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.
"Friendly Persuasion" 02 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Three years later, Jason, a senior in high school, Scott pursues graduates courses, at the local community college, juggling a teaching position at a private high school. The two hold beers in their hands, reminiscing about old times, lying against the iron-barred headboard of Scott's bed, both shirtless.
"So, what time do we have to connect with these frats you lined up for us, big bro?"
After a sip of beer, Scott, taking a quick glance at the clock-radio, reports, "About nine."
"Late night for us, huh?" Jason asks.
"Yeah. I just hope dad doesn't find out," Scott cautions, knowing the old man still kept the reins tight on Jason, even though he was eighteen.
"You said it. I haven't taken a beating since I was sixteen."
"Yeah," Scott says sympathetically, "never forget that one, but I guess it taught you a thing or two about cutting class!"
"It's all Tenner's fault!"
Laughing, Scott places both hands on his hairy chest, massaging his bod from neck to navel and back, recalling, "Like you didn't get even?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"I think he thought he was going to get away with it, turning in a cut on you before he left for his new job," Scott summed up.
"I think he did it on purpose, for his own retribution."
"Oh? You never said anything. How does that go?" Scott questions, turning over on his side, parking his elbow in a pillow, his hand still exploring his own bod.
"You said it yourself," Jason filled in the blank.
"I did? When?"
"When Jeremy and I finally became a couple."
Falling onto his back, hands behind his head, flaunting his dark-haired pits, Scott replies, "Oh yeah. What was it? This year?"
"No, doofus. Jeremy and I have been boyfriends for like, since tenth grade?"
"Oh. Time flies when you're having fun."
With a flashback, Jason's mind reveals to himself their front door, like a subway turnstile, Scott letting guys in and out, almost daily.
"Yeah, we did have some fun. At least since the first time we both met with Brian," Jason reminisced.
Both lying there, they smiled, with the same thoughts of satisfaction, til Jason dug further back for details of that first night the trio met.
"Yeah, y'know I actually felt for Brian, when you plowed your fist into his gut, with that first punch?" Jason brought to mind.
"Yeah," Scott giggled, "I did too. It's the first time I punched a guy in the stomach, on purpose."
"I'll never forget the expression on your face. It was like you turned to horror, when Brian moaned, like he had a bellyache, breathing hard. Then, when Brian had the audacity to say, `is that all you can put into it'? That evil grin you always put on, became apparent of the sporty play running through your mind."
"Yeah," Scott said, a wide grin on his face, as a hand slid under the elastic of his brief. Looking up, something caught his eye. Picturing it as if the night of Brian's torture session, Scott stared at the lone hook, protruding from the wooden beam. "I can picture it as if yesterday, Brian hanging there by both arms, sweating like a pig, taking punch after punch."
Whimsically, Jason adds, "Well at least you made him get to the gym more often!"
"He never disappointed me, showing up week after week with a set of hard abs. Like I said over and over, Brian was a glutton for abuse."
"I can see `that'," Jason joked, looking at Scott's hand moving inside his briefs, his 9.5c standing straight up, stretching the fabric.
"I got an idea. Why don't you get your lips over here and give me a blow job?"
"I got a better idea," Jason answered, with a bit of whit, "Why don't you do some yoga and suck yourself off!"
Turning to his side, retrieving his hand from his crotch meat, Scott slaps his hand down hard on Jason's stomach.
"Owwwwwwwwwww....ooooh shit!"
Jason turned over, facing away from Scott, as if having his gut bashed in with a baseball bat.
"Shit, I didn't even hit you that hard... what a woosie!" Scott joked.
Turning back, Scott targets his bro's stomach, looking.
"Shit! At least I didn't `think' I hit you that hard?" Scott sort of apologizes.
"Well you did, asshole, so I think I owe ya!"
"Is that a challenge I hear coming on, bro?" Scott said, enthused.
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Jase accepted the challenge.
Making a fist, Scott says, "Um, could it be because I've got big hands?"
"That was like three years ago, bro. I know when we took turns working over Brian's abs, he always favored you. However," Jason held his left hand flat, pounding his right fist against it, "I think I have more of an advantage now?"
"Whatever. Okay, you're on, but I get first dibs," Scott more than suggests.
"How do you figure that?" Jason questions.
"Same as when we dueled with the belts. It was my idea. Remember how you claimed you go first?"
"I remember."
"So I'm calling first dibs on the gutpunching. How do you want it?"
Scott wasn't leaving any room for discussion, Jason accepting the weak logic, as he saw it. Jase thought back three years, when Scott allowed him to be present at the first gutpunching session, with Brian. He recalled the way Brian positioned himself, for the tryout punch, before Scott strung him up in bondage.
First Scott laughed, before saying, "For a guy who never worked out in his life, you sure have a nice set of abs!" He placed his fist above Jason's navel, trying to decipher if the formation of Jase's abs could be defined as a two-pack!
"You gonna do it or what?" Jase asked, trying to breath like Brian had, keeping his abs tensed.
"In good time, bro," Scott replied, a toothy grin on his face, as he relaxed his hand, letting the backs of his fingers massage his bro's teen tummy trail.
Feeling a bit of trickery in him, Jase suggests, "If you like it so much, why don't you lick it!"
At first Scott kept a straight face, staring into Jason's eyes. Slowly the edges turned up, until he replied, "Lick it, huh?"
"Well, you're playing with it like you were a fucking bitch-boy!"
Jase's comments made Scott laugh out loud, when he realized Jason was right. "Bitch-boy eh?"
As if his boyfriend doing it, Jason let out a soft moan, as Scott leaned over, his tongue grazing up the teen trail, something he would not do, lowering himself, to only one person in the world. Suspicious, Jase didn't let go of his concentration. Possibly, it had been a tactic to throw him off track, but he wasn't falling for it, returning to the tensed position, abs stiff, the constant breathing, already wise to the fact Scott liked playing mental games, before delivery. Throughout the years, when Scott allowed Jason to play with men he brought into his lair, Jase always complimented Scott on the same thing, over and over, `I like how you psyched the guy out, before torturing him'. The thought did lend to catching Jason a little off guard, at least he wasn't thinking of Scott's fist, when it was thrown into his gut!
"Umpff!" Jason belched, followed by a fit of moaning, doubling over, bringing back thoughts of how he had gutpunched Brian, in that boiler room, for the first time, years ago. His knees hit the floor, as his arms caressed his abs.
Even though they weren't `real brothers', having been legally adopted by Rob Friend, the two had developed a great sense of brotherly affection. Putting one of them to the test, the twenty-two year old dropped to his knees, placing his arms around his bro, hugging him, as if a parent cuddling a child, saying, "I didn't think I hit you hard."
If a third party had been observing the two, huddled on the floor, viewing Scott, his arms around Jase, his lips sweetly kissing his neck, his head, they would have thought the two a loving couple.
"Like you said," Jase gave in, "I can sure give it, but taking it I'm a real woos."
"C'mon," Scott replied, an arm helping his bro up, "you still have your turn, then we'll call it even and go get some pizza... my treat."
With an almost muted, "Okay," Jason let Scott help him up. However, on the way to his feet, Jase spotted something very interesting, next to the closet; the baseball bat, used while hitting pop flies to each other, in their spacious backyard.
Wiping off his brow, planing the sweat from his arms, Jason stalled, watching Scott get into position. He assumed nearly the same position, feet spread slightly apart, preferring to place his elbows high, fingers interwoven, behind his head, as Brian had.
"When did you start working out?" Jase questioned him.
"College. I tried out for the swim team, but didn't make it. I convinced the coach to let me use the weight room."
"Uh yeah, and how did you manage that?" Jason read into it, thinking more to the story.
Scott didn't fail him, telling the short version of the story, as he held his position. "He was a tough sarge', when working the swim team, but in the weight room he morphed into this little woosie. Yup, we met faithfully everyday for my pushup' workout!"
Smiling, Jase just shook his head, picturing his bro, stripped to the buff, a guy positioned under his pubes, pushups making Scott's 9.5c plunge in and out ot the guy's mouth. "So, I suppose you gave his orifice a `hard' workout?"
"Um, not only his mouth," Scott more than hinted.
"Sounds cool. Ready for your abs to get tucked in?"
"Anytime, bro," the twenty-one year old said, a smile across his lips, as he viewed the moderate-sized fist.
"Would be cooler if you didn't know it was coming, eh bro?" Jase hinted.
"Ah, sure. Yeah, whatever you want, bro. I guess it could be interesting," Scott replied, closing his eyes.
"Not peaking, are you?"
"Nope," Scott replied, opening one eye.
"Now, why don't I trust you. Where's one of your blindfolds?"
Smirking, Scott replied, "In the drawer of the night table. Shit! What's this world coming to when you can't even trust your own bro!"
Reporting back with the black item, similar to the ones insomniacs use, to blot out the light, Jase replies, "Yeah, like the warning you gave me when you plowed your fist into my gut?"
"Oh, I didn't? I thought I did," Scott tried conning Jase, playing stupid.
After slipping the blindfold over Scott's head, sealing off his eyes to the dark world, he asked, "Ready?"
"Whever you are, bro," Scott replied cheerfully, confident Jason's smaller fist wouldn't register, his six pack tensing.
Smiling, Jase looked at the bat, while walking towards the closet. From the distance of a few feet, he heard Scott say, "Whenever you're ready, bro!" He smiled, seeing the small grin on Scott's lips.
"I'm ready," Scott threw another hint, as his hand wound around the skinniest end of the bat, lifting.
To satisfy some of Scott's anticipation, Jase placed his barefist against his bro's nearly smooth abs, pressing in, hinting the delivery of the gut punch. As he held the fat end of the baseball bat up, an inch or so from point of impact, Jase warned, "Ready?"
"Like an hour ago?" Scott sarcastically rendered.
Not sure of how hard to hit, Jase moved the bat back, away from Scott's defining lines, the makeup of his six pack. One of the things making him stall, was just how hard to fling the bat into Scott's stomach.
"Ready for that `big hand' to make jelly out of my abs!" Scott teased.
It wouldn't have been a bad taunt, but the added laugh, intentionally to mock, forced Jason's hands, to swing the bat way back behind him. With a grin, vengeful thoughts provoking him, Jase swung the wooden baseball bat forwards, as if wanting to score a home run.
"Arrrrrggghhhhhh!" Scott described the feeling, as he caved in, to the floor, lying faced down. He lay there, flat out, arms under him, holding his stomach, eyes still blotting out the light.
With haste, Jason decided to keep his secret hidden, putting the baseball bat back in place. Kneeling down, his response was more fake, then Scott's gentle, kind thoughts, asking, "You okay, Scott honey?" It's then he whipped off the mask.
"Oh shit!" Scott said, when he tried to do a pushup, in his quest to get up.
Shaking his head, Jase said, facetiously, "I didn't realize I hit you that hard!"
Having his pride to deal with, Scott made the effort to at least roll over onto his back.
"Will you look at that!" Jason said, looking at the round, pink spot of Scott's abs.
"What?" Scott said, curious to look where his bro was staring. "Oh shit!" he gasped, as he propped his bod up on his elbows, enough to see the point of impact. "Damn, bro! Have you been working out or what?"
"My hand hurt a little," Jase responded, his left hand rubbing over his right fist. Not wanting to leave a defeated, lasting impression, he said, "You sure have some tough abs there, bro!"
"Not tough enough. Shit, I gotta start hitting the gym twice a day!"
"Won't the swimming coach like that?"
As Jason helped his brother to his feet, Scott caved in and started taking back every demeaning thing he said about his brother, regarding his weaknesses.
"Maybe you can stop in at the gym and we can work out together," Scott said, as they dressed.
"I dunno. Do you think the swimming coach will like it?"
"Like I'd give him a choice?" Scott replied, a slight giggle, which made his stomach ache.
Scott's stomach even hurt more, but his cock kicked in, taking up the slack, as Jase said, "Maybe we can do pushups at both ends?"
"Sounds hot," Scott repied, excited. "But I get first dibs!"
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Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.