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 06 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%
Gregg was getting a little edgy. First it was the last customer leaving the Garden Ristorante, the front door to the outside world being locked, stock and bolted down for the night. For the next two hours the remainder of the staff, fixing up the dining room for next day's business or the kitchen being attended to and wound down. Last leaving, one of the kitchen staff wore a hug smile, wishing' Gregg and Terrence a pulsating' evening.
"Now! Ready to get down to business?"
Gregg sat there, his butt on a wooden stool, with Terrence in front of him. He wore a white apron over his gym shirt and pants. Resting on the bottom rung of the stool were his Nike sneakers. "Uh, now Terrence," Gregg braces his hand against the Afro-American's' chest as he's peeling the jacket, "I'd prefer we not get into any rough' stuff?"
He was saying this, because as the evening went the course, with Terrence ducking out now and then, the rumors would fly, some pertaining to Mark's `Cub Club' and the goings-on therein.
"Rough stuff? What rough stuff?" To prove his point, Terrence slid his hand behind Gregg's neck and drew him in for a kiss. Same time, one of Terrence's hands helped relieve Gregg of the knotted kitchen apron behind his back.
Breaking, Terrence asks, "Now what is all this talk about the Cub Club?"
"Some of the guys. They were talkin'."
Backing up, Terrence says, "I want names!"
Standing, protesting, Gregg says, "No, no, no, no, no... I don't mean to get any of them into trouble. Besides, Terrence, by now I don't remember who said what! Only what was said!"
Then there was a scuffle and as it wound up, Gregg was back sitting on the stool, the kitchen apron still around his neck, but the bulk of it behind his back, his wrists in a bind as his arms stay behind him.
"Terrence?" Gregg targeted him in fear. "What the hell is this? What are you going to do?"
"If you are not going to name names, then I will have to get it out of you!"
Sure Gregg was in fear, locked away in the kitchen with what now he thought of a lunatic', maniac', both coming to mind instantly. But oh what a sweet maniac, as he began stripping down. Terrence was very meticulous, folding the jacket, then placing his shoe-string tie right on it. Same with the white shirt, but back up - when he began unbuttoning it, from top to bottom, he was being so sexy at it, revealing an inch of his bod at a time. Pulling it open in the middle, dividing it over his shoulders as he pulled it from his pants was such a sexy showing of dark skin, mingled with a patch of hair in between his built pecs.
"Oh man," Gregg sighs, "why do you have to be so evil?"
"Evil?" Terrence laughs, "Humph! Why I don't have an evil bone in my bod!"
"Then why not untie me?"
He jumped off the stool. Terrence placing him back on the edge, pressing his bod up against him, rubbing Gregg's nose in his musky, upper chest.
"Oh man Terrence!"
"Maybe you have a name for me?" Thinking, if this was part of the torture, this part could be endured, even welcomed, so Gregg remained vigilant, "Haven't a clue."
%
"How's the sub?"
"Good," Michael replies. "Thanks for buying it for me. As soon as I get a job... wait! I've got a job."
"Where?" Geoff asks.
"West World Gym. Mr. West hired me himself." It then occurred to Michael how quickly things changed.
"That's cool. You know where I work, but heck! You've got the coolest place to work Michael!"
"Yeah, and...."
"And what?"
Michael was busting to tell somebody. He might've told Patrick this if it came up. Now he's glad he didn't.
Second time, his lax of filling in the spaces quick enough, he gets out of Geoff, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"Three strikes I'm out, huh?"
Geoff quizzes Michael, "Huh? Three strikes?" "Yeah. Second time you wanted to know something and I didn't come through for you," Michael explains it.
Thinking it his age, what most people thought, him a year younger than his true age, Geoff expresses, "I'm almost nineteen. Next month?"
"You got me beat." "Huh?" "I won't be nineteen until November 11."
"Really?" Geoff lets out a laugh.
"What?" Questions the outburst.
"It's `so' weird, me being a senior in high school and older that you and you in college and younger than me!"
Not taking it as being slighted, Michael replies, "But I think you're cuter!" He sits back, smiling, seeing how Geoff is taking it.
"Really?" After adjusting his baseball cap with the lid to the back, "You think I'm cuter with it this way?"
"Either," Michael replies.
He didn't come in wearing one, so Geoff assumes, "You ever wear a baseball cap, Mike?"
"`Mike'. I like that. But nah. It's the fashion statement," Michael laughs it off, adding, "clashes with my red hair!"
While he is laughing, Geoff is wondering.
As for Michael, he's taking the flack, Geoff's eyes probing the front of his bod, from the collar down to the table edge. "What?"
Feeling comfortable with asking, Geoff says, "Are you like `red', all over?"
It then dawned on Michael, Mark West's almost identical inquiry and it's outcome. Too, it seemed the perfect lead-in question. He did make sure they were sequestered away enough at the Sub Station, to talk personally before he says, "Some guy asked me that question and guess what happened?"
Geoff answers, like it's being said to him, "You told him to mind his own business?"
Not even asking if he could tell Geoff something personal, with risk of having it retold, Michael gets a gut impression he can share, "Last time a guy asked, we both wound up with our clothes off and the guy touching me!"
"Really?" Geoff asks and like any inquiring mind, driven by brain power, but mostly the flowing juices at the base of the torso, "Like what happened?"
"Nothing much other than him sucking on my nip."
"Yeah? And what else?"
Before Michael could elaborate, this tall `human' was standing above them at the table. "I filled your tire up with air bro!"
It was strange, Michael thought. While Geoff's brother was talking to Geoff, he was looking down upon him.
"This your friend?" Geoff's brother asks, looking down at Michael.
"I'm Michael," he extended a hand.
He was greeted by a partially greasy hand, wiped off on a shirt, "Hey. You're a cute little cub!"
"What?" Michael said, taking the hand offered, but to Geoff a look of `how did he know?'
Reading Michael, Geoff completes the introductions, "This is my brother, Davy. I don't know how he knows, but he always knows."
So, Davy helped himself to sitting with the two, next to his brother so he could have an all out view of the adorable, red cub!
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"I thought you had it in the bag, Mark?"
Single for the night, Mark headed out to Denny's Bar & Grill, synonymous with the meeting place of the Cub Club, but also the room they held rehearsals for the Bear Quartet'. Right now, the bartender, fifty-two year old Heinrich Baden, or Rich' to many of the clientele, Bad Rich' or Master Heinrich' who liked to venture into the underground playground, was reaming Mark out, figuratively, for his slip up in finding soprano and tenor parts for their vocal group.
"I had a cute little red cub all...."
"Red?" Heinrich exclaims. "Red, like in red haired?"
Building on Heinrich's excitement, lessening his own infraction, "Oh yes! You should have seen him," and in explanation, Mark drags both palms down the front of his shirt, "a rich coat of red hair down his pecs and over his stomach?"
"Stomach? Like in gut?"
Mark was hoping Heinrich wasn't putting two and two together, big gut with working out at the gym, so he play it by ear, "Oh just beautiful, Heinrich! Nice deep bellyhole where you can really bury a finger in!"
"Or tongue?" Heinrich grins.
With one of Heinrich's hands on the towel swabbing the bar, the other below the counter, Mark could tell his friend was really getting into it.
"Anything `else' I should be aware of?"
He hoped this would not be a downer, "Nothing at the moment."
"You `did' get around to mentioning the Bear Quartet?"
"Um... no," Mark tread lightly on words.
All pent up in Heinrich's pants, he could very well have excused himself to the little bear's room, but instead uses the ensuing circumstance to, "Bad little bear."
In a way, Mark was keyed up too. It was a toss up of finding a place to relax' his erection or follow through with Heinrich's suggestion. It's how it went. If Mark was too busy, he would walk away. However, rarely would anyone give up on a session with Bad Rich'. "I know. I've really been a bad bear. Any idea of how I can redeem myself Master Rich?"
Tossing the white bar towel to the other end of the bar, Heinrich calls on his assistant, "Pete?"
"Yeah, Rich?"
"Hold down the fort for awhile!"
Pete smiles, watching Heinrich and Mark enter the back room.
What resembles an ordinary door to `the back room', is really a portal to an even more expansive room, located down a flight of stairs, to the basement. Sure, there is a back room, big enough to hold rehearsals for the Bear Quartet, complete with an old upright piano.
Already the `play' has began, Heinrich directing Mark, "When you get down those stairs, I want all those clothes off and pronto!"
"Yes, Master Heinrich!" Mark smiles as he trots down the stairs, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes.
"It's a real shame you didn't snag that cub while you had the chance. What the fuck were you thinking of?"
Meant to denunciate, Mark was feeling all tingly between the legs, but too he knew Heinrich was digging for details to his encounter with Michael. Because it was getting him off, being badgered into telling, Mark says, "I suppose I let my insatiable desire for cub-fur get the best of me!"
By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs, Mark had removed his shirt. Not much different than an ordinary evening of the `Cub Club', Heinrich too began to remove his clothing, except he slowed down. In no time Mark was unashamedly naked, Heinrich down to his briefs.
For fifty-two he was in nice shape. Probably the oldest member of West World Gyms, his bod showed his longevity in keeping faithful to the gym. He was probably the most fit muscle-bear in the club. Along with the figure, he could afford to wear a pair of Bjorn briefs, the kind which dipped to near the barrel of a man's cock. Half-soft, Heinrich's ten-inch tool filled out the briefs very nicely. Hard, it gave the manufacturer's warranty a run for the money!
Upstairs they met at the bar in the resume of their ordinary lives. Downstairs the outer facades were worn away, Heinrich ordering, "On your knees boy!"
"Yes, sir," came Mark's response as he sank down till his unveiled cock and balls touch the cold cement floor. "Oh-h-h," he reacts to the chill, scooping his goods up.
"Hands behind your back!" Heinrich says, smiling evilly down at Mark.
What this meant is, knowing the coldness could put a dent in keeping him firm, Mark had to either suffer from his dilemma or, if he kept his nuts clear of the damp floor, he could keep them boiling.
Heinrich knew this too, so play on it, "Yeah, sit up nice and tall." What play a part in this is Heinrich's stature, all of six-feet-two inches tall, he had long legs. Once a basketball player, down on his luck, Heinrich play a new ball game. After pinning his big balls under the rim of his briefs, he held his heavy cock up so Mark could open up his mouth and take him in.
`Oh boy!' Mark thought, as has happened before without surprise, Heinrich trying to stuff contents of both sacs in his mouth at once.
It had happened only once at the Cub Club, and not even a cub or bear, but some skinny otter from a rival college, his mouth big enough to accommodate Heinrich's monster balls.
"Oh fuck yeah!" Heinrich called out as Mark twirl his tongue around the curvature of the first ball sac. Then, spitting it out, performed the same with the other.
Any other man's cock, Mark would have been thrilled to tongue, suck, throat, but he as well as Heinrich knew some men had their limits.
Heinrich says of it, "Just suck out a little juice and we'll call the debt paid."
"Nobody can say you don't have a kind heart, Heinrich."
"What'd you call me boy!" Heinrich lashes out at Mark, bonking him on the head with his fully charged cannon.
"I hope you didn't leave a mark!"
"Only a wet one," Heinrich jokes, laughing.
Mark knew the routine, this not being the first time they play-acted. Too, as he got dressed, it was food for Heinrich, as much as if doing a striptease.
"I'll be right back!" Mark said.
However, he would not be back, but it was their usual fare of words. How it went, for a about an hour, Mark would relieve Pete at the bar and descending the stairs, he would much follow Mark's prep, stripping his Denny's tee shirt off overhead, unbuttoning his jeans.
All over again Heinrich would view the show, but this time, instead of an almost thirty year old, he was being entreated to a stout, twenty-four year old, a college grad without a job whom, mutually hit it off, both on and off the job.
Giggling, Pete says, "I know this couldn't wait till closing time!"
"Oh don't you worry, `cub', I got plenty o'ammunition left for later!"
Totally in the buff, Pete approaches his fifty-two year old employer, bending over as he takes his stalk in hand, "Oh man, you're not gonna waste any of your juicy creme!"
Heinrich gasps, dropping his head back as the twenty-four year old stuffs his ten inches in his mouth, sucking as he goes, Heinrich feeling the goo vacuumed right out of his tube before it hits the back of Pete's throat.
Too, Heinrich knows how to keep Pete hard, reaching underneath Pete's bent over bod, his hands playing up his meaty pecs, finding the two nips which Pete's cock thrives on getting mashed. But for his own benefit, the harder he mashes Pete's nips, the more the post-collegiate hums with delight. The further his cock becomes embedded in Pete's throat, the more mesmerized he gets from the soft massage. It's an `everybody wins' scenario!
%
Whereas Geoff was reserved, withdrawn, his brother Davy was just the opposite and Geoff had hoped, by the way his brother conducted himself he would not screw up his friendship with Michael.
There was nothing he could do or say though when Davy comes out with, "Hey, you know Michael I find you highly attractive and if you would give me the chance I would..."
Oh brother!' Geoff was thinking to himself. This wasn't' the Davy he knew, not with all these flowery imputations! He just wondered where it was all leading. Then it came to pass and all along Geoff had `wanted to', but whereas he figured he would get past first base in days or even weeks to come, his bro had done it in a matter of minutes. Still, he waited it out.
Michael sat there, not in shock, but startled a guy would point blank come out and tell him he was handsome' and to tip it off would want to ravage his bod with his tongue', to boot!
Because Geoff had his dibs on Michael too, he slips and says, "And I could help?"
"Don't be a perv, bro!" Davy says.
With that, Geoff gets up, says, "Fuck you!" and storms away from the table, outside.
"That was stoopid!" Michael said with indignation, but then wondered if it was to harsh, Davy being an intimidating character. Just in case, he figure it's best to go after his friend. Skittish about leaving without some type of farewell Michael blurts out the only thing to come to mind, "Well thanks for offering your... whatever," he meant Davy's tongue worshipping.
"No problem," Davy said. He sat there for a moment, then decides not to let `this cub' get away.
Out in the car, the one Davy had doctored up the tire, sat Michael and Geoff in the front seat of the four-door. The car rocks when Davy opens the door and lunges in the back seat.
"Hey, look, I'm sorry for what happened in there," Davy hugs both seats and tries explaining his rudeness.
"It's not `me' you owe the apology to," Michael tells him.
"Doesn't matter," Geoff shuns it off, "he's always being an asshole to me!"
Instead of backing down, Davy says, "You always `liked' me being an asshole!"
Michael let the conversation go the course, the two arguing out their likes and differences to where it fell on his shoulders.
"What do you think Michael?" "What do I think about what?" Michael replies, not having followed precisely along.
Davy made Geoff say, "I this is going to make you feel used, Michael, but Davy and me... we...."
"We want to see which one of us is the best cocksucker."
"Yeah. So?" Michael says, not sure if he's getting it, but thinks he is.
Now Geoff let Davy do the talking, "Either first I do it, or Geo does it, but you be the judge of which one of us is the best cocksucker?"
"And what will that prove?"
"Um," the twenty-six year old mechanic inches his way with words, "which one of us... is the best.... cocksucker?"
Geoff tells him, "I told ya he's a stoopid idiot!"
"Okay, I'll tell ya what I'll do and this is my last offer!"
Geoff and Michael exchange looks, their eyebrows up in wonderment, their lips bent up.
Turning to his bro, Geoff asks, "And what would that entail, Davy?"
"I'll suck both of you at once!"
Again Geoff and Michael look at each other, Michael saying, "You're going to suck off your own brother... and me?"
"It's not like I haven't done it before?" Davy looks at Geoff.
Michael looks at Geoff and just his look is inquiring.
"Yeah," Geoff confesses, "we've done each other at one time of another."
As if with admiration, Davy says, "But I've sucked you off more bro!"
Michael cautiously asks, "Have you like done any of the `other' stuff?"
"Fucked and been fucked? Nah," Geoff replies.
The pressure was on Davy, the two looking to him for an answer. A tough character to everyone else, he bent low, down to a bottom's status as he replies, "Hey, either one of ya can fuck me, I don't care."
Geoff had a field day with this one, "Oh cool! I can fuck you bro!"
Returning to what started all this in the Sub Station, Davy replies, "I would much rather Michael do the honors!"
Sucking and fucking were two different things in Geoff's book. Doing stuff with Michael was totally different than his bro. Sure, sucking his bro off was something they did as teens, but they never went as far as fucking each other over. Too, he didn't seem as willing to get fucked as his bro, so let it slide, saying, "I think I'll hold off with the fucking stuff for..... awhile."
Both Davy and Michael too showed interest in the guy who was crossing the parking lot, hesitating before he passed inside the door to the Sub Station. He looked directly at the car they were sitting in, then went inside the eatery.
"Who the hell was that?" Davy immediately inquires.
Unknowing to the two brothers, Michael says, "I don't know his name, but he's in my earth science class."
"You know him?" Davy tags Michael's shoulder.
"Like I said. He's in my class."
"It seemed he knew you," Davy pressed.
A matter of minutes passes, the same dude making exit, a bag with a five foot sub sticking out. Instead of walking away from them, he rounds the hood, stands at the side of Michael's window, bends over and pokes his head in, immediately addressing Michael, "Hey, aren't you in my earth science class?"
Red hair, but unlike Michael, darker, already Davy is taking in his manliness, him speaking for the trio, "Yeah, this is Michael and I'm his good friend David Trask, but my friends call me Davy."
Reaching across Michael's lap is the driver's hand, "Yeah and I'm the inconsequential brother and friend, Geoff Trask."
"But we didn't get `your' name?" Davy inquires.
Before giving it, he asks, "Say, can you give me a lift? My friend dropped me off."
True, they didn't see how Michael's earth science friend got there, only when he entered and exited.
"Sure we can," Davy replies.
"Uh, David-dear brother, aren't you forgetting one little detail?"
"What?"
"Your truck?"
"Oh yeah. Got my tow truck," Davy replies. But oh how he the-heck hated leaving his new-found reddish-haired cub-friend all alone here in the back seat.
"Uh, I could come with you if it's not an imposition?"
Of course it wasn't, for Davy.
After the two cleared out, Geoff asks, "What was his name again?"
"He didn't say, did he?"
Geoff started up the car, but didn't immediately set it in gear, asking, "I guess you're mad about Davy promising you all that tongue-worshipping stuff and now it's like not going to happen?"
Plainly, Michael says, "It would have been interesting to see if he could have gotten both your's and my cock in his mouth at once."
"I'm not that big. How about you?"
Smiling, he says, "Would you like to find out?" "Really? Cool! Can I?"
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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.....