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! 08 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Eric Belori has been sitting on a fallen tree, in the clearing where he has met Sebastian on the trail other days, for approximately one half hour.
In his search for something to pass the time, he's managed to catch two squirrels mating, claiming them both to be male.
Spotting something in the dirt circle, a cut out from the forest, trying to make heads or tails of what four holes in the ground, evenly paced was all about, deciding it was a game played by aliens before they took off.
Giving up on nature search as a past time, he shucked his tee shirt, lay down the length of the log, put hands behind his head, blocked out the sun by closing his eyes and decided on catching some rays.
Just as he felt the sun take its effect, warming him from head to bellyhole, an illusion takes place, the blocking of the sun when something comes between eyelids and the sky, casting underneath the lids a void of darkness. His eyes automatically flick open, yet are still in a blind stage. Though, he couldn't make out the face as being familiar or foreign, Eric utters, "Hey." He sits up.
"Hey there yourself! Sorry to disturb your slumber there mate, but I thought I'd check to make sure."
"Make sure of what?" Eric totally aware of his first recognition, the hiker's backpack straps clinging to skin, without a shirt to cushion his arms.
"You weren't dead?"
Twenty-two years old, Eric didn't have many limits on male prospects, regarding race, age or even some beliefs. If they were a member of the Westboro Church, then he might have snubbed him, but the scruffy-looking dude, bushy hair, dark brown beard to match, hairy pecs and the pyramiding brown mat down the rest of his bod, it was registering as `hot man!' Though, he reduced his glee to, "Nope, not yet!" And not waiting for the chance for the dude to escape them, he stands, wipes a hand off, offers it and, "Hi. I'm Eric."
"Friendly of you mate," the dude replies, offering his five digits and, "but just the same, nice to meet ya. My name's Finn Biedemeier."
"Um, I kind of recognize the accent. You wouldn't happen to be from Austrailia?"
"Still am! Just happen to be staying over at the motel, yonder," Finn throws his thumb over his shoulder, pointing over the mountain top, "and thought I'd do myself some fossil-hunting. You from around here?"
"Uh, yeah," Eric replies. "I go to Fossil Mountain College and work part time as a domestic helper."
Grabbing his shirt off the log, Eric says, "I was supposed to meet up with a friend or two to do some hiking and camping, but," he smooths his shirt over his abs, "I guess they went on ahead."
He figured it would be `goodbye', Finn carrying on, but instead, Finn asks, "Then maybe you wouldn't mind being my guide, since this is your territory?"
"Sure. I could do that," Eric jumps at the invitation. He even throws hint, "If you want, you can stay the night in my friend's tent, but oh, you are at the motel."
"Why don't we play it by ear?"
So, up, up, up and over the mountain the two go, Eric suddenly realizing Sebastian's tent barely sleeps two. Like Finn said, he too was playing it by ear!
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Unknown to any of them, neither Hans, Talon, Duke, nor Jerome, as they were leaving the football field back at the high school, knew Bart Holden was arriving, parking on the school side. Finding Jerome's football in the stands, he bowed down just in time to see a U-Lug-it pull away from the parking lot. He thought he saw Duke in the passenger's side, but strange thing, Jerome's car was still in the parking lot, but no Jerome. Since he was parked across the field and knowing Jerome always kept his car keys in the car, so he wouldn't drop them out of his pocket on the field, he put on some speed and ran as fast he could, jumped in the car, his hand finding the keys under the floor mat. Starting it up, he burned some rubber, until he was out to the main road. He turned in the direction of the U-Lug-it, following it, two cars between them.
Having followed the U-Lug-it to a ranch, Bart hung outside the entry until the truck had traveled up the road and was out of sight. Figuring it a private road, a dilapidated sign saying Maxwell Dairy Farm, Bart assumed there was only one way in and one way out. However, with mystery surrounding the truck and not seeing Jerome, he play it cool, waiting an hour. Too, since he didn't know what to make of things, if he should call the cops he wanted to be sure if Duke and Jerome were in trouble or not. Once in his life he were in a situation and summoned the cops to a false situation, not only being reprimanded, but left feeling like a jerk. Being a big jerk was enough for one lifetime.
Right about the time Bob was about to play with his two captives, Duke faced down on top of Jerome, both tied to the table, Bart was looking in through a window. Darkness, being on the shady side of the barn, he had a good view.
"Now," Bob fondles Jerome's balls, "I'm only going to ask this once. Failure to comply will result in punishment!" To enunciate his words, Bob gives a little pull on the lace attached to both their ballsacs.
"Ow-owch-ow-no!" Duke yells, "We'll do anything you say!"
Softly, Jerome says, "Shuddup Duke! You don't know what he wants!"
Duke differs, "You want to leave this barn with no balls?"
Hurriedly, Jerome asks, "What do you want us to do?"
By this time, Bob was right there at their side. For terror's sake, he held a flogger in his hand, replying, "Nothing much. Kissing would be a good start?!"
"Kiss?" Jerome questioned him. "Like who?"
"Only one other person I see on that table besides you, boy!" Bob giggled.
"Him?" Jerome returns with a disgusted look. "In case you haven't noticed, Duke is a guy?"
"Uh, I think he knows the difference, Jerome?" said without dread or dismay, because for Duke it would be `no sweat'!
Unknown to Jerome, even though he wasn't too attractive to Duke, Duke only working out with him in the wrestling room because he had a cock, which showed nicely when dressed in a wrestling uniform and sometimes when their bods pressed...
Jerome knew, but he wasn't talking gender, except, in his mind, guys only kissed girls.
"You best listen to your friend," Bob said in a `no messing around' way, running the fronds of the flogger over his other hand.
Outside the barn, the window's spying eyes could only imagine, Bart taking on the scene of his football and wrestling buds nude and tied to each other, bound to the table. He wasn't close enough to make out their fattened ballsacs tied together, but the flogger in the hairy guy's hand was enough for him to guess the high school jocks were in trouble. However, instead of react in a manner,in which a person who comes upon a scene where friends appear to be in danger, Bart wasn't moving. No wait, that wasn't correct. Something did move, his hand, which traced the outline of his hardened cock, buried in his sweat pants!
"No?" Bob assumes, walking back to where he stood before when he tied their balls together.
"You fuckin' idiot Jerome! Y'know he's gonna use that thing on us?"
"What am I supposed to do? Didn't you get it Duke? He wants us to do something gay! I don't know about you, but it gives me a funny taste in my mouth thinking he wants you and me to do gay stuff?"
Duke made a funny face, all twisted up in revulsion, though even though only Jerome's cock and balls turned him on, kissing would be an easy deal, since it would not be the first time in his life Duke kissed a dude!
Because Duke was thinking, Jerome tells him, "Say something, doofus!"
"Oh shit! Did you feel that?" Duke broke silence, feeling thin, leathery straps play across his balls.
"Feel what?" Jerome questions.
"Yeah right, Jerome. Like my balls are on top of yours, but I bet when he slings that whippy thing at my balls, yours gets it too!"
Suddenly, from the loft, Talon comes rushing down the ladder, Trevor following.
Running from the barn, Duke's balls buy some time, Bob rushing over and asking, "What's wrong with Talon?"
Trevor slaps his hands to his sides, which makes his cock and balls jiggle, "Right in the middle of a sweet blowjob, Talon remembers he thinks he left his contacts in the truck!"
Bob replies, "Well you know how Talon hates wearing glasses?"
"No. I've never seen him wear glasses, but who needs glasses or contacts in a dark hay loft. Does a guy need to see where to put his dick?"
"You've got a point there, Trevor. Well, I better get back to business," Bob swings the fronds of the flogger around in circles.
"Don't forget the camera, Bob?" Trevor reminds him.
"The camera!" Bob exclaims. "Right!"
Before Bob takes six steps, he hears, "Look what I found outside!"
Roughly holding one of Bart Holden's arms behind his back, Talon's got an arm around the eighteen year old's neck, forcing him into the barn!
Squirming around, a muscled, beefy, swimmer's build football jock could be hard to subdue, but then again, Talon wasn't any born weakling, about an inch taller than Bart, a Talon a workout nut.
Throwing Bart forward, the jock falling to his knees, right down onto his belly, but does a fast pushup.
Talon's foot is right there, stepping all his weight against Bart's lower back, pinning him to the barn floor, "Oh no you don't!"
Trevor didn't know what to think of it, Bob laughing his sweet ass off as Talon, totally in the buff, standing barefoot on Bart's back, the senior football jock trying to get out from under!
"What do we do now?!" Bob exclaims.
Talon, upbeat and still rockin' Bart's bod, yells, "Yee-hah! Another monkey-jock to play with!"
"Did you forget the main objective here, Talon? Who's going to run the camera while I'm convincing those two to make love to each other?" Bob got second thoughts about shooting his mouth off, remembering the `third party' Talon brought in.
Incapacitated, holding Bart down for the moment, Talon says, "Trevor, do me a favor and go find Hans and Tony?"
"Like, aren't I supposed to be a `good guy'?" Trevor rebukes the favor.
"He's right, Talon," Bob replies.
"I'll go!" Talon replies. "You stand here, soldier!" he tells Trevor.
"I'll do it!" Bob replies.
It then occurs to Talon, Bob volunteering to step on Bart's back, "Um, like why don't `you' go get Hans and Tony, Bob?"
"Just do what I say!"
Flustered, Talon hops off Bart's back, Bob stepping on.
Trevor could only stand there and be an admirer, not discounting his feelings of this being a hot scene with two of his brother's high school buds, former buds now he guessed, except for maybe Duke, whatever, fastened to a table like they were into a gay love scene. He smiled when he thought about poor, `straight' Jerome! Then suddenly, seeing Bob's leg moves, he watches something interesting happening. Bob's big toe has worked under the lip of Bart's sweat pants! Since Bob pay attention to what he was doing and not Trevor, he asks, "Hairy ass or smooth?"
Bob looks up. For a take charge guy, the barber wasn't ashamed of wiggling his toe into Bart's ass crevice, "Hairy I think."
Neither noticed Bart, still squirming, though it would have seemed so, other than Bart not moving his upper bod, but rather his hips sort of in a sway.
"At least `they' got to come!" Talon says, coming out from where he fetched Hans and Tony.
In broken English, Tony and his Italian accent ask, "Hey, any-a-you got a paper towel?"
"Yeah, at home in my kitchen," Bob replies in a saucy manner.
Talon giggles, saying, "Just wipe it on your mat, Tony!"
They always joked about Tony having more bod hair than Jonathan Smith, which Tony then claimed he once was almost became a supermodel...
Seeing another alternative, Tony giggles.
"Leave it to Tony!"
The crowd of guys is at a standstill, except Bob's toe, watching Tony wipes the goo from his cock, from his own stomach, onto Duke's ass.
Talon yells over, "Yeah Tony, get it greased up for me!"
They all laugh, unknown, Bob has already been eyeing up the bubblebutt!
Looking down, Talon says, "Uh, Bob, there's an easier way to strip this soldier's pants?"
A light shove to Bob's side set him in motion to tip off of Bart's back. Getting him up to his feet, Talon tucks a hand into the back of the sports pants, an arm around Bart's arm, uprighting him.
Laughing, Talon says, "What's this?" giving Bart's `tent' a slap with his hand.
"Owch! Oh shit!" Like a punch in the balls, Bart's hands go to his crotch, "What'd you do that for?"
Fortunately for Bart, this could have proved a very embarrassing situation, but everyone, except Trevor, was gathered around Tony, lathering up Duke's ass with his cum.
So it went, Talon replying to Bart, "Just making it so you don't feel embarrassed. A good slap to a hard cock will make it go down?"
"I never heard of such a thing."
Adding his two cents, the duo becomes a trio, Trevor saying, "Me neither, but I know for a fact a cold shower will do the trick?"
Talon says to Trevor, "Thank you Dr. Oz."
He should have been afraid for his life, but more engrossed in Talon's theory, Bart had the front of his sweat pants pulled open and peered down into it.
Always full of fun and devilish ideas, sneaking up behind Bart, Talon grabs the sides of Bart's sweat pants and squats, yelling, "Don't be shy!"
"Oh shit!" Trevor yells, then laughs out loud, Bart standing there with his pants down!
Swiftly turning around, if Talon had been standing up instead of looking at Bart's hairy ass, he would've gotten socked in the gut, a fist swinging through air.
Standing, Talon caught the arm on the rebound and rather receive the blunt of Bart's swinging arm, curled himself around Bart's chest, facing him.
In reaction, Bart forces his head back on the hinge of his neck, wincing, because Talon's face is right in his.
"Don't fight the feeling, soldier!"
"Oh...my...god!"
Standing there, Trevor was readying himself, full view, of Talon getting either his bod slammed from both sides with fists or a hefty `up the middle' of the legs, Talon's hand placed behind Bart's head and smooshing their lips together!
Realizing neither coming to fruition, Trevor again exclaims, "Oh my god!"
At first Bart just stood there, Talon having his `gay way' with him.
"Oh my god!"
Instead of violent fists, one of Bart's hands touches Talon's lower back, finding its way up to his shoulder blade and back, the hand getting an idea of what to do!
First shocked, Trevor gets another jolt, rushing over to the two, tugging on Talon's shoulder pulling the two apart.
Talon's reaction, "Can't you wait your turn?"
He wasn't listening to Talon, confronting Bart, "Hey, weren't you one of the dudes who worked over Travis?"
Reluctantly, Bart replies, "Uh, yeah, but..."
Trevor didn't pull on the back of Bart's neck to give him a jolly kiss, but rather pulled on it while his fist dove into Bart's midsection. "Eat dirt you hippo-crit!"
Bart wouldn't have stood anyway, loosing balance over his ankles cuffed together with his jog pants, keeling right over.
"Oh shit, Trevor!"
"What's the big deal, Talon. He worked over my brother for being gay and...." Trevor assumes.
Turning the jock over onto his back, Talon asks, "You all right soldier?"
Bart wasn't holding his shirt to his stomach, which meant he wasn't too phased. Why should a high school football jock be, who goes to the gym everyday? "Nice hook, but it didn't really bother me."
Direct, to the point, Talon puts it to Bart, "Good. Are you gay?"
"Are you going to go berserk and gut-punch me?"
"I could, if it turns you on, but I'd rather handle this civilized?" Talon returns.
Looking beyond Talon, his head to the barn floor, Bart replies, "I'm sorry I did that to your friend," staring right at Trevor.
"Travis isn't my friend. He's my brother and think you're a fuckin' coward."
A big football jock like Bart, he looked like he was ready to cry, explaining, "I was afraid of what Jerome might think, but more scared of what my dad would do. You don't know my dad. He wouldn't take kindly to me suddenly coming up with myself as being... gay?"
Angry to say the least, Trevor had it in him to pounce on Bart, destroy every line of that six or eight pack abdominal cavity, but something snapped, like remembering back a year, when he came out to his dad and the whiplash which followed. Walking over to where Bart lay, Talon at his side, Trevor stood there for moment.
Talon put his arm up, from Trevor's left thigh, the back of his hand almost against the ridge of his right pec.
Slapping Talon's hand away, Trevor says, "I'm not going to do anything."
"Great!" Talon says, standing, then reaching down, "I think the three of us should go up in the loft and talk this over!"
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About a half hour after Eric and Finn leave the clearing, in stumbles Travis and Mike, Mike literally stumbling over a rock, his chest making the dirt fly!
"Are you okay Mike?"
Rolling over to his back, then sitting up, Mike replies, "Sure. I do this all the time!"
"Here," Travis says, placing his foot against Mike's and offering up a hand to pull.
"Thanks," Mike says. With ulterior motives, he careens his bod forwards after rising up, slapping his lips against Travis' face.
"Tell me that wasn't planned?"
"That wasn't planned."
"Liar!" Travis accuses.
"We better get moving."
"Are you sure it's okay to walk in woods while it's dark?"
Mike goes right onto the trail. "Sure. We've got the moon as our guide?"
"I've heard there's wild animals on this side of Fossil Mountain?"
Mike comes back with, "Wow! News about me travels fast!"
"I'm not kidding. You ever see a bear or fox out here?"
"Never been out here in the dark," Mike replies.
"What the fuck? Mike!" Travis stops his brisk pace.
"What?"
Demonstratively, Travis states, "We're going back!"
Turning around, Mike throws his hands in the air and is now pacing towards Travis' back, catching up, "I thought you wanted to go hiking?"
"No. `You' wanted to go hiking, but I hadn't realized it was getting so dark," Travis is now at a running pace.
Through the clearing, Travis hears, "Umphffff!"
"Not again, Mike!"
"I think I broke something."
"It wouldn't happen to be your head?"
"No, really," Mike gasps.
Seeing Mike not joking around, Travis says, "Mike, you're really hurt?"
"No, dah, I think a fox or bear bit my leg!"
"Lemme see," Travis just touches it a tiny bit.
"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow!"
"I wonder if it's sprained or broken?"
Mike replies, "I dunno. I never had one before. You better run for help."
"Remember, we all got cell phones?"
About ready to speedial 911, they hear, "Have a mishap, have you mates?"
Trevor answers, "Mike, we don't know if he's sprained or broken his ankle."
"Only one way to find out," the Aussie drops his back pack from his back.
Right away Travis recognizes the other dude with Finn, "Hey, you're Jerome Smith's butler!"
"I work in the kitchen, but you're right. I do work for the Smith's."
"Would I be troublin' one of you lads to go look for two very long, thick sticks?"
Mike was in pain, so wasn't much up for joking, but was thinking about the long, thick stick he was getting, being attended by the hot, hairy, musky backpacker attending over him. It's all Mike could do, holding back a few times, whereas he had compulsion to stick out a tongue and lick one of those hairy pits which crossed over in front of him, or grabbed hold of one of the pointy nips sticking out of his attendant's pec fur. The least he thought he could do is say thank you, "Thanks, I'm Mike DallaPiccola."
"Finn Biedermeier," but with another thought regarding Mike's name, "Do you happen to go by the name `Michael'?"
Knowing where Finn was going with this, Mike replies, "Only when referencing my book?"
"I had a feeling as soon as you mentioned your name. Not many people go by that surname?"
Oh how Mike wanted to lean forward and `do something'.
"Daylight is almost gone," Finn broke off his silent connection, "I wonder what's happened to those boys?"
With an inner sense of feelings, Mike replies, "Maybe what almost happened to us?"
Wiggling his eyebrows, Finn replies, "Mm-m, I like the sound of that, but let's get your bum leg fixed up and out of the woods, first?"
Just as the boys came back with the sticks, two EMT's show up.
"Oh good, you found us," Mike says.
The girl EMT replies, "We locked on to your cellphone GPS, but I think it's a little off."
The reason it was a little off, Travis' cell phone was in his pocket, he and Eric wandering a distance from the clearing.
"I think we're lost."
Eric replies, "No. Just a little off the beaten path," he looks at the moon.
"Romantic, isn't it?" Travis says, grabbing onto Eric's backpack.
"Could be, but we have a mission here?"
"No," Travis says, thinking the grab onto Eric could be misleading, "I didn't do that... believe it or not I'm a little scared of the dark and the fact I'm in a place where I'm lost?"
His arm out straight, Eric says, "The path is over there."
"Really? How..."
"I'm also a good scout when it comes to hiking through the woods, day or night," Eric replies.
Eric led them right back to the path, without incident. Finding the EMT's with a stretcher, they were as glad to see the boys.
"Oh good," Cindy, half of the EMT squad says, "two muscle-men!"
Cindy carried the medical cases while Finn, Travis, Eric and Lloyd manned the four corners of the stretchers, carrying Mike out of the bush and brush.
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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.