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 08 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"How am I doin'?" Geoff asks, like he asked `forty-six times' before, his busy tongue licking up the mat around Michael's cock and balls.
"Real nice," Michael replies for the `forty-sixth' time!
"Am I really doing a good job on your pubes?"
Michael thought so, except, "Yeah, I think so, but..."
"What?" Geoff frowns.
"Nothing."
It was like a mental message, sent telepathically, Geoff on the final receiving end, saying, "Can I tell you something?"
Prior to their meet up in Geoff's bed, he had told the story about his older brother and he in his first encounter with gay sex.
"Sure. Anything," Michael replies.
"Well, y'know how I was telling you about Davy and me having sex and all?"
"Right here in this bed?" Michael thought.
Thinking about it a sec, "No, come to think of it. It was always in Davy's bed. From the start it was him inviting me over to his bed. Anyhow, remember how I said we had oral sex?"
"I remember."
As Geoff hovered over Michael's pubes, he owns up to, "It was always Davy sucking me off. I know I made it sound like I did him, but I never did."
Michael smiles.
"You're not mad?"
"Why?"
"I dunno. I thought you wanted to be sucked off. Don't you?"
"There's no rules," Michael reckons. "I thought we came here to be together. It doesn't mean you have to get to work right away and suck my cock."
"You're okay with that?" Geoff says, slowly falling to the wayside, lying next to Michael in his bed.
"Sure. It doesn't even have to be sex." "We can lay next to each other like this?" Geoff asks.
The two lay there, their backs to the mattress. Geoff turns on his side, facing Michael, his arm laying on his side.
Michael smiles as Geoff's hand falls to his own pubes, saying, "Are you hard?" "Hardly!" Geoff replies.
Michael instigates, "I thought you liked licking me."
"I did. I want to, but..."
"But what Geoff?"
Looking over Michael's bod, pecs like grassy mountain peaks, contoured sloping, then rising up the red-haired stomach, Geoff says, "Is it okay if I touch you?"
"Of course it is. Do whatever you want."
Slowly, like he's touching a hot iron, Geoff slowly lowers his hand to the middle of Michael's chest. He lifts it like actually getting stung by burning heat, then lowers, moving his hand slightly.
As if he's feeling a hand on his own bod, Geoff says, "Feels nice."
"It does," Michael says. Bravely, Michael lifts his hand lying between them and fondles Geoff's balls, asking, "This okay?"
"Yeah." He smiles, coining Michael's words, "Do whatever you want."
Then Michael asks, "Is it okay if I taste you?"
"If I can taste you?" Geoff gets up the courage after Michael instigates the action.
Of course, it wasn't going to materialize, in the position they were in, Geoff saying, "Hold on. I'll move." And there Geoff went scrambling, racing to place his head between Michael's legs. He waited though and without a word felt Michael's mouth on his cock. He sighed and then made his move.
For the first time for both, their mouths tasted soft man-meat, slowly becoming char-broiled!
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One thing led to another and then another, and after Scott Trewent's phone cool, word spread like wildfire. Soon Scott had not only a business going, twenty-five bucks `entry fee', but was getting a jolt out this himself. For instance, his friend George stopped by the service center, after receiving a call and after putting the cash in Scott's hand, went right to it, stripping down.
`What the hell?' was Davy's reaction when, especially without the clothes, George's appearance dictated a major league football player. His size was intimidating, both in stature and endowment.
"Sure would like to go a few rounds!" George says.
Scott blurts out, "Twenty-five extra, Georgie!"
Davy wasn't any weakling, but at twenty-six years old he wasn't any straight out of college football jock. Still, from working in the service center, hauling motors over the hood of a car or doing other manual labor, he could boast some manmade muscle. Too, he hadn't done any wrestling since he and Geoff were teens. However he suddenly became excited about taking this dude on, a real challenge as opposed to his skinny little brother. He waited for the dude to make up his mind.
"Twenty-five bucks, Scott? You already got twenty-five out of me?"
Unknown to Davy, Scott sweetens the pot, "How about with Davy's hands tied behind his back?"
Right away it riled Davy up, "Hands tied behind my back? What kind of shit is that?"
George cracks his knuckles as he puts both hands together, replying, "I think I'm up for it!"
He laughed, but Davy wasn't finding it humorous and if he ever expected justice he knew he would have to act promptly. So as soon as George painted Scott's hand green the second time, Davy rushed him from behind, through his arms around George's middle and right above his bellyhole, grabbed both hands in a fist, strangling George around the middle. His bod was forced over the top of a corvette.
"Fucking bastard!" George shouted out, trying to wiggle his way free, side to side, utilizing his football player build to his advantage. It worked, breaking Davy's hold on him, flinging him backwards.
As George turns around, Davy who is actually finding sport in all of this, laughs, saying, "Feisty little buzzard aren't ya?"
"You won't be laughing when I'm shooting my cannon up your ass!"
At this point Davy could care less. In his own estimation, any guy whom had walked through that door to plug his ass for a fee was being ripped off at Scott's expense. One thing which Davy had it over on Scott, he wasn't collecting any monies under he and George were done with their wrestling match and then George wrestling his cock into his ass. Right now, Davy was having too much fun with George, watching him trip over a hose which carried air across the shop. Standing right in George's face, Davy asks, "Didn't fall and hurt anything `important', did ya Georgie?"
They were fighters, mortal enemies, yet George couldn't believe Davy was lending a hand in getting up. `It was a trick', he immediately thought. So he took Davy's hand and instead of lifting himself up, pulled on Davy's hand, which brought him down, with the words, "Yeah right... ya think I'm going to fall for that one!"
Davy didn't get up. He didn't make a sound, lying there on the floor of the garage.
George got up, shook his arm, saying, "Hey buddy," but he didn't move, prompting him to yell, "Hey, somebody call 911!"
When George turned around, Scott was gone, but five or six others were rifling through their clothes, searching for cell phones.
"Oh shit!" George said of his own cell, a victim or their rough-housing. Then, his attention turning back to Davy, he felt awful, for the fact he could have been wrong, that this cat might have actually been extending a helping hand and he screwed up royally. With the cut on Davy's head, George automatically deemed it a concussion, telling the medical personnel as soon as they arrived, "There's not much blood." And to the two officers, "I think he hit his head."
The two officers wanted to know more, especially for the fact the victim was in the car service shop, wearing no clothes. Too, even though George had clothes on, his shirt was torn. Another thing, as George turned to involve some of the other guys, they had dressed and gone before either paramedics or police were on the scene.
Also, George really didn't know the dude the paramedics were working on, except a name, so asks, "Is Davy going to be alright?"
One of the paramedics replies, "Except for a cut above the temple, he should wake up tomorrow morning with a nasty headache."
The other medical dude says, "We have to see the x-rays first."
While they wheeled Davy out on a stretcher, George asks, "Okay if I go?"
Finding out the cops came in separate vehicles, one of them responds, "You go, Mike, I can handle this."
Mike, the other officer, replies, "Great. If there be a night, tonight's the night I really need to get home."
Happily, the other officer wishes, "Have a nice birthday party with the family, Mike!"
At least', George was thinking, this is a nice cop!'
Closing the door to the service station, turning the latch, the police officer turned over the sign so inside it read `open'. He bent to pull down the privacy shade. "Now," he took hold of the top of an old ladder back chair, swinging it around and sat, facing the back, "why don't we see if we can get to core of what happened here today."
George stood there facing him, still in the same clothes where Davy had torn the sleeve of his shirt. He offers right away, "Nothing more than what I told your partner."
"Is that so," the officer says, getting up, swinging a leg over the chair like dismounting from a horse. Walking over to where two chains hang from the ceiling, he squats down and with his fingers, scoops up the remnants of some oily substance, saying, "I hardly think this is motor oil."
Then, George is whacked out of his gourd when the cop takes two fingers and sucks on them.
"Doesn't taste like motor oil. What do you think, George?"
George didn't know what to do, standing there, towering over the policeman, only with his gut reaction, "I dunno."
Looking up at George, the cop smiles and then drops to where his eye view falls parallel to George's crotch. Staring back up at George, he says, "I betcha this here is `your' sweet honey, huh George?"
At least the cop gets a little more out of George than what his partner did, "Not mine! I mean, I haven't an idea what they were doing before I got here."
Still in a squat stance the cop says, "I betcha I could get a whole lot more out of you George, if you were lying in my bed with me working your sweet meat over with my tongue?"
"What?" George asks even though he knew what he just heard.
Finally standing he extends his hand and says, "Then again, why would you ever consider sleeping with a man tonight, not knowing his name. Officer Jarrett Tobias and I know you're George."
"Uh, yeah," George replies, not knowing what to think of this other than the cop is only a little older than himself and extremely hot.
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In the basement of Denny's Bar & Grill, a table had been cleared and chairs set around. Even though a call to order had brought the monthly meeting of the `Cub Club' together, stragglers surrey in from time to time.
Initially, the set table was lopsided, with only Mark West and Heinrich Baden, but then entered Steve Kelso, owner of the town hardware store, Tommy Farris, he and partner owned the florist, Edward Torrence, a college student whom worked at the college bookstore, Michael Lo Vecchio who owns the best pizza store in three towns and last to walk in is Patrick Gilhooly.
Mark right away questions, "Isn't Michael with you?"
Everyone looked to Patrick for an answer. At first, it was Mark telling Heinrich about the phenomenal red cub', then through the chain of attendees, until they all looked up Patrick, expecting the cub' to be with him.
Instead of going through the whole story of how he blew it, Patrick makes excuse, "Nah. Michael couldn't make it tonight."
Annoyed, the fifty-two year old self-appointed leader of the group dictates, "Well Gilhooly, makes sure he's with you next time?"
Others whom are not locals to the college scene hadn't a clue, except one, Edward, a college student himself who works on college grounds, "I haven't seen him without a shirt, but Michael is like `really' good looking and the reddest hair you've ever seen and... he's got the nicest rounded belly."
He probably should have kept his mouth shut, Mark saying, "In a few months all that could change since Michael works out at my gym."
Of course he got hit with a barrage of assaults but Mark's argument came, "You can't knock a guy down for wanting to better himself. Besides, ain'tcha ever heard of a muscle-cub?"
Still there were protests, Mark getting the flack over Michael wanting to work out, buildup and drop a few pounds. One thing he wasn't telling though is how he got to touch and taste `Michael'!
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"Aren't you going to get that?" Michael asks Geoff as the two lay there in each other's arms.
"It's probably for Davy. Nobody ever calls for me."
"Somebody I could," Michael replies, smiling at Geoff.
It was like a hint or something, Geoff rolling over, falling out of bed and picking up the phone next to Davy's bed.
From across the room Michael hears two shits', one fuck' and a slew of omg's, before Geoff hangs up, hurries over and yells, "Oh shit! Where's my briefs?"
"Wait!" Michael's up and out bed in a wink, "What's up?"
"Davy. He's been in an accident. He's in the hospital. We gotta get there!"
Michael drove to the hospital and the whole time, from how Geoff ranted and raved about his brother, was like what would happen to him if something happened to Davy?
He learned Davy had a cut on his head, was knocked out, but x-rays and testing showed no permanent damage. Dwelling on this, Michael assured him things would be alright. He wished he could be more intimate, but features of the middle of his truck would not allow it.
"You think he's going to be alright, Michael?" Geoff looked to him.
"Yeah, Davy's tough. He's probably sitting up in bed and pinching all the nurses!"
And when they got to the hospital, Geoff looked upon Michael as a soothsayer or purveyor of the truth, seeing Davy sitting up and like Michael said, laughing out loud and walking in just in time to see Davy pinch one of the nurses in the rear!
Davy even joked about the nurse, "Hey guys, this is Chad. The hospital is sending him home with me to make sure I heal properly!"
Chad, two years older than Davy, tall, average weight, blond and very good looking, says, "Yeah and if doesn't behave I happen to have a paddle in the trunk!"
They all laughed, but Michael wasn't sure whether they were joking or being for real. What matter most to him is Geoff and how he felt about the welfare of his brother. In a way, the compassion Geoff felt for Davy seemed synonymous with how he was starting to feel about Geoff. For the first time in his life he wanted to put his arm around a guy without force or pretense and it felt warm and good!
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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.....