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, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states 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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SuPReME CouRTsHiP 02 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Sitting in the corner of the Barker House, a restaurant facility known for it's fine cuisine, Tim sat with his 5 o'clock `client', Stu Barker. In front of him, he dined by the etiquette he grew up with, fabric napkin lying in his crotch, eating with fork and knife, careful to keep his elbows below the ledge of the table. Cutting through a piece of veal parmesan, Tim lay his knife atop his plate, to the side.
All due respect, a result of Tim and Stu having had some bdsm fun from time to time, Tim would not hesitate telling the 37yo bear, "Your manners are atrocious, you know?"
Scooping a ravioli up onto the fork with an index finger, Stu replies, "Really? Like, where have I heard that before?"
"Might be fun?" Tim replies.
"Might be fun, what?"
"Tying you to a chair and `beating' some manners into you with a crop?"
Patronizing Tim, Stu makes fun, "Oh no! Not the crop-to-the-nips again!"
"I forgot," Tim teases, "if I want to dissuade you from doing something, hit you where you derive least pleasure!" he laughs.
Stu warns, "You leave my balls alone!"
A muscle bear, Stu's downfall every time has been his muscled pecs. Once Tim found those two tweakers, weeding them out of the forest of bear-fur, he found how to make Stu hard, keep him hard, working his hot nips till they were raw!
"Nah," Tim says, "more fun practicing up my skills at nip torture!"
"At my expense, no less?" Stu replies.
"Get off it Stu. You crave nip torture and who else can deliver?"
"Yeah," Stu relives those oh-so-many times, tied to a `horse', nasty clamps pulling at his nips, Tim's hand yanking on the chain as he's riding his ass, "never fails! It's a hot time, every time!"
"By the way, got something new I'd like to try?"
Tim's smile gave Stu a false sense of fear.
In reality, the two got along perfect.
Stu craved things like intense nip play, a warmup whipping, which combined many things, foremost, bondage. Stu loved it, his 22yo aggressor making him feel control slip out of his realm. Being, after 2 or 3 sessions, Stu had given up on using safewords, even put a sense of pleasurable fear in the muscle-bear's mind, permission given to take him beyond his limits.
It was one of the most important codes of mutual give and take, Tim having the rationale to judge a man, when under protest, taking him further than imaginable, based of his victim's expectations.
It's what made up a quality session of bdsm play, both reaching the apex, hard, sometimes pre-cum stage, whereas Tim could make do, Stu's `drippings' to lube up his cock, along with some spit. Regardless, it took two to bring a hot session to fruition, for the fucker and fucked-over!
"You know `the rules'," Stu replies, shoving a ravioli on to his fork.
As for their play sessions, there weren't many rules, but more a matter of trust. Even though he hadn't a clue to what Tim wanted to do to him next, Stu had already an idea he was going to allow Tim to do to him what he wanted.
"Two things. I want to stick pins into your chest and if you were up for it, insert pins through the lip of your navel?"
"Pins, huh?" Stu replies, visibly thinking on it, because now, Tim was more important than his ravioli!
Like a presentation, Tim spells out, "Of course the pins will be in a dish, covered with alcohol. I've studied up on it, another guy having already done it. Both got a rise out of it."
Unknown to Tim, Stu already had a partial erection, thinking on anything which had to do with chest stimulation, though he wondered, "Did you mean my nips, or...."
"I could work a circle of pins around your nips, but more I was thinking of sticking 50 to 100 pins in each of your pecs?"
Sarcastically, Stu says, "50 to 100? Is that all?"
Casually, with a smile, Tim replies, "Gotta save some for your navel!"
"Hmm, not sure about the navel?"
For Tim, Stu not shooting down his pecs, "When are you available to do your pecs?"
A hand under the table was making Stu want it right now! However, they had gathered at lunch for another reason, him saying, "You know how I'm tied down at the restaurant?"
Knowing the facts, as well as his playmate, Tim replies, "I love it when you're vulnerable. How about 2am Saturday?"
"Sadist!" Stu jokes, knowing after Saturday's all day business, clean up and making sure the restaurant is ready for Sunday's business, he'll be almost too tired to keep his eyes open. Yet, when he starts stripping down for Tim, feels the leather cuffs around his wrists, his balls beginning to twitch, he morphs into this wide-awake guy!
"Even though it's true," Tim jokes back, "it's grounds for insubordination. Perfect timing too!"
There was an evil glow to Tim's smile, one which stoked Stu's interest, "I'm almost afraid to ask!"
Not leaving Stu wondering long, "I ordered a new set of buttplugs online. Might put a little edge on sticking pins into your pecs, with you sitting on one?"
Stu laughs, "Only one?"
For Tim, it was winding down. It was no fun, all talk and no action. With the draping table covers, he could have opened his pants and allowed his hardness some `breathing' room, but preferred a change of tactics, to make it regress, "Okay, so what about this bachelor party for your nephew?"
"What?" it caught Stu off guard.
"The reason you invited me to the restaurant? To talk over..."
"Oh right! Heath!" Stu had to quickly empty his mind of thoughts of himself.
Tim knew the family history, Heath getting tossed out of the house with nothing but the clothes on his back and a backpack of personal items. Before that time, Stu was the black sheep of the family. Thinking himself smarter, he didn't let on to anyone of his gay preference until after he graduated from college, for fear the funds would stop flowing. He awarded merit to Heath for having the guts to do it before heading off to college, breaking the news to their fundamentalist Christian family. It's the least he could do for a blood relative, though Stu has over the years taken in teens who were in the same predicament as his nephew, taking Heath in.
As for Heath, the day he learned his college tuition hadn't been paid for, he had no choice but to put in a call to his Uncle Stu, not that he was distant, except by mileage. So it went, Heath holding down a job, receiving assistance from his uncle and making it through four years of college. It was during his senior year, the journalism major met the Dutch artist, Tom Flom, a presenter at an exhibition for his college.
Sitting back, wiping his lips with the napkin, folding it into a triangle and placing it on the table to the left of his plate, Tim asks, "So what did you have in mind for Heath?" Tim already knowing this was about `bdsm'.
In a crafty manner, Stu presents, "Well y'see, I happen to find out, Heath's partner, Tom', enjoys a little special' entertainment from time to time and I thought," here came the clincher, "maybe you and he could team up?"
"Oh really?" Because, in Tim's mind, a scene had to have a certain look' to it, disregarding the environment in which it takes place, dungeon or garage, light or heavy pain, equipment or tools, etc., "And what does this Tom' look like?"
They were already secluded, in a far reach of the restaurant, Stu starting with the second most important fact, "He is a very, very good looking Dutch man."
"Cool. What else?" he sought after fact number 1.
"You're gonna love this... 9.5c and big... I'm not exaggerating," Stu holds both hands up, like holding melons, "huge coconuts!"
It always made Tim raise a brow, put a quirky look into his smile when Stu made mention of, "Coconuts, Stu?"
Bending his smile, excited because he though it would get Tim stoked up, "Okay. Have it your way. Balls?"
Smiling, Tim waited, because he knew there was more to all of this.
"Yeah, well, in addition to busting an ass wide open, Tom could go for a little `ball punishment' with the right guy?"
"Sounds cool. Tight ass?"
"Um," Stu says cautiously, "He's not into being on the receiving end."
"Well do me a favor?" Tim says, getting up.
"What's that?" Stu asks, rising up out of his chair.
"When you see `Tom', tell him it's not a matter of choice on his part!"
His mouth formed an open oh', not saying it, Stu thinking it, Tom's not gonna like that!' Because they skimmed the surface, "What about the party for Heath?"
"When and where were you thinking of having the party?"
"Um?" Stu cast a smile.
His place', Tim could already guess. "I know what you have in mind, Stu. All I need from you is a list of guests, ages, stats, top or bottom, gay or straight. You know what' to tell the straight dudes, right?"
Stu hadn't ever contracted Tim for a party, but knew, Tim mentioning when he has had a dungeon party or two, or more, all of the faceted items attached to putting on one. "Yeah, I know how to clue them in."
Straight guys at a gay dungeon party was a big turn on for Tim, so he informed Stu on how to' entice them to come, without making them run away'! "Okay, well have the list to me soon and we'll plan out the rest."
Because Stu knew there was a fee involved in using Tim's facilities, "I thought we could have it in `your' dungeon, if you can give me an idea of the rental fee?"
Tim cracks a smile and fondling the black necktie running down Stu's white dress shirt, "Thanks for the `free' lunch. I'll be back for more." He didn't look around, didn't care if anybody was looking, reels Stu's lips in by tugging on his tie and adds the finishing touches to a done deal!
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"Hullo?" James says, entering the house, doing a quick search behind the door, which lead to a void.
"I'm up here!" The cute teen voice rings out.
`Up?' James thinks, looking to the right, a stairway. Scanning the rest of the inside of the boxy house, he could see a living room and open kitchen. He gets the impression, "Do you happen to be up in your bedroom?"
Laughing, then, "Yeah, but I'm not gonna jump on you or anything," there followed more of William's giggles!
As he got to the top step of the stairway, a dangling light bulb provided means to view the three closed doors. James read off the door to the right, "Keep out?"
The opposite door, had a poster of Seth Gold. James didn't have a clue, doing a gesture he was prone to carry out when figuring out direction, his fists out in front of him, parallel to the floor, both thumbs sticking of the hand and toward each other. He coursed them back and forth, thumbs the leader, pointing towards each other, hand flipped over, thumbs facing the doors and in rapid motion tried deciphering which door belonged to William, keep out or Seth Gold'. He finally set to thinking out loud, "Seth Gold?" trying to picture who Seth Gold` was, but being smart about things, figured the headphones over the ears, shirtless and spinning the tunes to flashing lights of a club, had to be...
"Hi!"
The shock of peering at an inanimate object, poster, to seeing a very animated William, decked out in less than half the clothes he had before, he couldn't help but study the 19yo from neck to navel.
"Want to go for a swim?" William twirled a speedo around on his finger tip, flinging it at James' bod.
"I guess I don't have much choice!" James catches it, both hands grabbing it up with his tie.
"Oh!" Williams suddenly remembers the conversation he had with himself, while stripping down and suiting up, "You didn't have any plans tonight, did you?" he hoped `not'!
"Plans? Nah. I wouldn't call brushing up on a case for tomorrow, while waiting for a Tv dinner to get nuked anything as exciting as..." he left the rest of his words to smiling. After a pause, he says, "Um, got someplace I can change into this?" He sets to twirling the speedo like William, only it zips off his finger and goes over William's shoulder.
"My room?"
"I guess I better fetch that speedo, huh?" James steps into William's room.
Hearing the door close, he expected, after bending down to pick up the speedo, turn, and see William standing there, but he was gone!
Suddenly, the door opens, William sticking his head in.
James justifies, "Change your mind?"
"About?" William was genuinely stumped.
In his thinking, James figured William came back to either watch him strip down, check out `size' and other stuff, or... "Never mind. You were going to say something?"
"Uh, right. I'm going to turn the pool on. When you're ready, just go through the kitchen and out the back door."
"Right-o," James replies.
Outside his room, William exhaled a long one. He had all intentions of making up some reason for getting something out of his draw, mulling about long enough for James to peel off his clothes, but chicken'd out!
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On his way back home, Tim thought he saw a familiar dude walking along the side of the road. Catching up with him, he stopped, whereas the passenger side of his car aligned with the walker. Zipping down the window, he sure enough discovers the identity, "Aaron, you're supposed to be on elevator duty!" he was ready to blame.
"I know, but they had a bomb scare at the courthouse and sent everybody home!" Aaron explains.
Thinking of the state Stu left him in, after all their talking up of Heath's bachelor party and other subjects, he says, "Cool. Get in. I need some help."
"Sure. What's the problem?" Aaron gets in and closes the door.
"Get on my cock," Tim unzips his pants, "and have me off no sooner than the time it takes me to get home."
It wasn't a favor, but rather demand, Tim moving his seat back some, so Aaron could wedge his head into Tim's lap.
This would not be the first time Tim has driven home or anyplace else, a guy's face in his pubes. Most of the time it was a guy he knew, a friend who could get his jollies swallowing a load of semen, or a perfect stranger, Tim knowing right away if his hitchhiker was game!
So, up the road Tim sped. About to get on the ramp to the highway home, red lights appear in his rearview.
"Don't stop!" he instructs Aaron, who suddenly has popped off his lollipop.
"You're the man," Aaron replies, opening up and going down on Tim.
Pulling over, Tim immediately recognizes the cop behind the wheel, meaning he's not being pulled over for a traffic violation.
His window coasting down, the officers asks, "License and registration?"
Tim replies, "Fuck you, pig!"
Bending down, instead of a pad for writing a ticket, the cop leans his arms on the window sill, bends in and says, "Oh my! What do we have here?"
"Get in line, Saul. I need to get off first, so don't get any ideas about stealing him away from me!"
Saul Wolkman, 36yo, a muscle-bear of a man, sat there hanging at the window, his butt sticking out in the road, replies, "Nah, that's okay. I'm a patient man!" He gets his dibs in, anything to slice into Tim's pleasuring, "How ya doin' there, Aaron?"
In private, Aaron could respond with the fancy talk, "I'm okay, Master Saul, and you?"
"I'd be feeling a lot better if I had a hot ass to sink into!" Saul laughs.
By now, Tim was into the throes of a fantastic blowjob and knew Aaron could deliver, use of his lips and tongue, but also, his saliva accumulating, used to the combo of both that and seeping cum to lubricate his fingers, which in response, he used to massage his balls. "Ah-h-h-h... ooh!" Tim arched his back, clenched his eyes together and exhaled with, "Oh-h-h-h-that's-so fuckin' nice!" he allowed the `ice' to seep through his teeth in a whistle.
Most people took the new highway, so Old Highway 15 was much less traveled. Still, Saul was keen on how to handle an on-coming car, when a hand was stiffening up his crotch. Yet, it was becoming unbearable, his 8c all scrunched up in his uniform, "the picnic area is closed, due to a fire hazard warning?"
"I told you," Tim let out another sigh of pleasure, "after he swallows my juice."
Turning up one side of his nose, Saul sticks his tongue out and mimics Tim's response.
Suddenly a motorcycle goes racing by.
"Oh shit!" Saul calls out, running back to his patrol car, jumping in and racing after it!
Aaron, probably the most disappointed, pulls off with a wet pop, "Think he'll be back?"
"Of course. He knows as well as I do you've got a hot hole to fill!"
But Saul didn't come back anytime soon. It turned out, the dude he pulled over on the motorcycle `beat' getting a ticket by following Saul up to the picnic grounds!
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Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee
`SuPReME CouRTsHiP', may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
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