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, nor governmental areas, which the story is stages. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offences 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. This is fiction. Use protection, in real life.
ROAD TRIP home sweet home wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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As Anthony neared the gate of the Torricelli mansion, he looked in his rearview to make sure Tino, in his twilight blue Astra, followed behind.
"I tell you, for a macho domineering man he sure drives like an old lady on the road!"
"Maybe I should mention that to him, huh Anthony?" Nicholas joked from the opposite seat.
"Might prove interesting at our next `get together'."
"Oh? Have you picked out a date yet?"
"Why?" Anthony replied, seeing Nicholas had an interest. "Want to get in on the action?"
"I don't know. All I do know is Tino looked damn hot in his leather outfit."
"Hmm. I guess I know what to get you for Christmas this year," Anthony said on the sly, watching for Nicholas' reaction.
The conversation ended with Tino leaning on his horn.
"Would you believe the audacity?" Anthony questioned. "For the last fifty miles he's doing forty-five and now he has the nerve to honk?"
"I think I'd be more cautious too, driving a sporty Saturn."
Anthony leaned on the gas and sped up the long drive. Peering out his window, Nicholas makes comment, "Looks like Sep and Adam have been busy."
"How so?"
Pointing his thumb over his shoulder, Nicholas alerts him, "The apple orchard. It's all cleaned up."
"That's not the only thing."
Stopping in front of the Torricelli mansion, the two give the circular drive the once over, along with the surrounding area.
"When we left this place was a wreck," Anthony says, jumping from his vehicle, glancing over the immediate area, free of twigs and leftover storm debris.
Standing next to each other, Tino steps over to the two. "Nice place you've got here for yourself Anthony."
Neither Anthony nor Nicholas paid much attention to Tino's comment, looking towards the front door.
"Um, tell me I haven't died and gone to heaven?" Nicholas asks, not directing the question to anyone in particular, except the hot stud standing next to Sep and Adam at the front door.
Busting on NIcholas, or maybe to keep him hushed up over his remarks about Tino, Anthony asks, "Um, should I maybe mention what you said to Randy?"
As Anthony advances, greets them, Tino asks, "Who's the hot beefy blonde?"
Nicholas sets him straight, "Adam Steel, but don't get your hopes up, Tino. Sep and he are partners. At least they were headed in that direction when we left."
"And Sep is?" Tino questions.
"On the left. The one Anthony is hugging. They go way back. Sep's parents were like brother and sister to Anthony's parents."
"And the hottie on the right?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Nicholas replies to Tino, as he accepts Adam's hug, when approached.
Even though Nicholas introduced Adam and Sep, Tino couldn't fully pay attention, his gaze more checking out the medium-dark-skinned Latino whom chatted up Anthony.
"So, what's his story?" Nicholas asks Adam and Sep.
Tino was all ears, yet his distraction kept him glancing in Anthony's direction.
"Gunnar," Sep proceeded to tell about Anthony's longest and dear friend.
However, Tino broke in, "He doesn't look Swedish."
Adam and Sep cracked up with laughter, Nicholas following along, informing Tino that that wasn't Gunnar. Adam clued them in, "His name is Jorge Mello, Gunnar's friend. Apparently his father kicked him out of the house for the sole reason of being gay," Adam explained. "Gunnar found him on his doorstep. Only thing, Gunnar was on his way out of town on a photo shoot." Not part of the story, Nicholas filled in the gap, telling of Gunnar's profession, a Janice Dickinson model.
"So what about Jorge?" Tino asks, still his attention on the twenty-three year old Latino.
Sep and Nicholas migrated over towards Anthony, leaving Adam to elaborate further, "Gunnar didn't have any other alternative. He couldn't leave Jorge at his place and he knew Anthony wouldn't mind. I mean he took me in!"
As Adam chuckled, Tino couldn't help but laugh along, the way things happen when someone has that kind of voice you can't help but imitate.
"So, what you're telling me is Jorge doesn't have any place to go, no resources...."
"Yeah, the sinful thing he was right on the verge of graduating and this had to happen," Adam said, coaxing Tino over to the foursome for introductions.
When Tino shook Jorge's hand, twelve-thousand volts of electricity shot through his bod. "It's sure good to meet you."
"Yeah... really," Jorge replied.
All was silent, as Tino and Jorge became the focal point of the wordless conversation, Anthony, Nicholas, Adam and Sep standing there, taking in the sight of the two, hand in hand, staring into each other's eyes. The jokester he can be, Nicholas slapped Tino against his back, saying, "Oh, excuse me!"
Tripping forward, Tino had no choice but to throw his arms around Jorge, their bods colliding. The rest laughed their asses off. Anthony takes note, "Nothing like speeding up fate!"
"Fate huh?" Tino replied to Anthony, turning his head, but still grasping Jorge.
Feeling it too, Jorge smiled after kissing Tino on his cheek stubble.
Back on his own turf, Anthony reverted to his original self, not hesitating to tell Tino, "Why don't you two take care of the luggage?"
The rest headed back inside, leaving the love-at-first-sight duo to fetch the duffle bags and suitcases from Anthony's van.
"Nice wheels," Jorge commented, running his hand over the deep blue hood.
"Thanks. Later maybe we can take it for a spin," Tino said, sure of himself that hours from now they would still be hitting it off.
Standing at the back of Anthony's van, Jorge held a duffle bag upright as it stood on the ground.
"What?" Tino asked, seeing Jorge wasn't moving.
"I just wanted to tell you something. I mean it looks like we've got something started here and I think you should know," Jorge was upfront with him.
"Moving kind of fast are we?" Tino asks, but after a brief silence, asks, "So what is it you want to get off your chest?"
Nodding towards the Saturn Astra, parked behind their rears, Jorge tells Tino, "You've got a nice car. It looks like it didn't come cheap."
"Didn't," Tino rebounds.
"The point I'm trying to make is like.... I don't have anything." Then, letting the duffle bag fall against the tailgate, Jorge says, "This shirt?" Pinching the Applegate University sweatshirt, "It's not even mine. I left home with the only clothes I owned on me, tee shirt, jeans and a baseball cap. You get it? I... I was kicked out of my house with forty bucks in my wallet. I'm down to twenty-five... I..."
Stopping Jorge, Tino places his hand on his shoulder, halting his words, giving some words of comfort. "Look, it's obvious you've experienced some hardtimes. It'll pass. You'll get yourself together. You just have to give it time. I haven't known Anthony or Nicholas very long, but I can tell they're real caring guys. Anthony's not going to go and kick you out of his house because you don't have a penny to your name. For now think of it as having a roof over your head," he pauses, "and a hot set of wheels to get you around."
"Oh, so you're like going to be my taxi-driver?"
Reaching in his pocket, Tino smiles as he places his car keys in Jorge's hand, adding, "You know how to drive, I take it?"
"What are you doing, Tino?"
"Helping out a guy who needs help. All I ask is you keep it shining and all in one piece?"
"Wait a minute. You don't even know me and you're trusting me with this... this..." Jorge picks a ballpark figure, "thirty-thousand dollar set of wheels?"
"Forty-two thousand to be exact. The bluetooth, wireless internet and GPS were extra."
Going about his business, Tino hefted a duffle bag up on his shoulder and started walking up the front stairway.
"Wait. What do I do with these?" Jorge asked of the keys, letting them dangle in midair, still not convinced he was offered the use of them.
"Stick them in your pocket for now," Tino replied.
"Oh shit!" Jorge cursed, stuffing the keys in his pocket and grabbing the duffle bag. Trying to imitate Tino, he hefted the bag up on his shoulder. It fell over his back, landing on the pavement. Watching Tino disappear inside the front door, he played around, trying three different ways of carrying the monstrous bag, big for a thin five foot, eleven inch dude who's never seen the inside of a gym except high school.
"Having trouble?" Adam asked, coming out the front door.
"Where's Tino?"
"Nature break," Adam replied, grabbing the duffle bag, slated for Jorge, picking it up like a feather pillow and hiking it up to his shoulder. Standing there with the weighted bag, he asks, "Looks like Tino's got the hots for you, huh?"
Overriding Adam's suggestive thought, Jorge says, "He gave me the keys to his car... said I could use it. What do you think of that, Adam?"
"I think maybe he `sees' something in you."
"I told him I'm virtually a pauper."
"And?"
Jorge replies, "Nothing. I mean obviously the guys got lots of loot in the bank."
Still the bag on his shoulder, grabbing a suitcase and parking it under his arm, another in hand, Adam asks, "Is that a prerequisite for the man of your dreams?"
"A what?"
Giggling, Adam apologizes for laughing, more philosophising, "If you're looking for a man for what his wallet holds, you're not going to find true love."
"Is that what you think?" Jorge replies, more in a heated temper, dropping the lone suitcase he had and storming off towards the back orchards.
Adam called after him, but Jorge kept on his own path.
"Where's Jorge?" Tino questioned Adam, glancing at his car.
"A little misunderstanding which got blown out of proportion," Adam replies, along with an explanation.
"He was headed over there?" Tino asked, after Adam pointed out the direction.
As Tino trudged off towards the orchard, Adam knew he'd be running up a sweat, hauling the rest of the baggage out of the van.
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With their friendship gaining momentum, Roberto and Randy take a spin into downtown Eskridge, more two strip malls, a gas station, a couple of car dealerships and municipal building, parking in front of the Eskridge Cafe, nextdoor to a Blockbuster.
"Say, do you think I could get a part time job here waiting on tables?"
"I'll have to ask the manager," Roberto answers Randy's question, giggling.
"But aren't you the manager?" Randy inquires, not getting Roberto's pun.
Setting him straight, Roberto fills the eighteen year old in. They chat a little bit, downing the last drop of their coffee.
"I'd get the tab, but I'm like broke," Randy says to Roberto, as they get up to leave.
"It's on the house." Again, he reiterates, "Good thing you know the manager!"
On the way out of the Eskridge Cafe, the two walk a block to Nicholas' 4x4. Roberto stops on the passenger side, saying, "Uh-oh!"
"What?" Randy questions, circling around from the drivers side. He didn't need to be told, the tire as flat as a rug.
"Do you know how to change a tire?" Roberto asks.
"If you have the directions I could probably figure it out," Randy replies.
"I got a better idea," Roberto replies, whipping out his cellphone.
In minutes, Nicholas and Anthony rolled up in the van.
"Problem girls?" Nicholas asks, stemming a stream of laughter from the others.
"Heeeey Coach Torricelli!"
Looking towards the street, Robbie's metallic brown Chevy Uplander pulls up alongside the vehicles.
"What's up?" Barry yells out the passenger side window, following orders from the driver to ask coach `Whats' up?'
Throwing on the emergency flashers, the van piles out, the swim jocks meeting the others on the sidewalk.
"Well what happened to you guys?" Anthony greets them.
Tons of excuses spew forth. The only one worth remembering, the two hotties they spotted at the burger joint, became number one reason for taking two hours longer to return from Miguel's.
"Got a jack?" Barry asks.
Everybody looked at each other, smiling, when Barry popped the question. Everybody that is, except his twin brother Larry, who confided in them, "He can do it, too!"
A hand to Barry's shoulder, Nicholas consoles him, "I know you mean well Barry, but there's a special way of....."
"I know," Barry said cheerful, instead of taking it like he was an idiot, "I read about it on the internet." Bending down, to address the flat tire, yellow and steel `Y' sagging to the ground, he rattles off, "these are anti-theft tires. You have to be careful when you change them. Got the key?" Barry asked, hand outstretched, waiting for Nicholas to put the key in his palm.
Nicholas looked up when Randy, last person driving, let the jingling keys drop into Barry's hand.
"Thanks!" Barry said, bursting with energy.
A half circle watching, Nicholas stood in the front as Barry unlocked the anti-theft device and removed it. "Got a jack?"
"Coming right up," Nicholas said, after seeing how Barry expertly removed the `Y' lock.
Through the whole `operation', his fellow swim-jocks offered help. The only one Barry let come close to helping him is Robbie, holding the lug nuts in his hand.
"Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help you babe?" Robbie made an extended effort in asking, when Barry couldn't budge the tire from the axel.
While the tire was being changed, the crowd diminished, Roberto and Randy following into the hoard of college jocks back into the cafe, some entering the DVD store.
"Looks like maybe you need to start hitting the gym, huh Barry?" Nicholas comments, as he stands there with Anthony, monitoring the progress.
"Oh I am. Someday I'm going to have rock hard abs just like my sweetheart!" Barry says, slapping his hands together to dust them off.
"Speaking of which," Robbie spoke in Anthony's direction while holding the flat rim on the sidewalk, "I understand your abs stood up quite well under pressure, coach?"
"Yeah, what was all that about with Alfredo?" Nicholas stirs up the past.
Anthony confides, "Just make sure this doesn't get back to Roberto or Miguel will have my hide, but...."
Before Anthony could tell a sentence of the story of how Alfredo worked over his abs, Barry jumps in with, "You mean you keep secrets from Roberto? Not Robbie and me. We don't have any secrets, do we babe?"
"Um, no. Not that I can recall."
Standing up, while Nicholas finishes up on the donut, Barry interrogates Robbie, "You mean you have a secret you haven't told me?"
"Well nothing since we met."
"What about before we met?"
Nicholas and Anthony exchange glances, smiling at each other, trying to ignore the two lovers, but too engrossed in their curiosity to make a move to leave them to their privacy.
"Well there was the time...." Robbie starts to explain, a finger letting the steam out of his muscle shirt, "but that was way before we met. Besides I was kind of...." he didn't want to mention it in front of their swim coach, however as Barry coaxed him on, he explained, "I like had too many beers and... well the three of us kind of were horny and all..."
Wanting to leave it at that, Nicholas and Anthony had hoped Barry wouldn't settle for anything less than the whole truth.
"How old were you?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Robbie reports, "High school seniors. You know, end of the year party and all... kind of a lot to drink, the sauna being steamy and all..."
"Sauna?" Barry asks, wanting more details.
"Um, yeah. My bud, Dino Damianos..."
Anthony interrupts, "former Applegate Track'n'Fielder?"
"That's him."
"I heard he had his eyes set on the olympics?"
"Forget the olympics," Barry says, stepping between Anthony and Robbie, shutting out the sports commentary. "What's this about a threeway in the sauna that you never told me about?"
"Oh shit! I'm gonna get a ticket!"
The whole story went out the window, as Robbie rushes over to the front of his double parked sports van, a police patrol car pulling in front of him.
"What's up coach?" The cop asks, as he flips open his long ticket book, places his boot on the bumper of Nicholas' truck.
"Do you mind, Erik?" Nicholas questions the cop, arms folded across his pecs, standing there like he meant business, not worrying it was a cop he talked sternly to.
"No sweat. Keep your shirt on, Nicky."
It didn't take long for Anthony and Erik Carlson to exchange words.
"Hey thanks," Robbie told him when he issued the teen a warning.
"Maybe someday you can thank me properly!"
The gum-chewing police officer hopped back in his cruiser and sped off.
"Somebody oughta teach that asshole a lesson in manners," Barry said of the thirty-eight year old police officer.
"I really wish you would, Barry!"
Facing Nicholas, Barry asks, "Do you think I'll ever be fit enough to do that, Nicholas?"
"Being muscled has nothing to do with it, Barry. Men like Erik Carlson are just looking for an excuse to pound guys into the ground. Nope, with men like him you have to use your brain."
Reverting his thoughts back to Miguel's party, intertwining it with what he learned on the internet about discipline, Barry tells them, "Still somebody should pull down his pants and give him a good whoopin'!"
"I hope I'm there to witness you doing it, Barry!" Nicholas responded.
"Nicholas, do you have to encourage him?" Anthony complained to his dear friend.
"Hell, if Barry can change a tire, what stops him from bending a cop over a table and whipping his ass?"
"Tire changed?" Anthony gave up.
"All done," Barry replies.
"Let's roll'em."
"Think I'll get a coffee while we're here," Nicholas suggests.
"Why not?" Anthony replies.
Turning them down, Barry and Robbie retreat to the sports van, backing up and taking a vacated spot at the curb.
"Officer Carlson make you do that?"
"Do what?" Robbie asks, wondering if Barry meant something all too obvious.
"This?"
Robbie smiled when Barry grabbed at his crotch, holding his hard stalk, clothed in his jeans.
"Okay, so he did. I couldn't help it if he turned me on."
"Did he turn you on as much as Tino?"
Trying to stay out of trouble, Robbie replies, "You turned me on the most."
Pulling his hand away from Robbie's thigh, Barry says, "Robbie I'm not going to be mad at you because another guy makes a better master than me."
"But..."
"Robbie, I suck at being a master. Sure, I know a lot about it, but I don't have the image. Even when Miguel dressed me up in chaps, a harness and boots it didn't make me look anymore like a master than Johnny Depp would an altar boy."
It made Robbie smile, but at the same time feeling sorry for Barry.
"At least we had our fun, huh babe?"
A little uplift in his spirit, Barry states, "And there's no reason why you can't still have fun, babe."
"Huh?"
"Like Roberto and coach."
"What about them?"
"Roberto lets coach go and play with leather guys. I think you could too. I mean just because I don't really get into it, doesn't mean you shouldn't do something you love doing. You like getting tortured don't you babe?"
Robbie had to think for a moment when Barry termed it torture'. He crossed back into the world of fantasy when thinking back to the past days, hanging there on the X', wrists and ankles cuffed, eagle-spread, clamps on his nips, sagging from the weight, balls weighted with a parachute strangling them and then the sting of Tino's flogger.
"Yeah.. I mean... I guess I like it."
"You guess?" Barry questioned his lover.
"I didn't think I would be into it.. but yeah... I found out it really turns me on. But I don't think I would ever..."
"You're going to do it again."
"Huh?" Robbie didn't quite make the connection.
"Sometime you're going to want to do the roleplay scene again and I think you should do it," Barry told him point blank.
"You do, do you?" Robbie questioned Barry, but in reality yearned deep down inside to experience it some more.
"But you have to be careful."
"Oh, I will," Robbie replied in the affirmative.
Their conversation came to an end when guys poured out of the cafe and into the van, Larry excitedly blasting, "Pool party!"
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2B continued...
Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.