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 fireworks wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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When it came time to sort out the guest rooms of the Torricelli mansion, Anthony put Tino in the `Wright room', furniture imitating the style of Frank Lloyd Wright, windows in his style of stained glass, replicas of the artist's lightscreens and glass window panels, a small 8x12 one an original, purchased by Anthony's father.
When it came to the four post bed, tall wooden columns rising almost to the ceiling, Tino rubbed his hand over the pine, saying, "Could be fun..." taking Anthony's right wrist, moving it in place to an imaginery cuff attached, the other arm, raising it high to the left stantion, Tino's chest inches from Anthony's as his hands held two wrists in place. For a moment, Tino stood there, serious as all hell, his face inches away.
Taking it as affection over bondage, Anthony pulled his wrists from Tino's grasp, saying, "Who knows... maybe someday you'll get your wish!"
Turning to face Anthony, who escaped from his temporary bondage, Tino states, "Could be... maybe you'll get your wish too, huh Anthony?"
Standing there, Tino watched Anthony close the door, walk back to him. They stare for a moment, Anthony saying, "What be your pleasure sir?" Both smiled, with Anthony's hands already at work unbuckling Tino's belt. Their gazes froze in place as the sound and feeling of Tino's zipper was dragged downwards. First Anthony, then Tino looked downwards, at the bulge in Tino's 2xist, black lowrise briefs.
"Looks appetizing", Anthony said as he peeled the back of Tino's jeans off, allowing light to illuminate his rounded torso, revealing partial view of the Latino's balls. Obviously, the black cotton/poly fabric wasn't large enough to hold its contents.
"Nothing like a before dinner treat," Tino drove him on, a hand to Anthony's shoulder for unnecessary encouragement.
Caving in, Anthony sunk to his knees. Reaching into Tino's briefs, he emerged with Tino's 9.5c. As Anthony tasted, Tino's head fell back with a low moan. In minutes he was moaning out loud, "Yeah... oh yeah..." and then with more emphasis, "Ooooooh fuckin' yeah!" After calming down, he lifted the elastic waistband, removing his cum-greased hand, commenting to himself, "What a fuckin' hot day dream... oh man... if only it could be real!"
He picked up his jeans halfway and waddled into the private jon for cleanup.
"Um, am I disturbing... anything?"
Standing there with his jeans at his ankles, his 2xist briefs lying on top, toilet tissue in one hand, his cock in the other, Tino was about ready to mop up.
"I'll just be a minute," Tino said to Jorge.
"Would be a shame to waste all that protein," Jorge observed, with a smile.
Instead of dabbing his pubes, Tino used the tissue to clean up his hands. Even that became a useless effort as Jorge took Tino's hand in his, leaned over and placed Tino's thumb in his mouth. As if savoring a messy candy bar, Jorge sucked and licked it clean. When he dropped his head back, this time Tino had to awaken to his senses to make sure he wasn't going through another `wet day dream'. This time when he placed his hands on a head of hair, it was real.
He wasn't the only one feeling immense pleasure, as the twenty-three year old was forced to coat his teeth with his lips to keep from scratching Tino's hardened shaft. Twice he almost gagged when the head of Tino's cock got too close to going down his throat. Something else drove Tino onwards, Jorge's hands circulating over his rounded ass, fingertips teasing his hairy ass crevice. As minutes passed, Tino reveled in the expert cocksucking, eventually placing his hands on his torso, allowing Jorge to carry on solo. He only returned his hands when he was coming close, working his hips as if dancing at a club, in the finale, holding Jorge's head still, to shoot his second load down Jorge's throat.
"Oh fuck was that hot!" Tino boasted as his ass fell to the rim of the rather wide tub.
Seeing Tino sweaty, his hair straggly, Jorge comments, "You're really a mess, you know?"
"Only me?" Tino says, looking up, a hand wiping precum from under Jorge's nose and slightly gummied stache.
Not giving Tino the opportunity, Jorge took his hand and licked it clean. He sat there watching Jorge lean to the head of the tub, turning on the two handles, allowing hot and cold to intermix, stopping the drain for filling. He looked at his feet, at first to see Jorge lift each leg, first untying and removing his boots, followed by jeans and briefs. Pivoting on his bareass, Tino swung around, allowing himself to slide into the tub which looked big enough to accomodate a duo or more.
"Ahhhhhhh," he sighed, letting the water seep up to his pecs.
"How's the temperature?" Jorge asks.
"Not quite hot enough!"
After saying it, Tino sat up, grabbed the front, right pocket of Jorge's destroyed jeans and propelled him forward. There was nothing to use as a counterbalance to keep himself from moving straight ahead, so all Jorge could do was step over the tub wall. Clothes and all, Jorge sloshed into the tub. Catching him under the pits, Tino had no problem letting the offguard victim fall forwards, right onto his submerged bod. Still with surprise was Jorge when Tino forced their lips together, but being a willing victim, moved his hands into place, forming the caressing position. At this point Jorge could care less that his shirt, pants, socks and sneakers were soaked through and through.
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"What ya got to eat?"
Looking up from what they are doing, Roberto calls out, "Oh Anthoneeeeeeee!"
"What?" He answers Roberto, appearing from the pool with nothing on, usual swimgear. "Oh hi guys," he says to the fifteen swim jocks, plus Mario, standing there in shorts, muscle tees and tank tops, a few in their Applegate hoodies.
"Did you forget something sweetheart?"
Scratching his head, Anthony replies, "Like what?"
Right away the guys start to weasel their way past Anthony, in the direction of the pool, Robbie Sinclair calling out, "Good time to make a getaway before the fireworks start!"
Of course the swimjocks roared with laughter, some with hands over their heads, stretching behind their backs to reach their shirts, peeling them over their head. Some fidgeted with belts. Mario, thought it a cool time to break the ice, maybe help Anthony out, saying, "Nice of you to invite me..." then looking to Flip, "...us, to the pool party."
Coldly, but not too seriously, Roberto says, "Yeah, nice of Anthony to invite the gang over without a crumb of food to eat!"
Right now, Mario wasn't paying much attention to the couple's squabble, but more to Anthony's swim-gear'. One to notice, Flip manhandles Mario, saying, "C'mon. I'll show you where the changing' room is!"
Flip couldn't make heads nor tales of what Mario was saying, but could have been equivalent to the `died-and-gone-to-heaven' phrase, as he gazed on fifteen swim-jocks, stripped to the buff, frolicing in the pool or making out poolside.
Reading his thoughts anyway, his eighteen year old companion theorizes, "I wonder what the guys will think when they see you!"
"You mean we're..." he gulped, "swimming like `in the buff'?"
"Last one in the pool gets to suck cock!" Flip yells.
Right there in front of him, not that he hasn't seen it before, Mario watches Flip hastily undress himself. He smiles, seeing Flip tear his muscle shirt up and over his head, arms stretching out the fabric of his bod, isolating every muscle in his chest and stomach.
"Well?" Flip asks, an evil grin on his face as a hand fondles cock and balls, releasing them from `crushed-crotch' syndrome.
Smiling, Mario says, "I guess I lose."
"Like you didn't plan it?"
"Only one thing..."
As Mario turned and ran to the pool, fully clothed, laughed his ass off, yelling, "last one in the pool sucks cock!"
Flip trailed behind at a losing pace.
Looking down over Tino's shoulder, Barry didn't mean to `spy', but a hand in lap, fingertips roaming the length of his hard shaft, it was just too tempting a sight. Being there wasn't a guy about, except himself, Barry stood behind, his head following Tino's head as it bobbed up and down to the rhythm of the guy on the diving board, before splashing head first into the pool. Finally he gave himself away with a fake cough.
"Have a seat, Barry," Tino said, not flinching a muscle, except his hand muscles, already engaged.
"How'd you know it was me?" Barry said, coming around the front of the two Adirondack chairs, parking his ass in one.
"Reflection in the tankard?" Tino replied, a smile on his face as he used the silvery ale container, pointing it directly at Barry's face.
"Oh," Barry replied, seeing a facsimile of himself with slight distortion. Then with all possibilities pointing towards the fact he was spying on Tino's crotch, he guessed the reason for the fingertip stroking, confronting him, "I guess it's Jorge making you hard, huh?"
"Actually he and another guy I find extremely hot!"
"Who?" Barry questions, wondering which of the assorted swimmers it could be.
"Promise you won't haul off and slug me?"
Barry smiled, knowing the answer, instead asks, "It's Robbie, huh?"
Momentarily halting the massaging action, Tino replies, "Not angry are you?"
"Nah. Not really. I'll take it as a compliment. I mean I know he's the hottest guy on campus." Then, wandering around on assumptions, "I can't believe the hottest stud on campus is liking a nerdy guy like me."
Smiling, Tino forgets about keeping his cock rigid, asking, "Tell me something Barry, do you think your brother is `hot'?"
"I don't go there. We're friends. We don't do any of that sex stuff with each other."
"I wasn't implying, if that's what you were thinking. What I meant is do you think Larry is nerdy?"
"Heck no. He's a really cool guy plus he's always taken care... of... me...." Noticing Tino back at stroking up his cock, keeping it hard, he noticably stares, asking, "Um, you're not getting hard because of me are you?"
Dripping wet, Tino turns away from Barry just in time to catch view of Robbie's nude bod standing there. After hearing part of the conversation, he quizzes Tino, "Um I hope you're not getting hard over my boyfriend."
Maybe yesterday Robbie played the submissive bottom but now he held the reins, towering over Tino.
Not meant to get Tino into trouble, Barry responds, "I guess so. I mean before Tino was stroking himself while looking at Jorge and you, so..."
"Jorge and me? Is that so?"
Dropping his engourged meat on the white slats of the Adirondack chair, Tino looks up and completely changes the subject, saying, "Y'know when you're mad you resemble a hot master I once knew?"
Hands switching to hips, Robbie tells Tino, "Don't con me, Tino. I'm not moved by you watching me, but when it comes to jerking off over my lover, I think that's totally wrong and..."
Doing a pushup, his hands lifting his bod out of the deep end of the slanted wooden chair, Tino comes face to face with Robbie, saying, "Looks like you've caught me red-handed there, Robbie."
"Huh?" Robbie surrendered his bold attitude, reverting to a subtle questioning of Tino's motives. "I don't quite get you."
Turning to Barry, Tino says, "Why don't you go and see what's holding up on the food Barry. My stomach is starting to growl."
"Okay," he simply said, hiking his ass up out of the deep end of the chair, scurrying off towards the pool exit.
"I don't lower myself to many men, but in this case I think it warrants it."
"Lower yourself? Warrants it? What the hell you talking about Tino?"
Looking about, Tino asks, "Why don't we take this over to the cabana?"
Giving Tino the benefit of the doubt, Robbie followed behind. For a moment he became susceptible to the motion of two mounds of flesh, divided by a hairy crevice, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of Tino's steps. Entering the cabana, Tino closed the door, wedging the towel cart up against it. Immediately, he placed his hands behind his head, lifting his elbows high, spreading his feet on the cement flooring.
"What's this?" Robbie questioned, not oblivious to Tino's big endowment hanging loose.
"C'mon. Take your best shot."
"What? Punch you in the gut so you can haul off and kick my ass?" Robbie questioned. "Oh no. I'm not falling into that trap. Besides, I don't think you would `enjoy' being slugged in the gut. You're a topguy, not a bottom."
Lowering his hands, coupling his arms in front of himself, under his hairy pecs, Tino smiles revealing, "You don't think us `topguys' occasionally get a kick out of switching roles?"
"Hell, I don't know. This s&m stuff is kind of new to me. I'm picking it up as I go along," Robbie replies, wetting his lips as his attention darts from torso to face.
Presenting it in a different light, Tino tells Robbie, "Take my word. It happens." Then once again, Tino raises his arms up, flashing his hairy pits, repositioning his feet wide on the cabana floor. "C'mon. Take your best shot."
"My best shot, huh?" Robbie replies. "Um, where do you want it?"
"Right above the navel will do, but anyplace. Feel free to make your own choice, `Master'!"
Going into the motions, Robbie was unsure. He's never punched a guy in the stomach intentionally. Lifting his hand, fist clenched tightly closed, he placed it at Tino's navel, lifting it a bit to cover the latino's abs trail. Robbie raised his eyebrows, surprised at how tight the ripples of Tino's abs had been worked into hard muscular layers.
"Whenever you're ready," Tino coaxed Robbie on.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Robbie questioned, not sure himself he wanted to drive his fist into Tino's third set of abs.
"Fuckin' do it!" Tino said, tired of waiting.
"Keep your cool man. I'm thinking about it." A smile creased Robbie's lips.
Tino. picking up on it, smiled back when Robbie returned his eyes to staring into his own.
Reading the `body language', Robbie guesses, "Looking forward to this, are you?" At the same time, he leans his tight fist into Tino's stomach.
"If you ever get around to fuckin' doing it!"
Bracing his left hand on Tino's right shoulder, Robbie brings his arm back, his knuckles a good foot away from the abs trail he's targeted.
"On the count of three," Robbie said, smiling as he ordered, "count it out, `boy'."
It's rare Tino has bottomed for any guy, but it wouldn't be the first time he's been dealt out an order, so he replied to Robbie's order, "One...Two...ughhhhh....oh fuckin' shit!"
"Oops! I didn't hurt you did I?" Robbie said, half meaning it as Tino grabbed his gut with his folded arms, bending over slightly.
"Dirty fucker!" Tino replies, catching up to breathing naturally.
Smiling, Robbie suggests, "Okay. My turn."
This time it was Tino who was baffled.
"We never had our face off. Or would it be called `punch-off'?"
Shortly, Tino recovered, standing up straight. If only Robbie had been reading him right, but it wasn't the case. "Think you've got me all figured out, do you?"
In the same position, elbows high, hands behind his head, feet shoulders width apart, Robbie waits eternally for a punch to his stomach. "Take your best shot," he uses the same phrase for a hefty gutpunch.
With a smile from Tino, Robbie expected the same fakeout upon hearing, "Count to three, `boy'!"
On the count of three, Tino allowing him to get that far, Robbie tightened his abs, waiting for the punch which never came. Totally freaked out, he protested, "But...." Molded in position, he still braced himself for a hefty punch to the abs. Instead he watched as Tino sunk down to his knees, a hand taking his cock, a warm mouth encasing it. Dropping his head back, Robbie held the position upon feeling Tino's mouth surrounding his 9.5c, a warm tongue massaging up and down the barrel. Finally a sense of what was actually happened came upon Robbie.
"Hey, I know I'm not exactly a good cocksucker, but I thought I was doing a decent job," Tino said when Robbie pulled away, dragging his cock off of Tino's palate.
"Feels great only... I just feel like I should be doing it to you," Robbie returned with a friendly smile.
"No problem," Tino replied, a palm tapping on the cement. "C'mon. Grab a towel or two."
Following Tino's lead, even though not sure of the intention, Robbie picked up a towel sheet. He watched as Tino lay it out on the cabana floor. Lying down on his right side, Tino's bod rested on his right elbow. "Only one thing to do when two guys want each other."
Scratching his head, Robbie didn't get it at first, but it slowly sank in. After laying the white towel out of the cement floor, he got down, lying face to face with Tino.
"Um, how do you suppose I'm going to suck you off like this?"
"You... you mean `69'?"
"Unless you know a better way," Tino replied sarcastically.
Maybe he should have been selfconscious, but right now all Robbie could think of is Tino's hard meat, nestled in a haystack of dark pubic hair, two balls flopping to one side as the Latino lounged on his side, waiting for the mutual blowjob. Shifting his weight, he lay down like Tino, on his right side, elbow propping him up for a moment. "Ready?" Robbie asked, still not sure why Tino was doing this, although `something' was keeping his sucking opponent hard as a rock.
Without answering, Tino placed his arm around the eighteen year old's thigh, drawing the lower half of his bod towards his face. With imitation Robbie copied, his left arm over Tino's left thigh. After feeling a hand on his balls, supposing Tino used them as a handle to feed himself, Robbie did likewise, drawing Tino's hard shaft closer to his lips. In a matter of minutes each enjoyed the eternal bliss associated with mouths taking in cock, warm `wet' adhering to dry stalks.
A couple of times they halted, mouths still clenched around cocks of nearly the same size, only to continue sucking and tongue-licking each other when the would be intruder stopped trying entry into the cabana. Only did one of them pull off the others cock when Jorge's voice yelled out, "Tino, you in there?"
After swallowing a rather large amount of saliva, Tino replied, "I'll be right out."
With acknowledgement, Tino resumed, Robbie picking up the pace, feeling his cock being ridden by Tino's lips, moving in and out with speed. Hastily, Robbie did the same. Soon each were enjoying taking down the other's load. After their proteins meals, both lay on their backs panting furiously til their chests subsided from raising and lowering out of sync with each other.
As Tino got up, Robbie stare at him, both connecting eyes as he said, "I can't believe you sucked me off, Tino."
"Yeah well, it's between you and me," he replied, dabbing the towel from the ground about his chest and face.
"I've gotta tell Barry. We don't keep any...."
"When I said `you and me', I meant it. Okay?" Tino sternly replied as if back in the master/slave roleplay, in the master's role status.
"Sure. No problem," Robbie replied, sitting up as Tino made his ways out of the cabana, swinging the towel table away from the door.
Running through Robbie's mind he tried composing himself, conscientiously willing himself in keeping the secret.
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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.