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.
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LiFe SuCKs! 03 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Walking into his room at home, Jerome flung his bookbag on a pile of dirty wash. He would have used the bed, but after kicking his sneakers off, he dove for the unmade sheets. All afternoon, talking with his buds at the pizzeria, the only thing that was on his mind was `Travis', him vocally cursing out loud, "That faggot! Somebody's gotta teach him a lesson!"
Jerome still sulked over the fact he had befriended Travis, called him a brother', which his made his mouth take on a raunchy taste, verbally, "Yech!". He had convinced his rents to allow him to keep a small refrigerator in his room for water to keep hydrated. In the back, behind the transparent blue bottles was his stash of beer. Digging to the back, he pulled one can, which dragged the rest of the six pack out.
"Oh-h-h-h!" Almost like sex, the trickle of alcohol down his throat acts in a tranquilizing moment of bliss.
One gulp led to the next as would medication, until his powerful hand, the one which tucked in Travis' gut, squashed the can and in response to what happened earlier, made the wall his target. With a dented line on the wall, Jerome cruelly says, "Yeah, that's gonna be you, `good buddy!'"
Disconnecting a second can, he took two gulps, then set it down on his night table. Either the room was stuffy, which it could have very well been, with the windows closed, or possibly Jerome still with heated temper, coupled with the effects of the beer, made him reach down, stripping his football jersey off overhead.
No matter if a man is straight or gay, they still have tendencies to sensitive parts of the bod. For Jerome, his fixation was his pinkish nips, poking above the dirty blond covering of pec moss. A couple of years ago, quite by accident, he found a mate, tapping his beer can against his chest to be quite a thrill. It happened, the bottom lip of the can repeated bumped against his pec and from then on, when alone and feeling the need of a turn on, would rub his nip with a frosty can, or when not available, finger and thumb would do. Figuring this a low time in his life, with that dirty-rat-Travis turning traitor, being gay, especially when people knew they were tight friends, Jerome needed a pleasurable distraction. At first it was good, but one-handed nip-stroking wasn't enough. Placing the can on the night table, Jerome went at it, teasing his own nips.
In no time he was so into it, his eyes closed, but something strange resulted. Instead of his girlfriend on her knees, pulling his draws down, there was Travis!
"Travis?!" Jerome came to his senses in a split-second, opening his eyes, simultaneously with ceasing the nip-pleasuring, parking his elbows in the mattress as he propped himself up, looking to make sure, if indeed, it was or wasn't Travis on his knees, between his legs, Travis' lips stroking up the sides of his shaft.
True to his findings, Jerome's inhibitions had broken loose and with his fixations of what Travis had `done to him', he was paying the price. Jerome didn't equate a dude sucking his cock with being gay, but rather payback, with intentions of humiliation.
Going back to his beer, the second can led to a third. With his delusions continuing, Jerome's hand snuck under the waistband of his team gym shorts, at which point he shucked them. Where normally he would be coaxing his girlfriend on, Jerome called out the name `Travis,' "Yeah, suck it Travis, you fuckin' pervert!"
Soon he got well into it, gyrating his hips and had worked up such a sweat, between `Travis sucking him off,' and the force of a free hand playing with his nip, Jerome shouts out, "Oh yeah! Oh yeah! Oh fuckin' yeah!" Jizz erupting from his heightened sexually-driven masturbation, it shot all the way, clear up to his midchest.
Totally expended, four or five ropes of cum, with little energy left from his terrible ordeal this afternoon, beer affecting him, Jerome's hand moved in a circular motion, coating his chest, round and round, fingertips scathing over his left nip, ball of his palm over the right, working up a rhythm, until he drifted into a deep sleep.
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"So, you're going to get even with Jerome by fucking him?" Mike posed to Travis.
"I dunno. Can we talk about this later?"
The twenty-nine year old college professor only smiled, going back to work'. It did turn him on, much to his own surprise, working Travis' teen shaft over with his lips. In reality, Mike hadn't given a blowjob in a number of years. To blow' again, he wasn't sure if it would float. Amazed, to say the least was he, at how many guys he's met at the cabin down the mountain and none of them were interested in receiving a blowjob, with interest in giving or getting fucked.
"Are you still hard?"
"Am I still hard?" Mike replies in a sarcastic manner. Sitting up between Travis' legs, holding his hard shaft on the palm of one hand, "Does it look like I'm hard?"
"It looks cool!"
"Looks cool? Is that all?" Mike hoped Travis had an inkling to switch roles.
"No," Travis replies, teasing.
"Doesn't look cool? How about this?" Mike stands up on the bed, his 7.5c flopping down, bouncing off his balls. "This cool enough?"
"No, I didn't mean your cock looked cool. I meant it looks cool from the perspective from my vantage point," Travis relays.
"Oh. How's that go?"
"I dunno," he contradicts himself, "like it's so different looking at a man's crotch when it's out in the open, not sneaking peeks while a guy is undressing in the locker room, or in the shower. That's all. Now you can go back to sucking me."
Standing there with hands on hips, Mike wasn't sure what that was all about. However, his next choice words even made himself baffled about where they came from, "You're hard." Mike said probably out of wishful thinking, hoping there would be a change in attitude, but with silence following and no offering from Travis to suck him, he sank back down to his knees with a few ricochets off the mattress.
"I know, but if you don't wrap your talented lips back around me, it's going to get soft?"
"Uh, sure," Mike replies.
Next thing, Travis is up on his elbows, crunching on the bed again, hollering, "Mike, what the hell are you doing?"
Giggling, probably because the feel of the tip of Travis' 9c tickling his hairy asscrack was culprit, "Oh nothing. Just thought I'd give you the chance to see if you like being a top for a guy?!"
Travis honestly didn't know what to think, his mouth left open agape with wonder.
Checking, Mike asks, "Mind if I take a seat?" he laughs.
"Whatever," Travis replies. Yet, being unable to see what was happening under Mike's ass, he rested his head back down on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, trying to put a picture in his mind of his cock, slowly being swallowed up by Mike's ass.
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Meanwhile, several miles away, Aldo Giacobazzi fastened his belt and fed his arms into his shirt, praising Trevor and his room mate, Barry Blazevic, "As usual, intense dudes!"
Barry, who happened to also be Trevor's boyfriend, replies, "Good to hear. Tell all your friends. I rent him by the hour!"
Differing, Trevor, who is still lying on the cum secreted over Barry's hairy stomach, his finger still playing in it, "Yeah, like Barry here isn't enough for me!"
Buttoning up his shirt, Aldo replies, "Oh really? And how much commission is that for me?"
Doing Trevor's bidding, Barry says, "You get all the free blowjobs you want, Aldo. You know you can fuck Trevor all you want? What more could you ask?"
"You got a point there," Aldo sits to pull on his sneakers. Done with haste, no bothering to lace them, tucking laces into the sides, Aldo says as he leaves, "Okay, text me when you want to get together again."
"Text?" Trevor replies.
Almost twice a day the three have been meeting up for suck'n'fuck sessions, Aldo lately offering, "Okay, I'll stop by later," without reservations.
As always, Barry suggests, "Bring somebody if you want?"
"Yeah, sure," Aldo replies. Though he's often thought, he didn't think he was up for sharing!
"I like Aldo," Trevor says, lying down and getting cuddly, disregarding the sticky stuff.
Wise, Barry tells him, "Oh really? Without Aldo, how else are you going to have two cocks up your ass at once?"
"Yeah, I suppose so," Trevor replies.
Laughing, Barry says, "We still have to work at getting two in your mouth!"
"Yeah and I thought I had a big enough mouth!"
"Then again, getting Aldo's cock in your mouth would be a big enough feat, huh?"
Trevor began looking at Barry strangely, maybe because the way Barry related his feelings, was in a strange unloading. Even though they termed their relationship as `boyfriends', it didn't mean it in the ritualistic manner, Trevor supposing, "You've met someone else?"
"Met someone else? I have you, Trevor. How could I meet someone else who could..."
Sitting up, almost hitting his head on the top bunk, Trevor says sternly, "Who is he? Somebody I know?" Trevor blocks the space under his pecs with his folded arms across the middle of his bod. "C'mon. Who sucks your cock better than I do?"
With a smirk and raising of eyebrow, Barry knows he can never keep secrets from Trevor, "Dave Malone. He's in my computer graphics class. He said he saw me first, but..."
Again, popping up and almost hitting his head, Trevor replies, "Sure he did. You probably had your eyes on him from the beginning of the semester. Tell me, Barr, he the real reason you took the class?"
"What's this? Jealousy Trev?"
"Just answer the question!"
Rolling out of bed, it wasn't oblivious to Barry, the patch of cum, the majority of it landing north of his bellyhole, his hand grazing over the gummy, half-dried substance, "Okay!" Barry shouts out of frustration, telling, "But I didn't scope him out until `after' I registered, but there he was, the first day of classes and..." Barry pauses, "I couldn't help myself. You know how I've had this hidden desire to meet up with a chubby, fat, hairy kid?"
Keeling over, his face falling right into the pillow Barry's head had been parked, Trevor picks his head up, faces Barry long enough to say, "Just go."
"Go?" Barry questions him. "Like, I `own' half this room, did you forget?"
"Oh right," Trevor replies. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, his hand feels something, "Ewe! Is this your cum?"
"No, idiot! It was you on your hands and knees, your shoulders to the bed while Aldo and I were trying to fuck you? Like, it was your own cock touching the bed?"
"Oh yeah, I forgot!" Trevor replies. He scrapes a small remnant up and puts his index finger in his mouth, sucks on it, saying like a connoisseur, "Yup, it's mine!"
Whimsically, Barry says, "You can lick my stomach off, if you're that hungry?"
Because it wasn't a strong relationship of total commitment, Trevor lightheartedly replies, "No. That's okay. Why don't you go and have Malone lick it off!"
Barry gets the sneaky suspicion, "Wait, do you know Dave?"
"David? Sure. I've sucked him off a coupla times!" A wide smile shines across Trevor's lips!
"It can't be the same Dave Malone."
Testing, Trevor replies, "About 5'11, beefy, light brown all over the chest, stomach and... below? Ahem! Close cropped beard?"
Matching the description to the `T', even though Barry hasn't seen Dave shirtless, replies, "He didn't tell me you sucked him off?"
"Did you ask?" Trevor gets up, grabbing himself a towel and fastening it to his torso, the place where his treasure trail integrates with his pubes.
"Did I ask?" Barry questions with being flustered. "How... why should I ask? It's like we didn't even get `there' yet!"
"Really?" Trevor grabs up his plastic bottle of shower gel, "You're madly in love with the dude and you haven't even gotten to first base?"
Making a point, or perhaps getting even, Barry replies, "Well it's not like Dave has thrown himself at me!"
Assuming, Trevor hits him point blank with, "Oh no, of course not. Not like me, ripping your jock strap off to get at your meaty junk!"
"I'm not saying that," Barry says, even though, when he first moved into what was Trevor's territory first, generally, that's how it went.
"Fine," Trevor says, hand on the door, his flip-flops on his feet, "I'll try not to get in yours and Dave Malone's way, but mind you," he opens the door, "if I catch you two in here and am feeling kinda horny, it's open season!"
He left Barry standing there, trying to make his own assessments.
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"Did you like it?"
Turning to Travis, Mike replies, "I'd like it better if we could get in the shower?"
Travis smiles and returning to another subject, "We still didn't figure out what I'm going to do Monday morning?"
Of course, it was the farthest thing from Travis' mind - Monday morning, with Mike jackknifing himself over his hard shaft.
"I'll make a deal with you?"
"You'll hold Jerome down, while I fuck him?"
"Not exactly. If we get in the shower, get this sweat and cum off of us, I'll solve your problem this weekend."
Hyper, Travis retorts, "This weekend? You're joking, right? How can you solve `my' problem, Mike? You've gotta be kidding!"
Mike smiles, saying, "Nope. I kid you not."
"I don't believe you. It's Friday night. You've got two days. It would be an impossible feat for a genius. Probably the news has rippled through the student population already. I'm doomed!"
"Not!"
"What makes you so sure?" Travis doubts.
"Chapter 11. Have you read it?"
Travis, still skeptical, replies, "I haven't read your book. Remember?"
"Oh. Right. Okay, well I'll give you a copy and you can read chapter 11."
Mike, half out of bed, Travis asks, "Can't you sum it up?"
"Sure. In the shower!"
Travis lay there for a moment by himself, as Mike speeds away. Looking up at the ceiling, hands behind his head, flaunting his dark-haired pits, he questions himself, "Why did I allow my nads to rule my mind back at the lake?"
With Mike yelling something about the shower being nice and hot, Travis springs out of bed. As if this had been the norm, the two living as a couple, sharing their lives, Travis thinks nothing of sliding the glass door of the shower open, saying in a commanding voice, "I'm here. What's your plan?"
There's Mike's smiling face, "Soap..." he holds a bar on his palm, hand gripping a pink, flowery bottle, "or gel?"
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Trevor always preferred a bar of soap over gel. Always something about working a hard object over his bod, he marveled at the way it felt working the slimy, hard cake under his sacs, teaming it up with his soft cock or the pleasure of trying to make it pierce his small hole. Of course the other less, yet not totally numb places, pecs, pits... "Oops!"
Three minutes after he entered his shower stall in the dorm jon, another dude had turned on the jets next to him. This is where Trevor's bar of soap currently came to rest!
Half his bod sloping around the corner, popping into Trevor's shower stall, the dude is saying, "I know of your routine, Dalles. Here... catch!" and he was gone.
Catching his tossed bar of soap midchest, Trevor stood there for a moment in contemplation. If Stieve Graff knew of his cunning way of meeting up with guys in the shower, then was he getting the brush off or a subtle invitation? Deciding on the latter, Trevor puts phase two into play, dropping the soap on the floor and giving it a gentle kick, with "Oops!" intentionally attached.
`Epic failure', he calls the shot when the soap is volleyed back from the direction it skated, via Graff's foot.
He resigns, "I guess that didn't work either, huh Steive?" He laughs out loud after making it publicly known.
"I wouldn't say so!" Instead of half of Stieve's bod, Trevor is faced with the whole picture. Standing there, his cock already stroked up in prime condition, in a broken Dutch-English brogue, he says, "You get to your knees now, bitch!"
First taking on Stieve's handsome face, dropping down the perfectly smooth bod, he hesitates, "Nice nip ring. Can my tongue check it out?"
Stieve enjoys the best of both worlds, Trevor's tongue weaving its way around the tiny nip ring piercing Stieve's left nip, Stieve making Trevor's hand work his cock, while giving Trevor a handjob.
It was all good for a while, until Stieve grew impatient, wanting a hot mouth to replace a hand.
More than a few times Trevor thought he would be asphyxiated, the way Stieve grabbed both sides of his head and jammed his 9c in, holding it there and then showing his head the ins and outs of roughly working a cock into shooting condition. Too, when he came, Trevor's fears changed from dying by suffocation, to death by drowning!
"Not bad," Stieve comments, wiping the residue on Trevor's face. "Next time I plant it in your ass!"
"Cool!" Trevor was all for it. Back to his own shower cubby, he savored the last taste of probably the hottest gay guy on campus. He gloated at his failure turning into success, with a hot shot chance of having his ass gutted by Stieve's long, thick one.
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"Where are you going?" Travis asks Mike.
Their shower went along quite ordinary, each soaping up the other, Travis having chosen the bar, rinsing, then drying off. In the bedroom, Mike informs, Travis, "My closet is your closet!"
Again Travis reiterates, "Okay, but where are you going? Is this about Jerome?"
Originally, Mike was going to tell all in the shower, but for obvious reasons it flee from both their minds!
"Um, let's leave this as a case of `don't ask, don't tell'?"
"But it's about Jerome?"
Standing, 2xist's over his buns, after pulling socks onto his feet, Mike replies, "I think you've already guessed?"
Frustrated, Travis, feeling at home wearing nothing at the moment, flops on the bed on his stomach, facing the foot of the bed, "How can you fix something that went so wrong and make it right, in two days?"
"By knowing a lot of people in the right places, with the power to make things work in our favor. Besides, the way it works, I owe them a favor, I pay them back. Then, when they need a favor, I oblige. It goes back and forth and back and forth. See?"
"No," Travis replies.
"You'll see. Monday morning you'll go into school and the tally will be in `your' favor," Mike says cheerfully.
"How come I can't come with you?"
"Trust me. You don't want to know these kinds of people."
Travis shoots back, "Mike, I don't want anything `bad' happening to Jerome!"
"`Bad?' Nah, nothing bad, only shake him up a little bit, make him feel bad he's passing up on all the pleasures of being straight!" he laughs out loud!
"I don't understand," Travis replies.
"You don't have to. All you have to do is be brave and walk into school on Monday morning, holding your head high."
"I still don't get it."
Mike, pulling on his pants, "And chances are, after you walk into school on Monday, find out everything is as you left on Friday afternoon, you won't understand." Patting Travis' head like a puppy dog, "Don't go worrying your pretty little head over it. Just trust me!"
"I suppose I don't have a choice!"
"Actually," Mike stands with arms folded across the middle, "you do have a choice in the matter. I can stop getting dressed, undress and get back into bed with you, or I could go and help straighten out your life?"
With worlds of questions on his mind, Travis chooses, "Why are you doing all this for me?"
With his shirt on, even though it wasn't buttoned, picking his belt and wallet up, Mike leaves Travis with, "I feel obligated."
"Why? What'd I do?"
"Not you, but rather your brother," Mike stands in the doorway, "if it wasn't for him, I probably wouldn't have finished my book!"
He was gone, Travis with two things to ponder on, but straying to the new thought, of what could Trevor possibly have done to have Mike finish his book?
"And oh!" Mike sticks his head in the door, "Don't wait up for me!"
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Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee
`LiFe SuCKs!' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.