YoGA MaT' o1

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'YoGA MaT' 27 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

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When Tom, Bill, Garth, Frankie, Everett and Avery reach base camp, there was no one there to greet them, except Marcus.

"Where the fuck have you all been?"

Maybe the others were intimidated, but Bill and Garth were not entertained by the rough attitude.

Garth beats Bill to it, stepping right up in Marcus' face, "not sitting here on our fat asses, while the rest of the camp runs their buns off, that's for certain!"

Bill knew Marcus. He could be tough as nails, however, when 'tough' meets 'rough'?

"I see," he backs down, "well, there'll be no extra time alloted for lunch and dip in the lake, so you better get your asses down to the canteen."

"See," Garth stirs up the pot, "you can be nice, if you want to and still get the message across, Le Jeune?"

Bill's fist was all gathered up in a ball, all ready to reach out and suckerpunch. In time, Garth would learn, as the others, it was Bill's way of guys who joked about his integrity.

While Garth and the others of his team walk off, Marcus is rubbing his beard, thinking of the private space back at his cabin, used for sassy men like this, who don't know their place.

Yet, there was a challenge there, where Bill Le Jeune was concerned, looking back over his shoulder while walking away, a smile on his lips.

However, Marcus was ready to wipe that smug smile right off Bill's face! By the end of trooper training exercises, he pictured having his adversary so worn and torn, like an old rag, that Le Jeune would be begging to have his stomach hugging a broken tree stump, He fingered the heavy leather belt around his waist with both hands, aching to teach a lesson in respect.

Before heading any where, after thinking of at least six different men, asses over a sawhorse, wrists and ankles tied off, ass wide open for his personal invasion, Marcus needed to take care of matters.

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Having arrived at the canteen, they pick up paper plates, helping themselves to a 'smorgasboard' of deli tins. By the looks of a 'barely-get-by' attempt at providing nourishment, opinions run low.

Tom sits down next to a familiar face, "hey, how's it going for you Randy?"

Before addressing anything else, the lithe youth says, "have you tasted the lunch?"

"Not yet," Tom takes a bite of the burger, "yech! What's this?"

"I know," Randy says, flicking his braids over a shoulder, "they call it meat, but it's probably spinach and sawdust thrown in as a thickener, with who knows what else."

Bill sits, Tom saying, "have you tasted the burger yet?"

"Nope. Don't need to," Bill holds up the quarter-inch wide hockey puck, allowing what seems to be barbecue sauce, drip through the bun.

Garth says, along with Avery and Everett, telling them, "don't eat much, but drink plenty of water. I noticed, on the trail, if we veer off to the right, there's a road. If I can recall, down the road a mile there's is a burger joint."

Everett says, "that's fine and all, but they confiscated our wallets?"

Smiling, Garth says, "where we're going. you don't need to pay with currency!"

They all notice the wink.

Bill says, "I take it you know that for a fact?"

"Not my first time at camp. And yeah, they've got some nice and fine fratboys working there during the summer for college expenses and they 'love' the tips!"

Bill says, "but we're not going to be there all day?"

Taking a mental count, whether Garth was off one of two, "hey, we've got six dicks and that should be plenty to tip the lads."

Tom says, "they got any hot fuckers?"

"For you, Tom," Garth pats his shoulder, "I'll make sure you get two stuffed in at once!"

Tom's jaw drops, with bewilderment, "really?"

"He's joking, Tommy," Bill says, then to Garth, "you are joking, right?"

Garth shrugs his shoulders, leaning neither way, just smiling. : )

Everett says, "but what if Marcus finds out. He seems like the kind of guy who doesn't mess around."

Placing a hand softly on Everett's shoulder, Garth says in a sweet manner, "you don't have anything to fear from Marcus, son. If anything comes of it, it's on me, okay?"

Not only scars from his whipping, there are mental scars, Everett saying, "I don't want anything like, what happened to me, to happen to you. That's all."

They all knew the implications of the lines running across Everett's back, but also took notice of the sweet hug Garth was giving the twenty-eight year old, clutching him up and treating him like a long, lost lover.

When they break from the hug, there's Avery, a frown on his lips. He doesn't at all like what just took place, but for now was letting it pass.

They made a game of it, seeing who could throw their 'sawdust burgers' the farthest, then downed plenty of fluids, before their trek off, down the trail.

Marcus made it his personal pleasure to come to the small conclave of campers, "okay, gather round."

The instruction was much the same, though instead of 10 pushups and situps, they had to perform 25 as a wamup, before they headed out for a run, which had grown from 1.5, to 2.5 miles.

Frankie says, "I for one am going to definitely be jumping the fence and running down that road to the burger joint!"

Tom says, "really, are you able to jump a fence?"

Frankie grimaces, "really, Tom?"

He also gave Tom's little tummy a slap with the back of his hand, a gesture which show he wasn't so far behind matching Frankie's gut.

"I know. That was wrong. Sorry," Tom looks for forgiveness.

After a grueling round of 25 pushups and situps, of which Frankie and Tom pledged secrecy, they only did twelve each, they jump up and with the others were on their way, running up the trail.

Not far up, Garth whistles loudly, raising a hand and pointing to the side, in an effort to get them to follow him.

Unfortunately, when they got to the fence, it was made of barbed wire.

"Now what do we do, Mr. Trailblazer?" Avery asks, in a perturbed manner.

No one at this point picked up on Avery's dig, nor derogatory manner, taking it as a joke.

"Not a problem," Garth says, unbuttoning his shorts. "If we all lay our shorts down on the wire, we can slip over without a scratch."

However, they notice, not only Garth, but Frankie is not wearing any briefs underneath!

Modeling, Garth says, holding his balls and cock in one hand, "just cover yourself, like this, Frankie, and of you others who might get snagged!"

It worked, they all got over the fence, sorted out shorts and dressed.

No balls were harmed in this leap of faith! : )

From there it was a hop, skip and jump, over a log, leaping over a brook, whereas Everett almost slips in, Garth grabbing him by the arm.

"Whew, that was close."

Avery 'saw' and frowned upon it.

It was only a strong trickle, but Garth acts as if it were a raging river, "you're welcome," adding a wink!

He knew he should have been the one following Everett more closely, but Avery didn't want it to seem that he minded, the two sticking together. Either way, it did kind of tick Avery off, Garth left to 'pick up the pieces' and not himself.

"Mm, I can almost taste it," Tom says of the barbq aroma in the air.

Frankie says, "are you talking about me or a hot dog?"

Tom jokes, "oh no, so much looking forward to that Frankie-furter tonight!"

"Hey," Frankie tags Tom on the arm, making him stop for a minute.

"What?"

"You like food play?"

"I like to eat it more than play with it."

"Oh. Just thought maybe you would want to squirt a little ketchup on my dick before you suck it up?"

Shrugging a shoulder, Tom says, "never tried it, but I'll give it a go. What's for dessert?"

"Oh, I'll see what my imagination can come up with!"

"How about cookies and cream?"

"Hm, you've got a good imagination, Tommy. I have a feeling you and I are going to get along well this weekend."

Funny thing, as they were going down the hill, who should be coming up, is Randy and Nick, "hey, you guys should try the corn dogs."

Nick says, "yeah and don't worry. You know as well as we do, boys never get their fill of cum!"

Another guy, whom they did not know, says, "did you come over the barbed wire?"

Bill, who has all eyes on him, "yeah, we did."

"You don't need to. Go a half mile past it, on your way back and the fence is down. You can hop over with no problem."

"Very much obliged, um?"

A few feet away from Bill, he yells back, "Dontrell!"

Bill stands there, watching that beautiful, sweaty cocoa skinned man get smaller and smaller with distance. When he comes to his senses, "hey, where did y'all go?"

When he catches up, there they all stand, outside the Taco Shack, coming in between the mass of bare backs, "hey, what gives?"

Bill finds the answer to his question, a sign reading, 'NO SHIRTS, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE'.

However, Garth, who is the only one missing, comes from within, "I've got it all squared away," his arms act like a floodgate, ushering them in.

"And what crafty little plan did you conjure up, which would allow us to break the rules?"

While inside, Avery stood at the rear of the group. He was not at all a happy camper, being that Garth had his hands all over Everett, like right now, right next to him, an arm over the shoulder, pointing out this and that on the menu, recommending what to eat.

At forty years old, having been through two solid relationships, until they fell apart and a few failures at dating men, when Everett came along, Avery swore to himself he would shape up. This meant a personal vendetta at drinking too much and kicking the weed habit. He had already one summons for DWi, which he did not volunteer that info on the preliminary sheet at the beginning of the meetup. However, he did not picture this as an official sign up to become a state trooper, so who would find out?

They could've ordered beers, but Garth reminded them they had a long run home, which meant taking on the hill, jumping over the brook and other obstacles unknown, so they had water.

One of the waiters set up red cups of water on a table, so as, after ordering, each guy could grab a cup on the way back to where they would be seated, outside. Management was a stickler at cleanliness, since Covid, but the guys understood and gave no flack.

The evil wheels in Avery's head began to turn, thinking, if something were to go wrong, it would fall on Garth's head. Knowing he had to act fast, he slipped over to the table of waters, unscrewed a salt shaker and tapped it over each cup. Grabbing a spoon he gave each cup a whirl. Purposely, he left one cup untouched, for himself.

They ate.

Drank.

Some noticed the drink a little salty, but it didn't phase any of them, too hungry to complain.

Time was short and upon noticing this, it was Garth who came to their rescue once again, promising to not only deliver the money for the meal, but made a deal with the owner, to personally 'tip' him.

Unknown to all of them, when they left for their run back to camp, one of the servers happened to taste the water that was served to the guys and spat it out.

"What's up with that?" the owner questions.

It was reported back as 'salty', which upon tasting, he also almost barfed!

He immediately took off his apron and with some of the servers from the restautant, left with fresh bottles of water. He caught up with them right before they jumped the fence, some of the guys feeling cramps.

"Hey, Garth," the owner calls out.

Garth first, half joking, but serious, "I don't think they like your food."

It's then Manuel explained the situation, of which even Garth was feeling the results, "oh-h-h-h, so that's it," he took a bottle and guzzles it.

Manuel, a guy in his forties, places a hand on Garth's stomach, "does that make it feel better?"

Garth says, "I can think a better place for that hand, but yeah. And thanks for bringing the water."

When Garth looks towards Everett, Avery is there, babying him. However, he does notice something off, saying, "could you make sure the boys are getting enough water?"

Manuel agrees and Garth moves towards where Everett is leaning against a tree, Avery squatting and nursing him with a bottle of water.

Everett himself thought something fishy, before Garth got to them, "you're not affected, Avery?"

"Um, no. I wasn't thirsty when I was eating."

Thinking it weird, that Avery went right to the water, skipping over the meal they ate, "what makes you so sure there was something wrong with the water. Could've been the meat?"

Avery felt flushed, the forty year old saying, "just a hunch, I guess."

When Garth arrives, Avery, feeling that he might say something else to jeopardize himself, "I better go see how the others are doing."

"Damn it," Everett curses.

"I know, we're all feeling it, Everett."

"No, not that."

Like before, that soft touch to Everett's shoulder, Garth says, "then what is it?"

As Everett tells all, about how chipper Avery seems to be, whereas everyone else is down and feeling sick to their stomachs, plus the fact Avery pointed out something wrong with the water and not their food, Garth walks over to approach him.

"Uh, what's this about the water, Avery?"

Instead of waiting around, Avery gets up and bolts it down the hill, of which Garth tries to follow, but because of not feeling well, can't follow. No matter, since Manuel is coming up the hill with more water, he trips right into the mass of men and bottles, slamming into them like a linebacker.

As bottles of water are thrown up into the air, Manuel calls out, "ai-chi-i-i-i," falling down on his ass.

Avery then could not recover and went tumbling down the hill.

Garth then stumbles forward, one of Manuel's workers, Luis helping him up, "I've got you."

Inadvertently, when Luis tried to keep Garth from tumbling foward, he accidentally grabs him in the crotch.

Not hard, but softly, Garth feels the pinch, "oh man, Luis!"

"Sorry."

"Don't be," he manages a smile.

When he looks over Luis' shoulders, held like they were embracing for a love ritual, he spots Avery moaning, moving about, but not able to stand.

They all wind up at the foot of the hill once again, as an ambulance and the sheriff's office has arrived.

It's then his DWi surfaces, Avery is taken away in cuffs.

Everett stands there next to Garth, remarking, "I can't believe what he did. He seemed like such a nice guy."

"He was, until his jealously got in the way."

Standing there next to Garth, Everett felt calm, "um, would it be asking too much if I asked you for a hug?"

It was almost as if that was happening. All Garth had to do is slip a hand down Everett's shoulder, turn a little inward and they were there.

Garth consoles, "don't worry. Avery is not going to be bothering anyone for a long, long time."

"Was he really jealous of you?"

"Apparently, the way he explained it to the arresting offiver, but hey, I never meant to make it seem that way."

"I know," Everett says, "I'm guessing that's just the way you are, a caring person."

Modestly, Garth says, "oh, wait till you really get to know me!"

Looking up from under Garth's chin, Everett says, "I'd really like to?"

At forty-two, Garth didn't really expect this, "why don't we wait until we both are better, than talk about it?"

It's then, Garth is thrown a curve, Marcus showing up, "oh boy," he says, "it's apparent."

"Apparent, is it?" Garth gets in Marcus' face, "Like, how would that go?"

However, Everett could not turn a blind eye, nor a hearing ear, when Marcus begins to rant and rave.

"You deliberately put your men at risk..."

Not only Everett, but Bill busts in on the conversation, "hey wait a minute, chief, you want to dial it back a bit? These are not Garth's men, but they are my responsibility and if you're going to point the finger, make sure you're pointing it at the right guy!"

And because Tom is Bill's best friend from way back, never misses the chance to stand up for him, "this whole thing is a sham. We have to work our asses off, while you're sitting on your duff. I don't see how this has anything to do with gay pride, or helping anyone out socially. Tell you what I'm gonna do," Tom gets in Marcus' face, "I'm going to have you reported."

He stopped there, since rightfully they hadn't been given a clue who was behind running this weekend gathering. Sometimes too much information doesn't help.

"Well, um. I."

Apparently, Marcus was not prepared for the interrogation.

"And furthermore, when we get back to camp, I'd like to check out your credentials."

Marcus huffs and puffs and walks away.

"Proud of you, Tommy."

"Really?" the two friends connect hands.

"Yeah. You really gave him, well, something I would have done the same."

More like lovers, than friends, which sometimes people couldn't tell the difference, Tom and Bill, kiss, lip lock, come off, smiling at each other.

"Hey, you two should think about getting a room," Frankie says, "only make sure I'm there to monitor it all!"

They stood there, neither of them saying anything, until Bill breaks the ice, "um, does Frankie know?"

"Know what?"

Tom says, "I might have forgotten to mention."

"Mention what?"

Bill says, "I guess you two have something to talk about."

Bill walks off, Tom taking a deep breath.

"It's not that I was trying to be deceptive, or go behind your back, Frankie, but I'm a married man. I have a partner."

"And he's cool with you going away on weekends and picking up younger men?"

"We're in an open relationship. When I return, we fill each other in on any details we have to share. It doesn't work like that for everyone, but it does for us."

Frankie has been analyzing everything, saying in an upbeat manner, "that's cool. When do I get to meet him?"

"To-o-o-o-om! Are you okay?"

"Speak of the devil!"

Stepping out of a car Tom didn't recognize, Mat walks towards him, arms open wide to receive him.

"I'm all right. You didn't have to drive all this way."

"I know, but I wouldn't rest until I saw for myself, that you were good."

"Oh-h-h-h, isn't that sweet?" Bill says, standing there, legs crossed, an elbow resting on Frankie's shoulder.

"They sure look like they are in love," Frankie mentions.

Bill says, "no one can hold a candle to that relationship. I sense you saying it, for a different reason?"

Bill's hunch was correct, Frankie saying, "if they are so madly in love, why do they need to be with other men?"

"That's a hard one to figure, but if you really want to know Frankie, best way to find out, is ask them."

Seems like he was being given the opportunity, Tom and Mat walking his way.

First to speak is Tom, "so, you ratted me out, Billy?"

"Hey, I was only thinking of your better half," Bill smiles at Mat.

"You did the right thing, Billy. But who is this hunk?"

Frankie had to look around.

Bill says, "I think he means you, Frankie."

"Oh. I'm Frankie," though he wasn't sure about the 'hunk' part.

When Frankie reaches for a hand to shake, Mat walks forward, cementing their chests together. He thinks what an affectionate man Mat can be.

"Tom has told me you and he have spent some time together?"

Worried Mat might think Frankie has done anything uncouth, "trust me, we're not anything but friends."

"From what Tom has said, maybe we can change all that!"

Then that was it, Mat excusing himself and Tom, wanting to make up for a little lost time.

"Well, I guess you're stuck with me, Frankie!"

"I do not mind that at all," Frankie says, turning to Bill and feeling frisky, places both hands on Bill's bulky poundcakes, giving the bulbous pecs a frisking!

"You really know how to get inside a man's mind!"

Frankie's hands slide down Bill's pecs and staring him in the eyes, "now all I have to worry about is how to get inside your pants!"

In moving hands, Frankie finds Bill's nips and gives them thumb massages.

"Oh fuck, Frankie!"

The only way to stop the sweet suffering, nips mashed and twisted, is to caress the guy, and in doing so, manipulates Frankie's lips.

Not the type to commit to relationship, Bill says, "I think I felt something."

"I certainly hope so," Frankie says, laughing.

It's that second thought, beyond love, Bill feels something jabbing him in the crotch.

"You maybe, want me to take care of it?"

It wasn't Bill's cup of tea, rather preferring to be the man standing, unless he was stretched out in the bed, with a guy coming up between his legs. However, the flash he just had, this hunk of a cub turning him on, he starts to sport a stiff shaft himself.

"Uh. Yeah," he thinks on it briefly, more keen on another man sucking him off, "I guess."

Forgetting where they were, Mat and Tom show, Mat saying to Tom, "I guess we're not the only ones thinking about getting a room!"

Garth, with Everett holding his hand, says, "someone mention something about a room?"

Remembering Tom talking up open relationships, Frankie says, "maybe we can have a six-some, if there is such a thing?"

For himself, Bill had thought of a different plan, one in which he and Frankie could be alone in bed, an option, getting to know each other. However, it's Mat who dismisses that.

"Nah. Not tonight at least. Nope, tonight I want to be alone with Tom, show him how important he is to me in our lives."

"Oh," Tom remarks, "isn't Mat sweet to say that?"

Garth says, "uh, yeah, about that, Everett and me, we thought we could find the privacy of a single cabin."

With a little misinderstanding of the concept, Frankie says, "I guess they're not interested in doing an open relationship tonight."

"I think you need a little guidance on the subject, Frankie."

Facing Bill, Frankie reconnects with the hand play, rubbing up and down the sides of Bill's bod, going to the extreme, "so, you want a closed relationship tonight?"

"What I want is," Bill tries turning it back to in his favor, "to feel your hands working me over."

"Will you do the same for me?"

"Of course," Bills says, "but tell me something?"

"Okay."

"Have you ever had a relationship with a guy before?"

"No," Frankie replies, "you?"

"Not really. Nothing you would consider living together for any extended period of time."

"Good. Then maybe we can find we click."

Bill says, "we click?"

"Same interests maybe, same likes? Like, what is your favorite food?"

It seemed a little dumb, but Bill, tapping a lip with his finger, "um, a nice, thick, juicy angus steak, probably."

"That's it? How boring. I will have to cook you a full Indian meal, then you can see how exciting a meal can be."

"Indian?"

"I thought, maybe by my tan skin and looks, you know me to be Indian?"

"I knew you were," Bill didn't want to pinpoint, "something!"

"You're okay making a relationship with an Indian man?"

"Not which I've thought about it in particular, but wouldn't matter to me, long as we find an interest in each other. I mean, not sure I'm interested in the kind of relationship Tommy and Mat have."

Their conversation has drawn them closer together, Frankie saying, "then no open relationship?"

"Why don't we concentrate on you and me first. Take it a step at a time."

Bill was taken aback on his own thoughts, thinking of a relationship.

Caressing each other, squeezing their bold, hairy chests in the circumference of each others arms, Frankie says, "by the way, how old are you?"

"Thirty-four. You okay with that?"

"More than okay. I am thirty-four too."

"Oh wow, I thought you were much younger."

Frankie smiles.

"What?" Bill asks.

"You are going to be mad at me."

A silent lull came over them as they stare in each other eyes, Bill finally saying, "okay, what am I going to be mad at you for, Frankie?"

"I thought you were older."

Bill smirks, not being able to contain himself, staring in that adorable face, "so what. Age is just a number anyway."

They caress, kiss, until others started coming out of the restaurant.

"Later?" Bill says.

"I would like that."

Everyone felt okay about hiking up the trail, crossing over the barbed wire fence at Hart and Dev's point of crossover.

Tom did caution his mate, "you better lose the shirt. You don't know how ticked off this guy, Marcus, can get."

"Oh really? Hm, then, I think I'll keep it on!"

That was Mat, always laughing at danger, or any problem in the business, nothing too unsurmountable. Tom could handle it!

"Hey Tommy?"

"What?"

"I think I've had enough of this weekend. How about you?"

"Yeah. Okay. Whatever you say, Billy."

Mat and Tom have had a special relationship since 'day one'. Since, their times of happiness, struggles and other forms of life's ups and downs, have only been meant to carve out the relationship they have today. At times, Mat has been the forerunner of solving tough situations, other times, Tom, smoothing things out when the waters got rough and tumbling. They've always managed to weather through the tsunamis of life.

Right now, Mat was seeing things in a different light than his partner, "really guys? Shame on you, Billy!"

It's something Bill might have expected from Tom, "what? What'd I do?"

Tom, like when they were young guys and in trouble, points the finger, "yeah, what'd Billy do?"

"And you," Mat says to his partner, "I'm ashamed of both of you."

Tom gulps, knowing what that temperament meant!

They both stood at casual attention, all ears to what Mat had to say.

"And in front of young men, whom you're supposed to be mentoring?"

Bill steps into the forefront, "okay, Mat, so..."

Stepping right up into big Bill's face, with the bod of a muscle bear, taking on the lithe figure of the yoga man, "don't you 'okay' me, Bill Le Jeune. Walking out in front of youth you are supposed to be developing character and strength, leading them in quitting what you started out as something to incur strength of mind and stature? As I heard, and correct me if I'm wrong, but Tom always talked about, when growing up, you were both there at each others side, when the tough got going?"

Bill and Tom look at each other, Tom nodding in the affirmative, Bill saying, "uh, yeah, something like that."

"Well, are you going to allow a big bully like Marcus, shame both of your characters?"

Frankie, who has chose not to meddle, finally breaks to the surface, "wow, Mat, you're so right."

Whatever Tom was thinking, he approaches Mat, trying to calm him down.

Bill took to walking over to Frankie, "hm."

"What?" Frankie says.

Running a hand up and down Frankie's furry tummy trail, Bill says, "not only a man with beauty beyond compare, but brains as well?"

Most of his life, Frankie was the guy blending in with the social environment, the wallflower. Even in adulthood, right up to his thirty-four years of being on the planet, he's been quiet, reserved, dwarfed by those around him who have seemed domineering. If anyone got anything out of this 'Trooper Training' stuff, he might have been one of the winners.

Instead of questioning himself, Frankie says, "the way I figure it," and he was not only basing his answer on fitness training, "if we quit, we may never find out if we're, 'compatible', if that's what I'm trying to say?"

Bill, same age, same 'bear' bod, with a few ounces of muscle, almost matching Frankie's stats, except for the beard, for certain there was an attraction which he could not discount the intentions of the cub, "compatible, eh? Seems to me like you're talking about starting up one of them open relationships, Frankie?"

"Or closed," Frankie could say no more, slowly giving over to Bill's sweetness.

No more was needed to be said, the two pressing hairy pecs together, lips syncing.

Walking into their scene was a separate figure, one in which neither of the two couplings would dream of being in their futures, Except for Bill Le Jeune.

"Ahem!"

Being the only one who knew the young twenty-two year old well enough, "oh hey, Wolf. What's the word?"

Often the way he would answer his uncle, whenever asked the 'what's-word', "the word is, Garrett has said, in light of the paramedics having been called in, trooper camp has been cancelled. He's sending everyone home."

Unknown to the rest, it hasn't been mentioned, Mat says, "oh damn, I'll never get to put Marcus through the wringer."

Sometimes something is brought up, to provoke others into wanting to know, Tom saying, "what's this about Marcus?"

Getting chummy with his partner, butting his hip up against Tom, Mat says, "oh, just one of those little things in life, that only comes to light upon the mention of it."

Mat wanted to tell his little tale, being after they all packed up and left, the subject may never be as important as it is now.

Not the first time this has happened in their relationship, Tom says, "okay, what's up with you and Marcus?"

Their picture of Marcus so far, had been one of a mean ogre, a nasty son-of-a-gun.

Mat says, "well just maybe," he hints, "you're not the only guys who have been through one of Marcus' grueling trooper training exercises?"

Knowing his partner was beating around the bush, Tom says, "okay, what gives, Mat?"

"Oh, maybe I know something that you guys don't know?"

"Apparently," Bill says.

Wolf, thinking he might know something of what Mat is talking about, opens up on his opinion, "maybe I can give some insight into some of the kinky little things Marcus can get into?"

All attention was on the college frat.

Bill felt sympathetic to the cause, "if you know something that will help us out here, nephew, by all means please share."

Wolf had no reason at all to keep secrets from his uncle, being he was the major factor in his family dealing with him and his homosexuality and giving eye-attention to Mat, "did Marcus ever mention anything about wanting to dress in ladies underwear?"

Bill's mouth opens to wide 'O', "no-o-o-o!"

Tom says, "wider, Billy and my cock will just about fit in!"

"Shut up, numbskull," he fake-whacks Tom in the back of the head!

No one noticed much, except 'them two', who've thought it a game, from an early age, to smack or whack each other around, as a form of humor.

"Yeah. It's the truth," Wolf says, "and a lot of other things Marcus has shared with me."

Mat closes in on Wolf's perimeter, "has he mentioned anything about being tied up and played with?"

This then became personal for Tom, "Mat, what are you holding back from me?"

He didn't mean to expose things about his lover, Mat saying, "hey, where did you think I got all the ins and outs of doing kinky stuff, Tom? Doesn't come without practice!"

It was time for Tom's jaw to slack, Bill saying, "I could have my shaft primed and ready to go in no time, buddy?"

It wouldn't be the first time Tom was to experience Bill's loaded shaft on the palate of his tongue, but being not the time, nor place, "can you cut it with the cock jokes, Billy?"

Just as eager to hear about Marcus, Bill says, "sorry, gentlemen. Continue."

However, Bill couldn't keep full attention to the conversation at hand, thinking of him and 'Tommy' and their sexual romps, growing up. He was even starting to feel 'active.'

To add gasoline to the flame, a group of figures enter their space, sweaty bods glistening in the sun, huffing and puffing away from the endurance of their pace.

"Oh. Thank. God," one of them says, dropping almost without bracing his bod, rolling onto his back and in shielding eyes from the heavens, "I hope Marcus isn't spying on us."

"Nick?" Wolf says, standing over the half-naked twenty-four year old.

Looking between the separation of two fingers, Nick says, "is that you, Wolfy?"

Nick, the epitomy of a man who worked out in the gym 24/7, muscled arms, huge poundcakes with a slight covering of sweaty fuzz, six-pack abs, deep innie before the last set of abs, tiger trail dipping below the beltline, it got Wolf's mouth watering.

Yet, not to divulge he could fall to his knees for the one and only man who could subdue him, Wolf speaks out, "any of you guys have water?"

Nick could have taken a canteen along with him, but it was Marcus' talking them out of it, to endure the thirst, building stronger character.

"I have a little left," Tom says, unscrewing the cap to the army-style canteen given each at the beginning of the exercises.

Two drops drip onto Nick's six pack.

"Gee," Nick says with humor, "thanks, Tom."

However, a little more to squeeze out of his canteen, Wolf lifts Nick's head to dump whatever liquid flowed from the circular opening, "looks like that's it," he made the effort to look inside the canteen.

Even in the face of dehydration, Nick smiles, saying, "that's plenty enough, unless you've got a little spit buildup?"

What really was bringing him back from shriveling up, was Wolf, squatting there, his crotch almost in Nick's face, but wanting the others thinking there wasn't more thank friendship between them, Wolf leaves it at, "I'm a little parched myself, Nick."

Also, with Nick, were Callum and Kyle, who lay out in the sun, panting. Tom tries to attend to both, hollaring, "got any extra of that spit, Wolf?"

Callum, twenty-one, had been the unwanted victim of strange behavior, like being bullied by so-called unorthodox methods, at the time before he ran away from his former life. Bullied, such things had been done to him, whipped with wet towels, a knee to the balls, or, in the locker room after practice, guys holding him down while others pissed on him. Happening often enough, he stopped fighting it, but did not show to others, except one hooligan, it might be something he enjoyed. But that was high school and since, has mended his mind, not thinking of stuff like that, until someone else brought it up. He wondered whether he should volunteer information like, if piss was the only form of quenching a thirst, should they indulge? He kept silent.

'Things don't happen without a reason', and in a turn of fate, it slips out, Callum saying, "we could always drink our own piss?"

Kyle, six or seven years older than the others almost barfs, turning to his side and facing the dirt, a little spit making his point.

However, Nick stands up for the idea, "I heard of pissing on a cut, that it can disinfect it. At least that's what my buddy did, when we were hiking."

Wolf says, "any of you guys have to piss?"

Tom and Mat were not judgemental. In their open relationship they have come across some pretty weird stuff.

Bill, who has been mentor to Wolf for years, in lieu of other close family, says, "I had no idea, Wolfy."

Much to their surprise, it was like bigfoot had stepped into the clearing, a hulk of a man standing there, pants unzipped and a big 'zucchini' hanging out of the peeled back opening, "I've got plenty to go around!"

Marcus stood there like a chief, arms folded across and under his bulbous poundcakes.

Mat had been speaking with Tom, which had him partially hidden by Bill, so stepping out from the shadow, "I've got plenty more to go around, Marcus!"

Marcus stood there, thinking, 'oh no. More humiliation?' He felt it, his hard shaft suddenly starting to lose momentum.

Mat, walking towards Marcus, made the big ogre look petrified, "how's the trooper training going, Marcus? Still pulling that scam to benefit your own needs?"

"That's ludicrous!"

A fact Marcus didn't know, Mat and Tom being an item, "one fact, I'm not entertained by the thought you have been mistreating my partner?"

"Your partner?" Marcus scans the landscape.

Mat and Marcus went way back, all the way to college, when they met up under simliar cirumstances. At the time, in their twenties, it was a battle for dominance, which upon conclusion of a more rigorous course of events, Mat showed he was more stealth the man. Then, as now, Marcus is the epitomy of a muscle man, dwarfing many men around him, leaving only one man who could topple his dominant stardom.

"Trust me, Mat, I didn't know," Marcus dials it back, considering when they last met.

A slender yoga bod, but with equal height, Mat approaches Marcus and undauntingly addresses him, "still up to your old bullying tricks?"

Tom, who has come to stand next to his partner, Bill slightly behind, says, "oh, you don't know half the grief he's put us through."

"Care to enlighten me, Marcus?"

Feeling the sweat on the back of his neck, Marcus says, "um, can we talk about this, in private, Mat?"

Feeling a little sadistic at the moment, Mat says, "no. Whatever you have to say can be heard by all."

Hydrated at a whim throughout the hot day, Marcus swallows whatever spit is available to him, along with his pride, being he knew he can't hide anything from Mat, "look, I was only following the protocol. I'm sorry of what I put you through. Okay?"

Tom, gentle-hearted and kind way he can be, was ready to accept Marcus' apology.

Wolf steps forward, says, "doesn't sound very sincere, Marcus. What do you think, Mat?"

Mat liked Wolf's spunk.

Tom, he thought could be a little wishy-washy, so Wolf chooses the more alpha of the men.

"I think the apology would have more of an effect if," Wolf stares Mat straight in the eyes, "if down on both knees?"

Still holding onto that last ounce of dignity, Marcus says, "that ain't gonna happen!"

Stepping even closer into Marcus' space, Mat says, "oh really, Marcus? It would be a shame if it ever got out, about how, under other circumstances, you had to deal with similar consequences?"

It made Marcus bite his lip and think back in time, carrying those memories from college, back to the future-present, in particular, wearing 'Batbie' briefs and getting inflamed knees while apologizing on a concrete pool apron, "okay. What is it you want?"

There was more mutual memories, recalling how the, "college swim team, Marcus. Remember?"

It coming back to him, not something Marcus might blab about, "yeah, maybe."

Mat says, "It seems you put the swimmers through hell, having them doing needless drills, when you could achieve as much without the added endurance? The same punishment might apply?"

At the time, Marcus was faced with an ultimatum, the college dean telling him, if he didn't work things out with the college team, which with the ten swimmers, it would most definitely be the end of his career. It was easier for him to swallow his pride than to give up a position he has worked much of his life building up for.

Rubbing his days old beard, Marcus thought on the proposal, "I might remember something."

Mat decides to make it personal and easier to decide, "and you would only need to have Tom, Bill, Nick, Kyle and me present."

"And me," Wolf smiles.

Inclusive, liking Wolf's spunk, Mat says, "oh, and Wolf."

Just then, two more familiar faces stumble into the clearing, and like Nick and his buddies, crash to the forest floor, "oh goody. The end of the trail," Dev says.

Hart asks, "anyone got any water?"

Dev says, "we just ran out."

"No," Nick lifts himself with one elbow to the dirt, "we ran out like, a half hour before we crashed here."

Nick loves the look of sweaty bods, but especially when flatlined next to his own, taking advantage of the view!

"You're decision, Marcus?"

Tom was proud of his partner right now. More than that, he singles Mat out, thinking more of how he'd like to be in Marcus' sneakers. Punishment with the right man could mean sweet pleasure!

Surprised, but not in total astonishment, Wolf takes command, "whatever it is Mat wants, you'll do it, Marcus."

Thinking only the college frat could hear, Marcus says low-toned, "will ya chill it on that, Wolfy?"

Marcus could kick himself in the ass for falling prey to a much younger man, simply because his raging hardon was driving him to cave into bed with Wolf last night. On the forefront, being he thought he and Wolf had something going, he shared of himself, some things he swore never to repeat. Mat's name had come up in that intimate conversation, which upon touching each other, words finally gave in to emotions. Good conversation was a prelude of what was to come, being after their wild romp in the sheets, each fighting for dominance, they were too tired for colloquial chat.

It was two against one, Marcus figuring this the only one way out of this conflict. On second thinking, it wasn't principle, but thinking of Mat as a college youth and of how the years haved aged them into such hunks of men. Just as he owed repentance for his ways, with Mat's partner involved, he too felt justification, "okay. Where and when do you want this to happen?"

"I think your apology is enough."

Marcus didn't officially apologize, but knew, acceptance of terms satisfying enough. Plus, having put off further humiliation, "okay. Great. Thanks."

Where Wolf was concerned, maybe he wasn't so forgiving, "well, that's not good enough for me!"

Bill just smiles, knowing how Wolf could be, based on himself and the times they've spent together and as the two walk away, "justice is served!"

Callum, who springs to his feet, calls out, "mind if I tag along, Wolf?"

The others as well had recovered enough to stand, Hart and Dev fanning themselves and each other, trying to get every last drop out of Tom's canteen.

"Oh, so there you are!"

Walking into their clearing of the forest, walks an old friend, with another man tagging along.

"Patrick!"

"Yeah. Sorry," Patrick says, apologizing to Mat, but offering a hug, " I know I said I would meet you here sooner, but I got delayed a little."

Tom and Bill share, with Mat, who the mystery man is with their cop friend.

"Oh, and this is Jerry."

There were a lot of questions and answers regarding the two men, but first Nick, who knows Patrick also, says, "you guys wouldn't happen to have any water amongst ya?"

"We do," Patrick says, eyes venturing up and down Nick's stealthy, six-foot-one bod.

"Good," Nick says, "we'll have it here, if you don't mind?"

Literally, Nick and Kyle with him, grabs the water bottles from Patrick and Jerry as they fish it out of their backpacks.

Offered a second bottle each, Nick and Kyle walk off on their own, opening the second set of water bottles, dousing each other over their heads.

Then, like vultures, Hart and Dev descend on Nick, wanting their share of the goods, "thinking of only yourselves, Nick?"

"So, how did you know where to look for us?" Tom asks Patrick.

"A guy at the foot of the hill told us to walk up and when we get to where the fence is, hop it and journey up another half mile and we would find you."

"Only," Jerry says, "when Pat hopped the fence, he got caught on the wire."

Patrick rolls his eyes, wishing Jerry hadn't mentioned it.

"Oh?" Mat says, "it didn't tear your balls off, did it?"

Patrick knew Mat knew he didn't wear briefs, "do you think I could stand here in front of you, if that be the case, Mat?"

Not only an officer of the law, Mat has known Patrick in 'other' ways, "just the same, maybe I should take a look?"

Patrick stood there with mouth gapping, "I can't believe you did that, Mat!"

Tom smiles, looking at the tiny hole his partner has made big, huge, whereas Patrick's shaft and balls fall out without impasse.

"Mm, I could make mincemeat out of these," Tom 'tickles' Patrick under his balls!

With a slap of his hand, Patrick scolds Tom, "get away, pervert!"

Jerry smiles, thinking of how, uninhibited, he got to touch those orbs, Patrick's swollen shaft and not with a slap of a hand, but hands of welcome.

Bill was more following Jerry, "you two have a good time last night?"

Again, Jerry's smile gives him away.

"My bad," Tom says. "Maybe you should put your cuffs on me and lead me away?"

Before he met Jerry, Patrick might have entertained a thought like that. However, moving away from Tom's question, "so, you here for the weekend?"

Reason Patrick shied away from Tom's interrogation, he didn't want the whole world knowing, as he himself was cuffed to the top railing of the bed, while Jerry had his way, which Patrick would also be ashamed to admit such kinky sex play led him to shooting his load all over himself, all the way up to the underside of the chin!

Tom put Patrick's question to Mat, "are we?"

"By priniciple, I think you should stay, but in light of what I've seen, I think I'd rather be home, swimming in the pool."

With 'drooling eyes', Hart, Dev, Kyle and Nick accompanied Tom in the yoga studio van, Mat in his car, Patrick and his new love interest in Jerry's truck.

Bill excused himself, saying he better stay and make sure Wolf wasn't getting into any trouble, that he couldn't get himself out of.

%

His first Satuday, with trial members coming and going, Sherman literally sits with his ass on the floor, after turning the key to lock the double doors.

"Whew, that was some day!"

Standing there, a bottle in hand, two plastic cups, Chef Geoff says, "ready to celebrate?"

Pressing hands on the floor, Sherman pats it with a hand, "have a seat."

Sherman sat in the middle of the double doors, which has Geoff saying, "shove over, will ya?"

"Not only the gym," Sherman thinks more of his own success, "those protein bars you made, were a big, big hit."

They must've been a big hit, Sherman taking the bottle of bubbly out of Geoff's right hand, the two cups from the left, hugging him and going to town on his lips!

Geoff was loving it, but to answer the question, "it was just something that popped into my head."

"Before we pop the cork, I'm gonna need a shower."

They were both ready for it, Sherman active nonstop all day, Geoff toiling away at the oven, producing six varieties of protein bars, whipping up shakes and in between keeping the dishwasher going.

"I hope you won't be mad at me?"

Standing there in a gym shower stall, each stripping the other, Sherman says, "what could I possibly be mad at you for?"

"No, listen," Geoff places his hand on Sherman's chest, as they stand there, stripped down to their briefs.

"Okay," Sherman looks down, then up, "I'm listening, but would you hurry it up?"

"Well, you see, this guy walked in from the parking lot and being he saw a big line at the front door, came in through the back door. Only, what he thought was the gym, was the eatery."

With fucking on his mind, Sherman says, "so, you fucked him?"

"No. I was so busy, I didn't think of anything else, but needing help, and being he was looking for a job, I hired him."

"Oh," Sherman says. "Is he hot?"

Geoff, a college guy, could tell this conversation was the wrong place, wrong time, "never mind. I'll fill in the blanks later."

"Good," Sherman says, taking hold of Geoff's briefs, sinks down, briefs following the lead of his inserted fingers, "step out?"

Right after Geoff rids Sherman's hands of his briefs, "what about the bottle?"

With more important things on his mind, Sherman, without a flinch of eye to eye movement, steps out of his own briefs, "bottle? I've more got your ass on my mind!"

"Oh."

"What?" Sherman questions.

The twenty-year old chef stutters, with a hint of laughter, "uh, I was thinking things might go, the other way around?"

Smiling back, Sherman says, "you want to fuck me?"

"Uh. Yeah, if it's not much of an imposition?"

Sherman thinks on it, having never assumed that position, "why don't we see how things go?"

Conflict of opinion, Geoff says, "not which I've never been fucked, it's just that, at the time, it wasn't my choice?"

"Hm," Sherman thinks on it, "are you into 6-9?"

"Uh, like you said, can we see how things go?"

Only four years older than Geoff, Sherman says, "of course. Why don't we shower and then think on it?"

"Uh, yeah, besides, it's a little tough to do a 6-9 in a shower stall, unless I do a handstand?"

"Can you do a handstand, Geoff?"

"No."

They decide to shower, grab the bottle and head on over to Sherman's apartment. It's then, letting themselves out through the back door, Geoff recalls something.

"Oh darn."

"What?"

"I forgot. I left Ritchie to clean up the restaurant."

"Ritchie?"

"Yeah. The guy I told you about, who walked in off the street and I gave a job to."

"I hope you don't mean the same Ritchie I know!"

As Sherman says it, he's locking up the back door and walks across the pavement, headed for the restaurant, a forty second trek.

Geoff trails a distance of a few feet, protesting, "I interviewed him thoroughly, Sherm. I swear, he's okay to do the job."

"It's not his credentials I'm questioning."

That was the least of Sherman's worry and upon entering the restaurant, comes face to face with Geoff's new employee, "oh no, not Bumbling Ritchie?"

"Yeah, that's me," Ritchie answers.

However, Sherman is taken aback, by the last time he saw him, "but you look so different than when I saw you at the supermarket?"

"Am I?"

Sherman, walking up to Ritchie, looks upon him as if a precious sculpture at an art gallery, "you've changed."

Indeed, after help with self-esteem, Ritchie has changed, metamophosed from a bumbling chubby guy, into a buff statue, to ogle over, worship, adore.

"Oh Geoff, I hope you don't mind that it was hot in here, so I got a little naked?" "Your shirt off, Ritchie, I'd hardly call it naked?"

"I can't believe it. You, Ritchie," Sherman studies the taut chest, two pointy nips, patch of hair separating both pecs, the look of a sixpack coming on. Moving eyes upwards, the short-cropped beard, "how did you manage to journey from a chubby kid, to a muscle man?"

Itchy to get to Sherman's apartment, Geoff says, "you've done a good job, Ritchie. Why don't you head on home?"

"Okay. Thanks."

Sherman then, amazed by not only Ritchie's fortitude to change, "why don't you come along with us. We're headed to my apartment for some supper," he turns towards Geoff, "long as Geoff doesn't mind?"

"No, not at all."

Neither Geoff, nor Ritchie, owned a car, so Sherman was behind the wheel.

Not far from the gym, Sherman lived in a modest apartment village of four units. On the way, Sherman and Geoff listened to what Ritchie had been doing prior to his job at the supermarket.

Sherman first says, "have you ever been to the market, Geoff?"

"No. I shop Whole Foods."

"Well, every time I am in there, Ritchie was there to tell me which aisle something I am looking for is in. He knows where everything is."

"But I'm not there now," Ritchie says.

"Oh?" Sherman looks in the rearview to catch a glimpse, "what are you doing now?"

"Before Geoff was kind enough to hire me, I was doing nothing, but going to college and living off my savings from the supermarket job. I'm a good saver."

Geoff liked it that Ritchie credits him with the job opportunity, "so, what do you study in college?"

"Right now I'm kind of in between subjects. I was going for accounting, but then met this guy who is into fitness. I then decided to change my major, but then felt bad because I have already done three years for accounting. I think it was more he wanted me to change, than I wanted to. To make a long story short, I then met a guy who was going to a cooking school. Then I had a different thing I wanted to pursue. Right now, I'm kind of confused. That's why I took the job helping you, Geoff."

"Oh, and Sherman?"

"What?"

"I'm no longer accident prone, ever since I found out I'm a top."

Sherman and Geoff look at each other.

Sherman says, "well, not that that has anything to do with the job, Ritchie, we're glad to have you."

"I know that sounds weird, but I always thought I was destined to suck cock, until I gave fucking a chance. Now I think I'm a top and some guy told me it might help me stop me from being a klutz. He was right."

Another look to Geoff, Sherman says, "okay, if it works for you, it works for me."

So no one could hear, but Sherman, Geoff says, "two tops, are you sure of that, Sherman?"

No, he wasn't, but wasn't saying! : )

Next, could surprise anyone, Sherman gasping, "shit! What's happening?"

Turning into the street of the apartment village, it was fire scene, the main entrance blocked, fire hoses running all over the street and landscape.

"Fire, apparently," Geoff says.

They roll on past, Sherman parking at a nearby strip mall. They get out and walk back.

One of the residents tells them, "started with an explosion about an hour ago. One of the firemen says they suspect a neighbor ran a meth lab."

"What about the apartment at west village?" Sherman says.

Patting Sherman on the shoulder, the neighbor says, "you've lucked out. Most of that unit suffered no damage."

Standing tall, Sherman slumped, "whew!"

"But they're not letting anyone in. At least for tonight?"

He said it, like he was waiting for an answer? : )

As they walked back to the strip mall, Sherman says, "either of you guys have an idea of where to go?"

He was meaning, of himself, Geoff saying, "I don't think there's room, with my brother and his family, where I rent a room."

Ritchie says, "I live in the dorm. They don't allow guests."

Not which the two weren't sympathetic, each walking at Sherman's sides, an occasional pat on the shoulder or touch of the arm.

Suddenly a van pulls up next to them, Tom sticking his head out, "hey, funny meeting you guys here? Did you see the fire?"

Ritchie says, "yeah, we did. It's Sherman's apartment village that's on fire."

Geoff offers, "and they're not letting any residents in until tomorrow."

Always willing to help, Tom says, "no problem. You can spend the night at our place."

Able to view inside the yoga studio van, Sherman says, "it looks like you have enough guests?"

"No. We're headed back from camp and headed for a little R&R. Mat drove on ahead and probably right now is pulling some steaks out of the freezer."

"Are you sure I won't be an imposition? It's just for one night."

Geoff says, "Sherman means 'us'?"

"One night we can handle," Tom says.

Sherman reporting he's parked at the strip mall, Tom puts coordinates into his phone.

Tom recognizes Ritchie, inviting him along.

At various times, guys began arriving at Mat and Tom's house.

Frankie, had taken the ride from Mat. On the trip, Mat fired off questions, which Frankie didn't mind at all answering, as if there was an interrogation going on, till Mat learned all he needed to know. Formal interviews was not his style.

The others piled in the yoga studio van, piloted by Tom.

They all seemed to rendezvous at the Gilles-Norbert-McCormick household, which ninety-nine percent of the time was referred to as Tom & Mat's place.

Tom had talked up the nice sized swimming pool in the back yard, of which the description, could well have been the same dimensions of a pool at any swanky hotel, given it could not be described as a square, nor any other usual concrete shape, but a collection of geometric shapes.

"Hey guys, before any of you get to the pool, there's unloading of the van?"

All were helpful to Tom. In fact, if Tom did try to lift a finger to help, whatever was in his hands, was immediately snatched away.

"I got it, Tom," Ritichie says.

Musclehead Nick says, "hey, give it here. Got more?"

Tom did not even have to think, Nick grabbing the strap of a backpack and along with a box, balanced on a bicep, marches away with the parcels. He seemed to follow in musclehead-Ritchie's line of departure.

"This is the last of it," Kyle says, carrying a brown paper bag.

Tom says, "that can go in the house."

"Like, which way is the house?"

"Actually," Tom smiles at the twenty-eight year old, "the junk food can go out by the pool."

He gave direction to go to the right, around the side of the garage, through the gate and there he would find his destination.

By the time Tom finished dishing out the path to the pool, Nick had caught up to Kyle, accompanying him.

Hart and Dev chose to follow him.

Of the van travelers, Ritchie returns for another armload, "anything left?"

"Nope. You guys cleaned it out pretty well," Tom says.

"If you want, I can vacuum it out, if you have a shop-vac handy?"

Tom snaps a finger with his thumb, "shop-vac! Now there's an idea. I've been using the old-fashioned broom and dustpan."

Being assertive, but also creating conversation so as he can feast his eyes on Tom, Ritchie says, "well, have you got that handy?"

"I do."

Tom walks back into the garage, Ritchie following.

It was quite the disarray, especially after camp goods had been placed here and there.

"Now," Tom says, shaking out the sweaty tee shirt he had on, "it's in here someplace. Where, I haven't a clue."

Ritchie starts shuffling things about.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, just tidying up a bit. Maybe, in the meantime, we'll find that shop vac."

The garage was beginning to feel like an inferno. In the winter it was freezing cold, but the summer months drew heat in like a radiator.

Tom thought of stripping off his sweaty shirt, but didn't want to send vibes.

To his surprise, he didn't need to be reluctant, Ritchie pulling at the tails of his shirt, pulling it up over his head.

Only, the sweat made the shirt get stuck under his chin.

Seeing Ritchie's predicament, "need help?"

"Uh, yeah, maybe a little?"

However, as Tom goes for the shirt, it suddenly pulls with a vengeance, clearing the top of Ritchie's head, like it had a rubber band attached.

"Guess I'm too late."

"Never too late," Ritchie says, staring Tom in the face.

Tom felt 'studied', Ritchie's eyes wandering down his shirt, back up to his face, until he couldn't stand it any longer, "mind helping me with mine?"

"But you're a married man."

Tom adds, "yes, but in an open relationship!"

"I've heard about that, but never knew anyone in one. Like, how does that go?"

Tom says, "I'm sure there are many variations, but for us, we have one rule."

"And that is?"

Tom wasn't waiting for Ritchie's hands to touch his shirt, begans to peel it from his sweaty skin, "whatever happens outside the marriage, we are obligated to share every little detail."

"That takes a lot of trust."

"It does and truthfully, anything we've done since being married, we have shared. Tell you the truth, sometimes one of us telling the other, can read like a porn novel. It can get quite, 'stimulating'!" Tom chuckles.

While unloading the van, Ritchie had admired Tom from afar, but now, up close and personal, "gosh, you're beautiful."

"Coming from a young guy such as yourself, I'll take the compliment."

More than saying any words to boost how he felt about Tom, Ritchie was feeling it much lower, "then it's okay if I..."

He didn't wait for Tom to answer, Ritchie moving both hands to Tom's sweaty, hairy pecs, massaging the hairy, sweaty nubs.

"Oh man, Ritchie," his forty-one year old host coos softly, dropping his head back, at touch, the massage, "your hands are like magic."

If he had the time, Tom would have closed the garage door, and turned the rough environment into his own personal sex dungeon, as had been the case from time to time.

He did give hint, "if you're up for it, there's a pair of nip clamps in the draw by the workbench?"

"Really? Nip clamps? Nah, I don't think I could take it."

Tom cocks his head, "no, not for you. For you to put on me!"

Ritchie has noticed, at the touch, how Tom's nips have swelled, to the point they stuck free of all the sweaty hair on his pecs, "oh, that's something you like?"

"Love it."

Inquisitive, Ritchie says, "like, you and Mat, do stuff like that?"

"Sometimes, but I usually have to beg for it."

This was a whole new world for Ritchie, "beg? Like on your knees and all that?"

"Could be, unless he's got my wrists cuffed and hanging from the basement rafters. Or, could be staked out in our bed."

Time was a-wasting, both feeling the pings, which translated to something sexual, stirring their loins.

"Which do you prefer? I mean, does Mat like, give you a choice?"

"Nope. When he's playing the dominant role, I don't get that luxury of choosing. That being said, it's part of the play, the master's domination over the submissive."

Messing with a man in a relationship was something foreign to Ritchie, so Tom led the way, entwining their bods at the hip, drawing the thirty-one year old in, till their sweaty chests combine, "maybe this isn't the right time, but I'd love to see what you can do, given we have a couple of hours of free time together?"

Ritchie wasn't sure about this, but he certainly was loving the taste of Tom's lips and the fact their hard shafts were touching and grinding together, wanting to bust out of their pants and do battle.

Breaking from the kiss, Ritchie says, "I certainly would like to explore, but nip clamps. They've gotta hurt, right?"

"Yeah," Tom breathes it in, "sweet, sweet pain!"

Not sure about it, Ritchie wasn't about to condemn it, "okay, if you say so."

On a course to where probably they would be dropping their pants soon, the pair are interrupted, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"

A professional in his field, but a friend when off duty, Tom is surprised, "Alton Sharf? Why, it's been like years since I've seen you!"

Tom rushes over to give his friend a hug, but more interested in the warm affection, Alton is looking over Tom's shoulder, "good to see you too, Tom. Who's the young man you're trying to seduce?"

"If you weren't a man of the law, I'd slap you silly, Alton. Then again, you might enjoy it too much."

Ritchie, who could now relate, says to the pair of eyes glued on him, "don't tell me you're into what Tom is into?"

Not wanting to give himself away needlessly, Alton says, "and exactly what is Tom into, that you think I'm into?"

Alton's eyes never leave Ritchie, fascinated by his beautiful face, bod and the semi he's packing.

"Uh, just stuff," Ritchie is nervous to say.

Tom says, "what Ritchie means, is the s&m, Alton."

Moving right in for the kill, Alton's hands touch Ritchie, feeling up the insides of his arms, "I certainly hope you don't have a boyfriend, or husband?"

He was young, as was Ritchie, "nope. I haven't met anyone yet that I've had an interest in. Well, not enough to have what Tom and Mat have."

It's then something strikes Alton, "hey, you're not the same Ritchie, who works for the supermarket?"

Ritchie makes the connection, "used to. Hey, aren't you the detective who investigated, or rather busted the immigrant slave trading scam, ran by the manager of the market?"

It's been months, Alton saying, "it seems like years ago."

"Yes, it does seem like it. Also, don't mind me saying, you look good with a beard."

In studying Ritchie's physique, "but you've changed somehow?"

"That I have," Ritchie admits. "In many ways."

Tom was getting bored, says, "uh, I'll meet you out by the pool."

'Darn it!' Tom snaps his fingers, thinking of the pangs of clamps gripping both nips.

Like disjmissing Tom, Alton says, "okay. I know the way."

Tom departs, leaving the two in the garage, thinking what a loss to him!

"You must be hot in that suit?"

Alton says, "interested in helping me out?"

How could Ritchie refuse, with Alton's back turned towards him? : )

Mesmerized by things, it didn't occur to Ritchie as he reaches around to grab the jacket, the sweat from his chest was soaking into the fabric.

Upon removing it, Alton turns back around, loosening up his tie, "whew, that's a relief."

More relief was on the way, Ritchie feeling the urge to unbutton Alton's white dress shirt. Then, he became impetuous, "oh hell with it," pulls it out of the trousers and in doing so, tears the last two buttons off, "oops! Sorry 'bout that, Alton!"

Totally ignoring the torn shirt, Alton reaches for Ritchie's belt.

Reciprocating, Ritchie does the same.

Soon their pants are dropping down their legs and each takes on the responsibility of de-pants-ing themselves. After which, their hands are all over each other. They kiss fervently, until Alton sinks to his knees.

"Dayam!" Ritchie says, totally surprised when Alton, pulls down his brief, having his full erection pop out.

Like stretching in the morning at first light, Ritchie places hands behind his head, jutting hips forward at the touch of Alton's wet mouth, exhaling his pent up feelings of sensual relief.

Taking Ritchie's hips, Alton works the hard shaft in and out of his mouth. In an instant, his hand is fidgeting around on the floor, till he finds his pants. From the pocket he takes a packet.

Pulling off Ritchie, "I'm sure you're close?"

Waving the small square package, Ritchie feels like there's no time to barter, "uh, yeah. Okay."

To certify they are on the same page, Alton says, "you want me to put it on you, or you want to do it yourself?"

Ritchie had fucked a guy once, and in that teenage moment, he had wilted away before he had gotten the head in, "um, you, I guess."

One last suck and Alton was dressing Ritchie's cock. Then, getting up, he walks over to the workbench and shoving a couple of things off the edge, "this okay for you?"

Ritchie, who is left to fend for himself, a hand keeping himself primed, "uh yeah, I guess so."

It felt strange to Ritchie, working his shaft, when it was coated in a sleeve.

For Alton, this wouldn't be the first time the thirty-one year old investigator had taken it up the rear, "come closer," he moves a hand behind his back. "First time?"

"Second," Ritchie confesses, "but the first time I fucked a guy, I kind of fizzled out."

This time was different though. As he approaches Alton's hairy ass, he was staying hard.

"I'm here for you, if you need some guidance."

Literally, Alton was there, waiting for Ritchie to dock, a hand reaching out from behind and latching on.

Then, when the tip of Ritchie's shaft touches ass, nothing or no one is needed to guide the pathway.

"Oh shit," Alton howls, his bod arching as Ritchie inserts himself.

He's seen enough porn scenes, Ritchie knowing what to do and even though it's his second time ramming a man, a tutorial was obsolete, his inner feelings driving him in and out, till, "I'm just about there."

As he said it, he let loose.

For Alton, he could feel the tip of his shaft bobbing up and down, occasionally making scratchy contact with the edge of the workbench. Coupled with the emotions of being filled to the gills, he didn't need any further stimulation, "I'm coming. Coming. Oh-h-h-h-ah-h-h-h-h-oh shit!"

Ritchie was exhausted, caving over onto Alton's back, "oh fuck, fuck, fuck."

Taking this as not over, Alton reaches back, grabs Ritchie's hips and pulls him in, towards him.

Detaching himself, Ritchie says, "no, I'm done."

As Alton stands, he says, "uh-oh."

"What?" Ritchie says, still catching his breath.

"Another mess for Tom to clean up!"

They both look down, Alton's secrete pooled up on the edge of the workbench, sinewy drops dripping over the edge.

"Oops," Ritchie says, both laughing.

"There's got to be a rag around here."

Alton's got it all planned out, "nah, leave it. If it's still fresh, I'm sure Tom won't mind cleaning it up!"

Ritchie wasn't sure about how Alton meant that, but too woozy to rationalize it out, "okay. If you say so. Swim?"

Still on Ritchie's shaft, Alton removes the filled packet, "uh, it wouldn't gross you out, if I?"

Looking at Alton holding the sleeve of the fruits of his pounding labor, Ritchie says, "if what you're meaning, you want to drink it down, I don't know."

"I'll just tie it in a knot and put it in my pants pocket and save it for a snack later," Alton stretches the cum-laden vessel out, knotting it.

"That's like, even grosser. No, if you're gonna drink it, do it now. I'll try not to barf."

"I'm not that desperate," Alton says, holding it over a bucket.

"No, don't," he stands, front to front with Alton. "Maybe I'm a little curious, being I've never seen a guy do it?"

Alton smiles, "okay, if you say so."

Getting the little pouch of cum unknotted was nearly impossible, "I guess that's that," he holds it over the trash.

"Can't you like, bite the end off?"

"Never tried it," Alton says.

He tries it, but the elasticity of the cum-containment suddenly breaks the tip off, his hand springing forward, plastering the contents all over Ritchie's chest!

"Oopsy!"

Ritchie's left hand feels the gooey ooze as it works its way down his sweaty pecs, the hairy stomach, mixing with whatever is left from his own jerk off.

"Hold it, I've got it," Alton bends his head and shooing Ritchie's hand away, he laps up the residue.

Inside the house, Tom rushes around, retrieving the steaks Mat has pulled from the grill, that Nick has fired up.

Standing around, doing nothing but admiring the artwork on walls, or the abstract sculpture on a table, "is there anything I can help you with, Tom?"

"Nick has fired up the barbecue. I'm about to take the steaks out to him?"

Yelling from the top of the stairs, Mat, putting the finishing touches on toweling after a shower, shouts, "get the steaks from the fridge, Tom?"

With a smile and a hand on the banister, as if it were a conductor, transmitting waves of affection to his partner, Tom says, "yup. Anything for you, darling!"

Mat says back, "hey, don't go corny on me in front of the company!"

In a way that's how it went for the couple, Tom feeling something erotic over being ridiculed in front of others, especially those that didn't know them and how they liked to play the game.

As expected, 'the company' picks up on it, "corny?" Frankie observes. "I can only dream of having someone to accuse me of that!"

Finally walking in, after they had paid a visit to the funeral home, Patrick announces him and Jerry, "dessert, anyone?"

In both their hands they carried flat containers with plastic covers.

Tom eye-shopped, "mm, what do we have here?"

Jerry says, "I don't don't know what they call it, but it's like cheese cake, with fruit on top, sealed with a clear glaze."

Patrick adds, talking up what he held, "I hope there are some chocolate lovers!"

Frankie can think of a lot of ways to use the desserts, "mm, chocolate. One of my favorite fantasies!"

Patrick and Jerry exhange glances, realizing there's something to that, but shrug it off, "okay, if you say so, Frankie."

Tom, already with the heads up, "what Frankie is meaning, it's like going on a picnic, with no forks or spoons."

Jerry says, "is that supposed to be a hint or something, Tom?"

Frankie, who has already set the desserts down on a counter, has opened the fruit glaze, taken a fingerful in each hand, placing it on the tip of each nip, "any takers?"

Jerry says, "mm, somehow I suddenly feel famished!"

Looking to Patrick, he says to Jerry, "don't let me be the one to stop you."

After slurping the sugar glaze from each of Frankie's nips, Jerry says, whipping his tank off overhead, "okay, my turn."

"Hey, you guys," Tom warns, "don't forget to leave room for steak."

Rubbing his crotch, Patrick says, "yeah, don't forget to leave room for prime cut!"

Mat, having extricated himself from the pool, walks in, toweling himself off, then tossing the towel to Tom, "here, stash this somewhere."

Both exchange cute smiles!

The men were then all wide-eyed, seeing Tom in the raw, who has to say about it, "whatsamatter, you guys act like you never saw a wet bear before!"

The 'wet' didn't really have much to do with it.

Jerry then says, unbuckling his belt, "Pat didn't say it was 'that' kind of a party!"

Then, helping Jerry with his pants, Mat says, "just remember that next time you're over, to dress light!"

Mat could be such a tease, leaning in as he slowly worked Jerry's belt from the metal part. Then, equally keeping his partner on edge, he lethargically pulled the leather from the confines of the loops.

When Mat leans in to kiss the hairy bear's lips, Frankie looks to Tom, who smiles back at him.

Being Mat was busy with double-duty, stripping Jerry out of his pants, while keeping his lips busy, Frankie gravitates in Tom's direction.

"You know what?"

"What?" Tom says.

"I think I'm starting to like this open relationship stuff. Um, you want to like, get it on?"

Tom was in a quandary. he'd love to get it on with Frankie, but choosing a cub over a bear, "uh, yeah. Sure." had mixed reaction.

It's then Mat, moving out of a kiss, head over Jerry's shoulder, spots another man worthy of his affection, "uh, excuse me a minute, Jerry?"

Did Jerry have a choice? : )

"The nerve," he stands there, turned around, following Mat walk away from him, with only hips holding his pants up.

Tom was in the same predicament, Frankie having spotted another guy, his own age and even though that was not the reason for distraction, "uh, I'll be back in a minute. Gotta an impressing issue with having to go to the little boys room." "Kids!" Tom remarks.

"I agree," Jerry says, a hand on Tom's shoulder as he faces away from him.

Turning around, Tom, eyeing Jerry up from beard to bellyhole, and beyond, "you didn't waste any time!?"

"Damn right," Jerry replies, rather glad Mat stepped away, leaving him to be with his partner.

Hands on hips, Tom says, "well, are you going to just stand there, Jerry and ogle over my hot bod?"

Starting at the top of Tom's hairy shoulders, Jerry works his ten digits down over the furry pecs.

"Oh man, you really know how to stimulate a guy." Tom more exhales the feeling of his pec nubs being worked.

"For myself, and I could be biased at this, if a man sees what he wants, he should go for it," Jerry pinches Tom's nips harder, "are you following?"

Tom's cock sure was following Jerry's lead, hardening up by the second.

While pinching Tom, knowing the implication down yonder, it was time to put another whammy into the equation. "you know, I'm not a selfish man?"

Tom wondered what that was about, until Jerry takes one of his hands, placing it on his pec.

With Tom massaging Jerry's hairy nip, thumb pressing in, index finger helping with the sweet torture, both men took the hint from each other.

Patrick, having brought over a beer for his new friend, says, "well! I guess I should look elsewhere for some action!"

He was giggling, but his words were enough to put the kabosh on Tom and Jerry's startup, "oh no you don't."

This was some predicament now, Jerry tugging on Tom's nip, while grabbing Patrick by the arm.

Tom says, "I'll take Jerry's dick, if you want the rest, Patrick?"

Patrick didn't come over to share, but what could he do? His hands were tied, when it came to the wishes of his host, "hm, now there's a thought. Jerry on his knees, sucking my dick, with you on yours, Tom, licking his ass."

They had been over this issue while in the cabin, before arriving at Mat and Tom's place. It had been a stalemate of sorts, literally going round and round, like two wrestlers vying for the gold belt, chasing each others asses.

Tom knew Patrick to be a top, but wasn't sure Jerry's intentions, other than being treated as a submissive just now. As what he's perceived, best to let the two tops work things out!

Slight misinterpretation, Patrick had it a little wrong, Tom coming to terms, "I'd love to be the middle of your salami sandwich?"

Patrick then sumises, "hm, then that makes it a little easier, me riding your ass, while Jerry sits on your chest, Tom, working your throat like a feeding tube."

Jerry stares Patrick in the eyes, "you know me so well!"

Tom saw something there, a silent thought being exchanged between the pair, but more feeling the impulses by himself, "uh, we gonna get it on, or are you two going to stand there, staring at each other, all goo-goo eyes?"

Truthfully, Patrick had had a taste of how he and Jerry could rather vie for not only affection, but roughly challenging each other for the top position.

However, being Patrick would never think of doing anything to 'mentally' hurt his host, "sounds like a plan, Tom."

Private business was private business and there was no need for Patrick to share the fact he 'allowed' Jerry to sit on chest, feeding his shaft into his mouth, while the bear leaned back and tweaked the otter's nips. Though, it might go the same direction as last night, then, Jerry slipping down Patrick's slick abs, reaching back, not for a nip, but Patrick's rigid shaft, upon which to impale himself!

Tom was howling towards the heavens in no time, feeling Jerry's hairy asscrack between his pecs, shaft tickling his throat, while Patrick wrestled with his thighs, dividing him like a wishbone, then the tip moving ahead as if a meticulously crafted plan.

"More spit, Jerry?"

Jerry turns his head, spits in Patrick's hand, "thanks, pal."

More than a pal, Jerry connects lips with Patrick, stealing a quick smooch, before carrying on with their own separate business.

"Hey, would I be able to get in on some of that?"

There Frankie stood, rubbing hands together, like a surgeon before going in for the operation.

Tom looks up from down on his back, "what happened with Mat?"

"Um, like," Frankie speaks with stuttering, "it's like, we were okay with the lip-locking part, but when it got to matters more extreme, well, you know how tough it is for two tops to make it work?"

Patrick looks up, the tip of his shaft ready to impregnate, "well, I never heard it put like that before."

Also keying his attention in Frankie's direction, Jerry has a quirky idea, "I wouldn't mind having your dick in the crack of my ass, long as it doesn't go any further than that, Frankie?"

Patrick looks at Jerry, smiling. Last night they couldn't come to terms with who was going to fuck who, but both came to mutual agreement, giving each other a hand job, shooting their sticky goo all over each other, hands bringing on the joy.

Only one obstacle, as Frankie sees it, Tom's already hard shaft, sticking straight up, then bent over like the leaning tower of Pisa, "but it's for sure that I don't want that monster anywhere near my ass?"

How could Tom avoid being, 'that hard', with Jerry sitting on his chest, tip of his shaft tapping on his lips, with Patrick, legs on his shoulders, ready to insert, then Frankie towering above, making up his mind?

"Damn, Frankie!"

"What?" Frankie says, looking down upon Tom, hands on hips.

The perfect stance of a man who can't make up his mind!

Seeing things from a different angle, Jerry says, "I don't know about you, bro, but I'm going to start shriveling up, if I don't get a warm mouth on this shaft soon!"

Patrick had no worries. He wasn't even paying much attention to the others and their qualms, being Tom's ass had just swallowed up half his hard shaft, "no complaints from down here," he shoves it in a half inch, retracts and re-enters!

Hart and Dev have really settled in, enjoying the pool, when they spot a hand reaching over the gate.

"What do you think that's about?" Dev asks.

"Only one way to find out," Hart swims across the pool, hikes himself up on the edge, swings his legs around, stands and walks over to the gate, unlatching it.

"Oh great. Thanks for that," the tall man, looking about forty, enters, carrying a leather case of sorts.

"Let me guess," Hart says, "you're a magician."

"You're right, and I hope I can get the mix right when I'm conjuring up a drink for someone!" Then, before he lets the spring-loaded door go with his foot, "would you mind getting that box for me?"

He smiles, peering past the door, his foot keeping it widely ajar, as Hart reaches down to the ground and hoists the box of wine up.

"Thanks." What he didn't verbalize, was thanks for showing off that cute ass!

Hart, thinking ahead, wishes for another reason to receive thanks, "you're welcome."

When they reach the pool, Dev is out of the water.

"Oh cool," he introduces himself as, "I'm Donato. I haven't bartended at a nude party in a long time."

Dev says his name, followed by, "let me know if you need help catching up."

Both were infatuated with Donato's gorgeous looks, tall, stach, closely cropped beard, short, trimmed on the sides hair style.

Donato was taken aback himself, faced with two lads who did nothing to hamper the view of their crotches.

"And oh," Dev says, "this is my boyfriend, Hart."

"Great to meet you guys. Um, if you don't mind me asking, is this a pride party?"

Hart, maybe a little wiser than his boyfriend, says, "are you asking if we're gay?"

"Um," Donato cracks a doofy little smile, "yeah, maybe, that's what I am, asking?"

Jokester Dev says, "you really need to get naked, Donato."

Hart pokes Dev in the rib with an elbow, "Dev?"

"No harm, boys," Donato begins loosening up on the bartenders uniform, beginning with the bowtie, "I'll just do a little undressed dressup."

Both didn't mind being spectators, watching Donato pull the 'real' bowtie from around his neck, unbutton his white shirt, pulling it from his pants.

"Uh, would either of you happen to have a hanger?"

"Nope," Dev says, neither of them making a move to go fetch one.

The whole time, Donato has kept tabs on the boys' cocks they were trying to hide.

"Oh well," Donato says, folding it nicely in half, then tossing it over the back of a chair.

From there, Donato's strip show didn't go as Hart and Dev wanted it, instead taking the tie he just unraveled, placing it around his naked neck and retying it.

"I can't believe you did that without a mirror," Hart says.

Dev says, with a chuckle, "forget it. I'd have trouble putting on a bowtie that's already tied. You know, the 'cheat' kind?"

"Funny guy," Donato says, yet his eyes were focused on Hart.

"Yeah," Hart replies, "Dev is kind of like that."

Donato says, "a real comedian."

Dev, seeing that Hart was paying way too much attention to Donato, says, "hey, need help setting up, Donato?"

Rather than doing it alone, wanting to keep eyes on the two naked men, Donato says, "sure. Always can use the help."

"Oh, wait. I forgot the ice in my van."

Donato goes for the gate, Dev saying, "you need help?"

"Um, would be nice, but I don't think either of you would be so popular, dressed like that, on the other side of the fence?"

Hart says, "he's got a point there."

"Okay, but hurry back."

"Idiot," Hart says, slapping Dev in the back of the head.

"What, you can flirt, but I can't?"

"Get out of here," Hart says.

"Well, boyfriend," Dev is out to make a point, "it' okay for you to ogle all over Donato, but one peep out of me and you're raising hell?"

"I wasn't raising hell," but Hart realizes he was developing some kind of infatuation, "okay, maybe I was. A little."

As their relationship has progressed so far, they come together in an embrace, Hart says, "forgive me?"

"Y'know, Hart, this brings up a very important point."

Hart was ready for another birdbrain idea, "shoot."

"I thought since Mat and Tom have an open relationship, maybe we could try it?"

"I dunno. They've been together for like ten years."

"So?"

"The point I'm trying to make is, we have to make sure that we're dead set on each other, before we go playing around with other men."

Dev liked that idea, especially since he wasn't sure if Hart had a burning love for him. For himself, he thought the same.

"Really? You're that crazy about me?"

Closing in on Dev, Hart says, "well, you are a little crazy and I can see you're going to be a lot to handle."

Right now though, Hart has no problem handling Dev, arms hugging him till their dicks touch.

"Wow, I didn't know you could be so romantic, Hart!"

"Since when? I've always been romantic."

And to show Dev it's true, he back up, making Dev take the plunge with him into the pool!

Outside the fence, Donato hears a friendly voice from behind, "need help with the ice?"

"Uh, Dr. Pliars? Sir?"

"Yup, all of the above, but when we meet socially, it's Jared."

"Oh. Okay. I always wondered about that, that is, if we ever met and weren't in a therapy session or 'other'?" Donato says.

"I'm here to have a good time, like anyone else. When meeting socially, my patients call me Jared."

"Oh. Mat? Tom? Which was is your patient?"

"Yes," Jared answers, smiling. "By the way, Donato, I love the uniform. Are you tonight's entertainment?"

"Only if you want a special cocktail," Donato says, slamming the van door shut.

Carrying two big bags of ice, Jared says, "hm, I think I'll be hanging around the bar tonight!"

Holding a box with fixin's for drinks, Donato says, "I'll make it my duty to serve you hand and foot!"

Jared stops, saying, "we have to keep hush about that. Remember, what goes on in a therpy session, is meant to keep secretive."

"Sorry sir, I mean, Jared," Donato smiles.

Having a hunch, Jared says, "you better be kidding!"

Then, faced with the gate locked from the inside, Donato shouts out Hart's name and when he doesn't respond, Dev.

"Who's the idiot who puts access on the inside of a gate?"

"That would be me," Tom says, opening the gate and ushering the two in.

"Sorry 'bout that, Tom," Jared says.

"That's okay," Tom says, "I'll let you give me ten extra lashes next session."

He laughs as Jared and Donato exchange glances.

Then, to show he's on the same page, Donato says, "if it's okay, Tom, I wouldn't mind sharing those with you?"

Handing over the ice bags to Tom, Jared says, "you two are impossible!"

From there, Tom and Donato had a lot of pages to compare.

Jared walks in and having had the ice bags drench his shirt, removes it. He did get alot of whistles, hearing one of the guys say something about 'the hot muscle bear'!

Steering his head around, Jared hunts down the voice and upon hearing it again, with a slight Eastern, Indian accent, centers his atteniton on the totally naked 'cub', which in no time, is making tracks in that direction.

Meant to stir interest, Jared says, "hey there, cub!"

He had been talking with Jerry, but the physical facade hitting him all at once, "oh. Hello."

Eyes all up and down his bod, Jared says, "I figured you had already checked me out, um?"

"Frankie."

"The name's Jared. It's good to meet you. What are you drinking?"

"Water for now, until the bartender sets up. Then," Frankie smiles, "I don't know what. Maybe you can suggest to me, something?"

Jared could suggest quite a few things, but he would leave stuff like that till he got to know the cub, "I'm sure I will be able to, Frankie."

Having his wet shirt slung over his shoulder, Jared felt out of place, since every else's meat was hanging out in the open.

Frankie notices, "do you need help getting out of your pants?"

"Of course," Jared plays along. "That's what I thought, that you were just that man to help. That's why I gravitated over here."

Jared didn't really have to ask, Frankie daring to undo Jared's belt , unbutton and unzip, "you swim?"

"Swim and a whole lot more," he was feeling himself get cocky, which, without thinking, meant he was starting to dig Frankie! : )

"I love the sound of that," Frankie says, allowing Jared's pants to fall to the pool pavement and without another hesitation, butts his cub bod up to the bear.

"My, aren't we aggressive?"

"You like that, aggressive?"

'Wait,' Jared thinks on it briefly, 'that's my line!'

"Um, I might."

Right now Jared wasn't disputing anything. Being a psych doctor, he knew what lines worked with guys, and which ones turned a guy off. As with Donato, he knew just what to say to lure him in. But now, that was the furthest from his mind.

"Oh goody. The bar is open. Might you buy me a drink?"

If this was a real bar, with real paying customers, paying for drinks, it would be ludicrous that a man would dare expect Jared to pay for their alcoholic beverages.

"I might consider it, depending on things."

"Things?" Frankie says, as they gravitate towards Donato and his bar setup.

As they did, Jared steps out his sneakers, pants and like the others, takes to hanging his clothing over the fence.

Frankie, observing more than Jared's laundry, says, "your shirt is not going to dry like that!"

Totally in the buff, Jared stands there, watching Frankie pull his shirt from the fence, fluff it out, then hang it open, from sleeve to sleeve.

"There. Done to perfection," Frankie kisses off two fingers and his thumb!

Jared liked the confidence, but also the physique, "ever consider shaving?"

"Bite your tongue!"

Running his own hand over his furry chest, abs, Jared says, "don't blame you. I kind of feel attached to this rug."

"Really?" Frankie then toys with him, "but if you ever had a partner and all of sudden one day he says he wants you smooth, would you shave it all off?"

"Never!" Jared stands adamant, then caves, "well, maybe. But then again, probably not."

"Good," Frankie says, closing the between them, "because I really love the feel of a hairy man."

Like, when Jared went beyond the inner mind of a therapy session, meeting with a patient in a different environment, a big room, void of light, with apparatus hanging about, he suddenly senses Frankie headed in that direction.

"Mm, love to have you eagle-spread, having my oily hands run all over this bod."

While manhandling each other, Frankie stops, stalls, says, "eagle-whatever it is, what is that?"

Jared thinks on it, having broken one of his cardinal rules, not to move in too fast with a guy, when on the path to the darkroom, "uh, like an eagle. You know."

"Hm, not sure I know what you mean. You'll have to explain it to me."

In line behind two pairings and a trio of guys, Jared says, "after we have a few drinks."

"What do you drink?"

"For starters, Jack Daniels, straight up."

When they get to where Donato is standing, waiting for their order, he says, "what'll it be, sir? I mean, Jared. I mean, sorry 'bout that."

Frankie says, "two Jack Daniels, straight up."

"Oh, you do drink alcohol, Frankie?"

"I do, but not excessively. I like to stay in control of myself."

Jared's balls pulsed, thinking of taking control of Frankie. Then again, there was Donato, right there in front of him. It's not that he hasn't been in the darkroom with two guys 'hanging around', vying for his attention.

"That's a good way to be," Jared says.

"Really?" Donato throws his two cents in. "That's a switch."

Jared's jaw drops, "Donato, really?"

"Oops. Oh. Sorry, sir. I mean, Jared. Forgot."

Frankie says, "forgot what? Is there something I am missing?"

Donato then decides, "nothing. I've already said too much. Now I'm going to do my job and keep my mouth shut."

However, it was too late for apologies, Frankie saying, "what does he mean Jared? It is like you two have some kind of...of code, going?"

With their drinks in front of them, Donato says, "no tip necessary."

They didn't have their wallets anyway.

"Let's take our drinks over there, so we're not faced with anymore distractions," Jared says for Donato's benefit.

Finding two empty chairs, off to themselves, Jared and Frankie sit, their balls and cocks lying in the plastic crosspiece of each chair.

"So, how do you know Donato?"

"I'm a psychotherapist. I'm not really at liberty to mention anything about Donato, except to say he is my patient."

"Okay. I understand, but I thought you might be more than his doctor, being you mentioned about the eagle."

Jared knew Frankie would not put it out of his mind until he explained it, "eagle. You never saw the insignia?"

"No. What is instignia?"

In his profession, Jared always remains cool, calm, collective of his thoughts, but right now Frankie was irking the hell out of him!

"Eagle-spread," Jared gets up out of his chair, stands with legs apart, cock and balls hanging down in the void, arms stretched out from his sides, slightly upward, "or a little higher. Oh shit!"

When Jared raises up his arms up, like hanging overhead from the rafters, he didn't think of the drink in his and, pouring it over his own shoulder, it cascading down his bod!

Towels were set about for drying off after a dunk in the pool, but even though Frankie is laughing his ass off, is up out of his chair, dabbing Jared off, "you're a funny man, Jared."

"Yeah, right," Jared starts to lighten up, inches from that hot, hairy bod, "I'm a barrel of laughs."

"Not only that," Frankie stops dabbing the towel on Jared's wet chest, "I am starting to like you. A lot."

Lightening up, since this wasn't a psych session back at the office, Jared says, "is that a good thing, or bad?"

"How about I kiss you first, then you can decide for yourself?"

Then that's how it went, from that first kiss, the two, whom they would find out, are four years difference in age, discover common things liked and of course some dislikes. They hung out together all night, more of less ignoring many of the others. The only one who paid close attention to them, was the bartender, delivering drinks, rather than have Frankie and Jared budge from their seats. He also kept close tabs, often looking in their direction. Then it hit him and with unhappy thoughts, and a shot of vodka, talked himself into a downhill spiral.

Having at least three vodkas, Donato brings another round over to Frankie and Jared, "I've got something to say."

Jared and Frankie, who were having their own party, stop abruptly, then laugh.

"Free country, Donato," Jared says.

"Yeah," Frankie agrees, "what's on your mind?"

Taking both drinks and sloshing them around, Donato tosses the contents right onto their chests, "Jared, you're a creep!"

He marches away, which leaves Frankie and Jared looking at each other.

"I think Donato is angry?"

"Yeah, he did seem that way," Jared says.

They both laugh!

"But," Jared tries pushing himself up and out of the chair, "I better go smoothe things out with him."

Frankie then got the idea, "you and Donato, are more than doctor and patient?"

It was complicated, Jared saying, "it's complicated."

Finally, after another attempt, Jared was able to pry himself out of his chair. At first unsteady, he finally was able to walk over to the bar setup, moving from chair to chair to chair, to steady himself.

When he gets to the bar, Donato, unoccupied, leans with both arms on the bar, nursing a clear drink, "I'm not going to say I'm sorry and I don't care what you do to me."

"I know. I am a creep."

"No your not."

"Oh," Jared says. "Like, how does that go, because a few minutes ago..."

"I know I said it. I was upset."

"With me, I know," Jared consoles.

Aside from his office visits, for Donato, he had seen Jared in the buff. It was part of his 'therapy', visiting Jared in his home, working out feelings and emotions, while strung up in his darkroom, a nicer word Jared used in lieu of 'dungeon', which presented things a little more subdued, until a patient was able to work up to some vises more harsh.

Like they were in session, Donato confesses, "and because I know you'll understand, I'm a little jealous of Frankie."

"Only a little," Jared utters one short burst of laughter. "It's like you were talking to me, but your eyes were all over him!"

Since he had been drinking while on bartending duty, Donato says, "I like Frankie, but I like you too."

Jared was a little pumped with JD, but conscious of others listening in, a natural reaction when a doctor and patient are in the same breathing space, looks around, "Frankie asked me about you."

"In what way?"

"In ways that if I answered, it would break the rule about patient confidentiality."

"Like, what did he want to know. About me?"

"I don't think this is the place to have this conversation. A better idea would be for the three of us to get together and have a powwow."

"A powwow?"

Putting it in formal terms, Jared says, "a threeway consultation of sorts?"

"Right," Donato seemed for it, "and get our feelings out in the open."

Smiling, Jared says, "that would be my diagnosis."

Tom happens by, looking for a refill for his cup, "diagnosis, doctor? Mixing business with pleasure, or is it pleasur-ing?"

With a smile, the psych doctor politely says, "uh, butt out, Tom?"

"Oh! Okay me, then. I'll just grab my drink for 'butt' out?"

Obviously that this is not Tom's second drink, or maybe fourth? : )

Not which Tom has ever contacted Jared for a shrink session, but he knows a couple of professionals, who in their profession, offered pro bono services.

After he turns away with a quickly-made-up cocktail, Tom turns right around, "oh, and Jared?"

Right in the middle of the subject he was going over with Donato, Jared says, "what, Tom?"

In an 'in the way' feeling, Tom says, "oh, never mind. Besides," he smiles, "I forgot what I was gonna say."

With that, Tom takes a right turn, right off the edge of the pool, splashing in the center of a quad of partiers, "pardon, guys," he surfaces.

Tom still had his drink in his hand, upon breaking the surface, but it was mostly diluted with pool water.

Acting lifeguard, Ritchie Italiano, swam between two of the party revelers, at least grabbing Tom around the waist, not the usual, under the pits or chin, "are you okay, Tom?"

Ritchie still had his shades on, Tom remarking, "I am now, handsome!"

One of the telltale signs of drunk-swimming, Ritchie says, "you really should refrain from at least diving into the pool, in your condition."

Whether he thought he had a condition or not, Tom suddenly feels attracted to Ritchie's hairy chest and even though saturated with pool water, runs a hand up and down, "tell me, Ritchie," he asks, once out of the deep and into the shallow, "are you like, attached?"

"Nothing set in stone as yet," Ritchie fills in the blanks, "but I have been enjoying the occasional fling with a friend, whenever he's in town."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Vassily Mykov," Ritchie leaves Tom hanging.

Subjected to his own imagination, Tom says, "hm, Russian."

"Not really. Mostly, being third generation, other than a fake Russian accent when we play games, other than 6'4, blond and being two years older, we keep each other entertained."

"Entertained? Now there's a broad spectrum."

Who could blame Tom for fishing, with Ritchie giving hint, "yeah, we are each into each other in a particular kind of way. Works for us."

Six months ago, Ritchie might not have been the vision of what other men saw as a submissive type, but now, after being forced to leave the supermarket job behind, due to closure of the store, during the interim, Ritchie sought out a college education, got some personal training from Vassily, and started on a new path in life, both physically and mentally.

"I'm sure there's more to that, if you don't mind sharing?"

Neither had a care in the world. Not the official lifeguard of the party, secretly, Ritchie has been stalking Tom.

"I hope you don't think badly of me, Tom, but I've been pretty much stalking you since the party got started."

Ritchie sat there in a few feet of water, staring at Tom, swaying arms keeping them buoyant, even though their butts anchored them in place.

With a suggestive smile, Tom says, "I'm glad you decided to make your move, Ritchie!"

"Oh, that wasn't planned."

"No?"

"I mean, circled by guys, I'm sure they were making sure you weren't sinking."

Regardless, Tom, who knew of Ritchie's past reputation, of being a klutz, 'bumbling' as his nickname went, dimisses the history, "so, what do you have going for you now?"

Misinterpreting Tom's question, Ritchie says, "why, are you coming onto me, Tom?"

Rethinking himself, Tom says, "maybe."

Probably they were both not in full control of their senses, Tom a little high on what he had drunk, Ritchie having imbibed on Tom's hunky looks too long, "I think I've hinted enough. I mean, what's been keeping you from swimming over my way?"

"I'm a married man, you know?"

Ritchie smiles, "of which I've already heard, you're in an open relationship, when it comes to men that turn you on?"

Even though their chest hairs were swaying with the flow of the waves, they were conscious of what could not be seen through waters not perfectly crystal clear. Yet, each had feelings on the rise.

"Sounds like an invitation to me," Tom says, as their moves through the waves made them gravitate towards each other.

Things could have progressed much faster.

For Ritchie, shy, always the man behind the crowd.

Tom, much more agressive at moving in on a guy, yet in order not to intimidate, play it cool.

"I'd really like to... get with you, Tom, but I'm not so sure about how the open relationship works."

"Well, Ritchie," Tom proceeds with caution, "in life, if you want to know about someone, the best way to approach it, is to do something. What I'm trying to convey is, simply ask!"

Ritchie sways, "oh. Yeah. Right."

Tom then realizes it's not in technical terms, but tiring of thinking up a clever way of saying it, "I think that's should be how it goes."

"Oh. Yeah. I see," even though Ritchie is not too far in understanding what 'open' means. Yet, thinking enough has been said, that it's time for some action, "would you mind if I kissed you? I mean, would Mat mind?"

Tom laughs out loud, "have you seen Mat lately? I mean this evening?"

Of course not. His focus has been on Tom, "no."

"Take a look over by the barbecue."

He didn't know all the guys at the party, but certainly, it was not Mat manning the grills, "I don't see him."

Close enough for touch, Tom takes Ritchie's chin in hand, "look further to the left."

Ritchie still doesn't make eye connection, rolling over onto his legs and standing, "oh, now I see."

Tom too, seeing what hung between Ritchie's legs! : )

He was about to tip over, leaning so far towards his left, in order to catch a glimpse of Mat, under a huge tropical plant leaf, Ritchie says, "I'm beginning to get the picture."

Tom's attention was drawn to his partner, but not only that, Ritchie's loins dripping with water, made his mouth water and not from the thirst of liquid refreshment!

Slapping his ass down with a splash, Ritchie says, "I take it Mat knows those three guys?"

"We both know everyone, being they are either from the yoga studio, personal friends, or services we contract through."

That's part of what amazed Ritchie about the party. His first observation was of the immensity of Tom and Mat's spacious backyard, which had started out with a half dozen half naked men, some fully in the buff and has grown to be dozens. Donato's part time job had been bartending, whereas Ritchie just did it as a cautionary measure, to help out.

Now, with Tom, "I think I'm going to reliquish my position on the lifeguard chair."

It wasn't the tall structure they had at the beach, but a small bench, made for two, "or I could join you, out of the water?"

They headed for the white bench, but Tom grabs Ritchie's hand, "unless you want to turn it up a notch?"

Ritchie knew what that meant, Tom's hand on his, hinting they take it indoors, "are you sure?"

However, Mat breaks free of the two men he's being playful with and walking over to them, "really, Tom?"

"What?"

Tom's eyes were more on Ritchie, now that he's grown some muscle, "it's not that I blame you for wanting to get intimate with Ritchie here, but we need to starting getting the food from the grill, to the table?"

It's times like this Tom wishes he were single, but the years have proven otherwise, "yes, dear."

Ritchie bit his lip, a nervous trait, which gets the other person thinking.

Mat 'reads' into this, "I'm sure Tom won't be able to juggle the food with just two hands?"

Not only Tom, but Ritchie appreciates that he's been taken in as a friend, "sure, but I hope I'm more a benefit than a hinderence!"

Mat gets cozy, brotherly arm over Ritchie's shoulder, "hey, I thought you gave up on the old you?"

"Yeah, you're right," Ritchie concedes, "but I'm still not totally comfortable with the new way I am."

"A 'bear' bod, or muscled, you're the same you, Ritchie and I'm sure you're confidence will improve, working alongside Sherman. Sometimes his values get a little out of whack, but I'm sure a level-headed guy like you will help him keep on track."

As they walk towards the barbecue, Ritchie says, "you have a lot of faith in me, Mat and I thank you for it."

Turning Ritchie over to the food setup crowd, Mat says, "that I do and I have one request?"

"Oh, what's that."

"Prove to me that I'm right!"

Ritchie wasn't expecting it, the cute little peck on the cheek Mat bestows upon him, feeling it to make sure it was real. With Mat walking away to tie up some loose ends elsewhere, Ritchie set right into it, taking the initiative to pick up a metal platter of weiners, situated in some buns. He wore a self-righteous smile, feeling that too, proud of himself for impressing Mat, confident that he could move forward in life. Yet, instead of his eyes on Tom, he spots a blast from his past. He wasn't one hundred percent of the name, only the face and hairy bod familiar, "oh, hi there. It's you."

In his line of work, he knew what the reference meant, but didn't want to embarrass the cute guy, also blaming it on his own memory, "I know we've met, but I'm terrible with names?"

"Ritchie, and I'm afraid I'm the same, bad with names."

"Steven," he says and out to act friendly, reaches for the sides of the oblong platter Ritchie holds, "here, let me help you with that."

One hand was on the vacant side, the other digging to capture the opposite edge, which made his five digits reach towards Ritchie's navel.

"Oh!" Ritchie remarks, when Steven grabs at the tray.

Pulling away, Steven hadn't realized it, that his fingers had slipped into the brim of Ritchie's swimsuit, pulling it away with the tray of weiners, "oops!"

"That's okay," Ritchie was astounded to say the least, being that he could look down and see everything he owned, "just let go. I've got it."

"Okay," Steven says, "and sorry 'bout that."

When he let go, the elastic of Ritchie's swim trunks made a snapping sound, which made him smile, saying, "no problem, Steven."

Hearing his name from Ritchie's lips made it sound like gold, "thanks. I mean, I wish I could be of more help."

Just then, some random guys says, "I could use a hand with these burgers, if anyone is not busy?"

Nodding, Ritchie smiles, saying, "there you go, Steven."

"Yeah. Right, he turns, but has a lull in his heart that he has to leave Ritchie, even for a few seconds.

Perhaps Ritchie felt something of the same sort, "go ahead. I'll wait for you."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks," Steven retorts, not taking his time to rush over to the barbecue and return with a likeness of the metal tray Ritchie had, burgers in lieu of weiners.

They made little conversation until they reached their destination, a long table, a smorgasboard of food, adding their platters.

"I guess that's that," Ritchie says, slapping hands together as if he were applauding their efforts.

"Right," Steven says.

Although a psychiatrist, with hours of service logged in, he couldn't think of any words which could keep the chat going.

Then, upon hearing a giant triangle tingle, Tom vigorously stimulating it with a metal stick, Ritchie says, "at least we don't have to worry about being the last ones in line!"

"That's true," Steven says, picking up a charger.

Ritchie separates two paper plates and together they match the paper with the metal holders, "here you go."

"Et tu, brute," Steven says.

They smile, pairing up the two plates, then circling the table, choosing this and that.

Ritchie jokes, "I hope it's the burger you're going to stab with that knife?"

Giggling, Steven says, "I doubt that plastic will do much damage!"

At least, from that small smigeon of conversation, Steven not only knew Ritchie to be cute, but had a level head on his shoulders, able to achieve a swift comeback with an intelligent answer, "you're a reader of Shakespeare?"

"Not really. It's something I learned in high school lit class and it kinda stuck. You?"

Ritchie was the one leading them over to a table with a hovering umbrella and two chairs, in a quaint, secluded part of the yard, "yeah, I'm a fan. Have seen a few of his plays."

Before sitting, Ritchie says, "this okay?"

Smiling, gazing at Ritchie, Steven says, "perfect."

Little did Ritchie realize, Tom and his open relationship were wearing off.

Steven, who had recently broken up with his partner of years, Jae, put the past to rest and was ready to move on. They hung out together for the rest of the evening. After the main meal they descended on the dessert table. When returning to their private table, it was occupied by Tom and Mat, so they didn't intrude.

"Over here, Ritchie," Steven says, leading the way towards sitting at the edge of the pool.

Quite a mishap though, as Steven sits, Ritchie's portion of cream pie slips off his charger the paper plate and all bonking Steven on the head.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Steven!"

Ritchie was apologizing, but he couldn't help it but to start to giggle, which covering his mouth did nothing to hide that feeling!

As Steven looks up, the paper plate and white whipped cream cascade down his back, "ooh, that gives me the chills!"

The smile on Steven's face told Ritchie he wasn't in deep shit, "well, maybe I can do something about that?"

As he sits, Steven says, "I hope you're not about to dump a cup of hot coffee down my back?"

Ritchie laughs, "no, but why waste it?"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Steven turns his back to Ritchie, setting the idea in motion, Ritchie's tongue almost immediately engaged.

"Mm, feels good," Steven says.

Emerging from his feast, Ritchie swipes a hand across his lips, "only good?"

Turning his head, Steven smiles at the sight of some of that white cream lodged against Ritchie's hairy chest, "oh now, look what you've gone and done!"

Flipping his ass around, turning his whole bod 360, Ritchie says, "wait, I haven't finished."

Steven didn't answer in words, but rather leans his head in, towards Ritchie's chest and takes a swab with his tongue.

"Mm, you taste good!"

Mimicking Steven, Ritchie says, "only good?"

"Wait. Let me get another lick."

Seconds later, "well?"

His hand was already rubbing Ritchie's treasure trail, Steven saying, "I'm sure there's more yumminess down here?"

"Is that even a word, Steven?"

"What?"

"Yummy-ness?"

Not meant to be judgemental, Ritchie smiles.

"I think."

Like, the pair reading each others thoughts, Ritchie lay back, bracing his slanted bod with two hands to the concrete.

Taking the edge of Ritchie's swimsuit, where his digits had explored before, Steven says, "lift."

Ritchie pumps his crotch upwards, Steven swiping the swimsuit from under the buttocks.

"It's only my chest that's got cream on it?"

Though, Ritchie was totally not opposed to having Steven's mouth anywhere else on his bod!

"I know," Steven giggles, "but man does not live by bread alone!"

"My, aren't we the one with all the quick comebacks?"

Speaking of quick comebacks, now that Ritchie was bare-crotched, Steven stands, towering above, working his own swimsuit from the waist, downwards. Out pops fuzzy pubes, same color of his hairy chest, stomach and chiseled happy trail.

Even though lately Ritchie has felt like a 'top' kid of guy, he remembers the days when his tongue was thirsty with desire, wetting his dry lips.

"Just to let you know, Ritchie," Steven again sits on the pool edge, next to his thirty year old friend, "I'm not really into classifications, when it comes sex. Whatever strikes me at the moment, is what I go for."

"I feel the same way, Steven," which Ritchie proves himself, taking Steven's chin, moving it into kissing position.

More frantic with other desires, they soon have hands all over each other. Ritchie caresses Steven, sliding hands over the whipped cream back. Steven closes in, his furry front mashing against the small patch of the middle region of Ritchie's chest, small amount of whipped cream and all.

To ruin the moment, Wolf and Callum pass by, both instigators in pushing the two off the edge, Wolf dictating, "you two should think about getting a room!"

Still on their way without stopping, nor an apology, Steven says, "the nerve of those guys."

However, even though Ritchie hadn't a vengeful bone in his bod, his eyes are fully on Steven, "who cares where we make love!"

Retraining his eyes on Ritchie, Steven says, "you're right. Now, where were we?"

Whereas Steven and Ritchie were more interested in making out, Wolf led Callum around the pool edge and into a circle of guys, with beers in hand, chitchatting, "hey, any of you guys interested in some s&m roleplaying?"

A personal trainer, hired by Mat, Trey Langhorne speaks up, "I might be interested, long as I get to choose my intended victim?"

Trey's eyes were already set on Alton, top private investigator with the town police force.

So, when he said it, Alton thirsted to get to know the PT better, in whatever way he could, "I might be up for a little roleplay?"

Kyle, who has been at the police academy and having latched onto Nick before 'Trooper Camp', says, "I could get into a little of that," he directs his eyes to next to him, "long as Nick is up for it?"

Having the hots for Kyle already, Nick says, "oh, I'm up, alright!"

Speaking for himself, Wolf says, "cool. Three doms and three tops. Any other contenders?"

Nope, only the six had shone interest. That is, until Tom happens by.

Or, maybe it wasn't accidental, Tom rubbing his hands together, "I kind of overheard, you guys getting together a little s&m party?"

Wolf says, "we've got enough players already, Tom, unless you can come up with your own dom?"

Kip, holding a soccer ball, enters the gathering, "actually, I was looking for a hot man to play a little soccer with?"

"Hm," Tom's mind starts turning the wheels of fantasy, "you wouldn't want to use my tummy for the rebound?"

Tom had latched onto something there, the bottom guys wanting the same thing, muscle stud Nick saying, "no sweat for my gut," he slaps his own sixpack.

Wolf, seeing an opportunity to give Nick a pink belly, steals the soccer ball from Kip's hand, "thanks for the challenge, Nick."

Kyle, showing he knew the drill, steals it right out of Wolf's hands, "hey, find your own hockey net!"

At first he was shocked, appalled, but then warms up to Kyle's audacity, "okay, but hurry it up."

Even though he can fold to Wolf's whims, Callum says, "tired of me already?"

He could be brash, but also sensitive and where it was due, sympathetic, "oh no. Never, Callum," Wolf's empty hands are replaced by taking his chosen in his arms, cuddling and kissing him.

Then suddenly they hear a 'smack', the soccer ball bouncing off of Nick's abs!

Afterwards, Nick faking doubling in half, from a hands-behind-the-head position, "oh shit, Kyle, did you have to give it all you've got?"

Standing, Nick was looking down upon his pink stomach.

Kyle says, "you're such a baby, Nick!"

Nick then reacts to Kyle, not sympathetic to the gut punch the soccer ball gave him, but a hand on his hard shaft, "that definitely makes me feel better."

Then, abs-testing becomes second nature to the two kissing, wandering away.

"Okay, who's next?"

Wolf was literally left holding the ball, others following Nick and Kyle's lead, wanting to work themselves up into a frenzy in a less taxing manner.

"I guess you're stuck with me," Callum says.

"Stuck?" Wolf says. "You make it sound like a consolation prize?"

"Well, I might not be as ripped as Nick, but I can still be a lot of fun?"

Earlier, Callum had voiced opinion over liking to try some cbt, but all it led to was him sucking Wolf, while Wolf's hand was wrapped around his hard cock, jerking him. Stopping. Edging him on and on, until he produced a massive eruption of creme.

"You want it bad, do you?" Wolf says, this time not being too soft to rub Callum's ballsacs.

"I want us both to like it," Callum says, theorizing, "I thought that's how it's supposed to go?"

"You're right," Wolf says, suddenly morphing into the role, "I wonder if Tom has some rope in the garage?"

The dismal attitude clears up, a smile coming on Callum's lips, "only one way to find out!"

Waiting around to see if something materialized, Tom is once again disappointed, "oh well, back to the drawing board," he turns to walk back to the pool.

"Hey, long time, no see, Tom?"

Standing there, holding his arms out to side, emulating the signature, 'what gives', is Dr. Pliers.

"I didn't know you were invited to the party, doc?" Tom says, walking towards the hospital shrink.

Having left his clothes at the front gate, Dr. Pliars rubs his hairy poundcakes, "really, Tom? I need an invitation?"

They hug, Tom saying, "nope. Never."

"Well, actually I phoned ahead and your better half asked me to stop by and since I wasn't doing anything, thought I mind finding a guy at the party up for some sweet torture?"

"You've found him!"

"Excellent!" Then, with a strike of humor, "my dungeon or yours?"

But it was ludicrous, them already at Tom's place and stripped down, "mine?"

Not the luxury of his own darkroom at home, Jared is led to Tom's makeshift dungeon, his garage.

Walking in, Jared is not perturbed at all by seeing Callum, tied eagle-spread.

"Welcome to the party," Wolf says.

Jared goes for Wolf's hand, but is greeted with a hug, "don't worry. I won't mention a word," he says in an ear.

Not remembering or realizing what the caution is about, he says, "oh, okay. Thanks for that."

It then became a deliberate thought, thinking where, when and for what occasion he met Wolf!

In doing so, he was off topic, Wolf taking up the slack, "shall we start by tying their balls together?"

Tom says, "sounds like a plan!"

Brought back to reality, Jared is alerted to the unfolding scene, Wolf saying, "you going to allow your boy to get away with that?"

Jared knew the implication, 'speak only when given permission', "oh sure. I'm on it."

Truthfully, Callum hadn't done anything to deserve punishment, but loves the idea of Tom tied eagle-spread, like him, on the opposite side of the garage. Wolf, in the meantime, has fashioned a noose out of a piece of clothesline rope, circling it around Callum's big balls.

"No mercy, Jared," Wolf says.

He hadn't mentioned his name, but Wolf knew it, "um, sorry, but your name again?"

"Master Wolf."

It must've been some formal occasion, for Wolf to throw this out to him, Jared thinking on it. However, right now, Wolf tugging at the clothesline rope, bringing the slack over, "want me to tie Tom's balls up in bondage, or do you wnat the honors?"

Jared says, "oh, I thought I would punish," he almost forgot about the roleplay, "my boy, but it's going to be tough to flog his back, when it's to the wall?"

Wolf acts like it's of no imposition, "so? Flog his chest!"

Tom looks down upon his fuzzy pecs, and being he's been flogged before, on the back, says, "no there's an idea!"

He laughs, but Wolf is not, laughing, "not that I'm trying to tell you what to do, Jared, but I think your boy is up for a double-dealing?"

Callum was jealous, "what about me?"

It earns him a tug of the clothesline, which has Jared remarking, "oh my, aren't you the ruthless master?'

He was chuckling, but Wolf was not, taking it in all seriousness, "I remember when you were too?"

Tom and Callum were secured, not going anywhere, Jared saying, "okay, I admit, I don't remember when it was you and I had met. Want to refresh my mind, Wolf?"

Wolf smiles, walking over to Jared, "you really don't remember?"

He didn't shrugging shoulders as Wolf approaches, "nada."

Surprised, to say the least, Jared stands there as Wolf cuddles till their chests meet.

Sweetly kissing Jared, Wolf's right hand finds its way to Jared's ass crack.

Upon entering and finding his hole, Jared rebukes, "oh shit! That was you?"

Withdrawing both hand and his affection, Wolf says, "yeah, that was me, that eighteen year old kid, who you thought didn't have a clue!"

Jared does remember, "but you were chubby then."

"Yeah, but sin since, I've found 'the gym' and some guys intested in helping me slim down."

"That has to be about," Jared counts on his fingers, "five years ago?"

"Four," Wolf gets meticulous, "and you were what, thirty-four?"

"Good memory."

"Yeah," he smiles a toothy grin, "and I remember quite a lot about that time we spent together."

"Oh shoot," Jared says, remembering that young, eighteen year old guy he let his guard down for, "now I remember who you are," his astounded look, stunning!

Leaning in so Tom and Callum can't hear, "but don't worry, Jared. Like I said, I'm keeping it between you and me!"

"Uh huh," Jared is wise, "but for what price?"

What Wolf has learned about himself in those past four years, "hey, back then we adhered strictly to labels. I know, afterwards," he lets his guard down, running a hand down Jared's fuzzy front, "that you were a little pissed at me for tricking you into putting those cuffs around your wrists."

Standing there, stealing glances from each other, Tom and Callum began getting a little bored.

Tom asks, "how long do you think they're going to be?"

"I don't know," Callum replies. "Could be a few minutes."

Tom, "or an hour?"

"I suppose," Callum says, eyes all over Tom's frontal assault, "we could make up our own little scenario?"

Jumping to it, Tom calls it, "okay, I'm the sub and you're the dom."

"Oh no," Callum acts more like a dom, "I'm the youngest. I get to choose first."

"Really? I never heard of that rule."

Rightly, Tom, nor Callum had never heard of any rules regarding two men joining together to practice s&m. Perhaps Tom has had more experience, thinking about it, "just how much have you done in the way of s&m?"

Cute, half-cracked smile, Callum says, "um, this would be my first time. You?"

Tom's most secretative fantasy is being ruled by a younger guy, whereas Callum fit his imagination perfectly, but rather than this ending in a dead-ended scene, "I suppose I could come up with something to keep you entertained."

On and off, they each gave their attention to the two 'masters' of the craft, both more and more absorbed in making love to each other, than anything along the lines of having an interest in them, "so, what do you say, Tom? You want to tie me up? Play with me? I can take quite a bit of pain."

Over the years, having found many a young guy fishing out of the dumpster out back of the yoga studio, Tom has been faced with many aspects of pain, at times, physical pain having brought on the mental strain, "you can, can you?"

"Yeah," Callum says, moving eyes down and then up Tom's bod, till they meet, staring at each other, "which I know, probably you are wondering how I came to be that way."

Reaching out and rubbing his palms up and down Callum's arms, "are you a mind reader, or something?"

"No. Just thinking practically. Like, you're probably wondering a lot about me."

Tom says, "and you're not thinking the same?"

Taking it a step further, Callum's palms travel up to the insides of Tom's arms, feeling up the flanks of his stomach, "there's a lot I've been curious about in my life. The s&m thing, that's part of it. Latching onto Wolf, I thought maybe he would be the one to help me satisfy that hunger."

"Yeah," Tom says, "but the way it looks now, Wolf and Jared have reset their priorities."

"So," Callum moves in a little closer, "you don't think I could be fun?"

Gravitating together, it was tough for Tom to say no, being their hard shafts were ready to do battle, "fun? Yeah, I'd be up for some of that!"

Thoughts of s&m slipped in and out, Tom's wandering hands bringing Callum in till their lips connect.

"Ahem!"

Tom knew that voice and disconnecting his lips from Callum, "oh, hello sweetheart."

Coming between Tom and Callum, Mat says, "gee Tom, it looks like you were getting a little serious there?"

Callum clams up, "really, Mat. There was nothing to it. If you want to put the blame on someone, it was me who instigated..."

As if it were Mat coming onto Callum, instead of Tom, he places a hand on the twenty-two year old's forearm, "calm down. I'm not putting the blame or shame on anyone. Fact is," he eyes Callum down, then up, "I was getting a little jealous watching you two get it on."

Tom says, "that's Mat's way of saying he wants a piece of the pie."

Looking between the couple, Callum says, "I'm confused."

Mat and Tom remedied that real quick, making Callum, literally, the center of their attention.

Tom closing the gap between their chests, Mat circles around back.

Tossing his head over his shoulders, seeing what Mat was up to, returning to face Tom, "you guys do this often?"

Mat theorizes, "isn't it the way, when half of a relationship gets jealous and insists on sharing?"

Callum gulps out of nervousness, feeling Mat's chunk wedge in between his ass cheeks, "I guess."

Tom, still in the mood, "it seems Callum here is into some kinky play and since we've both lost our dominant masters?"

Taking the hint, Mat says, "I'd love to have two tongues working me over. Why don't we go somewhere more intimate?"

Callum didn't seem to have a choice, with both, Mat's hands on his back, but also his shaft coercing them all to move along.

"You taking me to your dungeon?"

Tom says, "oh yeah and Mat, he can be quite brutal when it comes to the pain game!"

Callum wasn't taking it too serious, not with Tom's laughter, "sounds cool, guys."

Mat says, "um, cool? I wouldn't exactly use that choice of word."

"Yeah, Mat," Tom educates, "when he gets into it, things can really heat up!"

"Really? Like, what's your favortie way to like, um, play", Callum meant 'torture', "a guy?"

Mat jokes, "two cocks, one ass?"

He laughs, as Callum's jaw drops, thinking of the implications, "yikes, really? You've done that to a guy?"

Since Callum looked at Tom and not Mat, "don't look at me, Callum. It's not Mat's cock that's going to be paired up with mine."

"Now I'm doubly confused. Where's the other cock going to come from?"

Ashton was lucky to have been invited to the party, being his past record for getting into trouble with the law, but like Tom always thought, a guy should be given a second chance.

"Hey, Ash," Mat says, "you look bored."

Tom didn't know Mat knew Ash that well, "oh, so you two know each other?"

"Dah, Tom," Mat says, "I know every one who works at the studio."

"Oh. Right. I forgot that you not only teach nude yoga and that I handle all the workings behind the scene."

Mat and Tom exchange looks, Mat saying, "that little ill-will remark is going to cost you, you know?"

"I know," Tom stands there with a toothy grin on his face.

Standing, Ashton wipes some crumbs from his fuzzy ginger chest and stomach, "right now I'm up for anything."

Mat grins, "anything, is it?"

Ashton's hand goes to his shaft, "uh, yeah. Was getting kind of bored and thought I'd go looking for some action."

It appears the twenty-six year old has been stroking himself, Tom saying, "apparently!"

Licking his lips has Tom looking exactly like a guy who knows what he wants, oogling over Ashton's hard cock, hanging down over a nice pair of shaved balls.

Walking right over to Ashton, "hi, I'm Callum. Like, do you get into any kinky stuff, besides liking to work guys over with your tool?"

"Kinky stuff, eh?" Ashton studies Callum from head to toe and back. He wasn't interested in more than a man's anatomy, particularly the tightness of his ass, but how does one know, unless they try!

"In particular," Callum continues with the kink, "bondage. You know, tied down and stuff done to me, beyond my control of the situation?"

Go between, or rather a man with his own interests in mind, Mat intervenes, "I dont think Ash is your man, Callum."

"No?" Ashton looks to Mat.

"Nah," he takes Callum by the arm and looking off into the distance, "you see that guy over there leaning against the tree, playing with his dick?"

Instead of just Callum, they all peer off into the direction Mat describes.

"Since there's only one tree," Callum says, adding, "hey, is that a real palm tree?"

Tom says, "it's real."

"Focus, Callum."

"Right," Callum regains direction, as Mat physically takes Callum's head and points it in a certain direction.

Mat then says, "his name is Hasan Akbas. You go have a talk with him. I'm sure he's the man for you."

Heading off in that direction, Callum says, "are you sure."

"Very."

Tom then says, "what gives Mat? I thought you love the younger dudes?"

While Tom and Mat chat, Ashton watches Callum walk away, while still keeping himself up to par.

"I do, but I can't forget meeting the needs of others important to me!"

Mat's smile made Tom grin, "I guess that's what keeps us together."

Exactly the reaction Mat hoped for, but other than that, "hey Ash, you with us?"

Turning his focus on the couple, "me? With you, two?"

"Yeah," Mat says. "Tom here is dying to see how it feels to be double-fucked, if you're interested in pairing up with us?"

"Hell-yeah!"

Bright-eyed, Tom says, "really? You and Ash? Oh shit, I won't be able to sit down for a week!"

"Yeah, pretty cool," Ashton says. "Like, I've never double-fucked a guy. This should be interesting."

Staring at Tom, Mat says, "yeah, well it wouldn't be my first time, so you do what I tell you and we'll all have a good time."

Tom felt like crying, figuratively, the love his partner was showing for him now, "oh, that's so sweet."

"I'll say," Ashton stands there, keeping himself firm.

%

% Copyright 2024 T. Chase McPhee Developing segments of ''YoGA MaT" may not be amended, distributed, sold, used, quoted, paraphrased, chopped, sliced, diced, nor made part of any collection, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the author. Drones are prohibited from overhead viewing. _ Check here that you are not a robot.

The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....