!"
"What?"
"Metropolitan Opera? You've got to be kidding!" He exclaims to Scott.
"So?" Scott asks, speculating, "What's the big deal?"
"I'll tell you what the big deal is." Flipping the card from front to back, then back to front, Kyle says excitedly, "Fancy card. No, Reiko's got to be somebody big at the Met. Maybe he's on the board. Then again, a stage manager or even a vocal coach. Maybe he's the conductor. Tonight you're getting Reiko on the phone and inviting him over for dinner on Sunday!"
Not getting it, Scott shrugged his shoulders, agreeing to Kyle's proposal, asks, "You like opera?"
"It's not like I haven't been to one, but opera means costumes. This could be a big `in' for Alex."
Scott thought it sweet Kyle was thinking about Alex, but had his reservations. "Is it okay to use people like that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Reiko. I mean he seems like too a nice guy to be used."
"It's not really `using' per say," Kyle tried explaining. "More like networking."
"If you say so. I just thought he was a nice guy. I think I'd like to get to know him, keeping that in mind."
"Friend, huh? Watch him!" Kyle warns.
"What do you mean 'watch him'? What do I have to watch other than..." Scott faded away rather than expose the fact he really did care to see what kind of housing Reiko had under the shirt.
"Isn't it obvious? The man has you almost naked in midtown traffic?"
"Naked?" Scott questions Kyle, a laugh in his voice. "I only had my shirt unbuttoned. You make it sound like I was stripping for him. Besides it's like I offered?"
"And you didn't you take notice of how Reiko helped himself to feeling you up with his paws?"
"Felt nice."
"Give you a `nice hard on'?"
"Maybe," Scott gives hint.
"He gave you a boner?"
Scott breaks out loud in laughter at Kyle's assumption. "Not quite, but I think I could have stiffened up if I got a look at what was under his shirt," he exposed his original thoughts, though more of a milder reaction.
"Horny bastard," Kyle inflicts on Scott.
"Nah. Only one guy has done that to me," Scott reckons.
"I suppose, considering all the fun you and Carlos had getting drunk at McCall's last night."
Pressing back in the seat, his shirt still parted in the middle, Scott closes his eyes, as if meditating. "I can't remember ever having as much fun as I had with Carlos."
After a brief pause, Kyle allowing Scott to savor in the memories of evening past, says, "Another reason for you to be careful with Reiko."
Opening his eyes and looking more alert, Scott turns to Kyle, asking, "You don't seriously think he was... um... think... like I was coming on to him, do you?"
"You acted interested. Why do you think he gave you his card?"
"I'm a dead man," Scott dropped back in his seat, pounding his head against the cushion, automatically bouncing back up, addressing Kyle, "What do you think Carlos will say?" Before Kyle can get an answer in Scott is asking, "Should I even tell him?"
At the next red light, Kyle took the podium, explaining in a nutshell, "If you want any kind of relationship based on honesty, you have to be honest from the start. Which means not keeping secrets from each other." Thinking it over, between the red and green, Kyle says, "Y'know, this may not mean anything. I mean just because you let Reiko touch you doesn't signify the guy was coming on to you." Filling him with other words of wisdom, Kyle glances between stop and go traffic, spying Scott relaxed in his seat. "Scott are you listening to a word I've said?"
"Sure I am, but...."
"But what?"
"I guess it doesn't mean anything, but it sure felt good having his hand rubbing over my chest," Scott reports back with a smile.
"Really? Did it also turn you on when Carlos' hands were diddling with more than your pecs last night?"
"Oh man did it," Scott replies, lounging in his seat, his thoughts cast to his inner dream, smiling when thoughts of Carlos' hand, guarded by the table from view, unzipped his pants and proceeded to pocket his hand. .
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"Alex?"
"Huh?"
"Call for you," Derek says, catching the eighteen year old between patrons, running from the kitchen with full hands.
"Whoever it is, get a number and I'll call back. Like my hands are full?"
Getting the message, verbally and visually, Derek reports back to the phone at the Matre'd's podium. On the rebound, he returns to Alex with the message, "The dude on the phone," he points over his shoulder, "is David Sonnemaker... says it's important. He needs to talk to you like pronto?"
Alex could have cleared three minutes to chat with Sonnemaker, but instead told Derek, "Like I said, get a number."
As Derek reported back to the phone, he stood dead in his tracks, hands on hips, saying, "Jim?"
Holding up a hand, Jim Stooksbury momentarily stopped Derek from speaking, as he casually spoke into the phone, "Sure I'd be interested in coming to a party. When? Oh, you're not sure yet. Number?"
Patiently, tapping one toe on the carpet, Derek waited for Jim to give out his cell phone number, then hand the receiver over. He relayed the message, shortly thereafter hanging up. Upon passing Alex, enroute from the kitchen to table, he blurted out, "He wanted a number so I gave him your cell phone number."
"You fuckin' what?" Alex lashed out at Derek.
"You mean I shouldn't have? Oops! Sorry.... he said he was a frien...."
With a heavy tray bearing down on his shoulder, Alex chose to ignore Derek, carrying on with his table waitering duties. After asking the table in general, "Will there be anything else?" he turned to take five in the `free zone'. His utmost thoughts at the moment were on David Sonnemaker and the strong possibility he would be burdened with phone calls from a man he didn't care much for. Looking up, he spotted Derek coming out of the men's jon. Spying Alex, Derek turned to walk the other way. Quickly moving in Derek's direction, Alex yelled out, "Hey Derek, wait up!"
Stopping dead in his tracks, Derek froze but didn't turn around.
"Derek I want to talk with you."
Reluctantly Derek did a slow motion three hundred and sixty degree turn, for the purpose of most likely getting a second earful of reprimands.
"Look Derek..." Alex began.
"I know. I'm sorry Alex. I had no right to give out your personal information without asking," Derek profusely apologized.
"Mistakes can happen. What I was going to say though is no big deal." Then to add a twist of humor to show he wasn't peeved at Derek, "If it were any other guy I'd-a probably kicked his ass from here to Broadway, but..." Running out of words, Alex showed his forgiveness the only way he knew how, lifting his arms, moving closer, hugging Derek. "No sweat, okay?" He finished off, breaking their hug.
Reciprocating, Derek slowly placed his hands only Alex's shoulders, for the short hug. When their bods separated, Derek just smiled.
"What?" Alex asked, detecting something more than the words and action of peace-making.
"Oh, nothing," Derek replied, the same smile creasing his lips.
Then, detecting his own answer from the newcomer to the gay world, Alex asks, "Don't tell me you've never been hugged by a another man?"
"Well, except my dad and the priest at church," Derek replies, still wearing the tight-lipped grin.
"So, when's your first date with your macho Equadorian stud, uh what's his name?" Alex kids.
"Eduardo."
"And?"
With not much to go on, Derek shrugs his shoulders, replying, "Well, ah... I told him maybe I'd see him later after work."
"Cool! There's a start for you, Derek."
With not much to say, they both stood there, beaming at each other. That is, til Bill Miller happened upon the two.
"You know, usually people work to get paid?"
Breaking from their conversation, Derek and Alex broke back into action, exiting the free zone.
"Jim, I need to see you in my office," the thirty-one year older cafe manager barks out.
"Right away sir," Jim says, excusing himself past Alex and Derek, moving sideways in the small corridor between the employees break area and table settings.
"Have a seat why don't you?" Bill says, closing the door behind the two.
Facing the desk, Jim looks over his shoulder when he hears the tumbler of the lock click. He watches as Bill makes his way from the door to his desk. Instead of walking around to sit, Bill props his ass up on the edge of his desk. Rightaway, Jim's attention is grabbed by Bill's crotch not more than two feet in front of him. It's all too obvious when Jim's head bobs up to stare Bill in the face. "What?" Jim asks, responding to the smile on Bill's face.
"I just received a call from our mutual friend."
A look of wonderment is painted on the twenty-four year old's face, as he looks to Bill for an answer.
"David Sonnemaker ring a bell?"
"Oh right," Jim replies. "I talked to him on the phone no more than fifteen minutes ago. So, you know him too, huh?"
"Quite well. He tells me you're interested in attending one of his `special' parties?" Miller says, more in an authoritive manner.
"I might have an interest," Jim replies, then adds, "not that I've done any of that stuff before or anything."
"Oh really?" Bill thinks otherwise, slowly raising his left thigh to his desk, parting his legs wider, the fabric of his pants tightening up around his crotch area.
The rounded torpedo, flanked by two rather large orbs doesn't go unnoticed, Jim looking down, then refocusing his attention on Bill. "Um yeah. I mean I'm not gay, so I wouldn't know much about that sex stuff that goes on at parties like that or anything."
"Is that so?" Bill asks, his hands reaching for his belt buckle, slipping the small tab of leather through the buckle, pushing the spindle out of the one of many holes, unlatching it, stretching it out to both sides so the button holding the flaps of his pants together can be seen.
"Um, yeah," Jim replies, a more keen interest shown in the area below Bill's beltline.
Bill smiles when he sees Jim lick his lips. Either working towards a confession or just out to humiliate, Bill asks, "Too bad you're straight. I bet you would make one helluva cocksucker, Jim."
It made Jim gulp, a reaction to Bill's frankness. "Um yeah," Jim tries to con Bill. "Like I always wondered what it is that turned a guy on, sucking another mans cock."
As if a philosopher, Bill states, "There's some things words can't describe. Only actions can explain. So it's up to you if you want to find out the truth, Jim."
Sitting there in the wooden chair, Jim gripped both solid arms of walnut in his hands, eyes staring Bill in the face, then dropping to Bill's crotch, belt open, waiting to be divested of the rest of his garments. Once again he unconsciously licked his lips. His hands stayed glued to the chair as he slid his ass forwards, his eyes set on Bill's face. Finally getting up the nerve to make a move with his hands, he went for Bill's crotch-zipper, asking, "Um, should I?"
Bill just sat there on the ledge of the desk, smiling before he uttered, same time coaxing Jim onwards, "It's the usual thing when a fellow wants something so bad he can almost taste it."
Not only the sound, but the bobbing up and down of Jim's Adams apple could communicate the nervousness, plus the sweat which broke out on Jim's forehead. Sliding to the edge of the chair, Jim came within an inch of undoing the button at the top of Bill's dressy pants. When he touched the polyester-cotton fabric, Bill's hand was right there to slap them away, as if trying to catch a fly.
"Huh?" Jim asked dumbfounded, wondering why.
"A boy' works for his treat. On your knees, boy'," Bill accented ownership.
This would really pinpoint Jim's desires. Bill wasn't at all disappointed when Jim's ass slipped off the edge of the chair, his knees hitting the carpet. It put a wide grin on Bill's face knowing he was slowly beginning to own Jim. "So you really want it, huh boy?"
Accepting his new namesake, Jim replies, "I'd like to try it. Like you say, a man doesn't experience things unless he's tried it and being I've never tried it... well.."
The denial made Bill smile more. At the same time, holding Jim at bay, Bill's crotch was suffering the effects of wanting a warm mouth engulfing his rigid cock. "Then why don't we see how you do your first time'?" Standing, Bill's crotch was almost in Jim's face. With his hands on the sides of his torso, placed on his white shirt, he looked down as Jim began unbuttoning his dress slacks, dropping the zipper, peeling the flaps of his pants back. Bill smiled when he saw Jim mouth the word, wow', upon seeing for the `first time' a man's stuffed briefs up close, bulging with man-parts. Once again Jim relieved his dry lips.
"What're ya waiting for boy?"
Without hesitation, Jim pulled Bill's pants down the sides of his legs, letting them fall as he went for the elastic on the lowrise briefs. Sliding down his briefs, Bill's cock seemed to bounce when the head freed itself from the elastic. As if gazing at a painting at the Guggenheim Museum, Jim remarks, "Beautiful," taking in the sight of the thirty-one year old's hairy jewels.
Again, though a different twist to his meaning, Bill utters, "Well, what're you waiting for?"
"Do I just open my mouth and take it in?" Jim asked, looking up to his mentor.
"Anyway you want to approach it. Lips, tongue... feel it up with your hand first if you want to," Bill replied, thinking of letting Jim do some discovering on his own.
"Ohhhhhh man this feels so hot," He said, taking Jim's balls in one hand, feeling up the hairy orbs.
"While you've got them in your hands, why don't you give them a basting?" Came Bill's strong suggestion.
Bill smiled as Jim used his full hand to make contact with his tongue. Taking a lick he said, "I can't believe I'm finally doing this. You don't know how long I've thought about doing something like this with a guy!"
His face out of the picture for now, Jim concentrated on Bill's nether-region, a few licks leading to stuffing a sac in his mouth.
"Ohhh yeah!" Bill replied to Jim's lips circling his ballsac. "Now use your tongue to the ball around in the sac ,boy," he instructed.
While doing it, Jim not only felt the euphoria going to his head, but rather a tingling in his own briefs. The hand that wasn't busy feeling up the rest of Bill's lower anatomy, was working on stroking up his own.
Noticing, Bill backs away, pulls his balls from Jim's lips, reprimands, "What do you think you're doing?"
Freezing in place, Jim clutched at his crotch pocket. "Um, it feels good," Jim replied, sensing where Bill was looking.
Shaking his head back and forth, Jim tells him, "You have so much to learn if you want to fit in at David Sonnemaker's party."
"Why? What did I do wrong?"
Pivoting his foot on his heal, Bill uses the tip to nudge Jim's hand away from his crotch, sitting about a foot from the carpet.
"What's wrong with that?" He inquires. "Hell, if a guy feels good down there, why shouldn't he....?"
Instead of a direct reply, Bill replies, "David suggested you attend the party as 'my' boy. I don't take any boy to a party without proper training. The last thing any master wants to do is be embarrassed by his boy. Get the picture?"
"Sort of. But I don't see why wanting to stroke myself means anything bad. It feels good."
"Let me put it to you this way, Jim. If you are accepting to go to the party as 'my boy', then you will behave as such," Bill replied.
"Oh, I think it would be cool. I mean I hate going to parties alone," Jim said, still on his knees looking up to Bill.
"Then that settles it. If you want to go to David Sonnemaker's party you'll need some training."
"Training?" Jim asked.
"We haven't got much time. Being you're new at this. Considering you're a raw recruit, it'll take a lot of time. Be prepared to start tonight," Bill stated.
"Tonight? When? Where?"
"After closing. My place. If you've got somebody to call, do so."
"No. I don't have anybody. I live alone. I don't have anybody. I mean like nobody," Jim informed him, a sad note to revealing something of a private nature.
"Hmm, is that so?"
For the next five minutes their chat turned to personal matters, Bill finding out the only living relative of Jim's was a distant cousin up in the wilds of Sasketchewan. In order for Jim to keep his mind on his job for the rest of the day, Bill 'let him' suck him dry!
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"Hey," Scott alerted Kyle, as he pulled into the private garage next to his townhouse.
"What?" Kyle looked around the glare on the windshield after Scott's vocal alert and the tap to his arm.
"There's a guy sitting on your doorstep."
He never got a look, Kyle having to move, drive into the small parking facility, chocking it up to, "Probably some homeless bum looking for a handout."
It was on his mind, Scott wondering what Kyle would do, but another thought popped up as well. "I don't think so. This guy was too nicely dressed."
Parking his car in the four space lot, Kyle was driven by curiosity, quickly making his exit. Instead of entering through the backyard garden, he scurried along the corridor from whence they just came.
"Hold on, Kyle. Wait for me!" Scott called out, breaking into a light jog.
"Can I help you?" Kyle asks, facing the guy whom still sat on his ass.
"Don't you recognize me Kyle?"
Cocking his head to the side, he ran a check face check through his mind. Same time, the bearded guy rose up from his perch on the edge of the slate stairway, brushing his ass off as he grabbed his backpack.
He didn't, but because this guy knew him, he made like he did. "You look a little familiar."
Prying the shades from his eyes, titling the lid of his cap back, he replied, "You probably don't know me with the goatee and stache. Lance ring a bell? The bartender from the Radisson in Lake Quinn?"
All this time Scott's attention mentally heard the passing conversation, however his eyes more focused on Lance, taking in the rather long blond hair, golden hair covering the sides of his face, the smile offered to Kyle at the announcement of his name.
"Oh sure," Kyle replied, his brain matching up a hairless face with the name. Joking, he told Lance, "Your disguise fooled me good!"
Looking over Kyle's shoulder, as they hugged, Lance asks, "This a friend of yours?"
"I think he already caught your name," Kyle said, ready to introduce his about town sidekick.
Instead, Scott jumped the gun, telling, "The name's Scott. I'm a friend of Kyle's."
"Friend, eh? I like the sound of that," the single, gay teen replied.
Scott went for the handshake, but to his surprise Lance approached with open arms, engulfing Scott in an embrace, mentioning, "Any friend of Kyle's is a friend of mine!"
Kyle rolled his eyes, keying the front door. He also mentioned, "Watch it Lance. His boyfriend is the jealous type and has a mean right hook!"
Of course Scott and Kyle knew different of Carlos. In fact they both broke out in laughter when Lance dropped his arms, backed off, cased the neighborhood, saying, "Yikes! I hope he's not watching!"
It remained a secret between friends, Scott reaching for Lance's backpack as Kyle led them into the townhouse, Lance apologizing profusely, "I only meant it as a friendly hug. You understand that, don't you?"
Keeping up the hoax, Kyle says, "Scott's boyfriend works around the block... I sure hope he didn't see anything."
Out of the three, neither could be more in a hurry than Lance, rushing them indoors, out of sight. His first order of business was, "Is Alex home?"
Sarcastically Kyle sums up for Lance, "If he was your ass wouldn't be sitting on my doorstep?"
"Oh yeah," Lance realises also. "I knew that!" Even though they were safely out of view from the street, Lance says to Scott, "I'll take that," meaning his backpack.
"You knew in town," Scott asks Lance.
"Um, yeah," he replies. Wondering where Kyle has disappeared to, he asks, "Where is.. um,"
"In the kitchen," Scott reads Lance's mind, same time pointing towards the opening in the wall.
Walking in, Kyle asks the understatement, "Hungry?"
Pouring out some water into a glass, Kyle looks to Scott, the two sharing a smile after watching Lance make a beeline for the fridge, his eyes doing some shopping.
"Sure. Whatcha got?"
Reporting to Lance's side, Kyle asks, "Depends on the last time you ate!"
Standing up, Lance cracks a smile, not wanting to admit. Scratching his head he confesses, "Like yesterday morning after I crossed over into Jersey?"
"On a bus?" Kyle questioned, knowing he was probably more like hoofing it.
"Nah," Lance proudly admitted. "I thought I would get some exercise, maybe thumb a ride here and there."
"I'll get that," Scott more than volunteered, coming between the two, shooing them away from the refridgerator.
"Bossy, isn't he?" Lance questions Kyle as they back off.
"Yeah well, Scott is like the brains behind the meals here lately, right Scott?"
Standing up, kicking the door closed behind him, Scott carries three containers, two plates wrapped in plastic and a carton of milk caught in the pocket of his arm.
"Need some help?" Lance jumps to it, reaching for the milk.
Too late, but Scott replies, "No, I've got.... it."
Force of habit, Lance cracks open the container lifts the bottom and starts chugging the milk down. He stops, looking at his chest, saying, "Oops!"
"You're a real slop, you know?" Kyle tells him.
He went for the sponge, but Scott was alway enroute. "Here you go," Scott said, much more kinder than Kyle would have offered.
"Thanks," Lance said, taking it, brushing the milk downwards, over his shirt.
"Who's Maroon 5?" Scott asks, seeing the logo on Lance's tee.
Maybe a bit over-dramatic, so what, Lance gasps, "You don't know who Marron 5 is? Damn, Adam Levine is just about the hottest guy on the planet!"
"I beg to differ," Kyle says, rolling his eyes.
Scott chances to ask, "Ever hear of Mario Frangoulis?"
"He a chef on the food network, right? The guy that says 'bam!' all the time?"
Kyle just shakes his head, addressing them, "The two of you have a lot to offer each other in the way of who's who!"
"Oh no," Lance interjects, "not when Scott's boyfriend is capable of pounding me through the ground, right down to the subway!"
Still Scott and Kyle kept up the masquerade.
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©2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
% A CLEVER Video Montage: http://www.onetruemedia.com/otm_site/view_shared?p=54d421db0b3fbcb20c0b16
% Other stories by T. Chase McPhee TOUGHING IT OUT nifty/gay/authoritarian/toughing-it-out ROAD TRIP nifty/gay/authoritarian/road-trip/ NATURE WALK nifty/gay/adult-youth/nature-walk/ FOR SALE BY OWNER nifty/gay/highschool/for-sale-by-owner/ FRIENDLY PERSUASION nifty/gay/authoritarian/friendly-persuasion/ DOWNSIDE UP nifty/gay/authoritarian/downside-up MUSCLE JOCKS FOR DOMINATION nifty/gay/authoritarian/muscle-jocks-for-domination/ 5b & 6c nifty/gay/beginnings/5b-6c/ FOR THE LOVE OF MICHAEL nifty/gay/highschool/for-the-love-of-michael/ SENIOR CUT DAY nifty/gay/highschool/senior-cut-day/ STRIPEs nifty/gay/adult-youth/stripes/ iCONS nifty/gay/beginnings/icons OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL nifty/gay/beginnings/old-fashioned-good-will/ TIDELIGHT ZONE nifty/gay/adult-friends/tidelight-zone/ BUFFALO BOYS nifty/gay/authoritarian/buffalo-boys/ OUT IN THE WILD, WILD WEST nifty/gay/celebrity/out-in-the-wild-wild-west/ CHRONICLES OF MARK SASSOON nifty/gay/authoritarian/chronicles-of-mark-sasson/
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....