The following story is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not meant to accurately depict, nor reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story by law. This is fiction. Do not forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matter'; got condom?
"Muscle Jocks For Domination" 21 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"I smell something good!"
"I'm boiling a pot of your smelly socks, to get the dirt out, Steve."
"Really?" Steve replies, peering over Matt's shoulder, clothed in only an apron.
"Nah. Oatmeal. I hope you like it."
"I'm sure if you made it, I'll like it."
However, Steve more so liked nibbling on his mate's ear, then trying to get his attention for some liplocking.
"If I leave this without stirring, it'll get lumpy and burned."
"I get the message," turning off the affection.
"You look nice today, Steve."
"Thanks, hon. I even checked twice to make sure I buttoned up correctly."
"Lemme see."
"You don't trust me?"
"Sure I do, but it gives me extra recourse to check out your jock body."
"What about the oatmeal?"
Answering Steve's question, Matt dumped out the hot cereal into two bowls. Steve stood there, letting Matt check out the wardrobe.
Holding Steve's crotch in his hand, feeling up the big orbs and softness, Matt says, "Everything checks out down here."
"I suppose that means my zipper is up?"
"Up, yes, but I think I should check out if it's in good working order, Steve."
With a smile on his face, Matt grabs the little metal tab and unzips, then zips it back up.
"I don't know what it is about the sound of a zipper that drives a guy wild."
Then standing back, hands on his hips, Matt tells Steve, "I hope you are not going to let this boss of your intimidate you anymore, Steve."
"Oh, he was just playing around."
"Sounds more serious to me, when he locks you two behind closed doors and starts giving you orders, Steve. Um, did you really like it?"
Grinning, Steve's face told it all.
"I'm not the only one he's treated like that."
"But you're not just anyone, Steve. You're my guy and I don't want you treated like that anymore. If this Max character has a problem with it, then he can come see me."
Steve's mouth formed an `o', at the audacious comment.
"Don't let this jerk get away with it Steve."
"But I... I..."
"You like it, right Steve?"
He smiled his best `yes'.
"All I can say Steve, is you've got to make a choice."
"Choice, Matt? What do mean?"
"Well, it's obvious that your boss intended on carrying this further, inviting... no, demanding that you go to his place last night. Plus, I'm sure when you didn't show that he spent a lonely evening, planning some type of revenge."
"Revenge? Nah."
"Revenge, yes. Mark my words, Steve that today in the office, he's going to have some type of humiliation scheme up his sleeve and you better not cave in or I'll... I'll...."
"Yeah? You'll what?" Steve looked almost cheerful at Matt's threat.
Matt wasn't any dumb bunny. For sure he had a major crush on Steve. He didn't want anything interfering with that. If it meant giving Steve what he wanted, by `other' means, then Matt was game. Looking up into Steve's, eyes, the oatmeal began to go cold, as he unlatched Steve's belt buckle, sliding the dressy leather belt from it's loops.
Doubling the belt in half, Matt reports, "If you don't behave yourself, Steve, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands!"
"Hell yeah!" Steve shouted out.
Matt didn't really need the vocal response, as he peered at the bulge in Steve's pants, behind the zipper. Reaching out, he grabbed the forming erection.
"Oooooooh," Steve sighed.
"Turn you on, Steve?"
"What?"
"Don't play dumb. Take off the jacket and drop the pants."
"Drop my pants? But...."
"Now!" Matt shouted, as if the angry master.
This only drove Steve onward. Matt moved the bowls of oatmeal from the table.
"Over the table."
"But...." Steve protested, even though he really wanted to beg for it.
With his tie doubling up on the checkerboard table cover, his chest and stomach planted against the kitchen table, his brief-covered ass poked up in the air.
"Now, if you don't stand up to this Max character, I'm gonna pound these glutes tonight, Steve..." Matt rubbed the leather belt over the cloth-covered mounds.
"Oooooooooooh," Steve gasped, as if a cock felt up his ass.
"And I expect a full report, Steve."
"Okay...oooooooooooooooooooowch! Ooooh oooh I can't believe you did it!"
With a wry smile, Matt says, "Like you hated it, Steve?"
Looking back over his shoulder, Steve's face reflected the `horrible' lash that swept across his ass.
"Um, are you going to really whip my ass if I don't stand up to Verraros?"
Throwing the belt on the table, Matt replied, "Might just do it anyway. Now get your carcass off the table and pull up those pants. I'm sure the oatmeal is cold."
Steve went to work, stuffing his firm meat back into his jock briefs, reassembling himself, as Matt headed to the microwave with the two bowls.
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"G'mornin'," the six foot, hundred and sixty-nine pound exec greeted his new right hand man.
"Yeah, it sure is," Rick Rhodes replied, smile on his face.
Sun shining through the blinds, across the bed, greeted the two, rays traversing the two muscled bodies.
"How's the abs?"
"Fine."
"Told you those hot abs could take more of an assault."
"Like you're not going to have the rest of your life to play with them?"
The two, side by side, closed up the gap between them, to imbibe in a luscious lip-lock.
Separating, Max states, "I suppose we better get a move on it."
As the two exited the bed, Rick's hand felt up his stomach.
"Mushy?"
"Not really."
"Let me see."
Max touched the sixpack, darting his fingers in and out of the jock's stomach.
"Oooooh..." Rick replied.
"Tender, I'd say. I think we should lay off the gut punching for awhile."
"Oooooh," the twenty-six year old whined, as if a six year old.
"Look, we'll alternate."
"Alternate, Max? What does that mean?" Rick looked baffled.
"Just what it sounds like. Tonight you work my abs."
"Work, your abs, but...."
Giggling, Max replied, "Yeah, well, you aren't the only muscle stud around here that likes their abs tested."
"But... but I can't do you, Max."
"Why not, Rick?"
"Because you're the... the dominant."
"So, you put the harness and chaps on, the boots and you become the dominant, Rick."
"But..."
"You'll do it, wouldn't you?"
"Do I have to?" Rick replied, again the juvenile demeanor.
"No. Never mind. We'll find somebody else to do it. Perhaps one of the men from the club."
"Club? What club?"
Smirking, Max replies, "See, you're getting into a relationship and you don't know everything about me."
"I know I love you."
Sparking another go around at the lip-locking, they put the subject at rest for now and hit the shower.
"Here's some coffee," Rick offered the cup to Max, who was shaving.
"I'd like to do your body sometime."
"Do my bod? You worked over my abs, fucked me... what else?"
"Soap up that chest and stomach and shave it." Then, a few fingers poking Rick in the navel, feeling up the swirl of dark brown hair around his navel, he entertains the thoughts, "yeah, shave around your bellyhole and carve out a nice defined trail."
"I kind of like the idea."
"Like it? Yeah right, Rick," Max replied, holding his firm cock in his hand.
"Well, I've seen other guys getting their bodies shaved."
"Where?"
"College. The swim team. They figured anything that dragged them down, they could remedy, so the coach had them shave their chests, stomachs...."
"And?"
Giggling, Rick says, "They did each other. Sometimes one of the guys would go overboard with the cream and razor. Some got their crotch and balls shaved."
"Oh? That all?"
"No. Shaved ass, pits."
"And how did you find it?"
"A major turn on. I often thought about joining the swim team, after that first time, seeing those chiseled bodies smooth."
"You weren't on the swim team?"
"Hell no, though at times like that, I wished. Nah, track was more my thing."
"Oh I get it. So, being on the track team gave you access to the lockerrooms, huh?"
"Yup."
"Smart man. That's why I picked up you for my right hand man, Rick."
"Oh? You mean it wasn't only for this hot jock body?"
Wiping the cream from his face, with the towel, Max turns, caressing his new live-in lover.
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"Hey, Luis... Luis, wake up."
With a sweet smile gracing his face, the Latino slowly awoke.
"Jordan?"
Realizing he was asleep against Raavi's chest, Luis hops off the side of the bed.
"The guard. He say I can...."
"Whoa, Luis. You don't have to explain it to me."
"I don't?"
"Nope. Where do you think Josh and I were last night?"
"You sleep two together?"
Gathering some used supplies, Jordan winks, as he leaves the room.
"Did you like it, Luis?"
"Yup," the Latino coins the pleasurable response.
"Me too. Luis, where do you live?"
"Anyplace."
"Anyplace? Don't you have a room or apartment?"
"No. Some of the time I live under a bridge."
"Under a bridge? What bridge?"
"By the river."
Before they could get into discussion, Officer Campbell Goodall reported to pick up his charge.
"Sleep good?" He asked, with his own hidden reference of agenda.
"Si," Luis replied, buttoning up the front of his wrinkled shirt.
"You make a nice couple," Camp replies to the obvious nice remark.
"Gracias," Luis replies.
Raavi smiles, until he hears Camp tell Luis something.
"I heard the doctor say you can be discharges, Luis. I also know... it doesn't give me pleasure saying this, but I know you're in this country illegally and..."
"They sent me back to Mexico?"
"Noooo, please don't," Raavi interferes.
Acting sympathetic, Camp replies, "Sorry, but that's the law. Soon, I'll have to take you down town, get your statement, but..."
"Noooo, please don't," Raavi again intervenes, steeping out of bed even though his arm pains him.
"I hate this as much as you do, but the law is the law."
"Can you wait outside for a moment, Officer?" Raavi eyes beg, as well as his words.
"I guess I can give you a few."
As soon as the door closes, Raavi informs Luis, "Help me get dressed."
"Que?" Luis asks, to the `why'.
"The jon. It's connected to the room on the other side of this one."
"Who is John?"
"The toilet. C'mon Luis. I'm not letting you go back to Mexico."
With the hospital garb removed, Raavi stands there in his briefs.
"Hairy!" is the first thing out of Luis' mouth.
Raavi stifles his readiness, as Luis stands there, looking over the dark, black hair covering Raavi's chest, the dark defined trail down his stomach, caressing his deep navel, the elastic waist band capturing the hairy mass below.
"Do you like smooth guys?"
"I like hair on a guy. Nice," Raavi says, running his hand over the course pecs.
Looking down upon himself, Raavi replies, "Well, you better stop that before I throw a boner!"
Both laugh, then hustle to get Raavi's bad arm into the sleeve of his shirt. A major turn on is in the works, as Luis assembles most of Raavi's wardrobe.
"I hope I can taste it."
"Taste what, Luis?"
Then realizing what he said, which embarrasses, he fucks it, saying, "Your body hair."
"As soon as we get home."
"Home?"
Smiling, Raavi takes Luis' shoulders and leans in, kissing the Latino.
"C'mon," He replies, making a break for the jon.
%
Continued......
Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.