% This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature.
% States and countries have various rules regarding reading or viewing adult material'. It is up to you, the reader, to research this subject, abiding by laws and conscience. The pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an `adult audience.' Bypass this warning at your own risk!
% If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story.
% Sexual safety matters. Guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection and I don't mean going out and hiring a security guard...unless he gives your nuts and bolt a jolt!
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`GLaDiaToR EV'ry DaY' 15 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
Amazing how things, unplanned, can progress on their own, following the will of strong hearts.
John, he couldn't fight the feeling off, Brice having such a hold on him. One of the things he felt so comfortable with, not which he didn't have the same with Kelly, was the idea of caring.
One step further, was not putting off emotions. It took a long time, whereas he and Kelly found themselves in bed, lying together.
On the other hand, with Brice, things seemed to zoom at warp speed!
Somewhere along the way, between entering the back gate and the pool, both had lost their clothing. Therefore, nothing prohibited them from feeling each other up.
John, he wasn't sure about all this, but it seemed Brice led the way for him.
He didn't even spread a towel out on the pool apron, Brice sitting, then lying back, pulling John right down on top of him.
While hands mingled, roamed, lips engaged.
Soon, Brice found John hard as himself.
"Oh," is all John could say, feeling Brice's hand caress his shaft.
In return, over-anxiously, Brice says, "ready?"
It didn't take a rocket scientist, nor a less fortunate boy from the burbs of Nashville, to understand the meaning, but without experience, "I dunno, the fact is."
Making up John's mind for him, he had John on his knees. Not for the purpose of making him hard, Brice was already there.
Instead, he lay back, grabbed under his kneecaps with both palms and said, "all ready and waiting. Better make it quick, before either of us lose it?"
John was contemplating. Balls hanging down, but cock shot straight out in a level line, he knew he had to think faster. However, his brain seemed to be cranking away on overtime and without having to think much, he inched John inched his way forward. Such was the task, he didn't wish to scrape his knees against the concrete, he inched his way forward until he was within range.
"Am I okay enough for you?" Brice asks, concerned over contorted enough to expose his ass ring.
"Yeah," John replies, but not sure, "you're okay."
Instead of looking at what he was doing, John felt his way forward.
Not his first time in this position, Brice lets go of one leg, reaches in between, cupping both balls with his hand, "that make it easier to find your target?"
Not answering, John appreciated the thought, but no, his hand on the pistol, he was finding his own way.
Then, pay dirt, all Brice had worked them both up into, he could relax, "oh-h-h-h," feeling the tip of John's cock at the garage door. "Yeah, baby, that's it! That's it! You got me now."
It was a strange feeling for John and he thought of backing out, but it's one of those things, wanting and freezing in place, with the uncertainty of the outcome.
Remedying that, Brice does a crunch and with both hands takes hold of John's lithe bod. Pulling, as his bod reclines, John has no choice but to sink forward.
Soon, neither has to lead, nor follow. Each, acting on their own accord, go through the motions of the sexual experience. Neither is with reserve, moaning, sharing with each other how good the feeling is.
That is, until Kelly and Kevan walk in the back gate!
He meant to have the new gate fixed, oiled, so the little squeak would not break the silence of the usually serene setting. But, Hugh Bonhomme was new to house management, so his priorities were a little screwy. Seeing who he would come to know as Jason Barr, on a ladder, suddenly there was a rearrangement of that to-do list, the immediate matter rising to the top. Therefore, when Kelly opened it, it squeaked something fierce!
Even though Brice's whole bod molded around accepting John's shaft up his mine, shoulders angled upwards, head in the palms of his hands, much like a muscle man would be doing a crunch. Honestly, even though Brice wooed the ladies, he never really had the drive for sex. A totally different approach with men, he not only loved the feel of hands, bodily friction and the ultimate, feeling a man inside of him, but the electricity included `visual'. Not the whole time John was fucking him, he wasn't inclined to recline, but at this moment, he wanted to take a glance at between their bods, not which he knew for himself, he was rock hard.
"Oh shit! We've got trouble!"
Regardless if a guy's been fucked, or always remained as the `fucker', the drive is intense, which is why Brice's view of Kelly walking in the back gate, either went in one of John's ears, out the other, or clearly over his head, seconds went by, not startled by Brice's warning.
Upon seeing John, at it, like a freight train at full speed, had Kelly stepping lively around the pool.
On his heels, not knowing if he should interfere, was Kevan, with suggestion, "I'm sure it's not how it looks."
Though, he was certain it `was' how it looks and though he's never met John, knew the man he was fucking, his cousin Brice. That left not much alternative to who was who!
He did get the message though, John freezing, his dick still in the mineshaft, when Kelly stood between Brice's feet, looking down upon his boyfriend's forward slump, "really, John?"
Then Kelly, not knowing exactly how to handle all this, flew off the handle, ran to the other gate and made his exit towards the garages.
Knowing all about his cousin, Brice unable to make up his mind over girls or boys, Kevan says, "nice one, cuzz."
Not without care, nor emotion, John had pulled out and even though there was no climax, still his barrel was slick, juicy.
"What do I do?"
Brice hadn't a clue. For himself, he would eventually have much explanation to do on his own behalf, where Willow was concerned. Actually, his situation was a little different, on account of, Willow knew more about himself than he did. She pretty much knew, that leaving Brice alone with a guy, it most likely could lead to some intimacy.
"Gee, I don't know John." Not which he was selfish, though it looked to be, "go after him? But do you think you could finish up here first?"
One right choice he knew he should make, even though John had no experience with matters like this, for sure, if it were Ryan and not Kelly, he would be on it.
Picking up on some of the grammar tossed around from others, John says, "later."
He didn't know what he grabbed. Could have been a towel, Brice's undies, or his own, for certain, in the hand which was not wiping his slick shaft and sweaty pubes, John was tossing around his pants, ready at any moment to step into them.
"Dammit," Brice took it out on his own shaft, slapping his cock, watching it bob back and forth like one of those roly-poly toys. Though, left there to fend for himself, he did make an attempt to slide a hand up and down the barrel.
It didn't work for him. Settling for an imitation, of John plugging his hole, working it, wasn't anything like the real thing.
Shaft doing another roly-poly move, Brice finally realizes its not gonna happen. Though, he had to admit it felt kind of erotic slapping his cock around!
He filed that away for future reference, sat up, got up and after finding his briefs, with John's juices soaked into it, put them anyway. Another find, the aroma kind of turned him on. Gave Brice a few more pulses, with thoughts of `John' wetting down his erection. It wasn't as bold as once was, but still it rung his chimes.
Meanwhile, Kelly found his way to the garages. Unlike sanctuaries of the past, Jared's bedroom, the rented house at college, where he could confide in Sam/Willow, nor have Doc Watson available for comment, Kelly found some solace in peering through the rungs of the ladder, still up against the garage.
It came unexpected, Kevan's big hands over Kelly's shoulders, and without words to express, "hey," he rubs forwards, backwards, outwards, inwards.
In the moments of consolation, Kelly found the approach much different than that of John. In all, the treatment was not like John at all. Perhaps that is what made all the difference. Standing on the first rung of the ladder, he realizes that something made of wood could never offer what human emotions can.
Stepping down, one foot, slowly the other on blacktop, slowly Kelly thinks, `if I turn around, there's no going back.'
Having lost his grip on Kelly's shoulders, Kevan backed off, waited for a reaction.
At that moment, John shows up, barefooted, in shorts, which because of the khaki color `shows', "Kelly, I'm-ma real sorry, I am. I don know what come over me!"
Knowing his cousin, not which he thought Brice malicious, just stoopid, Kevan says in hardly an audible tone, "I bet I can!"
Kevan has teased Brice often, `like how else could he figure out if he were gay, if he didn't participate in it?'
Perhaps Brice's clumsy attempt at being skillful, show that stoopidity. With the wet briefs fail, he took up with a towel to cover `the evidence' of what he and John did, saying, "hey, are we all cool...about what just happened?"
Seeing that John and Kelly had to talk', Kevan takes his cousin by the shoulder, "no, we're not all cool,' Brice. Why don't I explain it to you."
There was much history between Brice and Kevan.
Brice, the oldest of the Carnes clan, he was expected to be the leader among the family of 5 siblings.
Their parents were of the type who spent their whole lives building a business and in order to provide for future generations, gave it their all and all, working crazy hours to bring it all together.
Therefore, responsibility had to fall on the shoulders of the strongest of the siblings. Colleen, a year younger than Brice, was next line.
Kevan, an outcast from a family they didn't know of, nor the specifics, he came to live with Uncle Kevin. They knew he was legally adopted, but unsure of all the details. That part wasn't important. They knew his real name was Keran, but people often mistook it for `Kevin', being he and his uncle looked like fruit which fell from the same family tree. People and peers thought this the case, that after a while it just stuck. Saying to his uncle he didn't really mind, to keep accounts separated within the family, Keran adopted the one-syllable change.
More important than taking a liking to the name, Kevan was overjoyed by the family who took him in, made them like he was one of their own bloodlines.
The point of all this, Kevan's adopted cousin, Brice, out of no fault but conflicted over whether he liked girls or boys, would be termed, `screw up.' Being the same age as Kevan, twenty-eight, they find more than age a mutual ground for friendship.
Living in the same neighborhood, they went to the same schools, often the same classes, walked to and from school together, could be mistaken for brothers!
Growing older together, by age sixteen, Brice was more the lean, athletic type, whereas Kevan was maturing into a slightly hairy cub. About this age, they were discovery more surrounding a sexual nature of things.
It's why now, Kevan, like the buddies they always were, has placed an arm over his cousin's shoulder, adding a brotherly touch.
Kevan had kept his mouth shut long enough, "hey, whatever you think you are, you're not."
Brice shook his head, "huh?"
"You never had sex with a girl, right?"
"Uh, no."
"Counting me, and John, you've had sex with two guys, right?"
Not difficult math, Brice says, "right."
"You're gay, bro, but the way you're going about finding out for sure...you don't go hitting on some other man's man."
"Oh," Brice thinks on it, "really? I thought Kelly and John, that they were just friends."
Kevan could only wish. Just a minute ago, with hands on Kelly's shoulders, he had wanted to do more to comfort, but knew, doing what John did, it would put him in a position he didn't think morally right. Call it old-fashioned, maybe that was the kind of guy he was.
Apparently, it was simpler than thought, Kelly and John coming to a mutual understanding, mistaking friendship for something more. It could very well be attributed to both finding new paths, with the suddenness of accepting new responsibility.
For Kelly, thrown into a life of corporate hash, John finding work in the barnyard sector, they were changed men. Gone was the time when they could sit around, joke, act like two guys who didn't have a care in the world.
Actions which would have an impact on others, especially John, truly believing that egg was going to hatch into a live bird, both saw the true consequences, the outcomes if they did not act appropriately within their individual lives. Yep, things were slowly starting to come together.
"I guess Jared was right."
"How so?" John asks.
"We've got to face our responsibilities head on, be a `gladiator'," Kelly enunciates the word, "or else we might not like the outcome. Our father," he had to reflect a minute, on whether he wanted to say something to match words with greatness, or leave it subtle, chooses, "he always said that, that what we do now, will surely affect someone else, later on."
Act of forgiveness, or rather thinking he was a better man than his father, Kelly felt good about what he said, not regretting a word. It then fell on Willow, something about going to bed every night, in forgiving all transgressions which came about during the day, waking up with a fresh, new approach to the day ahead.
Not as educated as Kelly on such matters, John could see this, even though a high school dropout, "I get what yer sayin'."
Kelly had smiled, over the first time words came out of John's mouth. Just using a simple word like git', in lieu of get', was strange to his way of communication. Maybe Brice was having an effect of John, which brought his mind right back around, to catching the pair on the pool chair!
Above everything, the buddies came to a shared understanding, they would remain friends, that John was welcome to stay on at his place, "although, I don't think it's a good idea we sleep in the same bed!"
Having some insight Kelly didn't have, John says, "Brice says a room at the barn is his. He says I can bunk with him."
It's then Kelly smiles, thinking, unlike himself, maybe John has struck up more than a friendship, "whatever suits you." He also let it be known there weren't any bad vibes between them, "but if it doesn't work out, I'm still your friend."
No words could seep into John's brain, which expressed how he felt right now. For certain, it's been a long haul from Nashville, no one being as kind as Kelly, which he felt deserving of a hug.
Being what his family had passed down from generation to generation, over and over, time and time again, Kelly has found it to be true. Instead of going into a frenzy of worry and anxiety, a gladiator stands up, facing the future, turning that moment that could bring a person down and making them rise above.
"Of course," Kelly says, moving towards his lover-turned-friend, embracing him for a bro-hug.
"Hey, you two wanna get a room?"
Initiating the hug, Kelly breaks it apart.
Facing Brice, Kelly says, "how about the room you have at the barn, Brice?"
Seeing Kelly being playful, Kevan throws his 2-cents in, "hm, Brice, that would be new for us, eh?"
Kelly studies the cousins standing there, Kevan leaning with an arm on Brice's shoulder, one foot straight. The other foot, casually placed so his whole bod relies on Brice not moving an inch, thus toppling him to the ground.
With frowning eyebrows, which lighten up with a raised look, Kelly, being nonjudgemental, says, "I feel like I've only scratched the surface with you, Kevan."
Sometimes, with some guys, there's dirty laundry, which a guy doesn't care to have aired out in public, which has Kevan diverting the subject, "well, have you worked everything out with John and you?"
"Yeah, we worked a lot out," Kelly replies, well aware of their conversation going off course.
Kevan had a wanting, to take this handsome stud in his arms, but holds back. He's had his heart hurt before, due to his own transgressions. Not wanting to repeat history, "good. And, the outcome?"
Whereas Kevan and Kelly were discussing their own future, John had worked his way over to where Brice was standing.
"We're taking a break and just being friends for now," was the best Kelly could offer.
"Well then, let me know when you're ready for boyfriend number two?"
Looking beyond today or tomorrow, Kelly says, "really, I'm looking for more than that at this point, but I'd like to take it slow this time around."
He was already infatuated with Kevan and felt a likewise attraction, so Kelly was not at all disinclined to act straightforward. Reaching an index finger forward, he slipped it in, right at Kevan's belt buckle. Like a retracting puppy leash, he stepped forward, rather than reel the fish in on his line.
Kevan responds with a simple, "oh," with not expecting the unexpected, "moving kind of fast, are we?"
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Meanwhile, Jared had met up with Callum, right at the end of HG training. He had hoped to be in on it, but duty had called and they had to split in separate directions.
"Do you always have an excuse like that to get out of training?" he confronts Jared.
That system with the colored lockers, it didn't work out, except for the fact, if a dude left his clothing in a red locker, he returned to it. Upon opening, he still had to shuffle through some other guy's shorts, shirt, socks, underwear or other clothing items, to get to his on the bottom. So much for individualism!
"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Jared says, smiling, watching for Callum's reaction.
They had already made a connection, but Callum wanted to make sure Jared knew he was still interested. First things first, though, "I'm blue."
With bleak response, Jared says, "oh good."
Picking up on it, Callum, stripping his training shirt, which he already had one sleeve armless, "I meant `blue', like in my blue locker color?"
"Oh. I knew that."
"Not," Callum was wise.
Both had come together at the building, built expressly to house those going to and fro to HG practice and on the rebound. Such was the importance of the Highland Games, to Jared. Originally he had a vengeful lust to come in first every year. First time was a total failure.
Training was key. Next event, he was least giving his regiment of factory, farm, store, estate workers a fighting chance. In addition to giving it their all in all, Jared enticed them with amenities, like weekend attractive grooming facilities, such as the HG common area, where they were standing now. Other events, to show he care, weekend banquets, rent-free dorms, free `meal tickets' and hiring trainers who not only toted the muscle, but had pleasing personalities. Having every trainer fully checked out, Jared had to really explain to Aty, convincing why he hired Callum on the spot, rather than seek out references and other ways to check out a perspective employee. Aty gave Jared a hard time, but could see, there was more there than merely hiring another trainer!
Between yesterday and today Jared had lost focus on serious matters, "yeah," he began to back down from his rigid personal professionalism, knowing Callum had found him out.
"So," he fully takes his sweaty shirt, wraps it up into a ball and pressing by, uses it against Jared's shoulder, "if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get to my `blue' locker?"
If he wasn't actually entertained by Callum's shenanigans, Jared might had thought it rude. Pressing a soiled, stinking shirt against his shoulder and letting it drop, had him feeling up his own chest to catch it. Not really into it like some guys, his nostrils picked up on the sweat. Associating it with a sweaty man, soiled bod, pressing chest to chest, hands sliding all over shoulders, down pecs, abs, feeling moist, wiry pubes...man, he knew he could go on like this, but eventually suffer from a longing which he could not back out of.
Shopping the interior of his locker, Callum says, "oh, here, let me take that."
In doing so, reaching out a hand, taking his shirt back, Callum exclaims, "Oops!"
Not at all minding the clownish attitude, a hand pulling at the shirt which was rightfully his, Callum left Jared with a sly smile on his face, "that's harassment, you know?"
Physically lifting Jared's shirt overhead, exposing that fine, hairy physique, Callum says, "well, then you'll excuse me if I kick it up a notch?"
With parking Jared's shirt at the back of the neck, a physical feat, since it was a buttoned down style, it didn't phase Callum, eager to turn harassment into the more sexual kind of offense.
Not which it didn't phase Jared, wanting it to go more than a comfortable distance.
A smoothie himself, Callum had lusted, not only for Jared's lips, but to run hands up and down those packed, hairy pecs, over abs, but had to stop and unbuckle the belt before feeling to see if Jared shaves his balls!
"A-hem, guys, like you didn't see the sign, `no loitering'?"
Distracted by about what was to resonate, a result of their actions, Callum and Jared turn their attention towards the locker alley way.
Jared, of all people should know, himself coming up with the whimsical signs, to be placed at key locations, which prohibited this kind of activity.
He had to be reminded, "uh, the `no loitering' signs, posted throughout the facility?"
However, both show more interest in the guy holding the mop, stuck in the recesses of metal bucket on wheels. And, he wasn't some young kid!
"I'll handle this," Callum steps forward. "Um, do you know who you're addressing?"
Having one up on the couple, who were about to engage in man-to-man activity, the janitor leans his mop on a locker and like meeting his adversary in the ring, steps forward.
"Wild guess?"
His assumption had him slapping his chest against Callum's massive, sweaty chest and grabbing him behind the neck, pulls him into a lock hold of lip smacking!
At first, Callum responds with both hands against the janitor's chest, pushing away. If at all feeling danger, he would have set them in a boxing mode, bruising abs. Instead, much like he intended for Jared, `damn!', Callum thought he had the edge on sweet-kissing!
Then, still caressing, the janitor places his head on Callum's shoulder, and looking beyond, at the look on Jared's face, reaches his arm under a pit, "hey, I'm Sven."
It's then Callum does pry them apart and because of the sweet kiss, "nice to meet you. I'm Callum."
That was nice, but he was confused, Sven straightening him out, "no. I meant the guy I stole you away from."
Finally, Jared, half-shell-shocked from the initial action, taking it in the real sense and not some locker room porn scene, steps forward. He couldn't go through Callum, obviously, but because he was there and the lockers opening up only a narrow channel, all he could resort to was feeding a hand in between Callum's arm and side, "likewise."
There was no denying, Sven a handsome man, short sides to each side of his head, moderately cut on top, a mix of reddish-brown. His cropped beard show signs of graying, but none show on the chest, nor stomach. This became apparent, when Callum, frozen place, gave Jared the feasibility to look over the top of the shoulder, down into the manmade crevice.
During college days, Jared could afford to act more frivolous. Being a big business man, those frisky days seemed to change forever. Though, he knew, sometimes there could be driving forces which tend to drive a man beyond rational thinking. Nine out of ten times the action came before logic.
Callum wasn't immune to Sven's grin either. How could he, nor Jared pass up on the clue, them all of the same gender-bending. The caress, kiss, Callum certainly got the message, but when Jared had peered down into the valley, the visual told him they were both as horny as himself, which is why he felt an inclination to reach forward with both hands.
In doing so, he corralled Callum in, going for both protruding crotches.
Even though Callum was feeling up Sven's incredibly beautiful, shapely, hairy bod, he was also conscious of Jared's caress from the rear. The only thing disturbing to Callum,, was what was poking him in the bum!
Versatile, which is not how Jared thought of himself, thinking about the change over when hitting college, his desires ran strong, wishing Callum had stripped out of more than his shirt minutes ago.
"You've got fine pecs here, Sven," Callum says.
Feeling frivolous, Sven takes Callum's hands in his, slapping them against his own pecs, "feel free to explore further."
Fingers right over the center of Sven's pecs, Callum took the hint.
The whole trio clams up, hearing doors creak open, then slam shut. First time, it was some guy returning from HG practice. With more slam-shuts, creaking, it meant soon they would be surrounded.
"Uh, later," is how Jared remedies the almost-threeway-sexcapade.
Sven grabs mop and bucket, wheeling it like commanding a hockey puck across the ice, making an about face. Hand without the mop readjusts the stick between his legs.
More sentimental in his approach, Callum turns to face Jared, but rather than engage in some sweet somethingness, "shower?" is all he says, giving some sense of direction.
Somewhere along the line, Callum's perspiration-stinking, soiled jersey had wound up on the floor. Reaching down and picking it up, Jared held it out in an effort to return it to its rightful owner. Instead, that `aroma' kicks in again.
Quick as things had escalated, they were considerably wound down, with the motivation removed.
Sven had not completely alienated himself, but when he returned, it was without mop and bucket. With Callum headed towards running water, he says to Jared, "uh, better keep this under wraps. I hear the head boss is a real bastard when it comes to `obeying the rules'."
Not yet ready to reveal himself as the head boss around here, Jared says, "oh really? I hadn't noticed."
"Yeah. I hear," Sven lowers his voice, places lips to Jared's ear, "rumor has it, he had his own brother flogged for doing some stupid thing. You better watch out for him."
Going along with this, as something humorous, when Jared hears the bent truth, he's ready to stand up for himself. Except, upon hearing the fabricated tidbit, is stunned more than anything, which keeps him from uttering words, other than, "I gotta go."
One thankful thing, it gave Jared the heads up, about how others thought about him. Sure, he was stern, but never wanted the reputation of a dictator. Walking out the HG Commons door, he needed to walk.
With that, Sven went about his business. Though he had much expertise on farm living, he didn't mind at all swabbing floors, keeping mirrors spotless, filling soap dispensers. Making sure the `No Loitering' sign was enforced...apparently for everyone but himself!
First day at his assigned job, he was already receiving his share of smiles, the proverbial, hey there', or just hey', a few guys seeming like there was more interest, `hey there, have I seen you here before?'
It made Sven smile to himself, feel giddy, when mopping up an aisle away, hearing over the lockers, two guys chatting, touching on the subject of the new janitor'. How else does a 40-year old guy know he's still in the ball game, but from the opinions of other guys. It's a special compliment, when they are ten or twenty years younger. Upon hearing he's got a hot bod', well Sven was ready to hang his mop up for the day.
Then it hit him, that damn `no loitering' sign!
Part of his day he hardly saw anyone, until he thought he was about to get it on with Callum and...
Leaning on the mob, he thinks back, `I never got the other dude's name'. Oh well, when a guy looked as hot as those two, certainly Sven wasn't going to forget, the next time he ran into them.
He knew, next on everyone's agenda was rustling up some grub, so none were lingering. It was like a script, guys showering, dressing and then hightailing it out of there.
When they came in the door, most of the patrons of the commons were already stripped from the waist up. As protocol, those tops were deposited in the common hamper. Sven smiles, thinking how he not minded that duty at all, emptying it into trolleys. Aty's direction, on the laundry was simple. Even simpler to follow, he left it up to Sven's discretion, on which area to attack, with mop, cloth and cleanser.
Expecting the first friend he made, Callum, might have left long ago, Sven is surprised, when hearing, "still mopping up after these slobs?"
Turning about, he's startled, "Just trying to keep the floors clean enough to eat off of!"
Dressed in tee shirt, shorts, socks, sneakers and a gym bag over one shoulder, Callum says, "let's hope it never comes to that!"
"Yeah," Sven suddenly runs out of words.
"Well, I would think, the janitor needs to eat and if you're up for it, I'll drop my gym bag off at the dorm and swing by here?"
"Sure. I have to admit," Sven says, "you're the first friend I've made and it would be good to have someone to help navigate around. Only place I've seen is the path from the parking lot to here."
"You weren't assigned a building and a room?"
"Nada. I was a day late in getting here. The man I talked with, Aty, he didn't tell me where I was staying. Got my stuff still packed away in my car. He said to get going on the job and he would sort things out by the end of the day."
"Well," Callum looks at his watch, "the end of everyone's day is in about 20 minutes. Let's hope he comes through."
Sven hoped too. He wasn't up for camping out in his car tonight. Conservatively, that was his `motel room', for his whole trip from Michigan. Take it, it wasn't like doing cross country, but nothing like a nice room at the Hilton, complete with all the amenities money can buy, which at the moment, Sven was in great need of what could buy luxury!
"What's your job around here," other than making out in the locker room, "you know, for work?"
Callum speaks up, "right now I'm training men for the Highland Games. My friend," he play along with the charade, "I guess you can say he dabbles in a little bit of everything around here."
"That's what this Aty has implied about me. My family, we're farmers, but right now he says there's not much of a farm to work with. Eventually, that's where I hope I can put my expertise to work, but for now, I'm working wherever the need calls me."
If it were the right atmosphere, if he had the time, Callum might have been able to sit around, have a beer, talk about who was from where, family and other topics. Instead, his watch was ticking away. He had a `date' to meet up with Jared at the dinner table, main dining hall.
"Well, look, I better hit the shower."
Busying himself with mopping the floor, Sven couldn't help but swing by the showering area. He also thought it might be a good time to check, make sure the soap dispensers were full!
"Knock, knock," he knocked, vocally making his presence known, outside Callum's shower door.
There was one en masse shower area, where a dozen could congregate, but also four smaller, private showers. Made for one, two could comfortably squeeze in.
Not immediately getting a response, Sven helped himself to jacking the handle and opening it, got the surprise of his life, "oh! I'm so sorry, Callum. I didn't hear the water running and..." and he smiles, looking upon the naked bod, drenched.
Only difference, it wasn't who Sven thought it was, instead, some bulked out, bearded dude, dark haired, as opposed to Callum's strawberry blond.
Wide-eyed at the onset, the shower-er has already given Sven the once-over, "well, I guess I'll have to cut you some slack, being that you `did' give me the courtesy of knocking."
Right away, Sven's surprise look on his face turns into a smile, "yeah, well, I always try to be that way." Quickly, he uses the same excuse he was going to pull on Callusm, "uh, you wouldn't be needin' any soap, would you?"
Sven held up a blister pack of runny soap, same shade as man-sap.
"Gee, it's hard to see," his mystery man examines the dispenser, "but looks like it's running on empty?" he uprights himself, turning back to Sven. He knew, when first pumping the dispenser, lots of soap came out in his hand, but being he didn't want to `hurt' the janitor's feelings, "good thing you came along."
Half-naked, Sven walks into the shower. What he didn't count on, was the shower spigot still pointed towards the center of the stall.
"Oh! Don't know what's wrong with me," there are giggles.
At least Sven knew, the showerer wasn't annoyed at being surprised.
"I should at least have pointed the shower head in another direction."
Since he had never tested it before, Sven didn't really know if this size shower stall were big enough for two. Swiping easily past, "the water doesn't bother me, but thanks."
On the spot, quick response-reach to the shower head, had the streams attacking the side wall.
"No problem," noticing Sven only slightly wet.
"Oh no!"
"Problem?" he asks Sven.
A mass of gummy soap had coagulated around both their feet. First attempt at filling the dispenser, Sven had burst the soap pouch. He had noticed that, earlier on in the job, those damn plastic soap packs, with the cheap plastic, outer skin.
"Don't move! I've got it all under control," Sven cautions.
Getting down on his knees, Sven briskly works his hands on the shower floor, pushing soap towards the drain.
"Hey," he looks up for a second, catching a glimpse of a hand, caressing a set of balls. By right, the hand was too small to act as a closed cradle, between each finger, bulges of ball hair showing.
"Uh, would you mind, pointing the shower head down to your feet?"
"Certainly."
Reaching overhead, much as he tries positioning it down, the true target evades the proper angle. With a sound of frustration, clicking of his teeth and a short, "dammit," the water is hosed downwards.
This time, Sven was the recipient of being blindsided, but without the soap. It also caught his balance off guard, knees of his overalls making legs slip out from under, sending him on his rump.
A never fail situation, whenever he put on his working overalls, Sven would get as sweaty as hell, reason dropping the top down and using the shoulder straps to harness it to his waist. Not a totally secure way, he was always hiking the pants up from the rear. However, when he fell on his bum, it acted as if the front of his pants sagged.
"Now I suppose, I'm the one who should be apologizing?"
This time, even though down below, Sven hadn't a glimpse of that lovely, enticing crotch, looking at the figure in a bent over stance, arm stretched out, a hand sweeping past his chin, "here. Give hands."
Unfortunately, Sven forgot he had soap on his hands, so that when he reached up with both and clung to the arm of kindness, they slipped from forearm, down to the hand, which set him whining, "oh no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o!"
Sven did remember he had soap on his hands, so user his hairy forearm to clear his face of water. Same time that he should be `crying', instead was laughing!
Before it could be claimed as who's fault this was, Sven says, "my fault, my fault, my fault!"
"Oh geez," the showering man shared in grief. "Don't tell me...now you've got soap in your eyes?"
Sven tried blinking. It didn't work, but shared, "yeah. Dumb thing to do, for a person handling soap, eh?"
"Hold on. I'm coming down!"
Worst part, Sven wasn't attuned enough, except for hearing, to watch the man struggle to sit or kneel, without falling on his butt, or worse. Perhaps, with an insatiable desire for cock-sucking, he couldn't keep his eyes off of `the crotch!'
"Oh good," he says, making it to his knees. "Now hold still and look at me, uh?"
"Sven."
"Sven, look at me."
Since he gave out his name, it seemed the perfect time, "uh, what do I call you?"
"Bruce Wilson. I'd shake your hand, but I think we've slipped by each other enough times!"
It came to Sven, was that a `pickup line?' In total disregard, "Wait! My left eye isn't bad. I can see through one, at least."
"Well, keep them both closed."
The harsh reprimanding made Sven drop both limbs to the tile.
Next thing, even though a hot shower, Sven felt chills, when a hand touches his shoulder. From there, it slides to his neck. Fingers caress the side of his cheek.
"No matter what you do, don't open your eyes. In fact keep them as tightly closed as you can."
Doing what `the doc' has told him, Sven, after feeling that same hand on his face, and with a matter of a minute or less passing, feels not a hand, but scruffy towel on his face.
"Open!"
Shy to do so, for fear both eyes would still sting fiercely, Sven tries squinting open one, questioning, "like, right now?"
`Beard' staring back at him, "no, tomorrow!"
In all of this duress, it made Sven smile, as he fully opens both eyes. Astounded by how fresh they feel, "wow. How'd you do that, Bruce?"
Brushing back the droplets of his crewcut, "old Army hack." Seconds later, "besides, it was my fault."
"Huh?" Sven wonders, "are you kidding? I'd say you're some kind of hero."
Letting the shower head be, it whipped around, which had Bruce's hands reach up. Instead of grabbing the device, the single control was pulled down, turning off the spray. Bruce realizes he didn't need two hands, but what was done, was done, but mentions what he was thinking, "I guess I only needed one, no matter." For Sven, it did matter, taking in a long glimpse of the beautiful, out-stretched limbs, hairy chest, stomach running like a wet painting, then the hairy pouch. `Beauty' at its best, especially the view of where his eyes concluded the self-guided tour.
"There," Bruce brought both arms down, and like he knew he was being checked out, placed a folded cup over his loins, saying, "now, where were we?"
They sat there, like two boys in a sandbox.
Bruce was amused, by the latitude of Sven's smile, now a straight line. Breaking the ice, "how's the eyes? All better?"
Having the feeling Bruce knew he was stalking him, Sven steers clear of the subject, "I suppose I'll survive"
"Well, like I said, it was my fault this happened." And, the reason it did, would be a tough explain, but he swallows his gay pride, "the soap dispenser was full and..."
"Oh, so you were tricking me into coming in here?"
Wise, playful, Bruce retorts, "like, you didn't have it on your mind to do so, once the door was opened?"
Instead of trying to be as cunning as Bruce, Sven fesses up, "well, might have not had been so awkward, if I didn't think," Sven hesitates, "you were the other guy?"
Instead of running around in circles, Bruce lays it on the line, "so, do I meet the expectations of this `other guy'?"
Tiles still slippery, they had Sven doing all which was possible, to keep his butt from sliding forward.
Sven jokes, good thing you're used to wearing boots in the shower!"
Crawling like a careful baby, Sven moves from one side to the other. It was easier for him, being he still had boots on and pants. The shirt he had removed earlier, tucked into the backpocket, came loose, remaining from where he came. With the overalls slick and loose, and being the company he was in, Sven didn't bother hiking them back up over his crack.
Plopping himself down right next to Bruce, "whew, ever notice how coming out of a lake with clothes on, it's like lifting 10 more pounds of weight?"
He had a feeling, Bruce saying, "yeah and it's also very tough getting wet clothes off!"
By his smile, Sven `knew', "right, which probably I'll need help getting out of them."
His excursion, from one side of the shower to the other, had scooted his overalls down enough, so that when Sven sat upright, the barrel of his shaft was visible.
That bush they stopped chasing each other around, by now Bruce had gathered enough information, and with processing it, was not reluctant to be more playful, hand reaching into the leg-pocket of Sven's overalls, "nice erection you got coming on there?"
It was following by playful glee, Bruce's forced giggling, which seemed to show he was still a little nervous.
"You didn't do so bad yourself," he let on, the obvious, that he had already spied on Bruce's dangling manhood, "though," Sven pauses.
Slowly, Sven's attention diverted from what he thought about Bruce's long shaft, to what his hand was doing to him.
When Bruce suddenly ceases the slow-stroking of Sven's shaft, he gets reprimanded, "no, don't stop!"
Something else on Bruce's mind, when he had Sven slipping down, to lying on his back, knees crunched. No problem for Bruce, who had a different arrangement on his mind, making it easier to pull off the overalls.
In an evil manner, Bruce says, "oh goody. No underwear!"
In a military environment, it's a tough call, when everyone walks around like they are straight'. However, it's not impossible to take hint from another guy's shifty eyes. With a keen sense of gaydar, Bruce could tell' and 10 out of 10 times, he had a good track record recruiting a guy for his own sexual gratification. Sequestered away in a remote area of the base, banging some guy, hanging over a munitions crate, after a couple of years in the same place, Bruce had plenty of distraction from his real purpose for being there.
A game player, or keen on finding out things before digging too deep into a relationship, Bruce has pulled Sven's overalls down the ankles and stopped, "or maybe we should wait till we get to know each other?"
Sven comes back with, "what a crock!" Half-angry tone, "you get me all hyped up, to only let me down?"
Truly, Bruce thinks Sven is totally legit, with grabbing his overalls out of his hands, pulling them up. Bruce could be a joker, but when the other person doesn't think it's funny, "wait a minute. I'm sorry," he relaxes, from kneeling to sitting, "I didn't mean for you to get all bent out of shape."
Maybe a little annoyed that Bruce had built them both up for a let down, Sven was not really hurt by anything, which has his angered disposition mellow out.
Able to crack a smile, "you didn't get me bent out of shape. Maybe a little crinkled?"
Okay, so Bruce was there too, all hard and ready to slip between Sven's legs. Having a nice 8 or 9-inches ready to be processed to completion, it didn't seem fair. At the base, the environment wasn't foolproof. He knew the feeling, of his machine-gun' all loaded, prepped, ready to shoot up, between a guy's legs, only to have to pull out and waste jizz on desert sand'...or...on a buddy's face!
For both though, from the beginning, when Sven had walked in on Bruce, the confined cubicle didn't at all feel like a comfortable environment. As Bruce knew, when getting it on with a guy, in the military, both were always on their guard. Sneaking around was natural, but it on their minds, a penalty if found out. It's a feeling Bruce had, with no secure lock on the shower door, like with Sven, anyone could walk in upon them.
So, to see Sven's hand trying to keep himself hard, Bruce has it on his mind to take it elsewhere, "by the way, where are you staying?"
Knowing where this could lead, Sven says, "um, not really anywhere yet. Aty has yet to assign me. Why? You got a place?"
Bruce knew Sven was `inviting himself,' but he wasn't at all reluctant to turn away such a hot roommate, "being I'm considered more of an elite staff member, I have a private room on the top floor of the dorm."
Sven says, "Oh really? What is it you do?"
"Accountant for the Magonagles. How about you?"
"Well, right now they stuck a mop in my hand. I hold a bachelor's in agriculture, but they have yet to discover my real talents."
"Is that so? Impressive. Just what do your `talents' entail?"
"I'll be working with animals!"
Well, it wasn't far from what Sven lusted for, for Bruce to plug his ass, work it till he pumped out the last gallon!
"If it helps, I can put a good word in with Jared Magonagle?"
Not which Sven honestly thought it, "what's it gonna cost me?"
"Not much," Bruce rose up. Instead of initially cupping balls and cock, he lightly stroked, "A blow job or two!"
A versatile type of lover, who didn't pin names on guys, Sven says, "how about we leave it up to that room you have to offer and see where it goes?"
At 38-years old, Bruce had never been involved in anything but a few one-night-stands, one which went from day to day, till it turned into a week. Other than that he was liking where Sven was coming from, "I think we can draw up an agreeable lease. Uh, how's the eyes?"
"Fine."
"Ready to get out of here?"
"Uh," Sven hoists his own butt up, "we tried that already, remember?"
Thinking on it, to Bruce, it seemed like such a long, long process of getting to know Sven, when in real time, only 20 minutes had passed.
"Oops!"
Bruce laughed at Sven's boner profusely finding release, but for the one in an uncontrollable frenzy, "fuckin' easy for you to make fun."
Responding to Sven's boner shooting off, Bruce feels pity, bending over, "not too late, maybe?"
Whereas he thought he was ready to get his ass plugged moments ago, his idea of what an alpha figure Bruce was, to have him stooped over, open wide and take control of his spurting shaft, in the throes of ejaculation, all he could think of was being that master of his universe. Like a battling warrior, both hands take the place of holding his own shaft and feeling Bruce's crewcut on both hands, forces his hard spike in deep!
He came up coughing out `phlegm', Bruce complaining, "oh man, I never pictured you as..."
Though, Bruce finds his words falling on deaf ears, standing there and watching Sven, like any other man who has experienced one of those moments of a lifetime, equating it to the best jerkoff of all time.
Even though Sven's hands, to the back of Bruce's head, were doing all the work, he hands it off, "oh man, Bruce. You're good," with labored breathing, "so good."
Seeing Sven's knees start to buckle, which he knows the afterglow feeling of mansex, wanting to just lay back, chill out, depleted of energy, "oh no you don't."
Not which Bruce wanted to go through having to haul Sven up off his ass, repeat scenario, with slippery soap and all, he hadn't come and was feeling the pangs of want.
Such was the case, it's not unusual for sex to kick up the energy drive, which has him boosting Sven up against the wall. As his back slides down the wall, Bruce helps to split the legs and with a quick touch of hand to his spike, guides to an awaiting target.
"Oh shit," Sven exclaims, feeling suddenly impaled!
At this point Bruce could care less how Sven feels, himself in ecstasy of his 8-inch fat tube being coated with a sense of warmth.
From there, Sven wasn't given time to think, not which he wanted to, what with Bruce driving him crazy again, from the inside, out!
One thing Sven did think of, was how strong Bruce was, being able to lift his feet off the shower floor, pin his back to the wall and the ability to slide his whole bod up and down, to accommodate that `fuck' sensation.
Neither would remember, how it all came about, Sven lying on the floor, legs in the air, while Bruce `finished him off.'
Only part Sven did remember, very notable, was keeping both hands on top of his head, or else suffer the consequences of having the wall tiles cracked or broken by his tough skull!
It was an awesome finish for both, Bruce falling forward at the conclusion, butterflying Sven's legs.
"Wow, that's the first time I've ever come two times in a row," Sven claimed.
Bruce, who had pulled out in the nick of time, to cast seven streams onto Sven's stomach, could care less, his mumbling words in agreement, "yeah...nice."
Though, good things coming to an end, they had to grasp hold of the situation quickly, when the second round of grimy HG teams can be heard entering the showering facility.
"Dammit!"
Jumping to their feet, they face each other, Sven feeling the mutual complaint, "hey, you're not the only one, you know?"
Both, their own hands feeling up and down chest, stomach, pubes, feel the slimy remains.
"Well," Sven muses, "at least we've got a full dispenser!"
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Copyright 2018 T. Chase McPhee
`GLaDiaToR EV'ry DaY' and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.