% This work of fiction is set in the format of real-world situations. Identifying details to real people, alive or dead, is entirely coincidental in nature.
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% If sexual scenes involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if dude-to-dude sex stuff makes you wanna barf or is gonna screw up your mind, you should not read this story.
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`See The Good In All Things' 02
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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By normal business standards, beginning work at 8am, mid morning break could give way to lunchtime falling between 1 and 2 o'clock in the afternoon. Though, after reading hidden messages in each others minds, Reed and Jared had abandoned the job site by 11am. Reed invited himself back to Jared's place, where he found not a quaint cottage, but a house fit for a king!
Leading Reed on, Jared ascended the stairs first, collecting each article of clothing he removed on the way up. Void of shirt, it didn't take much to kick off a sneaker, peel a sock, unbuckle a belt and unzip. Tricky part was lurching forward, while stepping out of one pants leg. In the heat of the moment, Jared improvises, and by the time he reached the top flight, all he had to do is wad it all up in a bundle and toss the bundle aside. Not the first time a hot top would chase him up the stairs, but when he turned around, there was just the stairs!
"Hey, you coming?" he looks over the bannister.
Reed was casing the large interior foyer, admiring furnishings, touching little objects, like pinging little metal balls, which all in a row, when the first ball was released, it careened into the second, moving only the fourth pellet in line. Reed smiles, thinking of his first 4-way! Overwhelming him at first, all those marvelous little gadgets adorning various tables of mod furniture, it soon gave way to the reason he wanted to head towards Jared's pad. It turns his attention, much like a steaming apple pie, fresh out of the oven.
By this time Jared was on his descent, which between the railings all Reed could detect is `baked apples'!
He had already stalked Jared's shirtless bod back at the job site. Trimmed, the dark chest hair, stomach, pits, `damn', he sensed lust, how he loved a hairy man! Now, what he viewed a half hour ago, his interest began to peak, the sight of those perky man nips, his eyes leveling off at just below Jared's waist.
Since a kid, Jared could instantly without warning prank a person, a part of his good nature. Seeing the lust in Reed's eyes, coupled with licking his lips, he knew the bait worked, fish on the line, which propelled feet upwards!
This scene is not the first one which has played out in Reed's life, though there seemed to be a twist in the action.
Seriously, other times, a hot bottom-boy was more interested in getting down to hardcore sex, not this frivolous play. At 25yo, the past eight years had been in the proving field, finding what drove his inner core. In high school, Reed's favorite place to get it on was under the football bleachers, or inclement weather, he knew how to jimmy the lock on the boiler room door, luring a willing victim to the basement of the school. It was also the first time he performed sex with a third, the gym custodian.
By now, Reed wasn't at all hesitant in fingering his belt buckle, but not so agile at stripping out of his pants as he climbed the stairs. On a manhunt, he lusted for Jared's ass and by the time he did reach the landing, he had stripped down to his tight-whities. From experience, not going all the way, 7-inches and big balls blowing in the wind, it was a stance of caution.
"What the hell, Pappas?" it made Reed stand there, looking both ways and like looking before crossing the street, stalked out his prey.
A true prankster, even though his nads were telling him he wanted sex, Jared carried things a bit further, hiding out in one the many rooms on the second floor, "I'm in hee-e-e-ere. Come and get mee-e-e-e!"
Not at all used to this cat and mouse game, the usual had been Reed, after texting a message in class, a senior buddy and he would hightail it from chemistry class to the football field or boiler room. High school gave way to a college playground. The collegiate life didn't pan out like he thought it would and for Reed, it seemed like his major was `sex' and not the intended humanities. He also widened his approach, from a buddy his own age, finding older men just a turn on. More and more Reed did away with coincidental meetups, moving the action more to a dorm room or professor's residence. Definitely, it was more private than bleachers.
As intended, Jared's reverse-preying had panned out, Reed calling out, "when I get you, you're going to be fuckin' sorry!"
After a giggle, Jared yells out, "I certainly hope so, boss!"
Everyone has a history and for Jared, what happened in his past, a longer legacy at 32yo, molding him into who he was to become. Unlike Reed in high school, it didn't hold him back from a one night stand with a stranger, giving way to his second-night-stand in college. All it took was that one time with a young college guy, to bring out something in him which he never thought existed. The seeds of sexual activity, planted in high school, carried on, but blossomed, after finding what could be called `a match made in heaven'. After first semester of playing it cool, he had scored once, then twice a week hookups with a fellow freshman, who had like interests. Second semester had Jared broadening horizons, when his freshman buddy crossed the line.
After class one afternoon, his history prof cornered him, `Pappas, I need to see you after class in my office.' That experience with a professor twice his age became a process which would cause what happened nowadays, become a continued blossoming period.
Walking into the bedroom, drawn by words and giggles, Reed was initially shell-shocked. A little. It's not that he hasn't had the exposure, but instead of a neatly coiffed bedroom, with draperies, elegant flooring, in the center of the of the darkly-detailed room was a bench of sorts. Bent over, Jared hung arms forward, legs stretched to the max, bod resembling a `U'.
"What's all this?"
"Um," Jared says in a joking manner, "I thought I'd make it easy for you!"
Walking around the room Reed was much less shocked than that of the downstairs, "you don't think I know what all this stuff is for," he handled apparatus hanging from racks.
"I've got a confession to make."
Picking up a leather object, dropping it, Reed says, "what's that?"
Giggling, Jared, eyes cast from the whippy thing to Reed's face, "a flogger. You..."
"I know what it is, Pappas, I..."
"Oh yeah, the confession. It wouldn't be any fun now, would it, if I was to lecture you on..."
Reed was growing impatient, or in reality not his brain, but the lusting drive from down yonder, "you want to say what you mean, Pappas?"
Lifting his bare bod up off the wooden bench, all he had to say was a simple, disappointed, "oh. Right. Sure. What I was thinking..."
At this point Reed wasn't much into the thought process, the brain between his legs driving him forward. Rarely, Reed could care less about what a dude thought about, bent on only dividing and conquering. All morning has had a different take on the situation. Even though a self-proclaimed top at seventeen, the past eight years had bent, molded, shaped and like a continuing science experiment, Reed has yet to pinpoint his true sexual purpose in life.
The `mouse' says, "oh, but I can see you're expecting something more," Jared still in his own world, "boss?"
The `cat' had been in this position before, unready to pounce on a scene, instead keeping a distance while trying to analyze where all this was leading to, or where pulsing signals became stronger than brain power. With experience comes wisdom to know the difference, "really, Pappas?"
A bad liar, but not wanting Reed and himself to lose hardening of the middle arteries, "oh," Jared pops up from lying on his frontal region, "just kidding, actually." He wasn't, but said so, "c'mon, I'll show you," his ass once again draws Reed on, "where I like the real action."
He could get into a little roleplaying, but for the most part Reed was only into a little of the mental-physical foreplay, which led to the main event, "yeah, okay," he conceded. Jared's ass takes them to a room which mirrored more of the splendor of the downstairs foyer, "yeah, now this is more like it, Pappas!"
Yet again, Jared had read into the situation right, watching Reed in his norm. Same time, he gets the vibes always desiring of the outcome, another controlling both their destinies. It makes Jared smile, thinking back to those few tops' who could morph into a dominant' man, both making a mutual connection.
He was amazed at how controlled Reed was, as opposed to getting chased up the stairs. Instead of jumping into the sack, his boss walks to the side of the bed and with one hand, commands the spread to billow like a balloon and uncover the linens. It's then that Reed dives in between the sheets.
"Now this is class, Pappas!"
Reed lay there, bare back comfortably positioned, behaving like a snow angel, feeling up the soft fabric.
A few minutes ago, Jared thought he was in command, but when things weren't going his way, he behaved like a devoted slave, conjuring up a new atmosphere, "anything else I can get you," other than the luxury of the queen-sized bed?
"Your lips between my legs, for starters, Pappas," Reed caves into Jared's way of thinking, with a smart-ass way of thinking!
"Now that's more like it," Jared's loins bopping to the beat of his feet, rushing towards the foot of the bed, knees climbing on board as he hastens a crawling surf towards Reed's split legs, revealing a semi-soft banana.
"Looks yummy, um," he tests, "Sir?"
"I don't need a play by play description, y'know?" Though Reed didn't care for this to develop into an S&M novel, he could tell Pappas was reeled in by the euphoria of it all. "Sir? Yeah, I could get used it, especially since I `am' your boss!"
In seconds Jared's pursed lips were coasting up and down the sides of Reed's log.
Neither could recall later, when it happened, Reed's fingers taking hold of Jared's perky nips, but afterwards there were comments as to such.
"Wow," Jared takes note, while Reed's sap soiling up his hairy pubes just started drying, "you really did a job on my nips!"
He could barely touch them, feeling the stinging burn!
"Right," Reed said in a slow, tired monotone, "as if you didn't want it, Pappas?"
Thinking on it, a few moments back, Jared holds up a bagged condom, "like, you didn't get anything out of it?"
It did get Reed to thinking for himself, listening to all those oohs' and ahhs', with either teething those perky nips, or mashing them mercilessly, responding like he could care less. Even though the final blow, pumping all that semen into the prep bag, eyeing up the full condom, Reed remarks, like the everyday thing, "yeah, right."
Proud of what he owned, Reed thinks on his hard shaft, "6 when soft, 8 or 9, when hard?"
In a flashback, Jared's scratchy neck muscles stirred a memory of how he almost choked to death one time, trying to measure the imaginary distance between pubes and tip. When in college, he thought it whimsical, sticking a retractable carpenter's metal ruler down his throat to measure how much could actually fit in. However, he's found it much more suitable pleasuring his esophagus with meat', rather than metal'!
"Really? That big, huh?" Jared takes it in an almost apologetic tone. Being a slave to that luscious piece of meat, didn't matter what he was called.
With things calming down, Jared cuddles up to Reed's back.
"Really, Pappas?" Reed says, feeling Jared's sticky sap on his butt, as an arm falls over to his chest.
Jared pouts, "what'd I do?" as Reed pushes up off the bed.
"We can't lay here day, y'know?"
Fickled is the least Jared thought. First it was like Reed was turning over to nap, which he had in on his mind to lull him to sleep with his lips, maybe leading to some more action. However, being left stranded alone in the bed, "of course I know we have to get back to work!"
It was the farthest thing from his mind, but Jared sprung out of bed and like Reed was doing, began putting his clothes back on.
"Hey, nice threads," Reed opens a draw.
Jared steals away the garment Reed is holding up to match his chest, "uh, not that shirt."
He folds it and puts it back in the draw.
"Like, what the hell is that about, Pappas?"
"It's complicated."
Jared found Reed a tee shirt, just not the one from the long dresser which sat against the wall. He waited till they got back to the company truck to find the shirt he put on this morning.
On the way back, after Jared began to tell about his father's estate, willed to him, the only living family member deemed to receive his fortune upon the death of both parents. A college boy, what could be more natural, than to take up a reckless gay playboy lifestyle? Jared didn't blow the whole wad of wealth, but enough that it could jeopardize future spending.
Making some sort of excuse, Reed says he's got to go.
Jared was a little disappointed, having hoped they could get in a shower together.
Not which Jared didn't really mind, Reed draws back on their conversation before sex, "you defying me, um, what should I call you?"
"Huh?"
"That `sir' stuff?"
Reed didn't wait around for a schooling, smoothing a tee shirt down his abs and making for the stairway.
Apparently, Jared wasn't going to get that shower, following Reed's lead, "well, you could call me `boy' or..."
"How about I just call you what I always call you?" Reed hops the last step.
"Sure. That works for me!"
Heading back to the truck, other than the romp in the sheets wiping some of the sweat off Jared's bod, he was still in the same predicament, having pulled on at least a pair of jeans. If he did more thinking than talk about his precious sore nips, maybe he could have grabbed some more clothing. Jared did remember he had a shirt in the truck and maybe that would suffice. Nothing new to him, no secret to himself, he liked going places which did not prohibit it, walking about shirtless!
His cock still feeling the afterglow of plugging his worker's manhole, Reed hopped in the truck, but sat there, thinking how fulfilling a lunch hour that was.
"Well?" Jared says, shirt, cell and wallet on his lap.
Toying with it, Reed says, "hey, who's the boss here, Pappas?"
Smiling, liking being Reed's boy', Jared reconciles, "you are, Sir'!"
At first it didn't matter, Reed still getting used to it, left up to speculation, the master-slave roleplay, `could be cool.'
"Okay if I ask you a question, sir?"
"Look, it's not like I couldn't get used to the drama," Reed's namesake for roleplaying, "but let's save it for private use, Pappas?"
It made Jared smile, thinking `there is going to be more', "sure. I can work with that."
"So, after burning through millions, you have to work a warehouse job to make ends meet?"
"Not exactly, millions, or `to make ends meet'. I gave up the lavish lifestyle, when suddenly my accountant spelled out to me what I was doing. Hey, I was young, a senior in college, isn't that enough of an excuse, to want to party before life got serious? Besides, it's not like I'm not doing something about it."
"Oh?"
"That's why you can't take clothing from those drawers I pointed out. They don't belong to me."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, at the advice of my accountant, he suggested I rent the house out."
"But you're allowed to use it for sex?"
"Oh, I can go there any time I like. Happens, the guy I rent to, he's out of the house on business a lot of the time. You might say I'm retained as a house sitter."
"Nice arrangement. How did you find someone so trusting?"
Well, Jared thought, a cunning smile on his lips, "because," Jared hesitates, but goes for it, "trusting is a key word when guys like to play the way we play."
"I had a feeling," Reed reconnects with moments ago, "that room behind the bookcase was used for more than sex?"
"I guess you kind of figured that out, by the décor?"
"Not your typical playroom with a pool table, cards or darts?"
It seemed like the conversation had dead ended, Jared picking up the pace, "by the way, you're a hot lover, y'know?"
Reed did surprise himself, he hadn't quickened himself to the chase, diving right into his victim's ass, "lover? Hah, we're not lovers. It's just sex Pappas."
"Right. I knew that," Jared felt a little let down.
A knob had Reed blasting rock music in the truck, which left little volume for talk.
On the drive back to city hall, thoughts flooded his mind, Reed in deep thought. It's never happened, having a hot time with a guy, it lasting more than a half hour, forty-five minutes tops, whereas foreplay and fucking resulted in a tender moment.
"What's that about?"
"What's what about?" Reed questions.
"You were smiling."
Deeper than Reed's romp in the sheets with Jared, he was trying to tell himself it wasn't satisfying to have hairy pecs and stomach brushing against his back, almost on the verge of being lulled off to sleep, "oh. That. Nothing much." Then, thinking of what was really urking him and not wanting to make the connection back to his worker, "was thinking about a guy I fucked with last night. That's all."
He did look over to Jared, to see if he bought his fabricated lie.
"Tight as me?"
Wasn't, Reed pretending, "much much more so."
With Jared, it wasn't all about tightness, "but you've never had a guy who could take it, the way you were tweaking, twisting and torturing my nips, right?"
If he had to confess under pressure, Reed would be forced to agree, "are you kidding, Pappas? All guys like to have their nips played with, to a certain degree."
A minute of silence later, Jared was calling out, "red light!"
Screeching on the brake caused rubber to burn, "whew," Reed exhaled deeply, "I didn't see that coming!'
Jared kind of had a feeling why, but resorted to saying, "yeah, red lights kind of have that effect on drivers. The yellow never seems to last long enough, eh?"
Actually, he almost missed warning Reed, Jared thinking about Reed doing a job on his nips. He had snuck both hands up his pecs and sneakily strummed both pecs with his thumbs. Being he wasn't the driver, he gazed often over to Reed, see if he picked up on keeping both nips primed. They were still throbbing and hard and... then was brought back to reality by that red light, darned it!
After green, Reed proceeded with caution, agreeing the yellow light wasn't long enough to draw caution. He wanted to think back on Jared spooning him, but didn't wish to be found out. He also felt it weird he allowed Pappas to kiss him.
More thought than deed, that didn't last long either, tapping out, commanding Jared to switch places, to get on his cock. Kissing, that wasn't even part of the plan. Rarely Reed used that emotion, brought on by himself. If the other guy he fucked with wanted to kiss, he let him, but no emotion was spared. A sensitive cock, it swelled to greater proportions by feeling a warm mouth or saliva-soaked hand caressing it. This time he caught himself smiling, at the thought of enjoying a sweet kiss, but quickly erased it, because he knew he was being stalked by Jared!
Jared too curbed the nip tweaking and in an instant his mind returned him to being flat-backed on the bed, Reed forcing both legs in the air.
The end result was what both initially were going for, sap seemingly going every which way after Reed announced his intentions, that he was coming. His only gripe, not enough of it wound up on his hairy pubes, abs or pecs, whereas Jared loved bathing his hairy front in the secreted goo till pecs, stomach and pubes were thoroughly wet down.
So lost in his reverie, he didn't hear Reed the first time, "well, are you getting out, Jared?"
"Hey, you called me Jared."
"No I didn't."
"Yes you did."
Reed had to think, which now it didn't really matter, "well, are you getting out, Pappas?"
His mind a blank, Jared snaps out of it, "right. Yeah. Sure."
Jared thought Reed would be overseeing him, until 5 o'clock quitting time, but excuse was made that he had to go over some plans for tomorrow with `his' boss.
Given instruction, Jared was to finish putting the last eight or nine bushes in the dumpster and then call it quits.
Jared goes back to hauling refuse to the dumpster. Different than his first few bushes, he stops to rub the back of his hand against a pec. A nervous response, he stands and peruses the area to see if anyone took notice of himself feeling up a sore nip!
After the third bush, a late model car, call letters `Howelland Landscaping' highlighting the door, pulls up parallel to the sidewalk, parks between two red cones and ejects the driver and his passenger.
While the driver looks around, his passenger stares point blank at Jared. An unplanned smile prompts a return smile. As if a signal, Jared walks over and suspecting, "looking for Reed?"
Faced with Jared's shirtless bod, the driver says, "and you are?"
"Blake Harrison, secretary to Gaston Howelland, CEO of..."
Though Jared could care less, but allowed the secretary to ramble on, finally tires, "and you," here directs the question to the young lad.
Eager to accept the friendship of the shirtless worker, "Peter Lane. Good to meet you," the lad hands Jared his palm.
It was his job to interview people. Now, someone had stolen that opportunity from him, Blake taking the upper hand, "Peter, a new hiree, will be working the summer shift."
"Hey Peter," Jared stands, still attached to the 19-year old, "good to meet you too."
Their eyes met again, but this time like lovers falling for each other.
And `ahem,' slight cough from Blake's throat fails to break up the fixation, but the sound of his cell's ringing chime, "I better take this."
Whimsically Jared says, "business before pleasure," he giggles!
Peter chimes in, puzzled, "huh?"
"Nothin'," Jared quickly covers up admiring Peter's smile, his own sweet desire.
"Hm," Peter says with raised eyebrows, "okay."
"So," Jared fumbles for a thought or two, "I guess you'll be helping me pull out all these bushes tomorrow."
Not wanting to be dismissed, Peter says, "I can start right now, if you want me to?"
Quickly recovering from his lunch break, Jared says, "much as I'd like to be given a hand, I wouldn't want you to dirty up that handsome suit!"
Left with a smile, Peter was getting more than a friendly vibration.
Blake cuts in, "hey, sorry `bout that. I've gotta cut across town and about now the traffic is wicked, so we better get a move on it, Peter?"
Torn by the smile which made him feel like home at his summer job, Peter says, "I was just getting filled in on what I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow. I think I should stick around to get the whole gist of the job."
As Jared had observed, Blake says, "in a suit?"
Even though he knew Jared was older than him, drawing conclusions regarding men, age never made a difference for Peter, he technically assesses, "I never saw a bush being dislodged from the soil. I could watch at least, get some insight?"
Through some situation or circumstance, their car ride to the work site, conversation brought out to each other, Blake and Peter being gay.
It didn't take much psychic intervention to learn of which way Jared swung.
Blake couldn't blame young Peter for being caught up in the suave manner, the shirtless attire, and having feelings of wanting to be in the lad's shoes. Knowing what Peter didn't know Blake had already gotten the off-the-record heads up, Gaston Howelland IV being family. Yet, from his own life circumstances, without the backing of family, one has to make their own choices, sink or swim.
Pressed for time and decision, Blake says, "you're a man of your own choosing, Peter."
Peter looks at Blake like he has three heads.
Jared intercedes, "I think what that means is, are you going to go or going to stay?"
Blake pompously thinks, `and who the hell are you to second guess?'
Regardless of what he was thinking, Peter knew his place, some day a seat on the company chain of command, but out to make his own mark on the world, "whatever you think, Mr. Harrison?"
He couldn't believe it, only an hour ago he was Blake' and now Mr. Harrison'?
Suddenly, with the look he got from Blake, Jared thinks, "um, I better get back to hauling bushes and leave your business up to you two."
That gleaming, sweaty back, which has been baked in the afternoon sun, moved both secretary and his ward.
Whether to go or to stay, Peter makes remark, "damn, he's hot."
Blake, putting differences aside, stands directly next to Peter and admiring the sweat and muscle being put into Jared's gloved hands, "that he is. That he is," his voice delivers, relaxed, void of inner anxiety and tension.
A second rendering of a tune from his cell, Blake blurts out, "I better get a move on it!" He hated to be torn away from the moment, advising, "don't be going and getting that handsome suit dirty, Peter!"
Peter smiles, left in the tutelage of this hot, sweaty man hauling ass.
After watching Blake pulls away from the curb.
`Fake out,' Jared waits til the car gets out of eye sight. Letting his shovel timber-over, he says, "oops!"
"What?" Peter glances, not only in wonderment, but takes a swipe of the chest stubble, stares Jared in the face.
Besides work, something else was on Jared's mind, "I'm supposed to give you a ride home. A little tough to do when I hitch hiked my way here?"
It did get Peter's mind off of Jared's chest, "oh," he looks around, not spotting any cars.
Then Jared remedies, "I suppose we could hitch back?"
Peter suggests, "or uber and split the fee?"
"Oh shit," Jared's voice trails off.
Thinking it cute, the way Jared seemed to turn despair into a giggle or two, Peter says, "what's up?"
"My cell. Left it and my shirt in Reed's truck!"
`What a pity,' Peter muses to himself.
It made Peter smile, though cautious not to divulge much of why he liked looking at, shirtless-Jared, "not a problem. I got it and we can stop wherever Reed has the truck and retrieve your stuff?"
"That would be good, but I owe ya one!"
Pulling out his phone, Peter was all giddy, wanting to hold that to Jared when and if the time came, musing, "owe me one, like how would that go?"
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% Copyright 2020 T. Chase McPhee
Developing segments of`See The Good In All Things', may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.