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.
%
"For Sale By Owner" 47 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
"Ahhhyayayaya!" The loud voice shouted from the loft.
However, no one was awake to hear Vince stir out of his sleep into the morning. Pushing up on his elbows, sinking into the mattress of the queensized bed, he peered over his belly to see his toes sticking up as his feet hung over the edge of the foot of the bed. He did a sit up when his nose picked up on the scent of coffee brewing. Swinging his feet over the side, plopping them on the floor, he questioned himself, "Do I smell pancakes?" Looking around he searched for something other than his sole wardrobe, his briefs hugging his hips. Then a thought popped into his head from last night, the sight of seeing Scott and Jarrett in their boxers, parading around like they owned the place. He decided to give his hospital blues a rest. The aroma drove him onwards, quick to take a piss, throw a little water in his face and then head down the spiral staircase. He didn't even bother to take in the view until the second roundabout. His jaw dropped open as he stared at the sofa, not seeing Jason's bod parked there. Stepping fast, he pounded down the stairs, round and round until he reached bottom, jogging across the wooden floor til he stood at the end of the sofa. "What tha?" he questioned, seeing Jason, snuggled up with Jarrett, Jarrett spooning Jason, sleeping bag lending cover to their torsos below their navels. With arms folded over his stomach, Vince just shook his head.
"Hungry?" Scott came out of the kitchen, true to Vince's thinking, clad only in boxers.
"Did you see this?" he pointed to the two in the sleeping bag.
"Yeah. Isn't that sleeping bag supposed to fit only one?"
"I guess not," Vince remarked. "Hey, is that pancakes you're cooking?"
As if nothing out of the ordinary, Vince followed Scott into the kitchen, except Vince smiled seeing Scott Joe Boxers tumble from side to side.
By the time Alex and Kyle awoke, checked out the jon and entered the kitchen, they had a sight to behold. Standing over Scott's shoulder, Vince was dressed in a pair of lowrise briefs, his only other stitch of clothing, an Emeril cooking apron, a pancake turner in his hand.
"I think all the little bubbles are up. Should I turn them now?"
"They're ready!" Scott alerted him.
"Here, you do it. I've gotta get this down!"
As Scott manhandled the pancakes, Vince hustled over to the counter, picked up his pencil and began writing, only glancing up once to greet Alex and Kyle with, "Oh, hi guys!" Then he went about his business, speaking as he wrote, "When.. little... tiny .... bubbles come... up... it's time... to ... turn... pan...cakes... over." Smashing the dot of the exclamation point with the pencil, he hustled back to the stove, grabbing the turner up as if his security blanket. "How do I know when they're done?" Vince referred to the other side.
"Intuition," Scott replied.
"Oh now that's where I'm in trouble. I'll burn'em for sure!"
Seeing things well in hand, Alex said a quick, "Oh and this is Kyle," to Vince, who responded with a quaint, "Hi!" then went back to carefully studying the four pancakes on the griddle.
"Weird guy," Kyle said to Alex, as they departed, heading towards the circular staircase to their own 'pad'.
"He's really a barrel of laughs when you get to know him," Alex filled his lover in, not mentioning when Vince tended to step out of line.
"Hey, who are these guys?" Kyle inquires, as his left hand reaches behind his neck to scratch an itch.
"Um, you don't remember me bringing home Jarrett yesterday afternoon?"
"Oh yeah. Now it's coming back. So who's the other stud?" Kyle asks.
"Oh that's Jason. Believe me. It's a long story."
"That's cool," Kyle said. "I was feeling like a 'long' shower anyway!"
%
"Tired?" Jack asked Jim as they sat at the kitchen table, eating their breakfast.
"Not really," Jim replied, eating another strip of bacon.
"Still hurt?"
"Um, it hurts a little to sit, but other than that I think I can say the other pain has passed."
"So I wasn't too rough on you last night then?" Jack asks, sipping his coffee.
"On the contrary, at the time I thought I had died and gone to hell!"
Leaning back in his chair, Jack grinned.
"Oh sure. You can laugh about it. It wasn't your back getting hacked to pieces or your nips squashed to smithereens or your ass invaded like a plank of wood!"
"And which part did you really hate?" Jack asked, knowing the response he would get.
"Hate? Well it's not like I hated any of it. I mean at the time I'd say it was painful..."
Abruptly interrupting, Jack says, "No it wasn't. You were loving it. After those first five lashes, everytime I flung the flogger across your back, your body would shutter from the pain, but then it would shoot straight down your body, into the pleasure center between your legs and that cry of pain turned into a sigh of pleasure, not to mention your cock leaking like a sieve."
Frustrated, Jim replied, "I don't know what I felt, okay?"
Accepting it for now, Jack glances up at the clock, saying, "Well it's time to get out there and do some chores." Getting up out of his chair, Jack carried his own dishes to the sink.
"Chores? But you haven't had any sleep."
"Yeah," Jack replies, seemingly refreshed, " always happens after a wild night at Sonnemaker's dungeon parties. Next morning I feel all revived, ready for another week!"
"Not me. I'm like totally spent," Jim replied, topping his comment off with a yawn.
Usually when Jack met up with a wannabee trooper, he didn't get the flack thrown in his face. What he said ruled. But with Jim here he found a more sensitive subject, so tread lightly on dishing out the orders.
"Um, I mean, I could handle the dishes if you want to get started?"
Setting his plate, mug and flatware on the sink, Jack kids, "Are you sure you can handle it, 'boy'?"
"I think so, 'sir'."
"Well then... okay. I'll be out in the barn if you need anything."
"Actually I could use some clothes?"
Stopping in his tracks, Jack says, "Yeah okay. Upstairs. Check in one of my drawers. You'll find what you need."
"Just like that? You trust me?"
Grabbing his real, honest to goodness cowboy hat, putting it on his head, Jack adds a slight grin to his wardrobe, telling Jim, "I got a nice, sturdy whipping post out back. Give me a reason to use it!"
Jim smiled at Jack's wink. Going about his business, he washed the dishes, placing them in the dish drainer. After drying them and putting them away, he stood there with his arms folded, the towel over his shoulder, thinking about that 'whipping post'! He almost forgot how tired he was. Finding the staircase in the next room, he followed it up to a hallway composed of three closed doors. First one, he almost got bonked in the head by a falling roll of toilet paper. It made him laugh. When he bent over to pick it up, his stretched skin gave him reason to stiffen up straight, trying to reach around and soothe it. Wondering what the outcome of the flogging actually could be, visually, he tossed the roll back in, slamming it shut before it tumbled out again. Door number two produced a jon, yellow in color, a surprise to Jim, figuring Jack, into bdsm, leather and other dark stuff would go for a more dreary decoration. When he opened door number three, he exclaimed to himself, "Oh my!" First to notice, was Jack's bed. It was nice and all, four posts, but the disarray of the sheets made him think Jack had a lousy time sleeping through the night. Smelling something nasty, brought him over to a corner, clothing piled halfway up the wall. "Man! Jack's a royal slob!" Across the dresser was strewn everything from neckties to packages of condoms, old receipts for who-knows-what, loose change, a couple of bills, a fifty included and something which ignited his curiosity, a flogger. "Cool!" Looking towards the door, his hand grabbed at the leather handle, lifting it up, things falling off of it as he uncovered the whipping implement. "I wonder if it works?" he questioned himself, followed with a laugh when he thought of it as not a battery-operated gadget but a manmade-fueled instrument. His fingers of the other hand played with the leathery fronds before he got the notion, wanting to try it out. Searching for something to 'whip' he chose a pillow. "Oh shit!" He said when he slashed it hard, the fronds lacerating the pillow case right through to the down, sending particles a-flying.
He was given a jolt when a hand reached around him, placed on his hand which held the flogger. "I only use this one on experienced boys!"
"I thought you were pitching hay or something?" Jim questioned.
"Forget the key to the feed bin," Jack answered. "I thought you were getting some rest?"
"How can anybody sleep in here with this stench and this crap all over the place? When's the last time you changed your sheets?"
"When they couldn't absorb anymore cum?" Jack returned, swiping his keys out from under some papers.
"Probably why this room reeks!"
"Look, this is the way I live in the interim, so....."
"Interim? Of like what?" Jim questioned.
So, Jack laid it on the line to Jim, explaining, "I figured we'd have this talk over lunch or dinner, but while you're mind is racing with questions, I suppose the horses will have to wait to eat."
For the next twenty minutes, the two had a question and answer session, Jack explaining as best he could about his former boys whom he picked up either at a dungeon party, club or bar, all with intentions of leading the good life as good little slaveboys. Some lasted a day, some a week, others three weeks, but then it came to the last slaveboy.
Amazed, Jim responded, "So this guy came with the intentions of spending a week or month with you and wound up staying for eight years?"
"That's about the gist of it."
"Why did he leave?"
Tossing his keys back on the dresser, Jack leaned his ass on it, hands on the edge supporting his body, head dipping so his chin almost touched his bare chest.
"Something happen?"
"Yeah. Something happened alright. Something I dreaded for awhile, but then put my reservations aside," Jack said solemnly.
"If it's too tough to mention you can..."
"Nah. I can talk about it," Jack replied.
"If you want to feed the horses, we can talk later?" Jim asks, for the first time extending a caring hand to Jack, his palm coasting up and down his sweaty arm.
"Thanks. That's nice of ya, Jim."
"Least I can do for the man who claimed my ass!" Jim said, displaying a cute little smile.
Sensing something different in Jim, Jack opened up to say, "Not much to tell. I took Sven to a dungeon party and he fell for some Viking, all decked out in his leather. He was smitten with him right away. I especially got the message when the Viking bid twelve hundred bucks for the pleasure of having Sven as boy for the evening."
"Is that a lot of money?" the novice asked.
"Shit! Five hundred is a lot of money for any boy!" Jack replied.
"Oh. So I suppose that was 'it' for you and him, huh? The 'Viking' bought Sven, I take it?"
"Oh no. Sven was bound to me legally," Jack answered.
"Oh really? I don't get it though. How was Sven 'bound' to you?"
Going over to a picture on the wall of two guys having a hot time, Jack pulls the side, opening it out like a door.
"Aren't you taking a risk showing that to me?"
His hand on the combination, Jack turns back to look at Jim, saying, "Yeah. I am, aren't I?"
While he watched Jack turn the combination, messing up and starting again, Jim thought about a change coming over Jack. Since they arrived back home, he kind of lost the hillbilly curve to his way of speaking, for one thing.
"Here it is," Jack said, retrieving an envelope, picking a piece of paper out of it, unfurling it and handing it to Jim.
He was just about whacked out of his gourd when he read, "Slave contract?"
"Yeah, ain't that a kicker?" Jack responded.
Looking up from the finely printed sheet, Jim says, "You know you can drop the act now if you want to?"
"Act? What act?"
After skimming through the contents of the contract, Jim adheres to, "Being I haven't signed something like this yet, I'm not your slaveboy and you're not my master!"
Walking over to Jim, Jack had a slight smile on his face. Symbolically he stole the paper from Jim's hand and tore it in two, tossing it to the wind. Making an advance, he slid his arms in between Jim's arms and ribs, butting his sweaty chest into Jim's perspired front, saying, "I think I'm going to start treating my boys differently."
"Oh? How's that go?" Jim asked, not thinking of the slave aspect but rather something else he was feeling other than the first man to cuddle up to him, flesh to flesh and talk like he meant more than a servant around the house.
"I'm a thirty-two year old man. It's getting to be a lot of work playing the master-slave game."
As Jack unraveled the things he has been thinking about since granting Sven his freedom, pondering over these thoughts every night, sitting at the dinner table, eating a recipe for one, he came to the conclusion, "Nope. I've been thinking instead of finding a guy to sign a slave contract, maybe I should go for the real thing."
"Real thing? Jack, you're talking riddles again," Jim replied.
So, since he wasn't getting to Jim in words, he proved actions are the wiser solution!
%
In no time, sleeping or awake, the trail of pancake oil had woven it's way throughout the townhouse, bringing the natives to the source.
"So, feeling better this morning, Jason?" Vince asked, a wink added.
"You're not angry are you?" Jason asked Vince.
"I told you. I'm only around to keep you from going downhill. Whoever you decide to make a part of your life is your own business," Vince replied.
The others, Scott, Kyle, Alex and Jarrett were trying to follow the story, but there were far too many missing parts, Jarrett being the one to speak up for the lot, "Did you two have something going on here?"
It was a sketchy way to ask, rather than more direct, but the two knew what Jarrett was driving at.
Vince comes right out with, "Me and him shacking up? Noooooo way! I'm a thirty-four year old bachelor and intend on keeping it that way!"
Hearing the same BS over and over again, Jason pointed to the one flaw in Vince's plan, "If that's what you think then why for the past five years, have you been sticking to me like glue? You know it's not part of your job to like stalk me?"
With his fork stuck in his stacked up pieces of pancake, Vince wields it like a baton, telling him, "And you better by God thank me for hounding you, with every now and then trying to.... to...." After looking around, Vince resorted to, "You know!"
Alex was bold to ask Jason, "Suicide?"
His chin sunk to his smooth chest, Jason sulked in Alex's words. On the other hand, Jarrett said with exuberance, "Hey, it's no big deal! The sleeping bag is real cozy with you. We should try it again!"
Turning his head, Jason meekly put it to Jarrett, "You're okay with me thinking about doing myself in?"
"Sure I am and you know what?" Jarrett didn't wait for a reply. "I'm glad you didn't pop enough pills!"
Vince just smiled. If Jarrett only knew how many pills Jason downed, it would make his head swing. But it wasn't necessary to spell out the gritty details. Vomiting and eating a nice breakfast don't mix too well!
"So, what's on everybody's agenda for today?" Kyle asks the consensus.
"Well, Alex is supposed to be showing me around the city!" Jarrett volunteers.
"Oops!" Alex replies.
Seeing Jarrett in wonder, Kyle tells him, "Alex has to go to work, so it leaves him out."
Alex offers a slight, "Sorry."
"Noooooooo problem!" Vince to the rescue, slaps his fist down on the table, dictating, "The three of us are going to have a great time. Say, have you ever taken a Circle Line cruise around Manhattan?"
"I think I have," Jarrett replies. "Is that where you spend two hours watching whales jump out of the water?"
"They don't have whales in Manhattan," Jason came out of his latest downer.
"Oh. I guess I must have the wrong Manhattan!"
The whole conversation set the kitchen alive with laughter, Vince seeing how this crowd was doing so much good for the guy he has learned to care for for the past five years, treating him almost like a kid brother.
Jarrett asks, "Hey Kyle.. or Alex... or Scott for that matter. Any of you guys have some clothes to fit Jason?"
"And you?" Vince says.
"I guess for me too. My dad had all my bags delivered to the Waldorf."
"Well excuse'm me," Vince put on airs, raising his little pinkie.
"If you can loan me a pair of jeans and a tee, I think I can hold off til later," Jarrett said.
"What about me? Anybody got a cute little pair of boy-boxers to fit me?" Vince got a lot of looks, especially a sly one from Alex.
"I'll get it," Kyle excuses himself from the table to answer the door.
"Um," Vince says softly to the crowd, "isn't Kyle forgetting something?"
"Oh shit!" Alex calls out, running after Kyle, like him only donning his briefs. "Kyle!" He yells out, trying to catch up with him before the door flips open. Another 'oops' escaped Alex's lips when the door stood open, the guy from the florist standing there, seeing Kyle with a trench coat over himself, Alex with his cute lowrise briefs hanging from his hips. "Flowers for a Mr. van der Linde?"
"I'll take that buddy," Vince responds in his Emeril apron.
"Nice.... um apron," the guy says, waiting for Kyle to go dig up a tip.
"Thanks. I kinda dig your Peter Pan outfit too!"
Vince wound up seeing the florist guy to the door, asking, "Got a business card?"
On a one track mind, the thirty-something guy responded, "Interested, huh?"
"Well I was thinkin' in case I wanted to order some flowers, but hmmmm.." Vince replied with a smile as if he was a salesman trying to sell something.
The two reading each other's minds their HD gaydar attuned to the moment, the florist guy comes out with, "I could be in the neighborhood later?"
"Oh really?" Vince responds, groping himself. "I might just have a heavy stem to plant in your pot!"
"Not before it's properly fertilized, eh?"
Before the guy could get away, Vince says, "By the way, I love your Aussie accent."
With a wink, the floral guy replies, "Then I'm sure you'll love my down under mouth work!"
It could have gone on and on, but a truck of flowers were waiting to be delivered. Unbeknownst to Vince, feet from the door a bunch of hecklers were waiting to ambush him!
"How's your stem, Vince?" Alex started out.
"Ready to pot it?" Kyle knocked him.
"You lousy sons-of-a...." Just you wait..." He turns his thumb on his chest, "Vince here doesn't get mad, he gets even!"
One last dig, Jarrett tells him, "Oh man, that went out in the 90's! Get with it Vinnie-baby!"
They all laughed their asses off, even Jason getting a giggle out of Vince chasing Jarrett around the townhouse, his hands molded in a stranglehold. Even more roaring laughter ensued after Jarrett tripped over the sleeping bag, diving into the sofa, Vince catching up to him, placing Jarrett over his knee.
"I'll teach ya to speak to your elders that way!" Vince said, a hand under the elastic, pulling them down, exposing Jarrett's white hiney.
Raising his hand up, he readied to give Jarrett a mighty slap, when he was totally surprised his wrist was grabbed, pulled behind him by Jason. "No Vince!" Slowly smiles faded as they all stood there staring at Jason, gripping Vince's wrist as if a body builder. "Please don't, Vince?"
The joke had gone the distance, as Vince slowly let his attitude change, his hand replacing Jarrett's boxer shorts, covering his lily white ass.
"I'm so sorry, kiddo... I.. I forgot."
Another part of the puzzle missing, they all watched as Vince rounded the sofa and hugged Jason in his arms, cooing him with apologies, "I'm so sorry Jason. We were just having a little horseplay. I'm not going to hurt Jarrett. Calm down now. Why don't you go and lay down until it's time for us to leave?"
"Okay,Vince. If you think I should," Jason replied, following the suggestion as if an order.
On his feet, Jarrett followed Vince and Jason into the guest room after Kyle offered it.
"You want me to stay with him?" Jarrett asked.
"Would you terribly mind?" Vince patronized him.
After the rest left, they couldn't have any idea of Jarrett instructing Jason to move over, crawling under the covers with the nineteen year old.
"Will you hold me like before, Jarrett?"
%
Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.