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, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental areas, 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. Check with your local laws regarding such. % Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
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"OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL" 04 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"I'm soooooooo full!"
"Looks it," Jim commented.
Cliff looks down his front, pressing at his shirt, trying to find `a gut'.
"Hee heee... made ya look!"
In place of a harsh or joking retribution, Cliff stared at Jim, smiling.
"What?"
"As if you didn't know."
Grabbing Jim's arm, Cliff pulls his bod towards him. Like dipping a dancing partner, he lets Jim fall over, caressing his lips.
"Hmmm... I guess my club dancing days are over."
"Takes two to tango!"
"So I've noticed."
From the front room, where they've entered, Jim ducks out, into the kitchen.
"I guess I better tackle the dishes."
"Oh, leave them for tomorrow."
"Nope," Jim shoots back. One rule around the restaurant, `nobody goes to bed until the kitchen is clean as a whistle'!"
Already, the soap bubbles mounting in the sink, Cliff figures he'll let Jim get his way.
"I'll dry."
"That's okay. I've got it."
"If you say so."
"Why don't you go upstairs and unwind?"
"Tough to do, without the `unwindee'!"
"I'll be up in a second."
It was 1 AM when Jim climbed the stairs. At every other footstep, he yawned. Over his left shoulder, his shirt hung, having removed it hours ago. Entering the room, there lay Cliff, in bed, fast asleep. Looking over his bod, Jim smiled.
He said to himself, out loud, "Not only did I get a nice guy, but... what a hunk!"
Standing there for a moment, he stare at Cliff's chest, the dark brown hair covering his pecs, the trail down his stomach, deep navel, hair swirling around before pointing the way to his pubes, hidden beneath the sheet. He smiled, remembering sucking the cock, now soft, outlined by the pliable sheet.
Next thing he thought about, is grabbing a shower. After doing the dishes, washing and drying, stacking them on the table, he proceeded to find a place for them in the cabinet. He wound up cursing, finding cups, small and big plates and glasses in five different places. One thing let to the next. After removing all of the dishes, to organize, he set about washing them down. After the cabinets, came the countertops, which led to the kitchen floor. Opening the microwave door, presented another task.
Even though the shower felt so good, Jim was exhausted. Cautiously he knelt on the bed, then sank into the mattress, so as not to awaken Cliff. At first, he lay there on his back, relaxing from the kitchen chores. He couldn't fall asleep. Looking over to his left, he had the urge to cuddle. Rolling onto his side, Jim lay his front up to Cliff's arm, placing his hand on the tummy trail, utilizing a shoulder for a pillow. Being out in the country, not a being for miles, the second story window was void of shades, blinds, nor curtains. The moon play across Cliff's bod, lighting the spectacular sight. Feeling contented, Jim dozed off.
"Up and adam!"
Next thing Jim knew, Cliff's nudging shoulder made his head flop up and down, til it awakened him. Unlike the postion he fell asleep in, Jim's ass faced upwards, making it simple to blot out the morning with a pillow.
"Oooooooh, not yet," he whined.
Eyeing up the two mounds, piled on the bed, Cliff became tempted. From standing, he knelt, not taking his eyes off the target. Having returned from taking a piss, neither his cock, nor his mood resembled last night, waiting for some hot love action.
"What happened to you last night?"
No answer came.
"Hey!"
Trying to shake Jim awake, instead of patting him on the shoulder, his ass worked good enough.
"Whaaat?" Jim, half asleep, answered. Turning, he squinted, saying, "Turn the lights out."
Cliff laughed, replying, "Would be mighty tough, being the morning sun!"
"Oh," Jim said, falling back down on his chest, pillow back in place over his dark head of hair.
"Looks like I'm not getting far here. Guess I should see about making some breakfast."
"Fine," came the faint reply from underneath the pillow.
Stuffing his saggy, 9.5c and balls into a pair of boxer briefs, Cliff headed out of the room, through the hallway, to the top of the stairs. His nostrils picked up a scent. Crinkling up his nose, he followed the strong trail to the kitchen.
"What tha?"
His eyes wide as saucers, Cliff gazed about, questioning out loud the cleanliness of the place.
"Guess I have been kind of sloppy," he reconciled with himself.
Curious, he began looking in cabinets and draws.
"Damn!"
Still shocked, he interrupted the silence, in between opening cupboard doors and slamming them shut.
"Can't even get a decent sleep around here!"
"Well, aren't we the little white tornado?" Cliff comments, turning around.
"If you don't like it, I'll leave. I'm sure, in a week's time, it'll return to being a pigsty."
Realizing the truth in Jim's assumption, Cliff takes a short walk. Beyond the table, he moves his hands in between Jim's arms and bod, giving him the recognition he deserves.
"Thanks," Jim cooly responds, adding, "what's for breakfast?"
"Some romantic you turned out to be."
A place Cliff didn't get to yet, he hung over Jim's shoulder, as the twenty-seven year old `shopped' the fridge.
"Dang! Weren't you the busy little bee?"
"Oooooh, you would `not' believe what I threw out. I judged this refrigerator ready to be condemned!"
"It was that bad, huh?"
"Worse. Stick you head in there."
"Why? You're not going to close the door are you?"
"I should."
Trusting, but being leery, Cliff bent to do it.
"What am I doing this for?"
"Just sniff."
Cliff sniffed.
"Hmm..."
"What do you smell?"
"Nothing."
"Case closed! Move aside."
From the remnants of Jim's `ditching party', last night, he pulled out a bowl with four eggs.
"What happened to the carton they came in?"
"Gummed up with the ones you broke and left there to rot?"
"Oh yeah," Cliff replied.
Almost blushing, he knew he did wrong.
"We need to get some bread."
"There was half a loaf in there."
"Yeah and it was ready for St. Patty's Day!"
"Gone bad already? I just bought it last month."
Jim rolled his eyes.
"I was tempted with keeping it."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Maybe you could make some penicillin from the mold and use it in your practice!"
"Thanks for thinking of me."
Depositing the eggs and carton of milk on the counter, Jim smiles. Looking at Cliff, a quick glance at the waistline of his boxers, the deep bellyhole, nestled in the swirl of dark hair, the embedded trail up his stomach, fanning out over his chest, then the angelic face, already admitting to not keeping things up to par, he couldn't help but let himself be swept off his feet.
"I suppose this means you forgive me?"
Attending to cracking eggs, after releasing Cliff from the bondage of his arms and lips, Jim draws an example.
"See this egg?"
"Yeah."
Taking a steak knife, he hacks at the egg, right in the middle. Perfectly, it breaks in two.
"If you let this place go, this will be your head!"
"YikeS!"
Of course Jim is joking, but getting the message across.
"I can't see how it would be possible for things to go down hill, to the shape this place was in," Cliff reasons.
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Cliff continues, stepping behind Jim, giving him a bear hug, his barechest against Jim's tee shirt, "when there's two living here, instead of one."
It's one option Jim hadn't thought about. Sure, he stayed one night, hoping to spend a few more, til he figured out on what he was going to do, but it seemed Cliff was making an offer, tough to combat.
"Oh? And how would that go, Cliff?"
Slowly, Cliff found the boundaries, where tee shirt edge meets shorts. His hands underneath, soon they are touching flesh. Without the ability to see, he hears Jim purring. Sampling his ear, Cliff realizes Jim is taking it all in.
Not hesitating, Jim, eyes closed, taking in the sensual foreplay, sets down the egg, shell and all, into a bowl. Allowing Cliff to explore with his hands, he stands there, taking in the delightful attention.
Sensing abandonement, Cliff raises his arms, taking Jim's shirt with him. His hands grazing the lightly haired chest, pawing over his dime-sized nips, it's inevitable the top is coming off, over his head.
Placing his hands in the air, stretching towards the ceiling, Jim conceeds to his tee shirt being peeled off. He thinks nothing of it being thrown on the spare chair, one sleeve acting as a rung to be hung up. As he lowers his arms, he turns to the reason for the sweet affection.
With chests facing each other, Cliff's palms draw Jim into his quixotic intentions.
Breaking, Jim's hand helps speak the news, "Hard?"
"Yeah."
With intent, Cliff continues more necking, slowly coaxing Jim's body over to the kitchen table. His arms already around Cliff's neck, Jim allows him to pull his legs up so they hug his waist. This enables Cliff to deposit Jim's ass on the table. As Cliff bends at the waist, Jim's back rests on the tablecover.
As Cliff's thumbs start to peel Jim's briefs, Jim detects Cliff's bare pubes. `Fast mover', he thinks. As his legs are lifted, tracing the outline of Cliff's bod, something comes to light. Feet on each side of Cliff's head, big toes near his ears, the thoughts become more clearer.
"Hold it a sec?"
Pressing his elbows on the table, Jim's stomach crunches up, wrinkles where his stretch out abs led to his bellyhole, the tight treasure trail, still visible somewhat.
"Um, I was almost `in there'."
"I know. I can feel it, but..."
"What? Not in the mood?"
"Sure, but..."
Seeing Cliff, all revved up, Jim flops back down on the table.
"What?" Cliff questions.
Backing off with his swollen shaft, he allows Jim's legs to ski down the front of his bod, as he backs off. Sitting up, Jim's hard shaft rocks between the cradle of his balls.
"I guess it's not important."
"Not important? Yeah sure," Cliff, on the sly, states with question.
"Okay," Jim replies, ready to dish out his feelings. As if it helps build up his self esteem, he holds his hard shaft in his hand, saying, "What would you think about me doing you?"
Eyes wide open, Cliff stands there, finally asking back, "You do me? Like.... fuck me?"
"Um, I think that's how the slang goes."
Hands on hips, cock still hard, Cliff mulls over Jim's frankness.
"You fuck me, huh?"
"Forget it. It's not important."
"Oh course it's important."
"It is?"
"Sure. If you and I are going to make a go of this relationship then we need to make things clear to each other."
"Relationship?"
Both remain stationery. Cliff has brought up an issue, in which neither of them has translated into a verbal writ of telepathic agreement.
"Hee heee," Cliff giggles it away, "silly, isn't it?"
"I dunno," Jim replies, "I think if we work at it, like you say, get everything out on the table..."
Both realize the implication, Jim `on the table', and laugh.
"Seriously," Cliff picks up where they left off, "if we can reconcile our..."
Not finishing his statement, by now both already clued in, Cliff moves between Jim's knees, spread wide, taking him in for a long lip-lock. As before, he lifts Jim up, legs hugging his waist. Only difference now, both bottomless, they confront each other with their hard reactions.
Already having mulled over his thoughts of Jim's presentation, Cliff figures, with where all this is going, meeting up with a man, worthy of more than a one night stand, falling head-over-heels in loving him, it's about time some guy took his cherry ass. Turning, Cliff plops his ass up on the table ledge, letting Jim's feet slide to the linoleum.
"What's this?"
"What does it look like?"
Having already separate, Cliff lays back, hands behind his head, displaying his tufts of pit hair, a gentle smile painted on his face.
"But you're going to let me take.... your...."
"Hurry up before I change my mind!"
"Would you?"
"I doubt it!"
As Cliff has already consigned, Jim realizes the full intention. As if an equation, he sums up the words relationship', love', his own ideas of `take ass', coming up with a common denominator.
"Not here."
"Huh?"
"I want it to be special, Cliff. Like last night. Wasn't fucking me last night something special for you?"
The conversation paused.
"Fucking me was `special', wasn't it?" Jim responded to his own question,
A bit worried, Jim began getting thoughts of Cliff's one-night-standings.
With help from his arms, Cliff presses his bod upwards, forwards. He slides his ass off the table.
Immediately Jim rethinks his thoughts, of seconds beforehand.
He verbally states his opinion, "I `was' a one night stand!"
"Nope!" Cliff simply returns. "Matter of fact, I had already questioned myself."
"You did?"
"Yep. You're not the only one with those thoughts."
"I'm not?"
Slowly, as Cliff emptied his brain of all notions, he backed Jim up against the kitchen counter.
"Nope. I had to be sure of it myself."
"Sure of yourself?"
"Yup. I had to make sure," his palms sat on Jim's torso, "what I was about to do wasn't some whimsical idea."
"Whimsical idea?"
"Yeah," their fronts came within inches, "I wanted make sure the ass I was plowing wasn't a fly-by-night orgasm. I wanted to make crystal clear, the ass I was taking is the one attached to the man," his hairy chest melded with Jim's light chest fur, "I'm in love with."
"You... you're in love with me?"
Cliff gave Jim a fake smile.
"C'mon. Don't tell me you can't admit it."
Cliff turns his smooth palms into probing fingers, goosing Jim, making his giggle from the sweet tickle torturing.
Shaking his head, Jim replies, with a smile, "You saw right through me, huh?"
"Why? Were you holding back on me?"
"Sometimes it's fun making you confess!"
"Son-of-a..."
Cliff's words got cut off by Jim's lips.
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The eggs sat in the bowl, shell and all, along with the knife which cracked them, slicing them in perfect two's, until noontime. Making it a proper pact, the two turned it into a pledging of their love, a two and half hour romp in the bed, making the sheets wet with sweat and other bodily juices, Cliff losing his cherry and Jim having his ass pleasured for the second time, by his mate.
"I guess this makes it official?"
"No, what would make it official, is to do it in a church," Cliff states.
"Not in this county!"
Both lay there, the steamy few hours behind them. Cliff, in his favorite stretch position, hands behind head, Jim lay half on him, his finger winding little curly-q's of wet chest hair.
"Hungry?" Jim asked, looking up at Cliff.
"Not for a certain pair of eggs lying on the kitchen counter!"
"Probably rancid by now."
"I think we should trash the fridge and start all over."
"There's not much to ditch."
With Cliff's idea already entered into Jim's brain, a plan was hatched. While Cliff drummed up a shower, Jim descended the stairs, with coffee in mind.
"Here ya go!"
At the tail end of his shower, Cliff takes the cup of java, on the end of an intruding arm. He laughed, saying it's the first time he's drunk coffee in the shower!
"Y'know," Jim comments, as Cliff cuts the water flow.
"You're thinking of a face lift?"
Hands on hips, Jim deviates his thinking from the mirror.
"No, I was thinking of maybe growing a stache. What do you think?"
"Might be nice. A little ticklish, but nice."
"I'll think about it. My turn."
"Oh, I should've left the water running."
"No problem."
As the two passed each other, in the tight quarters, between tub and vanity, some sweat rubbed from Jim to Cliff's pristine bod. Neither said anything, their lips taking in a quick lip-lock.
After taking a sip of coffee, Cliff, eyeing himself up in the mirror, states, "Maybe I'll think of the same."
"What?" Jim calls back, from behind the glass doors.
"I said... never mind."
Busying himself with the shaving lather, Cliff made his face presentable, past day's stubble removed. Entering the bedroom, his nose picked up on the mansex, clinging to the sheets. Before worrying about what to where, he stripped the sheets, proceeding to the jon, to deposit them in the hamper.
He mentions to Jim, as he dries off, "Last night's memories!"
"Do you think we should immortalize them?"
"The sheets?"
Stuffing them in the hamper, Cliff laughs along with Jim.
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Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.