You know the drill: 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.
i Was a Teenaged CuB 13 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"You don't remember me, do you?" the thirty-two year old doctor said as he escorted Pete into the room, flicking the light switch next to the door to `on' and clicked the lock.
Upon hearing the tiny noise, Pete makes an about face, immediately answering the doctor's question, "No," then off on his own tangent, "um, is there a reason you are locking us both in your," he questions the surrounding, "office?"
There was reason for Pete's inquiry, in lieu of the mahogany desk and bookcases, they were sequestered away in the appearances of an examination room, complete with the long, retractable table and cabinets of various examining tools.
As he undid the knot of his tie, the doctor replies, "It was only one time, after work one night I decided to venture beyond the upper floors of the bar."
Right away, Pete's guess is, "Denny's Bar & Grill?"
Moot between the two, he continues, tie still intact, lifting it overhead, "Thinking it the door to the jon, I found myself descending some steps and in the distance hearing moans of pleasure, accompanied by cries... to pleasure, as I was about to find out..."
He could have raced right out of there at this moment, but Pete knew where this was headed, both in word and deed. Too, as the doctor, apparently of Nordic origin, began peeling the shirt back over his shoulders, showing off those beefy pecs of golden hair, it made Pete's mouth water. "You were at the Cub Club?"
Stepping closer to Pete, after hanging his shirt, along with his tie, on a hook, he says, "Yes, and if you'll kindly get on your knees, I'm sure you will be able to remember more?"
With a half-curved smile, Pete remembers, "Troy?"
"Tor," he corrects Pete.
"Close enough," Pete thinks.
Placing a hand on Pete's head, Tor directs him downward, remarking, "Not close enough!"
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For most of the ride to Charlotte's House Restaurant & Cafe, the front corridor was tame, Michael and Aldo paying more attention to the two in the back.
Finally, it's Michael, taking it for it's worth as he finally pulls into a parking spot, kills the engine, turns his head towards the rear and bluntly asks right out, "Aunt Mary are you gay?"
Answering for her, Gramma replies, "Oh phooey! We're all happy-go-lucky back here!"
Michael knew she was more leaning towards, happy', the old' meaning of the word gay', but he was still sketchy thinking maybe she was trying to split the old meaning with the new' meaning. For now he just let them be themselves, laughing their asses off.
"Did you mean that?" Aldo asks Michael as they follow the two into the cafe.
"Yeah, dah," but Michael then deviates from the two in front of them, walking and not riding, to say, "You're only seventeen?"
"I know. It's what most people say too."
"You seem lots older."
"I know. Generally when you go through tough times, it makes a person grow up all the more faster."
At Michael's prodding, Aldo went on to tell about his family's demise, result of some underhanded family matters.
"Mafia wars?" Michael asks.
"This is not some computer game. This was the real thing. Anyway, there's only me left."
There were millions of question on Michael's mind, one, "Wait. Where do you live?"
"A very nice guy... friend of the family, took me in and has been raising me."
Right away, Michael assumes, "Gay?"
"Yeah, matter of fact," Aldo replies, "but not what you think. He's not a child molester."
"I didn't think..."
"Really?" Aldo smiles.
"Okay," Michael confesses, "but only in thought. I wasn't really thinking about the fuckin' and suckin' stuff."
It made Aldo giggle.
"What?" Michael asks right before they enter.
"Speaking of sucking, I thought... well you look awfully tasty with your clothes on!"
Michael shook his head, saying, "You're lucky I like you Aldo!"
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Replicating the night Dr. Tor Grundvig took the wrong turn at Denny's that night, Pete sits on the floor on his knees, hands behind his back, his tongue catching up Tor's tall stalk.
Bringing Pete's head forward, by the mane of his long hair, the doctor guides his own cock to the opening at the back of the throat, sighing, "Oh-h-h-h-h-h-fuck-yeah!"
For the twenty-nine year old, the bulb of a thick cock wasn't too much of a chore to digest, Pete expertly able to fathom the hefty endowment.
"Oh-h-h-h nice... yes, very nice," Tor replied to Pete's throat massaging the outer covering of his massive tube, a guided hand used to catapult Pete's head forward and backward.
Grumbling, each of his vocal chords being tied up at the moment, Pete `tried' to reply, "Thank you Master Tor!"
"Ah-h-h-h-h," Tor replied as if in relief, the sounds Pete making, adding to the ecstasy.
And, as soon as Tor pulled out, his humongous balls replaced his wick, stuffing them both into Pete's mouth.
As the game went, Tor pretty much getting an idea of how the Master/Cock-slave roleplay went from that night, he vocally demands, "And I better not feel any teeth boy or I'll beat that fuckin' ass!"
In a way, Pete hoped he would get his ass `beat', but with a whole different meaning!
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"Now Mary, you sit right here next to me, so we can get aquainted," Gramma said, coaxing Mary's wheelchair under the table.
Coming to the table just as Michael was ready to sit, Aldo throws a downer into the quartet's evening, "Maurice wants me to suit up and work'," he says, standing behind the chair he' was to be seated on.
Gramma, the first to speak says boisterously, "Oh that's a bunch of bullcrap!"
She hesitates to complete her thought, as Michael's Aunt Mary cuts in with roaring laughter.
"Aunt Mary?" Michael questions.
With controlled calm, his aunt renders, "What Michael?"
"Aren't you supposed to be grieving Uncle Jim? I mean, a half hour ago he passed away?"
Reaching across the table, Gramma places her hand on Michael's hand, saying, "Oh I'm sorry dear. This is all my fault. Of course we should be grieving."
Since it was his `newly' inherited grandmother speaking here and he was liking her very much, Michael was quick to forgive.
Aldo speaks up, pointing over his shoulder, "So I guess I better suit up."
Maurice, slightly overgrown at the waist, Gramma makes reference to him, "You send that Maurice over here and I'll take care of business!"
To make sure Maurice didn't pull any funny business, Michael went with him. A minute later, Michael was leading Aldo back to their table, Maurice on their heels.
"I'm so sorry Mrs. Parry, but as you can see we are quite short-handed this evening and..."
Using her fork, she was left-handed, Mrs. Parry waved it about, getting her point across, "And if you got off that fat butt of yours and waited on tables, instead of making it your job to hand out menus, maybe you wouldn't be so frickin' fat!" She threw her fork down on the table, an announcement to the end of her giving Maurice a piece of her mind.
Aldo stayed, but later on when he excused himself to go take a leak, he passed by Maurice in the hallway to the jon, receiving official notice he was fired.
"What's the matter?" Michael asks when he returns to the table.
"Maurice. I passed him by the kitchen and he told me I was fired," Aldo replied solemnly, adding, "Now what am I going to do for a job?"
"Fired?" Gramma started to get fired up.
However, Aldo jumps in with, "It's alright. I don't really care other than I need the job, but to tell you the truth I dreaded coming to work every day. It's really no fun working under Maurice.
Michael didn't know where this came from, but for the first time in his life he sought `sexual-revenge', wanting to work with Maurice under him!
Fortunately Gramma was there to save the day, saying, "Oh don't you worry Also dear. I'm sure my Peter will have a job for you at the pet store."
"Thanks, but probably not as lucrative as with the tips I was making here. Most likely I'll need two jobs to make up for this one."
Gramma butts in, "Not if your the store manager. They make more than..." and realizing she's slighted Michael, "Oh Michael I didn't mean..."
Just glad he had a job, any job which could help out with college, Michael says, "I'll take anything I can get. Besides," he looks at Aldo and smiles, "Aldo is older than me. A manager can't be younger!"
"You're such a wonderful man," Gramma compliments Michael, turning to Aunt Mary, "You did such a wonderful job raising him!"
Michael's aunt turns to Gramma, "I'm so glad he picked such nice friends!"
Meanwhile, their waiter, twenty-four year old Philip Dowd says, as he brings the check, "You're lucky you're not on Aldo. Maurice is on the warpath and acting his usual self."
Aldo adds, "Yeah, a regular asshole!"
Philip looks around, amazed Aldo has come out with such lingo, in front of the two respectable women.
Seeing it on Philip's mind, Gramma says, "Yes, a very `fat' asshole at that!"
It set Aunt Mary off giggling, Michael not hesitating to follow suit, Aldo all smiley at Philip.
"Well, young man," Gramma voices opinion, "anytime you get too pissed off..."
It made all the boys smiles this time.
"...there's a manager's job waiting for you at the pet store!"
Being she always hit the higher top of the totem pole, she forgot, "But you just made Aldo manager, Gramma?" Michael questions.
"Oh yes, I did, didn't I? Well, Philip dear here can be manager," again her fork guides her words, "Aldo assistant manager and..." to Michael, "head stock boy?"
They are all astonished, Aunt Mary asking, "And what position do you have for me?"
"Oh just you wait," Gramma replies, "I've got a nice big house with no housekeeper!"
One thing troubled Michael, "What about Peter? I thought he was manager?"
"Sh-h-h-hush!" Gramma lowered her voice, like spies were everywhere. In almost a whisper he says, "Peter doesn't know it yet, but I'm handing over complete control of the business to him." Informing, "Did you know Peter had plans of opening a second Parry's Pets?"
Spokesperson for the table, Michael replies, "Nope. Never said."
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Back at the hospital, Peter was finishing up his creamy delight, still working on getting the taste of cum from his mouth, swallowing and licking his lips.
"If I had the time I'd give you another helping," Dr. Grungvig informs Peter, pulling his trousers up and zipping.
Answering, Peter says, "There's always later?"
The thirty-two year old had hoped there would be a follow up, but more than tonight, because he found Peter to be extremely good looking and where his mouth was concerned, very talented. Half-dressed he steps over to Peter, clothed in only his briefs, "Later and tomorrow morning when you wake up and later on, since I have the day off and who knows how many loads I'll be able to churn out, depending on how stimulating the service is?"
Peter gave in without pressure, embracing Tor, rubbing his hands up down the doctor's back as they embraced and kissed.
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Heading out of The Charlotte House, Philip and Aldo said their farewells to the people they liked, avoiding Maurice, who himself felt the same way, making himself as invisible as possible with the two.
Michael says to Gramma, "I feel really bad leaving you to getting home by yourself."
As it went, Philip and Aldo wanted to go out and celebrate freedom from their oppression, the two woman taking a taxi. Too, Gramma thought it best Aunt Mary stay at her place for the night.
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Aldo drove his own car, Michael in the front passenger side, Philip in the back, but leaning over the divide, acting as their GPS.
"Take the next exit," he meant off the major highway which took them from one town to the other.
Michael interrogates, "This gay nightclub..."
"Tommy's," Philip provides the name once more.
"Yeah, Tommy's, like how many guys show up?"
Sitting back, Philip replies as if recalling from memory, "Oh-h wait till you see! There's like waves and waves of guys, naked from the waist up and jumping to the rhythm of the blasting beats!"
"Must be," Aldo replies, pulling into a parking lot with an ocean of cars. "See a place anywhere?"
Right out, Michael says, "Nope. None."
Cracking the door open, Philip says, "Wait here. Don't move. I'll be right back."
In a matter of less than a minute, Philip returns, a guy trailing him. Pulling open Aldo's side door, he states, "C'mon, get out. Geoff will take care parking for us!"
When Aldo got out, it wasn't Philip he was paying attention to, his eyes locked with Geoff's, until he got behind the wheel.
Without a word, Philip says to the two as Geoff drives away, "Yeah, I know... he's real hot and oh man does he have a tight ass!"
With Philip between them, Aldo and Michael managed to smile at each other!
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`i Was a Teenaged CuB' 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.....