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 72 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Hey! Just got a call!" Alex sounded the alert, holding up his cell phone.
"What's up?" Kyle asked on behalf of himself, Scotty and MIchael, all busy packing kitchen ware.
"Hospital!" He answered cheerfully, clicking his cell closed. "Got really good news from Jakov. They're releasing Chris!"
"Oh," Michael replied, obviously disappointed.
"Sorry," Alex said, knowing Michael thought it to be news about Darryl Weismantle.
"No problem," Michael said.
Meant to sooth his emotions, Scotty says, "In this case, I think no news is good news?"
Seeing it his way, Michael agreed. Then the two carried on with packing up pots, pans and anything else they thought worthwhile to remove from their almost former residence.
On the other hand, Kyle and Alex moved to the other room.
Alex talked about packing.
Knowing there was more to just a phone call from Jakov, Kyle asks, "So what was the purpose of Jakov's call, may I intrude?"
"Oh yeah. Well, being Jakov kind of lived in a crappy apartment...."
Kyle knowing Jakov grew up on the same social level as himself, silver spoon-logic' and all, he exclaims, "What do you mean crappy'? His old man's worth a fortune and a half!"
Alex replies, "Yeah well remember Jakov telling us about how his old man' was making him earn' his living, instead of supporting him?"
"It was me who told you, Alex. Remember?"
"Oh right," Alex recalls. "Anyway, Jakov figured since we were moving into some place nice... well, he thought he would offer us the same rent he was paying for the dilapidated apartment, to stay with us. That is if we had the room?"
"You `know' we have the room, Alex."
"I know, but I thought since it was you getting the apartment and all from Swifty that I should check with you first?"
"Alex... Alex... Alex."
"What?" he asked with innocence. "What?" he asks again, shrugging his shoulders. "What am I not getting here?"
Walking up to him, Kyle purposely butts his stomach up against Alex's. "I guess I'm going to have to prove it to you."
"Prove? Prove what?"
"You don't remember what I told you about `what's mine is yours'?"
"So?"
"Sooo, you didn't need my permission to tell Jakov it was okay, or not, about staying at `our' place."
"Oh!" Alex said, his dumbfounded look changing, acting out in an apologetic, embarrased manner. "I forgot! I mean, it's going to take some getting used to, going from a country bumpkin to a ritzy, high society boy. What'd ya say you cut me a break this time?"
Kyle wasn't really angry at Alex, especially when he explained it in those terms. "What am I gonna do with you, Alex!"
With the two, only breathing room between, Alex kind of gathered `what' Kyle was going to do with him!
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"How are we doing this afternoon?" Dr. Azayzeh asked Asaf. Against the odds of his colleagues, Mohamed strongly believed in himself, in his prediction of Asaf breaking out of his comatose state and returning to as normal a person he could be. Reading articles about such things as people in comas being able to hear, but not necessarily responding, he took it upon himself to communicate with Asaf as if he were sitting up and carrying on a normal conversation. Rubbing his hand along Asaf's furry forearm he merrily says, "Maybe when you are discharged... how about we go on a picnic? Yes? And maybe we will rent a boat at the park and I will take us on a journey around the lake?" By now, his hand had journeyed up Asaf's shoulder, his hand grazing the side of his face. He softly rubbed his fingers over the two day stubble. "But you get your rest now `sweet man'." He stood there for a moment as if paying respects to the dead, smiled and left.
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"I just got the call from Alex!" Jakov said excitedly. "We're all set for your release. He and Kyle are coming by in an hour or so and we're going to be busting out of this place!"
"That's good," Chris replied, though not as joyous as Jakov.
Sensing his sentimental worry, Jakov tells him as he holds his hand, "Don't worry Chris. Everybody... Alex, Kyle, Michael, Scotty, even Swifty... they all say Asaf is in the best of care here. And you know what?"
"What?" Chris asks, as he sits on the side of the bed, switching his gaze to Jakov's eyes.
"Remember when Dr. Azayzeh told us about him being at odds with his colleagues, them not taking his word it, Asaf being only in a temporary state?"
"The coma," Chris replied in a negative tone.
"Well I'm no medical doctor, but I have a strong belief Dr. Azayzeh knows what he's talking about!"
"You do, do you?" Again the depressed sound from Chris.
"Yes and I bet he'll be up and around and his normal self. However...."
"What?" Chris asks, this time the emotion warranting the low voice.
Picking up Chris' chin, Jakov, like a parent talking to a child, tells, "If he sees you not wearing a cheerful smile, how do you think it's going to make him feel?"
He didn't get a big smile out of Chris, but his words made Jakov feel better, "You are right." Then Chris cracked a small smile. He had to admit to himself Jakov was wearing him down, casting away fears for his dear friend, giving him hope and reason for his doubt to lift.
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Soon, the couple of suitcases Kyle had were packed full, as were the three Alex had brought from home. They had assembled everything in the livingroom, lined up in rows.
"Whew! I'm dizzy!" Alex complained, his butt crashing into the sofa.
"No doubt, the way you were ferrying the luggage down the stairway, Alex!"
"I'm going to miss that stairway," Alex said, glancing towards the circular steps running from ground floor, up a flight. He amended his statement, "Not!"
They both laughed, Kyle suggesting they could have one put in.
"It might be grounds for divorce!" Alex jokes.
"Is that all it would take?" Kyle jokes back. Same time he falls across Alex, his butt landing on Alex's lap. "Now I know what to do if I ever want to."
"To what?" Alex plays along.
"Get rid of you!"
"Ohhh," Alex pouts, his lower lip puckered over his upper. "You mean when you don't wub me no more?"
Each turned their heads enough to manage a sweet kiss.
"We're ready!"
Compared to Alex and Kyle's heaps of clothing, Michael's lone backpack and Scotty's two suitcases were nothing to compare to all the goods amassed in the livingroom.
Him and Kyle, kneeling over the back of the sofa, Alex says, "Now all we need is a van!"
"Or a limo?" Kyle says, a smile on his face as he reaches for the phone. Picking up a paper on the table, he enters ten digits.
"Who's he calling?" Scotty asks.
Alex's shoulders almost hits his ears as his look dictates, `I don't know!'
Kyle reveals, "Hullo? Ellis? Yeah. This is Kyle Dryfiss...."
"Who's Ellis?" Michael asks.
Then in full circle, Alex tells of Swifty's nephew, and in a nutshell how he came to the door, how they met him when Kyle and he went to take a look at the place and finished off with, "Oh don't worry. You'll be seeing plenty of Ellis." Then he told them `why'!
"All set!" Kyle said, disengaging the call with a pound to a button of the phone. "Ellis will be here as soon as he can."
No sooner had they all congratulated Kyle on the quick-thinking, the doorbell rings.
"Wow! Ellis sure is quick!" Alex jokes.
Hopping over the sofa, Kyle opens the door to Carlos and Francesco.
They exchange greetings, but when Franceso greets Alex, not only does he get a handshake, but a kiss on each cheek. "Good to make your acquaintances Alex. Carlos has told me so much about you."
Not jealous, but acting like it, Kyle asks, "He say anything about me?"
Making a mockery of things, Carlos approaches Kyle, kisses him on both cheeks and replies, "Not much. Get over it!"
To make a long story short, Carlos tells them Francesco has managed to have a van brought up from the Metropolitan Opera, where he works on occasion. After explaining it's one of the larger trucks used to ship in and out settings for the operas, he tells Alex, "And we are so grateful for your contribution of furniture for our apartment." Again he holds Alex's hand, shaking, both of his hands attached.
"'His' furniture?" Kyle replies, expecting a word of thanks also.
Alex pipes up with, "Don't mind him," to Francesco, "what's his is mine anyway. Trust me. I'll think of a way to thank him later!"
Kyle was more than satisfied with Alex's answer!
And as they all pitched in to help load up the van, Carlos asks in passing, "Hey Alex, remember that invite you gave me to the party next weekend?"
"Ah yeah. The Karlyle party. What of it?"
"Don't need it."
Alex wondered why Carlos gave him the slick reason. "So.. why don't you need an invitation?"
Leading the `witness', anyway that's how Carlos perceived it, he answered, "Francesco knows Cayman Karlyle personally."
And then, while Kyle, Scotty, Michael and Francesco hauled ass, filling the truck, Alex heard the short story of how Francesco earned money while attending college, doing some odd modeling jobs for Cayman Karlyle's agency.
And as Francesco passed them by, carrying an ottoman on his shoulder, Alex tells Carlos, "Yeah, I could just picture Francesco in a speedo parading his wares down the catwalk!"
"Uh, what was that Alex?"
"Uh-oh," Carlos said, seeing Kyle standing there. "Um, I better give the guys a hand."
"Oh nothing," Alex replied, red in the face.
Kyle responds, "I betcha Francesco can really pack it in, huh?"
After a good laugh regarding Francesco's ability to fill out a speedo, the two went to work removing most of the furnishings.
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"I thought you secret agent guys made tons of dough?" Vince asks, walking into the almost squared-off, box of an apartment.
Jorgen makes a snide remark, "Justin spends it as soon as he gets it. No discipline in regards to savings."
Justin could have made up something fictiously humongous, something reckless in the way of spending, in regards to Jorgen. Whereas the mood was in a joking phase, Justin didn't follow through, instead confessing, "Yeah, I'm kind of that way. You know - xbox, meeting the boys at a gay bar. Live it up while I have the chance."
And that was that, Justin heading off into another room, his right hand over his shoulder, pulling at the top of his shirt, showing skin as he pulled it off.
"What was that all about?" Vince asks.
Helping himself, Jorgen opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of white wine. "It might have crossed your mind, about how `well' we get along. In reality, we're both a couple of jokers. Truth is," he says, rinsing two plain water glasses, "Justin and I go back a couple of years," he half fills each glass. "To us!" Jorgen clinks Vince's glass.
"Ah yeah," Vince replies, still not sure how all this was going to pan out. "So... about?"
"Oh yeah," Jorgen continues as they lean against opposing countertops, "It was two years ago. I was on assignment, setting up a sting operation. Drugs. We needed a couple of college jocks who already had an `in'... well, I can't tell you all the specifics..."
"I understand," Vince replied.
Skipping over much detail, Jorgen says, "I tell you, for an eighteen year old college student he really had his head screwed on straight. If it wasn't for his quick thinking and ability to stay calm and focused when all hell was breaking loose, a lot of innocent people could have been hurt. Myself being one of them!"
"Oh so you owe your life to Justin?"
Smiling, Jorgen replies, "For awhile I did. Then I kind of evened up the score."
Of course Vince was wondering.
"This I `can' tell you about. It didn't happen in the line of duty." And then pulling on one of the straps of the white tank top shirt he was wearing, Jorgen shows the small scar on his shoulder.
"Bullet?" Vince guessed.
Differing, Jorgen relays, "Knife wound."
Putting the pieces together instantly, Vince deduces, "Let me guess. You got in the way of the knife, for Justin?"
"Gay bar. It started out as a victory party, except one of the patrons wasn't so keen on the standards of `fooling people' in order to bring out justice. At first he called Justin a coward... obviously the jerk had too many beers. Whatever. When Justin went to the jon, I had a feeling I should follow when I saw the asshole leave the bar and head there at the same time. Sure enough, he was out to get Justin. Of course I had no idea he had a knife, until I tapped him on the shoulder. Whew!" Jorgen said dramatically. "I swear. Justin was an inch away from getting it in the back."
"But instead you took it in the shoulder?"
Then with a line of confession, "Justin says I'm the hero. Says I saved his life. But it's really he who saved mine. Who would've thought a little twerp like Justin would also have a black belt in karate?"
"Surprised you, did he?"
"Yeah. Sure I wound up with a gash across my shoulder, but the perpetrator got far worse than a nosebleed after Justin was finished stuffing his head in the urinal!"
"Poor guy," Vince says unconvincingly. "I almost feel sorry for him."
"I think you would have been Vince, considering he was like ten times the size of Justin. This big," and Jorgen used his hands to outline the shape of, "bear of a man!"
"Was he as big a bear as me?" Vince replies, patting his stomach and grinning.
Taking the last swig of his wine, Jorgen crosses the floor, placing both hands on the sides of Vince's bod. The long arms of the law extended, hands rubbing up and down, he crooks his neck, the six foot, two incher zeroing in for a kiss.
Vince set his glass down on the counter. Straightening up his stance, he actually towered two inches over Jorgen's six feet, two inches.
Interrupting, Justin says, "Hey. I'm going out. See you dudes tomorrow morning."
Smiling, Vince just stood there, seeing Justin with his hands fluffing his wet mop. Dressed in trendy club pants, Justin's waist sported a pair of A&F boxers, the little moose circling his waste over the top of the jeans. Over his shoulder sagged a tee shirt, until he removed it, held it to his midsection, then found the shirttail, hoisting it over his head.
"I thought you were spending the evening in?" Jorgen asks.
Of course Vince knew why!
"Nah." Then to Vince, "You think you can keep Jorgen preoccupied while I'm gone?"
"I think I can manage," Vince replies, a hand firming up his zipper area.
"Mmmmm," Jorgen replies, looking at Vince's lower area.
Then with Vince laughing, Justin asks, "Got a couple of bucks you can spare me, Jorgie?"
Reaching in his back pocket, Jorgen pulls a twenty out of his wallet.
"Get real Jorgie!" David takes the wallet out of his hand, files through it, takes out a couple of 100's and hands the wallet back, saying, "Thanks. I'll pay you back on Friday," meaning payday, when actually his paycheck wouldn't be deposited in his account till the end of the month!
Vince had intentions of sharing the cost of his and Jorgen's evening alone, but then realized, "My wallet!" when his hand touched his empty back pocket.
"Sorry," Jorgen replies. "Your clothes and belongings are back at the office. I'll see about getting them back for you tomorrow."
But Vince relaxed, picked up his quarter-filled glass of wine, chugged it down, grabbed the bottle, poured another half of a glass and told, "Oh really? I didn't think you were planning on reporting tomorrow?"
It didn't take long, Vince grabbing one sip, before Jorgen again butted his front up against Vince, his lips working Vince's over, his hands up under Vince's shirt, rubbing his bear fur. He stopped suddenly to say, "Sorry about the pecs."
Smiling, Vince replies, "I hope you're still around when they grow back!"
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For Raul Quintana, is was whatever way the wind blew', however direction the tide flowed', whichever way the road turned', as far as sex was concerned. He took his damsel in distress' right into the bedroom, when he and Tab Lakhvi entered his small flat, undressing him and it was decided then and there who took what position.
"Hard bed," Tab complained right away when his shoulders sank into it.
"Soon you will not mind it. I guarantee it!" Raul said as he kicked off his shoes, took off his sports jacket, unfastened his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Tab whistled, saying, "Yeah. Put on sexy strip show for me!"
Singing a little ditty, Raul slowly unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, peeled it back over his shoulders as it yanked out of his pants, baring his dark-haired front.
More whistles and catcalls ensued, Tab faking with a Caribbean inflection, "Yeah mon! Take it all off!"
The whole time, as Raul was unbuckling, unzipping, removing pants slowly, Tab was rubbing between his legs.
"Fuck yeah!" He called out, a twist of his heritage entwined, an accent of his native country showing through, when Raul first parked his briefs under his balls. Then, after Raul stripped his briefs, Tab demands, "Yeah. Bring them balls right up here!"
Kneeling on the bed, Raul knee-walks up, straddling Tab's bod. As `ordered', Raul slaps his cock and balls down on Tab's stomach, of which Tab had by this time removed his own shirt. "Now you put your hands behind your head for me?"
Looking down on the twenty-eight year old, Raul thought nothing of submitting. Quite the opposite of the parking lot, he never dreamed of Tab as being the figure of authority. However, rather than find it disturbing it was turning him on. Here he was, a highly respected private detective, lowering himself to a `trick' he picked up on the street.
"Now I play with you."
While holding his hands behind his head, a position often taken by a man surrendering himself to the law, Raul was surrendering his dignity to this stranger he picked up not more than an hour ago. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," he cooed when Tab found his nips under his forest of fur.
Tab giggled, mashing Raul's nips softly, finding his cock expanding right on his stomach. "You like?" Tab said, stopping.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh," Raul let out a sigh, taking Tab's hands and reapplying them to his pecs.
"I think you like!" Tab said, laughing at how sensuous Raul was expressing how much he liked having his nips toyed with. "You make me hard too. I think you do something about it?"
Nine out of ten times, it had been Raul lying in the bed, some guy tongue-teasing him, but once in a great while a man would come along which struck his fancy differently and he'd bow down over pubes for some oral enjoyment. Depending on the guy, it could be a big turn-on or a quick `hit-and-run'. Tab was being the biggest exception to the rule, one Raul hadn't come across in a very, very long time. Backing off, after Tab's hands released their targets of teasing, Raul slid down Tab's thighs.
"No!" Tab said, putting his hand on Raul's hand as he began unbuckling Tab's belt. "You lick me first."
Back at the car, where Tab locked his keys inside, Raul had started getting palpitations in his balls. Now more so was the case as he leaned down and started licking right at the top of Tab's belt buckle, his tongue tasting the thick line from his navel to where skin met fabric.
"Yeah. You lick me there till I tell you to stop!"
But it didn't matter what Tab said, as he relinquished his authority to Raul's tantalizing tongue. The one other top who turned him on years ago, taught him all there was to know about tongue-torturing a guy's bod. Slowly he licked up the light brown treasure trail, his tongue darting in and out of Tab's deep innie. Looking up, he knew Tab wasn't in any condition to dictate orders. With the sounds of pleasure coming from his lips Raul knew who was in charge now! He felt a giggle inside of him when he received no complaints from Tab as his tongue traveled up his abs, sweet kisses planted along the way. No gripes came as he simultaneously worked his hands at stripping Tab out of his pants. Honey-suckling Tab's nips, one at a time, he pushed pants down from Tab's torso. When `he' was ready, Raul dragged his tongue down Tab's front, painting a trail of saliva down Tab's smooth abs, till it grazed over a hairy bellyhole. This time his
tongue met with wiry pubic hair. He ran it once only over the elastic band, his fingers already engaged in the lining, pulling them down.
Keeping Tab mesmerized, the model cooed and sighed when Raul's mouth began sucking around the base of his already upright 10c. Tab lost control over Raul, with telling him where he should be licking and sucking him. No complaints, except good ones emanated from Tab's vocal cords, as he felt Raul's tongue massage up the sides of his hard shaft. "Oh!" Tab exclaimed.
This time it was Raul placing a hand on Tab's blond, fuzzy chest, settling him back into the bed, whereupon Tab did an auto-crunch. Raul felt good inside and outside, his hand feeling up his own erection as he opened his lips to the flange of Tab's cock-head. Going in for the kill, he used the tip of his tongue to fit as best as possible inside the slit. This was a tease, a short jab, then his lips pursed, traveling the whole length, till the tip he just tongue-teased was felt at the back of his throat. He took it slow. He wasn't too adept at swallowing a cock whole and he sensed without looking, Tab's cock to be not only long, but wide. Now that he thought about it, he did pull off and made mental comment, Man! How my jaw hurts!' from being held open so wide. He smiled when thinking of how this was ever going to fit in his ass. Then he gulped, thinking Oh-no! This is going in my ass?'
"Problem?" Tab said, half-sitting up.
"Um. No," Raul replied, his hand again on Tab's mid-chest, pressing him back into the pillow, reassuring him.
"Oh. Because you were really making me feel good." And further voicing opinion, "In fact I'm not going to last long. Go down on me for another few minutes and then I'll stuff your ass." Then remembering he was a guest' and this was' their first time together, he lightened up with, "But no worry Raul... I take it easy!"
He said, "Yes," but wasn't at all sure, thinking back to minutes ago when he looked upon probably the biggest cock he's seen and the feel of the sausage-sized debris blocking his throat passage, except in pictures!
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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.....