The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in 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. This is fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'
"The Tidelight Zone" 04 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Sure you don't want to come upstairs with us, Mehmet?" Elton inquired, after their dinner had concluded.
"No, thanks."
From the guy whom turned into their dinner host, Jay Bontempo says, "We could make it a hot five-some?"
Mehmet's three other friends, jumped at Jay's suggestion, but it didn't interest the nineteen year old.
In a last ditch attempt, Jay tried coercing, "Your old man wouldn't ever find out, if that's what you're worried about?"
"Yeah, c'mon Mehmet," Elton, his main buddy, badgered.
Anthony even suggested, softly so that no one was sure to hear, "I hear you have a nice and hairy ass to rim?"
Even the friendly flutter of eyebrows, from the cute, nineteen year old Italian, couldn't shake Mehmet from his standing decision.
"No, thanks."
Parting company, Jay led the other three over towards the elevators. Mehmet, instead of heading back up to the shared room, walked out the side entrance, via the glass door. Out on the tiled veranda, he meets his folks. The DuValier's, not only relations with Elton Morrison III's parents and Marc Trivette's mom, but their evening guests.
"Where are the other boys?" Mehmet gets to answer the dreaded question by Elton's mom.
Not accustomed to lying, Mehmet fibs, "They go out to play golf."
"In the nighttime?" Mrs. Trivette questions.
"It has lights to light up the field," Mehmet tells them, not having much knowledge of sports.
A field. A course. What's the difference when they're all painted with green!
"Mehmet, a word son?"
Taking Mehmet to the side, his Egyptian-French father, rather handsome, dark-skinned, but with a French twang to his voice, opens up the conversation, softly, in confidence.
"Do you remember what I told you son?"
"I remember father. You don't have to caution me again."
"I don't like that tone of voice, Mehmet!"
What seemed like a rationale answer to Mehmet, was taken as an act of insuboordination by his father.
"Yes, sir. Sorry sir."
"If we weren't in sort a place, I would reprimand you for that, Mehmet."
"Yes, sir," he agreed, but glad that the surroundings prevented the action.
If carried out, it wouldn't be the first time that Mehmet would have received corporal punishment. A great believer in the use of the belt, Mr. DuValier would have spared no compassion, in delivering a set of lashes across Mehmet's back, to serve the purpose of persuasion. A product of the old school, Mr. DuValier would see to it that his son won't lower himself to the act of having sex with other men, even if he had to beat it out of him. Mehmet knew that well. He knew he lived on shakey ground, shacked up with the other three boys, something his father tried protesting, but his mother convinced him, along with Mehmet giving his word that he would not try anything with the other boys. Bad enough Mehmet had to be embarrassed that his father checked the room to make sure it had a single's bed.
"Behave yourself, son."
"Yes, sir."
As Mehmet walked off the patio, his father heading in the direction of the other dinner guests, all he could think is, Sure. Whatever makes you' look good, father!' Continuing down the path, along the reeds, Mehmet found himself admiring the red sunset.
"Mehmet?"
"Steve?"
His first reaction was of disappointment, seeing this young teen, hanging his arm around Steve's waist.
"Help me here, will you Mehmet? This is Sean."
Mehmet had seen Steve in his token, `gauze' shirt before. More of the spirit suddenly dashed from his being. A sinking feeling set into his stomach.
"Hey," Sean replied, in Mehmet's direction.
"Hello," is all Mehmet said.
"Sean's been hurt."
As if he had to explain, Sean tells, "Yeah, Steve gave me his shirt. See here? Look what the jerk did to me."
In times of distress, especially of another's misfortunes, things should be under control. However, Mehmet couldn't help from feeling his crotch twitch, as he looked upon the divided shirt, Sean pointing out the bruise on his gut. All Mehmet could take in, as Sean gave the quickie version of his ordeal, is the tight abs, the light brown trail, forming mid-stomach, thickening as it entered Sean's bellyhole, then much darker as it disappeared into his Speedo.
"It look sore," is all Mehmet could think of saying, under the circumstances.
"It's not so bad right now." Being more melodramatic, Sean relayed, "Before.. oh yeah before, you shoulda been there when this guy heaved his fist into my gut! Knocked the wind right outta my gut! And if that wasn't enough, he stole my loot!"
With Mehmet able and willing, Steve turned his shoulder over to the use of his Egyptian friend. Steve then led the way up the reeded path. Moving along, behind the patio area, where a joyous party ensued, he led the pair to the security area.
"What ya got there?"
One of the Kea Lani Resort security officers got up from a small desk, after entering through two sliding glass doors. It wasn't one of the normal two or three that Steve had befriended.
"New here?" Came Steve's first gut reaction.
"Keffen Naegelen," the guard introduced himself. "What happened to him?"
Keffen could detect something amiss, with Mehmet humped under the fella's armpit.
"Another solo beach victim."
"Yeah, but looks like he got more than his gear ripped off!"
From what Steve gathered, the security officer wasn't fresh to the staff. Yet, why hadn't they met up?
"Bring him in here," Keffen told the small party. Then he went on to ask, "Got folks you want to call, son?"
Right away, Steve sensed a true caring in Keffen's ways. At times, the other security troops at the resort had given Steve a hassle over protocol. However, Keffen skipped all the formalities, to make Sean seem welcomed.
"Here's a pencil and paper. Write down anybody you need to call, son."
"There's only my mom. She's probably already worried. I was supposed to be home over an hour ago."
"Why did you not call her?" Mehmet inquired of Sean.
"Because, dah, I was robbed of everything except this Speedo I got on!" Sean said plainly.
Coming across a little rash, Mehmet backed off. His eyes did take in the object in point, the Speedo, but also what it encased.
"Here, Steve, you want to start taking down information while I buzz the authorities?"
"You know who I am, Keffen?"
Putting a hand to Steve's bare shoulder, Keffen ushered him to the side.
"Between you and me, Steve, I hear the other security people here talking."
"Talking? About what?"
"Actually, more than talking, Steve. Mocking `us gay guys' out!"
"You?"
"Yeah," Keffen frankly gives Steve the notion, "and I'll level with you Steve, that I find you real hot!"
Patting Steve on the shoulder, Keffen hands Steve a pad and pencil, then faces his attention back on Sean. Standing there, pencil in one hand, paper in the other, he stares blankly, well sort of eyes trained on Keffen, taking to account the information just received, but not yet fully processed.
Joking, Keffen picks up the gauze shirt, tossing it to Steve, calling out, "Heads up! Your shirt, buddy!"
Totally unexpected, hands full of implements, Steve doesn't have a free hand to reach out. The shirt goes over the front of his face, over his head. In a way, Steve is grateful, as it shields his eyes and mind of what has taken place, snapping him back to reality. Setting the pad and pencil down, he places his shirt on his body the proper way, fastening up a few buttons from the bottom, then tucking it into his waistline.
"Got that Steve?"
"Whew! What a slave driver. I just got through fixing myself."
"I can see that Steve!"
"What?" Steve looked down at himself.
Looking on, the three, Keffen, Mehmet and Sean giggled.
"Oh that! Whatsamatter? Never see a guy button his shirt crooked?"
The three of them went on to stare, as Steve dislodged his shirt from his pants, unbuttoned the four buttons, then refastened them shut. For the second time, Steve unbuckled his belt, unzipped, tucked his shirt back in and reworked his pants closed.
Looking up, he caught the three taking it all in, so turned the tables on them, saying, "What's the matter? Never see a guy's briefs before?"
Call it bravery or a downright wiseguy, but Keffen couldn't let the opportunity go.
"It's not the briefs, Steve. It's what's in them!"
As Keffen turned to question Sean, Steve stepped up to the table he lay on. His right hand swatted Keffen in the ass.
"Fresh!" He called Steve's actions.
"Next time behave yourself!"
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Meanwhile, a few floors upwards, two pairs of college jocks lay out on one of the king-sized beds. Originally paired off, the nineteen year olds, Elton and Anthony, began to mix with Jay and Marc, both twenty.
"Do something, Anthony!"
"I've never been with more than one guy before," he complained to the other three, who interacted with each other, orally.
The stranger to the group of sexually active jocks, Jay Bontempo, gave his opinion of the matter.
"Funny."
"What's that, Jay?" Anthony questioned.
"It came to me that you're more the um.. now don't get me wrong here, Anthony, but the `slut' type?"
"Slut?"
Elton and Marc didn't waste anytime listening to Jay's rhetorical statements. Shifting his weight around, each lined up for a `69'.
"Yeah, well you've got such a... um..."
To the twenty year old, used to tossing that type of lingo around with his gay friends, suddenly found himself in a quandary. It had been apparent that Anthony had become more on the offensive.
"A hot body. I figured you'd have all the boys after you!"
If Elton's mouth wasn't so stuffed with Marc's 7.5c, he most likely would have straightened the whole situation out, but right now he was too engrossed in the tasty treat.
Mellowing out, Anthony gave in and answered, "Well, thanks. You too, Jay."
"Huh?"
"Your body."
"What about it?" Jay asked, as he knelt in the bed and looked down upon it.
"It's hot."
"Oh yeah?" he played with Anthony's emotions. "What's hot about it?"
Inching his way over the surface of the bed, he knelt about two feet in front of Jay's nude bod.
"Um," Anthony scratched his head, "I... I like guys with hairy chests."
Placing his own hand on his quite massive amount of dark brown pec fur, Jay rubbed it around.
"Why don't you show me how much you like it Anthony?"
"Well sure, if it's okay?"
"Feel quilty in front of your lover?"
"Lover?" Anthony questioned. Glancing to the two performing oral sex on each other, he admitted, "Oh, you mean El and me?"
"Uh-huh," Jay still prodded.
"We're not really lovers. More like `friends'. Yeah, that's it."
As one Italian to another, Jay liked Anthony's answer.
"Cool! C'mon, let's find a more intimate space?"
Anthony watched as Jay lifted himself off the bed, crossing the room. The light from the jon streaked across the room. Briefly exposing Jay's ass, Anthony detected something juicy about the way it looked, mainly a hairy covering of the mounds.
"You coming, babe?"
"Um, yeah. Sure!" He replied to Jay, more energy in the response.
As if he had to ask permission, Anthony quickly gazed at Marc and Elton, then gave up, as the two had been totally engrossed in their acts of deep throating.
By the time Anthony walked the width of the room, Jay had lay down, flat out on the other king-sized bed. Anthony stood there, taking in the faint view.
"I thought you wanted my chest, Anthony?"
"I do. I mean... yeah, sure."
In reality, nineteen year old Anthony Bosco has had only one fling in his lifetime, as opposed to Jay's being around the block numerous times.
"Well. Come on then." Then, realizing Anthony's predicament, he suggests, "Why don't you use your tongue to find my nips? I love having them sucked."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Goes straight to my cock."
As Anthony tread on the bed with his knees, his own body blocked the narrow stream of light. Approaching the left side Jay's five foot, ten inch body, he lost all balance.
"Whoooooooa!"
Landing about two feet south of his target, turned Jay on anyhow!
"Oh yeah. Got for it, Anthony!"
Now Anthony wasn't sure if Jay meant his navel or cock. His nose picked up the scent of Jay's pungy bellyhole. Plus, the defined trail down his stomach, tickled his nose. All he had to do was stick his tongue out, to taste the mass of hair, leaving the plateau of his abs, as it dipped in his navel.
"Ooooooh yeah, Anthony. Do me!"
`Sensitive', Anthony thought to himself.
However, he didn't fight the feeling, while his saliva turned to heavy spit. Plus, it turned him on that his nose found the deep recess in Jay's stomach inviting.
"Ooooh man that feels hot, Anthony.. Hell yeah! Eat me out!"
His tongue, on the ledge of Jay's navel, played the lip of the hairy bellyhole, like ivories on a piano.
`Sensitive!' Anthony thought for the second time, as his tongue played inside the pungent navel. At the same time, he felt Jay arching his back. Anthony then remembered what his primary objective had been. Since his tongue was already busy, darting in and out of Jay's deep navel, tasting that wiry fur, his hand took on it's own target.
"Hell yeah, Anthony!"
Anthony felt great inside at just about now. As if achieving greatness, now pleasuring Jay's navel, via tongue action and mashing Jay's right nip with his finger and thumb, Anthony almost felt like getting graded on a test, scoring some high points. He stopped to look, but couldn't see anything, only feel it, as Jay took his hand, brought it to his lips and wet Anthony's digits. Then Jay placed Anthony's hand back down on his pec.
"Just giving you some lube," Jay replied to Anthony, knowing that the halted action of tongue-in-navel, had resulted from the gesture.
Not really thinking about it, acting out naturally, Anthony replied, "If you wanted lube, you shoulda tried my pubes!"
"Oh really?"
That opened a can of worms, as Jay lifted his head to look towards Anthony, in the darkened bed. Not being able to see it, Jay reached down in between the nineteen year old Italian jock's legs.
"Shame to waste all that cock-juice!"
Ripping the now delectable treat, his bellyhole, away from Anthony's tongue, Jay positioned himself so that he could lap up the jock's nectar.
"Hmm," Anthony said in the dark.
"What?" Jay halted after two licks.
"I figured you more man on top."
"Depends on the guy. Figured that myself, but hell you sure have a way of changing a guy's mind, Anthony."
Encompassing Anthony's knob in his mouth, Jay suddenly pulls off.
"Um, you `are' a top, aren't you or at least versatile?"
Going into this whole proposition unsure, Anthony states, "I was versatile with El, but I think I want to fuck you, Jay!"
Not sure where that came from, Anthony commended himself on being quite sure, confident of himself.
"Hell yeah!" Jay called out. "Lay down, man!"
As Jay took the initiative to begin lapping and sucking Anthony all over, the nineteen year old found a new interest in touching Jay's bod. His over abundance of chest fur made him want to run his hands over the furry pecs. But more than that, the earlier suggestion of playing with Jay's nips began to irk Anthony's subconscious. He then thought nothing of taking Jay's nips in his fingers and thumbs and mashing them hard.
"Ooooooh yeah!" Jay sighed. "Yeaaaaah... work my nips, man!"
"How's this?"
Jay let out a howl, as Anthony morphed into using his fingernails. He didn't have a mean bone in his body, but the idea of Jay being so very much pleasured with him literally, torturing the twenty year old's nips, made his lower half twitch. He even felt impressed, when strangling the furry nips with his nails, that Jay tried backing away. From that point on, not only didn't Anthony feel any guilt, but encouraged himself to squeeze and pull on Jay's pecs, real hard!
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"What seems to be the problem here, Keff?"
"Hey Tom," Keffen left the table where Sean lay out on, crossed the room and gave the Hawaii PD officer a hug.
"Um, Keff?"
Keffen let on to Tom the atmosphere of the small group of males.
"We're all `friends' here, Tom."
"I wish you wouldn't scare me like... that."
Tom's eyes ended staring at the half-unbuttoned shirt of Steve Blair. Being noticeable, he shifted to the barechested youth on the table.
"Ahem! Yeah, so what's the problem here?"
The twenty-seven year old police officer stole one more glance at Steve before turning his attention to Keffen, beginning to relay some information. Taking out a little pad, Tom began jotting down vitals, after questioning Sean.
Steve, after talking on the phone, came over to the table and relayed, "I got your mom on the phone. She said to put you in a taxi."
In a glum attitude, Sean said to them all, "Figures."
Mehmet could see, like himself that maybe Sean and his mom didn't get along, as with him and his father. He wasn't the only one to pick up on it.
"First thing first. I'm taking this lad over to the hospital. Want to get your shirt on, son?" Tom asked.
"Hospital? No way. I don't have that kind of loot."
"What about your mom's hospitalization?"
Sean accidentally lets slip, "A go-go dancer doesn't... oh shit!"
With it out in the open, shaming himself, Sean clasps both arms over his face, blotting out the strangers he hoped would become his friends.
Keffen, in the face of embarrassment says, jovially, "What's wrong with being a go-go dancer? Some of my best friends are go-go dancers!"
It was Steve's turn to take Keffen over the hurdles.
"Oh? They teach you how to disco? Maybe strip to the music, Keffen?"
"You think he's kidding?"
"Tom, do you have to go there?" Keffen warns.
"Hey, it's not me who offered the info on your boyfriends, Keff!"
"Just how many boyfriends do you have?" Steve asked, now joining Tom in busting Keffen's chops.
"I don't have any boyfriends!"
"The way you talk about them, no wonder," Tom continues the onslaught of demeaning ideas.
Steve takes a third wheel to the conversation. Standing there, he suddenly realises that he's lost Mehmet. It's only by assumption, but the feeling ran strong, as he watched his Egyptian friend standing there, holding onto Sean's hand, in consolation. Doing some quick self-analysis, Steve realizes that maybe the guy, six years younger, wasn't supposed to `happen'.
"So, what do you think, Steve?"
"Huh? About what?"
"Now that's a fine how-do-ya-do!"
"Did I miss something?"
Tom reconciles, "Yeah, for not paying attention, you're buying the beers!"
"Beers? Where did that come from?"
In reality, Steve swayed with the transition of saying goodbye to what he thought was a developing affair with the Egyptian surfer, towards the two men, more his own age.
However, Tom didn't waste any time, asking, "You attached, Steve?"
"Um," taking a quick look at Mehmet, he replied, "No."
Keffen, not only all around `good guy', but owing Tom a lot, like his job for instance, states, "Why don't I take Sean here to the hospital and you two can grab that beer?"
"I have a feeling here, Steve, that we're being set up?"
Looking over the Hawaiian PD officer, the deep tanned complexion, beefy build of the five foot ten or eleven inches tall, Steve doesn't object to the `set up'.
Steve smiles, saying, "You don't see me complaining, do you?"
Tom puts on the biggest grin, twitching his eyebrows. If Steve only knew something else twitched in unison!
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"Oooooh yeah... harder, Anthony... deeper, man!"
"Am I fuckin' glad I had you pegged wrong, Jay!"
"That makes two of us... damn does your hard cock feel good inside of me!"
For the last hour, Anthony's 8.5c has been pleasuring Jay's ass chute.
Across the room, a half hour ago, Marc had pulled out of Elton's ass, creaming his pubes and stomach. Now they lay there, snoring.
Anthony suddenly stops the ass pumping, looking over his shoulder.
"Somebody's coming!" Anthony clams up, as the door is keyed from the outside.
"Damn, it's John."
"John?" Anthony questions, in the dark.
"Our waiter?"
"Oh, `that' John. What's he doing here?"
"Um, I kind of invited him... figured he could have fun with your Egyptian friend?"
"Mehmet?"
"Yeah, but he's not.. oh shit! John's gonna be pissed!"
Surely, it was too late, on Jay's part, as the bright light from the hallway illuminated the interior of the dark room.
"Jay? You in here?"
"Don't turn the light on."
"I wouldn't. Where are you?"
"Over here."
By the time John reached the bed, he had disposed of his waiter's uniform, plus shoes and briefs, standing in the faint light, totally buff.
The ray of light from the jon shone onto John's bod, giving Anthony a sign of what he was packing. He began swaying a bit, moving his cock once more, inside of Jay's ass, picking up the visual of what looked like could be a substantial amount of hard shaft.
"Where's the Egyptian dude?"
"Um, he's kind of not here."
"What tha fuck? You said..."
"I thought he was coming up here, John, but he's not."
"Damn it, Jay! Here I've got a ragin' hard on and need relief and you're turning up zero?"
"Sorry, John."
Anthony clues John into, "You wouldn't have been fucking Mehmet anyway. He's not that kind of guy."
"Bullshit! Every gay guy either wants to fuck or be fucked!"
This gave Anthony fair insight to what these two had been into. More relationship oriented, which is where Anthony thought this had been headed, he slowly pulled out of Jay's ass.
"Ooooooooooh!" Jay sighed, when Anthony vacated his plumbing.
"Um, be my guest," Anthony offered, standing at the bottom of the bed.
"For real? You done shooting your load?" John inquired.
"Um, no. Um, I'm kind of tired. I think I'll go join my friends."
"Friends?"
"Yeah, they're sleeping over there."
"Threeway, huh?"
"No. One way," Anthony looked on the way the rest of his evening was headed, figuring jerking off would be the way to suffice his urge to unload.
"Wait, Anthony."
Anthony stopped short, as John kneeled on the bed, still firming up his 10.5c.
"Huh?" Anthony, hands on his hips, remained nearby.
Even though the room remained almost pitch black, except for the stray light filtering in from the jon, the threeway conversation continued.
"John, you can't fuck me."
"Huh? Why not? You like feeling my monster inside you, Jay!"
That told Anthony even more about the two. He wondered how many times John fucked his ass.
Stuttering, Jay slowly unraveling the facts, "John, I think I'm going to be thinking about one man."
Welcome news to Anthony's ears, he proceeded to turnabout, head back to the king-sized bed of `life'.
"You're kidding, Jay. You mean you're giving up your life of whoring?"
Good thing for Jay the room was darkened. You can't tell if a guy is turning red of not.
"Um, thanks John."
Suddenly, John puts two and two together.
"You mean, you and Anthony here?"
Not believing it himself, Anthony asks, "You and me, Jay?"
"If you want to. I mean try it, Anthony."
Now twenty-four, John remembers back to where Jay got him his job at his parent's resort when in high school. The two go way back.
"Man, I never though I'd live to see the day you'd turn away this... um..."
"Happens, John. It's not like I didn't warn you that this day would be coming."
"I know man. Oh well, there's a businessman down on two that slipped me a twenty."
Astonished, Anthony asks John, "You have sex with the resort guests?"
Cackling, John replies, "Man does not live by waiter tips, alone!"
Realizing what Jay is giving up, Anthony asks John, "Why don't you fuck Jay this one last time?"
"Nah," John figits in the dark to pull his pants on, "I hear this guy's got a tight ass anyway."
However, John feels a tug on the back of his pants, which keeps him from pulling them up.
"I insist," Anthony tells him.
"You don't leave me much choice, man."
All this time, Jay wants to hold his allegiance towards Anthony, but at the same time is not being disagreeable!
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4 Continued....
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Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold or made part of any collection without prior written permission.