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 14 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Dudes, you coming?"
They were and did, Aldo and Michael following Philip's suggestive voice.
Not realizing he paid a cover charge for them, Aldo, gazing up at the sign above the glassed-in booth, remarks, "Oh, ya gotta be eighteen?"
"That's what it says," Michael agrees with him.
Then, staring straight ahead they peer at the cash-dude's eyes, looking right at them. He fully knew what transpired, but instead of turning them out into the parking lot, says, "You're all settled up. Phil paid for you, so make your choice. To the right is the dance floor, or...."
There was no need to finish, Philip grabbing the two by the shoulders, same time thanking the receptionist.
Leaning out of the side of his booth, they all hear him shout, "Ya owe me one, Phil!"
Aldo asks, "Owe him what?"
As if he was calling the shots, Michael says to Aldo, "In other words Philip is going to fuck him for letting you in because you're under age."
"Really?" Aldo asks Philip. "You would do that for me?"
Philip replies, "Unless you want to fuck him yourself?" He laughs.
"No thanks. I'll stick with a guy my own age!"
Yet, it set Michael to thinking. Peter was mid-twenties and the dude at the booth couldn't be much more than Peter. Of course, both Peter and the dude were a little beyond his teenage years, but did it really matter? Michael then thought, `Would it matter if a guy were ten or twenty years older than Peter?'
"Okay, this is it! Shirts off dudes and you're on your own!"
With Philip's announcement they watch him tear his white tee shirt off overhead, ball it up and send it careening over the darkened hall, a few glimpses caught in the flickering colored lights.
"I should have done what Philip did," Aldo says as he slowly unbuttons his white shirt.
Before Michael could answer, some dude is standing there, saying, "Nice tie," meaning Aldo's bow tie.
"Thanks," Aldo replies.
"Need a hand?"
Michael smiles, Aldo surprised because the friendly emo dude in his tight shirt which showed off his deep bellyhole, a scattering of hair and the more defined treasure trail.
"How come you have your shirt still on?" Aldo asks him.
Smiling, he replies, "You're a frisky one. Anyway, I was waiting for a hot dude like you to take it off?"
By this time the guy had removed Aldo's tie, which was now a single strand of a black ribbon.
"Here, I'll put it in my pocket," Aldo says, holding out his hand.
"Oh no. I'm keeping it to remember you by. Here, tie it around my wrist."
Liking the idea, because he was already liking some stuff about him, shaggy hair falling in his face and the sweet voice brought forth command, yet kindness, he surrendered his stretched out bow tie and went at it, tying it around his wrist. "What's your name?"
Adjusting his attention from Aldo tying the black tie around his wrist, to looking forwards, it flopped his hair up, then down. Before he spoke, he nodded his head to the side, his dark brown hair flying out of the way, "Michael Terrence Devereaux the third, but I like to be called, Terr. You?"
Seeing this guy, Terr, no being a danger to Aldo, Michael struck out on his own.
Not more than two minutes on his journey he hears a familiar voice calling, "Hey Michael! Michael!"
His head is switching all around, because with the loud music blasting his ear drums out of proportion and the darkness of the room, it was tough to get a fix on direction. Tagged by a hand on the shoulder from the rear he turns and exclaims, "Mr. West?"
"Yeah. Hi. Hey, you with somebody?" Mark West replies.
Michael says, "I came with my friends, Philip and Aldo, but they went there own way and...."
"Cool!" Mark says right away, putting an arm around Michael's shoulder like they are buddies a hand on his chest before saying, "I got just the person for you to meet!"
Already on his mind, Michael was thinking some older dude Mark knew from this `Cub Club' of his, but when he faced the person Mark sought out, he knew he showed his eagerness, of this being a dude his own age!
"Michael, I'd like you to meet Travis Kjartan." Likewise, "Travis, this Michael, whom I've been telling you about?"
Before Michael could get within two inches, a dude butts in, saying, "Oh, so this is the cub Mark has been talking about?"
To all of their astonishments, Travis steps out in front and says, "Like excuse me, Trev? I was like just about ready to meet Michael here. You're like being so totally rudelike?"
Mark put his hand over his mouth, hiding his laughter. No more than two hours ago he was at Trevor's mercy, his head and wrists locked in the stock and being fucked like hell and now here was Trevor's cousin reaming him out with his words!
"Yeah, well I'm sorry," Trevor extended his apologies, with reluctance. Then turning to Mark, "What the fuck you laughing at?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all," Mark tried to hide his humor over the situation.
As he walked towards Mark, Trevor gave his dissatisfaction over Mark's audacity, his fist giving a slight punch to the gut.
Mark fakes, "Hough!" followed by, "Oh that felt so good!"
"Buy me a beer and maybe I'll give you some more if you beg me!"
Michael says to Travis, "What did he mean by that?"
"Beats me," Travis replies. And then because he had his own shirt off, asks, "Are you going to take your shirt off?"
In a shy way Michael replies, "I'm kind of fat underneath?"
Travis' response was picking up the front tail of Michael's shirt and peeking.
Going along with it, Michael says with a smile, "What do you think?"
Dropping his shirt, Travis replies, "Looks delicious, but it's up to you whether or not...."
It took guts, but Michael decided, since Travis had a preview and didn't run away, it was safe to strip. "Still like me?" he asks after unbuttoning his shirt, holding it open.
"Yeah. I do. I think you look real cool!"
"Thanks," Michael says, letting the shirt fall off his shoulders and collect at his wrists behind his back. Opposite the manner in which addressed by his peers in high school, scorned, criticized and the like, Michael felt like a whole new era opening up for him.
"Hey, want to dance?"
Michael took the plunge into the crowd, Travis tugging on his hand. He felt comfortable, because for the first time in his life he was being accepted as just another guy.
Fortunately, Philip thought about Cubby being left all alone in the car, after fucking some guy he met, of which he chose the place where there was the most seclusion. He tried to leave the pup in the car, but unlocking the door, Philip chose to take Cubby with him. Inside the front door of the gay club he found the perfect dogsitter.
"Hey, hey, hey," the dude collecting money at the booth, yelled out the side door. With Cubby licking the side of his face, which set him in a good mood, he shouts, "Hey Phil! Don't forget you owe me from before? And now you owe me double?"
Philip waved his hand after giving the thumbs up, once again being eaten up by the crowd. However, somehow, through the course of evening, the dude in the booth, who threw around his catch-phrase loosely, got paid' finally and with the crowd surging in coming to a standstill, it came him enough time to scoot to the back room and start collecting'. Unfortunately, for him, he didn't secure the door to the booth tightly shut. For Cubby, he loved escaping the small interior of the airtight booth.
Within two or three minutes, Michael was bending down, from the wonder of why his ankle was getting wet.
"Oh my God! It's a dog!" Travis exclaims, as Cubby licks the underside of Michael's chin.
Michael didn't wonder at all if Travis was jealous, the way he carried on babying Cubby.
It went unsaid by Travis and some of the other patrons, but leave it to the club bouncer to interfere, "Hey, we don't allow dogs in the Clark Street Club."
It's now Travis figures, if Cubby has to go, then their evening is over, so puts his arm on the bouncer's shoulder and introduces, "Michael, this is Dylan Johnson, bouncer here at the Clark Street Club and also distinguished by his presence on the local firefighting force."
"Nice," Dylan grinned, "but it ain't gonna cut it."
Maybe nobody else noticed, but the whole time Travis was trying to bullshit the bouncer, the moonlighting firefighter never took his eyes off of neither Michael, nor Cubby.
"Sorry. He's got to go."
"I understand. No problem officer," Michael replies.
Same time the bouncer decides to escort Michael and Cubby out, an old `interest' of Travis' happens by and is swept away, Travis' words to Michael, "You don't mind?"
Nearing the door, Dylan says to Michael, "Mighty kind of you to allow your boyfriend to go off with another man?"
Right back at Dylan, Michael says, "Oh, he's not my boyfriend."
With a cheery smile, Dylan replies, "He's not?"
"Nope," Michael replies, accepting another lick from Cubby.
It's then Dylan realizes it's safe to say, "Well that's good, because that was Tommy who took him away from you. He's Travis' former, steady, boyfriend."
Right at the front door, Michael asks, "You seem to know a lot about people around here?"
"Oh, only Travis, being he happens be a distant relative."
With insinuation, Michael says, "Okay, because I thought maybe..." he left his supposition unsaid.
However, Dylan remarks, "No, we're not in anyway attracted to each other. For my own preferences I'm not into skinny guys," he laughs.
In the past twenty-four hours Michael has been passed around from guy, to guy, to guy. Not in the least has he felt used, but rather taking it as an educational experience. And now, confronted by a guy `he' thinks is hot, rather than right off the bat another guy seeking him out, after his short interlude with an older guy, Peter, he is not taken aback with his own youth, pitted against Dylan's older composite.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" Michael shoots out, point blank.
"Nah. Ever since college I've been married to my job. You know, trying to pay off those big bills and such? Takes a big chunk out of my life."
Saying the first thing which comes to mind, Michael says, "Maybe you should think about getting a divorce!"
Again Dylan laughs, this time more hardy, replying as he calms down, "Maybe I should!" Of course, now his attention was drawn to Michael.
Then Michael says, "Could you please hold Cubby while I put my shirt on?"
"Oh sure!" Dylan replies.
When Michael reaches to where he parked his shirt, close to the inside of his right glutes, he discovers, "It's gone!"
"No problem," Dylan says, "I think I have one which might fit in my locker."
Michael didn't even say anything, but followed. One, he would really not like to go out into the open air barechested and two, Dylan held Cubby and where Cubby was going his intent was to follow!
Inside the small room there was one of five metal lockers. One, Dylan's, he opened it to look, saying, "Want to kick that door closed?"
"Why?" Michael asks, on his mind Dylan might wanting to do something sexual.
Dylan replies, "So the doggie doesn't run out?" He puts Cubby down on the floor.
"Oh. Right," Michael replies, embarrassed at himself for thinking something else.
As Dylan fishes in his locker for a shirt, he says, "You're a very fine looking young man, you know?"
Hours ago Michael might have had doubts as to where this way heading, but it seems in those precious hours of his life he's learned a bundle of things, ripping right off his lips, "I like older guys!"
Slamming the locker door shut, made Cubby yap.
"Him too!" Dylan says of Cubby short bark. Drawing his attention back to Michael, a tee shirt from a country & western tee shirt hanging from his hand, says, "You're really into older guys?"
Moving right into the ball park, Michael says, "I don't know how old you are, but..." he shrugs his shoulders.
"Twenty-nine," and because Dylan was drawn to Michael, "Still interested?"
Because it was done unto him by Peter, Michael does to Dylan what he's learned, creeps forward and is the first to instigate a kiss. He was already naked from the waist up and slowly works the buttons of Dylan's shirt.
"Oh sorry!" Dylan jumps backwards.
"No, I'm sorry," Michael returns. "I guess I'm moving a little too fast, huh?"
Cheerfully Dylan replies, "If I was home? No! It wouldn't be fast enough!" He cackles. "But I do have a job to do and hey," he looks up at the clock on the wall, "If you want to wait around for me, my shift ends in thirty minutes?"
No knowing where he's going, how he's going to get there and what is going to transpire, Michael rashly decides, "Sure I'll wait, but...."
Loosing some of his bubbly composure, Dylan says, "What?"
"Can Cubby come?"
With an old-fashioned attitude backing him up, he states in a sweet repose, as he leaves, "Of course he can."
Michael had to laugh, changing from the complete `Mr. Niceguy' attitude, Dylan yells at the top of his lungs at two guys with the fronts of their jeans wide open, jewelry hanging out!
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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.....