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, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states 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.
HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe 04 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"So, what time is the hockey party tomorrow?" Marshall asks as he swings the belt up, in between Hector's legs.
"Ak-k-k-k-k-k-oh-h-h-h-h-fuckin'-shit!"
Not answering soon enough, Marshall mercilessly draws the belt up, thrashing his balls, "I didn't hear you boy!"
"Ak-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k! Afternoon! Two o'clock... I'll be lucky if I can sit down!"
Marshall smiled, returning to his chair to allow Hector to sweat it out.
And sweat it out, Hector surely was, his wrists bound, tethered to the beam above, bod stretched out, separate ropes attached to each ankle and spread wide. Tied around each of the columns, same pillars binding Barrett's arms and legs, before Marshall bound him out on the banquest table. In different fashion, Hector stood, his cock and balls isolated by the slight breeze flowing through the damp basement.
"You know I think you're balls have taken enough punishment and if you want, we can forgo the remaining seventy lashes?"
"Really?" Hector sighed with slight relief, wincing a bit. "Oh that would be great!"
"In exchange for a hot fuck?"
Hector thought this a trick question, so tested it by saying, "Sure. Let me down from these ropes, hump your ass over the table and I'll have no problem doing you!" He waited.
"Not exactly what I had in mind Hector, but I like your style!"
Seeing what Marshall was packing, the eight or nine inches of fully engourged meat hanging between his adversary's legs, he wasn't sure which would be the worst of his punishment, his balls or his ass at stake.
Picking up the leather strap, Marshall says, "Maybe I should remind you which could be the easier outcome?"
"Uh no... um, hold on there. Give me a fuckin' minute?"
"Take your time." And as sneaky as his brother, Marshall says, "You got sixty seconds!"
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Lying there in bed, Hunter was dozing, but because of his still-stingy pecs, Barrett lay half awake. Taking Hunter's hand he placed it on his own pec and manouvered his friend's fingers so they gave himself a semi-massage. 'Mm-m-m,' he thought to himself, slightly humming. It's then Hunter stirred and as he did, Barrett fell backwards onto his back.
Still in sleep, Hunter sort of picked himself up and lay halfway on, halfway off of Barrett's bod.
Wanting more, especially since he could more or less seduce Hunter when he wasn't in control, he shimmied himself so his bod was more under his high school bud. Of course the friction between bods caused Barrett to wince in pain, but like the deed itself, the hot wax dripping on him, his contact with Hunter made the painful effort all worthwhile.
Five minutes into getting comfortable, the bedroom door opens. Without lights it was impossible to see who it was, Barrett asking, "Marshall? Hector?"
Climbing into bed, the intruder says, "It's me, Marshall. Hector went home."
Right away, Marshall nudges his brother off Barrett and scoops him up in his arms.
"So, how's Hector's balls?" Barrett asks, not so much out of concern, but for curiosity's sake.
"Fine. After thirty lashes I told him either he could finish out the hundred or get his ass fucked."
Hoping for the first item, Barrett says, "So he finished out the ball torture?"
"Nah. When it comes to pain he's like so far behind you. He wimped out and got his ass fucked. Real tight I tell ya. Busted his cherry wide open."
"Oh," Barrett said as he lay in Marshall's arms, thinking he was something special to the twenty-five year old. "So, I guess I'm just a torture toy to you?"
Like his brother, Marshall started falling to sleep, answering, "Mm," which Barrett was taking as a 'yes', but with contrasting mentality because their bods faced each other and Marshall had an arm lock on him, bod-to-bod and it to Barrett, sensed security.
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Saturday morning, the whole bed seemed to awaken in spurts.
Hunter, the first to come awake, turned his head over his shoulder, now not doubting Barrett's opinion of him and his brother, the two wrapped up in each others arms. He tried not to awaken them, moving to the edge of the other side of the bed. He was well-versed at doing so because other times, over the course of years, they've experienced waking up and not alone in the bed. Proceeding to the jon, he had a flashback, almost seeing an apparition of Hector, standing in the hot tub with his legs splayed. It then made him curious of how it turned out for his brother. Then, he took a few steps backwards, seeing Marshall and Barrett in the same position in the bed, wondering how this came to be. Minding his own business, he showered, but then realized he hadn't emptied his teen balls last night and with that he recalled one of the few hot scenes. He could've gotten off with paddling Hector's balls, but his attention instead turned to Barrett and their moments
after the pec-icing.
"Oh yeah... oh yeah... oh fuckin' yeah!" he called out with each speed increase of his hand and soon he was creaming the shower wall. "Oh fuck yeah, Barrett!" he exclaimed as his teen seed spurt out, thinking all along his hand was Barrett's ass. Coming down from high up, he stood under the shower, stroking less and less, till his breathing caught up with his hand job. Then, bracing his hands against the tiles, allowed the shower to rain down on him, over his back, until things subsided.
"Hey, bro."
"Oh, it's you," Hunter said, looking over his shoulder.
"Of course," Marshall replied, closing the glass door of the three pane shower enclosure. "Who else would take the chance of coming in here and getting their lights punched out?"
Like normal, because normal as it was, Marshall picks up the bottle of shower gel, squirts some out on his hand, deflects the showerhead and begins rubbing it into his brother's shoulders.
"Oh-h-h yeah. Feels good. So, how did it work out with you and Hector? He go home with blue balls?"
"Nah," Marshall says nonchalantly as he gives his brother an expert massage with the shower gel. "He saw things my way, so I let him off the hook after thirty whacks."
Knowing, Hunter asks, "Tight?"
"Very. I really had to shove myself in to break through the barrier!"
"I love it!" Hunter said with glee, laughing it off.
"He told me afterwards he was hoping it could've been you taking his cherry."
"Me?" Hunter says in exclamation, turning his head to face his bro. "You must've heard wrong, Marsh. If anything, it would have been Hector trying to plug 'my' ass."
"Hector talks it up big, but deep down inside he's really wanting to be owned," Marshall lays it out as he motions Hunter to turn, his finger pirouetting.
As routine goes, when the two are alone, Hunter assumes the 'top' role, Marshall falling to his beckoning needs. "Oh really? I guess we showed him the light, huh?"
"Yeah, and how!" Marshall returns, the two laughing. Continuing his light massage, their bods become close as soapy hands run along the extent of Hunter's arms. "I can't wait till the hockey game this afternoon."
"What hockey game?"
"Hector and his moving buddies. At first he played it cool, but then while I was fucking him he let on I wasn't the first to take his cherry."
"I hope you're going to punish him for that?"
The two smiled at each other before Marshall answers, "Next time and maybe his fuck-buddy will come along."
Then, meaning to bring it up anyway, "And what about Barrett?"
"What about him?"
"You two kissed last night?" Hunter put it to him. "What was that about?"
"He can take a lot of pain, okay?"
Two things clue Hunter in to the deception, his brother's hands stopping their sudsing action and the look on his face. Hunter could tell when somebody wasn't telling the truth and Marshall wasn't any exception, him accusing, "Liar!"
"What're you going to do? Beat the truth out of me?"
Hunter says, "Might be fun!"
"Okay, so I think he's more to me than taking some pain."
"I know."
"You know? What the fuck does that mean?"
Taking the soap bottle in his hand, Hunter squirts some out, rubbing it between his hands. "Your turn?"
They switched positions, Marshall stepping under the shower. But before he could get started, the door rolls open, Barrett standing there and after a big yawn, asking, "Can I do that, Hunter?"
Of course they weren't going to discuss Hunter's intuition in front of Barrett, so he relinquished the soaping up of his brother. "Don't forget to clean his dirty cock!"
As Hunter left the shower, he heard from behind closed doors, "So, it wasn't only my ass that dirtied up your cock last night, huh Marshall?"
It made Hunter smile, wondering 'who was owning whom', but he proceeded to dry off, wrapping the bath sheet around his waist. Normal for a Saturday morning, usually nothing much to do, he would head down to the kitchen for a light breakfast. Not into coffee, he skipped straight to the carton of orange juice, twisting off the cap and guzzling it like a tank of gas. He had just put the near empty carton back in the refrigerator when he's astonished at hearing somebody knocking on the back door. "What tha?" he questions himself, seeing a tall dude, holding a coffee cup in his hand!
Right out, after opening the door, he says, "Hey! I'm your new neighbor from next door and was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar?"
It seemed like the two synonomously checked out the other, their eyes meeting when looking straight forwards.
Hunter replies, "Your baking at like eight o'clock in the morning?"
"It's ten o'clock."
Looking around the room, Hunter's eyes squint at the clock on the wall. "Oh yeah." Then, leaving the door open he turns, looks around and says, "I don't know where the flour is."
"Sugar," the dude says.
"That neither. It could be anywhere!" Hunter says, his hands expressing himself.
"You don't cook for yourself?"
"Nah. Francis is usually here, but he's off today visiting his cousin in LA."
"So, unless you come over to my place for breakfast, you're going to starve?"
Shocked to say the least, Hunter maintains his outwards cool, saying, "What're you? Gay?"
"As gay as you are!"
"And who put you up to such a notion?" Hunter wonders, from whom classified information was passed.
"Gregg Malone."
"Gregg Malone?" Hunter replies. Now he's wonders 'how much' Gregg has shared with his new neighbor.
"'Our' real estate friend?"
Hunter replies, still in the cool mindframe, "Okay, so Gregg told you my brother and I are gay. What else did he tell you?"
"Your brother is gay too?"
"Gregg didn't tell you that too?"
"Nope," the neighbor replies.
"Do me a favor and don't tell my brother I told you?"
Being a nice neighbor, he responds, "I won't if you agree to come over for breakfast?"
"I don't eat breakfast with strangers!"
It was his way of seeking a name.
"Steve Rhys. Now you know me. See you in a half hour?"
As quickly as he entered, he was departing, Hunter stopping him, "What about your cup of flour, Steve?"
"Sugar and 'no'. I think I remember where I've packed it!"
"What tha fuck?" Hunter quizzed the still air in the kitchen.
"Who was that hottie?"
"Off limits to you bro," Hunter answered his brother.
Marshall says, "Oh shit!"
"What?"
"Francis is off. Who's going to make me coffee?"
"I know how to make coffee?" The two draw their attention to the doorway, Barrett standing there, like Hunter, a towel draped around his torso.
Marshall 'wanted to', but with his brother standing there didn't want to admit anything, so replies, "That's cool."
Hunter saw the disappointment on Barrett's face, as if somebody turned down playing with his pecs. "Marsh?"
"Yeah Hunt?"
"Why don't you cut out the fuckin' act and get it on with Barrett?"
"The fuckin' what?" he returns with an audacious attitude, slapping his hand on the counter top. He looks towards Barrett.
Being they weren't into any roleplaying games and seemingly having his best friend on his side, not to mention an ally of sorts, Barrett renders, "I think what your brother is trying to say Marsh, if you like me so much, why don't you show it?"
It backfired. Putting it to Marshall seemed too much for him to handle, him heading towards the door, "Um, yeah, well I had a good time with you last night, Barrett, but I better start getting ready for the hockey game."
Hunter stops him in his tracks, "It's not until this afternoon, bro?"
"I know, but Hector said maybe him, his friend and me can get together early and do some stuff. You know... fool around?"
He and his high school pal were left dumbfounded. As for Barrett, more so.
"I can't believe it. It seemed so... so, like he was... was being real!"
Turning towards Barrett, Hunter sensed he needed more than words of kindness. "Hey, look. I'm really sorry," he walked towards a stunned Barrett, opening his arms to him. "Marsh can act like such a fuckin' jerk sometimes."
"No," Barrett realizes, "maybe it's me."
Their chests touched, Hunter drawing back and venting, "Sorry. Does it still hurt?" meaning his pecs.
"Not as much as...." Barrett replies, whimpering, "as 'that jerk'!"
"I know. Hey! I just got a brilliant idea! Why don't we both get dressed. My new neighbor invited me over for breakfast and you're coming too!"
Cheerfully said, it did lighten Barrett's burden too, him asking Hunter, "You mean that cute dude I saw through the telescope?"
"Barrett, you're pathetic!"
%
"Oh great! You brought your brother!"
"Um, not exactly. This is my friend, Barrett. Barrett, this is Steve."
"I figured so," Steve changed his mind.
Hunter looked like saying, 'huh'?
"You two don't look at all alike. C'mon in," he left them standing at the back door.
"What was that all about" Barrett asks Hunter.
"Dunno, but something smells good," Hunter replies, his nose enuciating his words, taking in whiffs of sweet smells from the kitchen air.
As Hunter led the way, Barrett was thinking, 'Something looks good!'
"So? What's your pleasure? Coffee, tea or me?"
Right away Barrett answers without reluctance, "Hunter can have the coffee and tea. I'll take you!"
"Oh really?" Steve replies, seeming to gravitate to Barrett. "And are you talking in general or a certain 'part'?"
As the two joked, back and forth, Hunter stood there trying to figure Steve out. Underneath Barrett's clothing, he knew what his teen friend beheld. From his outlook on the new neighbor, he already figured he was late 20's, about six feet tall, nice build, some muscle, but the shirt around his stomach suggested needing another thousand crunches!
He's withdrawn from his dreamy state when Barrett exclaims, "Isn't that so cool Hunt?"
"What?"
"Steve is the English professor at Callish Creek!"
Subtley, Hunter replies, "Yeah. Real cool. So do we get stuck taking English 101 from you or are there other professors to choose from?"
"What isn't there to like about me?" Steve asks, taking Hunter's sarcasm jokingly.
Barrett even back him up, "Yeah, I think Steve's cool, so what's up?"
Smiling, Hunter goes out on a limb, "Very tough to tell with your clothes on Steve!"
At first, Barrett was siphoning off all of Steve's attention. Now, with the risky comment, Steve floated towards Hunter, saying as he hinted at lifted the tails of his tee shirt, "Me first, then you?"
"Wow!" Barrett replies as Steve whisks his tee shirt off overhead.
Eyes locking, Barrett's ignored as Hunter follows through, doing a tee shirt lift.
"Mind if I sample one?"
"Nerve!" Barrett says of Steve's comment, but feels for himself, his teen balls beginning to react as the newsy neighbor places a hand under Hunter's left pec and firms up the nip for suckling.
"Ooh-h-h, Steve!" he draws back.
"Sorry. Did I overstep my boundaries.... um, sir?"
It's then Hunter knew Gregg must've said 'something' to Steve, him reacting, "Just what did Gregg Malone tell you?"
Barrett showed some disappointment. By the way Hunter talked about Steve, and after meeting him, he was sure Steve was the one to carry the leash. Hiking his tee shirt up to his neck, Barrett directs, "Hey Steve! Wanna chew on 'my' pecs?"
Glancing over at Barrett, his still-red pecs, Steve replies, "Whoa! Somebody knows how to have some fun!"
Not fighting him, Barrett allowed Steve to run both hands over his still red pecs, sparsely populated by the light brown hair.
"You do this to him?" Steve asks Hunter.
Telling all, now that his secret life wasn't so secretive anymore, Hunter says, "My brother did it. He and Barrett have this 'thing' going." Not sure how much Steve was into the art of bdsm, he let his choice words stimulate food for thought.
As Steve finished up his touchy-feely time with Barrett, dropping his hands, he wielded his direction of attention back to Hunter, confessing, "Wish I could find someone with an interest similar to your brother?"
Seeing he wasn't getting anywhere here, plus stuff to do at home, Barrett drops his tee shirt and says, "Hey, y'know I just remembered I'm like so behind on the paper due for science class on Monday, that if I don't get to it today, I'll like never have it to hand in on time."
"You have all day," Hunter says.
"I know," Barrett replies. "I'm not a brain like you Hunt. It'll take me 'all day' to even think up a topic!"
He didn't even leave time or space for Steve to say goodbye, Steve addressing the empty exit connecting the kitchen with the rest of the house, "Nice meetin' ya Barrett!" Steve's hand was still waving, when he realized it, dropping it. "So, how about the breakfast?" His shirt had dropped, tucked a little underneath, showing off Steve's deep, hairy innie.
Hunter let his shirt drop over his abs, smoothing it out with both hands as he replies, "Sure. What's on the menu?"
Making it a point to nix the coffee and take up with the OJ, Hunter and Steve talked through eggs and biscuits and sides of bacon, about their general lives. An hour's passing, the two began to find a lull, which meant either was waiting for the other to lead the conversation back to the initial subject.
Being the host, Steve felt obligated, "So, what do you like to get into?"
"Anything. Not that I've tried anything. I mean, there's some things I don't get into and would 'never' even think about going there."
"Hmm... I've got a swimming pool out back and a grand piano in the next room. You wouldn't happen to want to take a swim or know how to play the piano?"
Acting like an dunce, Hunter's jaw dropped open, him replying, "I thought you were asking about...."
Knowing, Steve sprung his joke of humiliation, saying, "I was!" He giggles.
Smirking, Hunter says, "I'll take the swim, but only in the buff. As for the piano, it so happens I 'know' how to play!"
"Oh really? How about playing me a tune or two?"
Leading Hunter through the spacious, lux home, no different from his own, other than a different design, they came to a very large, ballroom type setting. Switching on a light, the dimly lit room seemed to beckon one's interest towards the far side.
"Nice," Hunter said, lifting the keyboard cover and tinkling with a few notes, playing the first seven notes of 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star'.
"Impressive!" Steve exclaims, applauding.
"Yeah right," Hunter replies, pulling out the bench and sitting down. Prolonging his playing, he stretches out his fingers, lightly cracking his knuckles.
"Oooh! I hate it when somebody does that!" Steve complains, a fake look of pain on his face.
"I'll have to remember that when I have you tied down to the bed sometime!"
Unknown to Hunter, he's started something to stirring!
With a few quick blows of air to the black and white keys he says, "Long time since somebody's played this."
"Was my mother's. She was quite the virtuoso," Steve replies, standing behind Hunter.
"And what did your father do?"
"Other than tend to his business, I don't know. He wasn't around too much."
"Sorry," Hunter says, looking to the side, then realizing Steve is above, looks at his face upside down, offering another, "Sorry."
"So, you going to play?"
"If I remember," Hunter says. Setting into playing, he throws his hands onto the keys, playing a loud sour-sounding, dismal chord, saying, "This is Beethoven!"
"His fifty symphony," Steve correctly names it as Hunter sets about playing through the famous, 'dah-dah-dah-daaaaaah' - 'dah-dah-dah-daaaaaaah'.
"Do you happen to know 'Chopsticks'? It's my favorite!"
"You've got to be kiddin'?" Hunter questions, turning his whole bod around on the spinning bench. But more was on his mind than Beethoven, Steve standing there totally in the buff.
"Ready for the swim?"
"I thought you wanted to hear 'Chopsticks'?"
"Do you know it?"
"No," Hunter replies, more interested in other things.
Hands slightly behind his back, Steve could feel the backs of his hands on his ass cheeks as he offers, "Feel free to touch!"
"I could just see myself in my first year of college, my first term paper for English class, an intimate approach to describing my English professors crotch!"
"It would be an instant 'A' if you described how it felt to touch with hands and tongue?"
"Hands, okay, but as far as tongue goes, I don't do that, okay?"
Steve just smiled. He was testing the waters, but perhaps he was working on the hidden agenda he had for himself. But he left the subject open with, "Don't or won't?"
"Both," Hunter replies. Then getting up from the bench, he tears his tee shirt up and off over his head, saying, "Where's the pool?"
Their conversation floated back to generalizations, Steve suggesting Hunter should already know, him being a next door neighbor. Hunter's rebuttal relayed he hadn't lived there long and hadn't trespassed onto the neighbor's yard. Stretching the truth, he hadn't yet to divulge info regarding his telescope, used to scope out the neighbors, one in particular.
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe' 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.....