Date: Tue, 9 Feb 2010 23:15:31 EST
From: Mddnspnk@aol.com
Subject: A Tale of Two Men, Part 3

An original story, with all rights reserved.  Questions and comments may be
sent to mddnspnk@aol.com.  You are invited to comment on what you liked.
Since this is the first story, the author would appreciate encouraging
comments and input.  And it is a story, not a sound bite, so if you need it
to flash, then it wouldn't be worth your time to read.  But if you have a
cup of coffee and a few minutes, have a read.


A Tale of Two Men -- Part 3 The Meal


Hearing Darryl on the phone, Tim didn't want to eavesdrop, so he forced
himself to concentrate on the meal preparation.  Although he didn't usually
do the cooking, he knew how, and looked at what was available.  "Hmmm, I
could make chicken parmesan with spaghetti.  With these spices I can make a
very tasty sauce.  And it'd be real filling.  Wonder how much he'd eat?
How much it'd take to fill up that big body?  Well, I eat a lot more than
it looks like I should, since I burn up a lot...he might not eat a whole
lot more than I do.  I'll make enough for leftovers...it actually tastes
better the next day anyway.  Oh, good, plenty of good stuff for salad,
too."

As he got involved, Tim talked a little to himself, to remind himself of
how to make the sauce.  And because it wasn't quiet from the other room as
he heard the deep voice in the other room.  He wanted to do this well.
"He's been so nice to me.  Real generous.  I want him to have a real treat
tonight."

Darryl worked as Tim stayed in the kitchen cooking.  After his third phone
conversation, Darryl called out "We'll eat at the table out here tonight."

"uh...Okay," responded Tim from the kitchen.

"The plates and bowls are in the cabinet next to the fridge."  Then he
picked up the phone and placed another call.  Tim's eyes flashed open
quickly hearing that..."I never set the table...that requires a delicate
touch," Tim thought to himself.  Then he shook his head, and after a few
moments of consideration, "Well...guess he doesn't know I never set the
table"...Tim thought longer..."Well, he is busy...and he is expecting
it...guess I could do it."

When Darryl finished his calls, and writing up his notes, he moved to his
big easy chair, pulled out the newspaper, and began to read the sections he
hadn't already looked at.  "All that talking has made me thirsty.  Would
you bring me a big glass of water, Timmy?" Darryl said without looking up
at the small man who had just brought the plates out to the table.

"oh...uh...sure," replied Tim as his ears turned a little red at hearing
the diminutive.  But not being able to object to it, nor to the idea of
taking him a drink when he wasn't on the phone working anymore.  As he
walked across the room with the glass in his hand, he thought he better say
something about calling him Tim.  But just before he opened his mouth,
Darryl said "Bring me the phone too, since you're right there."  In
response to the directness in Darryl's voice, Tim automatically looked for
the phone, saw he was already past it...glanced back at the man in the
chair just reading the paper...then shrugged a bit...well, I wasn't right
there, but I am still closer than he is.  So he stepped back, got the
phone, and carried it Darryl in one hand with the glass of water in the
other.

When Tim was right beside him, Darryl said "Some of these editorials are
incredible.  Not sure how much they get paid, but seems they should have to
pay to say some of this stuff."  He then continued reading the editorial,
finishing the last few paragraphs.  Holding the phone and glass, Tim felt
awkward...yet somehow wasn't sure about interrupting.  So he stood and
waited uncertainly.  Finally without even taking his eyes off the newspaper
Darryl reached out and took the phone and said "The coasters are on the
hutch."

It took Tim a few seconds to realize that Darryl wasn't just commenting on
what he was reading.  And then realize Darryl expected him to go get a
coaster.  Tim debated with himself about giving Darryl the glass...wonder
if he knows I brought it too since he never even looked up...well he did
know I had the phone...be easier if he took the glass thought Tim, but just
as he was about to say so Darryl shifted and said something in response to
what he was reading...and Tim hesitated...not wanting to be a distraction.
And then thinking...well guess he wants it done right...if you bring a
drink, you put it on a coaster...why do I think it's about doing it right,
puzzled Tim...shrugging to himself he thought, don't know...but he's right,
it is the right way...I can do it right.

After the internal debate, Tim retrieved a coaster, stood beside Darryl
again to give him the glass, but then realized Darryl didn't want it right
then.  Ok, guess I can just set this down for him, so he went around to set
the coaster and glass down on the side table.  As he was walking back
toward the kitchen, Darryl's deep, rich voice washed over him "Thanks,
Timmy."  Which both made his ears a little red when he realized he hadn't
spoken before to establish his preference, and yet made him feel strangely
good that Darryl had noticed his effort.

When dinner was ready, Tim brought out the bowls and platters and said
"Dinner's ready."  "It smells great," replied Darryl as he stood up and
went to the head of table.  "No, not over there.  Move your place to here,"
Darryl said, indicating for Tim to move his setting from the other end of
the table to the seat beside him.  "I like the cook close as I enjoy the
meal.  And after the workout I've had today, I'm going to enjoy this," said
Darryl as he gave a casual flex of his upper body.

Ready to protest Darryl's initial statement, since the table was small
enough he could be at the other end rather than in a side seat, Tim was
stopped in his thoughts by seeing Darryl flex.  So casually.  Yet a ripple
went up his chest like a wave as his shoulders somehow got harder, and his
biceps looked like a tennis ball got in them.  Just for a second.  Then
they relaxed again.  But, Tim observed, if he hadn't just seen them flexed,
he might not have thought of them now as relaxed.  They were still so big.
Full...thick...very hard and solid.  Perhaps as big as my quad.  Oh
man...his arm is as big as my leg!  Dumbfounded, and staring, Tim just
stood there at the end of the table.

With a little upturn of his lips, Darryl watched the small man.  And gave
him a couple moments before motioning with his finger to the place beside
him.  Startled, Tim gulped, then quickly moved his place setting and sat
down.  "Now, that's where I want you.  It's time to enjoy this great meal,"
said Darryl as he took his usual helping.  His huge helping to Tim's wide
eyes.  That's more than twice what I can eat, even if I'm stuffing myself!
I didn't make extra for left-overs, but just barely enough to feed this
bear.

Tim's wide eyes moved from the enormous portions on Darryl's plate to the
big man himself, and noticed his thick, football lineman wide neck that
stretched the t-shirt across to those boulders of shoulders.  Seeing the
muscles flex and move as Darryl loaded his plate, Tim couldn't help but
think of how much Darryl's t-shirt hung on him.  Pulling it a little to
rearrange it and make it less obvious, Tim pulled some excess material into
his lap.  And gave a groan of surprised pleasure when his hands lowered
down onto his lap.

Unable to think for a few moments as the wave of intense pleasure flowed
over him, Tim didn't see the corners of Darryl's mouth form into even more
of a smirk.  "You okay there, little man," asked Darryl.

After a long few moments, Darryl's question penetrated Tim's brain.
"uh...yeah," he answered.  Then as his brain processed more, processed some
indescribable tone, Tim glanced at Darryl.  And opened his eyes again in a
flash and gave an involuntary intake of air when he saw him wink.  Unable
to look away, Tim was filled with two conflicting feelings: one was
embarrassment at being hard.  But that was overridden by pleasure...the
secret pleasure of sitting this close...that Darryl had made him come
closer...of feeling the heat from those incredible muscles that contained
such power...of being toyed with by the man in total control of himself.

"Put your hands up on the table, Timmy," commanded Darryl in a quiet yet
compelling voice.  "No touching that until I tell you," continued Darryl as
he watched Tim's hands come up.  "Right now we're going to get some
nourishment.  Build our strength by enjoying this meal.  So get started."
Slowly, but without hesitation Tim started serving himself, then began
eating, his brain only partially processing.  "Don't know why I'm doing
what he says...but...glad he got me moving," thought Tim sheepishly.
"Can't believe I was actually starting to rub myself!  After a few moments
shaking his head, and then glancing back at the big man, Tim was struck
again...man...he's so powerful.  So strong.  All man."

Letting Tim process...consider...even day dream, Darryl casually chatted
with him about different things.  Never overwhelming the space.  Or pushing
the pace too fast.  Just enough to keep him from freezing or getting stuck.
Enough to distract him so he would eat.  Moving the conversation
frequently, forcing Tim to try to catch up...to pay attention.  Finally,
after a good, full meal, Darryl said "I could eat more, but want to save my
exertions for later.  Go ahead and clear this off," he continued.  Without
even thinking about it, Tim got up and started to lift his plate, but then
saw Darryl motion to his plate.  Which Tim then reached to take first.

"Excellent meal, Timmy," said Darryl as he reached around and gave Tim's
butt a light swat of appreciation.  "uhg" escaped Tim's lips involuntarily.
He quickly lifted Darryl's dirty dishes and carried them in to the kitchen,
and then "uhg" again came out as he felt the t-shirt rub his hard dick.
That feels so good, thought Tim.  And in a non-vocal part of his mind, his
brain processed how good his butt felt...how much he could still feel the
strong hand of appreciation.

But he stopped himself, the discipline of not rubbing himself kicking in.
But this time it was Darryl's deep voice doing the reminding in his head
not to touch.  Taking a deep breath, Tim then continued walking into the
kitchen, albeit with a little bit of a waddle so he wouldn't rub himself
inadvertently in the big t-shirt that hung loose and would make contact
intermittently.

His brain processing, stuttering, rebooting, Tim worked without thinking on
clearing off the table and cleaning up the kitchen.  Taking many deep
breaths to clear his mind.  Then, he heard Darryl say "I'm going out to
take the trash out and get some wood, and get a file from my car."
Suddenly Tim's thoughts popped to the work he had planned on doing
today...and his mind went into business mode...so as he was going out to
get the rest of the dinner dishes from the table, he asked "Would you get
my briefcase out of my car, too?"

Getting dressed to go out in the cold, Darryl wasn't really listening.  But
then did understand.  "Your briefcase?" he asked, leading Tim to explain
more.

"Yes, I need to finish writing up some things from the meetings this
morning.  I always do it the day of the meeting," responded Tim as he
walked over to the door, picking up the keys from the side table and
holding them out.  "Should be in the front seat," he said as he reverted to
his typically efficient tone.

Waiting a beat, Darryl reached out his hand and enveloped Tim's entire
hand.  "You've already had a long day, with the meetings, the driving, the
little accident, and getting so cold.  The write-ups can wait until
tomorrow," stated Darryl as he slide his hand down Tim's fingers and took
the key from him.  He then reached down and placed the key back down on the
table.

"But...um...," Tim stammered, stunned at not being listened to when he had
made up his mind.  "um...no...I need to do the write-ups," Tim managed to
say as he watched Darryl reach down and put the key down, then stand up to
his full height.  And then felt those big hands take him by the shoulders
and turn him around as Darryl said, "You want to do it.  And it is a good
practice.  But you don't need to do it.  Not today."

"um...but...I do," Tim stuttered as he struggled with his thoughts.

"No.  You don't," said Darryl in a voice that was clear, commanding, and
brokered no argument.  "I want you to rest from that.  So, while I get the
wood, you go bake some brownies," Darryl finished as he reached down and
gave Tim a forceful swat on his butt.  Followed by another resounding swat,
which Tim felt outside through the thin t-shirt and inside as it penetrated
deep into his brain.  A third swat got Tim moving back into the kitchen.
Darryl watched the small man obey, then went outside.

Tim proceeded to clean the kitchen and then bake the brownies.  His brain
no longer involved with the demeanor of work.  Not even wondering about his
willingness to do the kitchen tasks.  He was too settled...too secure in
the rightness of doing the things Darryl wanted to question it or himself.
A peace had washed over him which kept him from considering why he accepted
it...a peace he wanted to hold on to...that gave him a deep desire to
please the big man.

After taking care of the trash, and several trips to the wood pile, then
walking out to the road to see conditions, and then filling the several
bird feeders, Darryl came back in with the file from his car.  As soon as
Tim heard the door open, he came around from the kitchen.  "That was a lot
of wood you moved."

"Yeah, I should have done it yesterday, but didn't think I'd light a fire
tonight," Darryl responded as he held out the file.  "Put this on the
desk," he said, then unbuttoned his coat as Tim put the file where Darryl
told him, then walked back toward the door, asking "What else did you
do...I was wondering cuz it took you a while to come back in.  I mean, the
brownies are already done."

"Here, come help me with this coat," said Darryl as he turned, assuming Tim
would come.  "I filled up the bird feeders out back," he said, as he felt
Tim's small hands reach up and pull his coat off, right side first, then
left, smiling with just the corners of his mouth that Tim had done what he
told him to...and had been watching and waiting for him.  Yes, this little
man is ready, thought Darryl.

Stretching up to the top of that incredibly broad back, Tim felt the
solidity as he pulled the coat off.  And then the weight of the
overcoat...the big, heavy overcoat he actually had to make an effort to
lift up.  Finally he gathered enough to be able to pick it up and hang it
up.  And then turned to see Darryl's piercing blue eyes looking down at
him, causing Tim to gulp and then have his mouth hang open.  "These boots
are a lot closer to you, Timmy.  Go ahead and get them off my feet,"
commanded Darryl so smoothly, so compellingly, Tim almost heard it as a
request.

He looked down, expecting the boot to come up.  Then his ears reddened
thinking about Darryl's comment, feeling rather small, realizing what
Darryl was telling him to do.  As always part of him objected, determined
to establish his independence.  But just as his mind was processing and
understanding that, Tim heard the deep, clear voice saying "My fingers are
a little cold from moving all that wood."  Which reminded Tim of all the
physical work Darryl had just been doing.  Out in the cold.  That he would
have been in if it hadn't been for this man.

When Darryl saw the point/counterpoint going on in Tim's head, he put a big
paw on Tim's shoulder and pressed down.  Once again Tim's immediate
reaction was to resist, not liking to be physically directed.  Without
thinking he pushed back up, trying to stay standing upright.  But the
weight of that hand was 10 pounds more than the maximum Tim could handle.
Slowly, inexorably the weight of that hand pushed down through every muscle
beneath it...smoothly, gradually pushing Tim down in spite of his
resistance, in spite of his grunts.

And just when Tim's brain had finished processing what was happening and he
was going to object, he heard the deep, smooth, totally controlled voice
above him say, "I think you've warmed up enough for your fingers to work."
Which somehow took Tim's mind off the pressure and made Tim conscious of
how warm his own fingers felt from being inside, baking.  And with his mind
on how comfortable he was after being so cold, and how much Darryl had done
for him, Tim thought "I can't believe this" as his knees bent and he felt
the continuous pressure to go down.  "Can't believe...I'm going to do it,"
as his knees touched the floor.  "Well...but...I guess it is a small
thing."  After that resonated in his head for a bit, Tim continued his
thought, "It is a small way to repay him.  Just suck it up...it's not that
bad."

"And...well," he argued with himself, "guess it'd be hard for him to keep
his balance with the foot in the air while I tried to untie the boots.
It's a long fall from way up there.  And I am closer," Tim thought,
repeating Darryl's statement to himself as he reached his fingers and
worked off the boots.  Then the socks, first the right, then the left.
Stunned by the size of Darryl's feet.  Long.  Wide.  Then, for some reason
as he was kneeling, holding Darryl's left foot, Tim glanced up...and his
mouth hung open wide as Darryl's intense gaze pierced him in place.  He
couldn't move.  Even if he had wanted to.  And he didn't want to.  He could
only feel the intensity, the power flowing down onto him.  The hunger.  The
desire.  And he shivered with a yearning to feel that power.  Shivered
knowing he was the object of desire for this overpowering man.

Looking down, seeing that he had moved Tim to a place he couldn't escape
from, Darryl said "Let's go, little man" in a quiet, utterly unalterable
voice as he reached down and picked up the small man, sweeping him into his
arms effortlessly.  "I know what you need."

Beyond thinking for a moment, Tim could only feel the strength of the huge
man who had lifted him up and was holding him seemingly without strain.
Then, as it hit him, his ears and face got red.  And he felt very small.
And helpless.  Yet, after a moment, he realized he wasn't struggling.
Wasn't trying to get down.  Because as weak as he felt, even more he felt
safe.

"Are you ready?  Ready for me to give you what you need?" asked Darryl as
he walked slowly across the room, the small man securely in his arms, eyes
boring into the private man in his arms.  Intensely private, but unable to
keep anything from the big man.  Literally swept off his feet.  Overwhelmed
with feeling small...weak...vulnerable...and...yet somehow...secure.
Knowing deep down inside that he was safe, and that he did have to escape
this man, escape where he had him.  And slowly he nodded in response.

Walking to the bathroom, Darryl lowered Tim down to his feet.  "You may
touch yourself now, Timmy, so you can empty your bladder," said Darryl as
he turned Tim toward the commode and gave him a light pat and squeeze on
his little butt.  Tim's eyes flashed open again hearing Darryl tell him he
could touch himself...I haven't been...but not because he told me not to,
was it?  Just as that thought crossed his mind, he felt Darryl's big
hand...and Tim grunted from the feeling.  Once again his mind cleared of
his thoughts and he realized he did need to take a whiz, so he just lifted
up the long t-shirt.  And waited, trying to will his dick down, at least a
bit, not able to process why he was so hard.  He just didn't want to touch
it, afraid of the stimulation.  Chuckling, Darryl said "Take your time,
little man.  Then brush your teeth...toothbrush's in the package on the
counter. I'm going to go lock up and make sure everything's secure."

Tim was trying to relax, breathing deeply, and then was able to get his
flow started.  It took a while to finish, since he hadn't gone since the
morning.  And then Darryl's words hit him, and he blushed at being taken
care of...but was surprisingly excited that Darryl was securing
things...securing him...that he didn't have to be the protector.  Not even
trying to make sense of it, Tim just responded automatically from the
thrill, with an involuntary flex of his newly rehardened dick.

Just then Darryl walked in to the bathroom, his big body filling up the
space immediately.  And went right to the commode, unzipping his pants.
"All secure," Darryl said, surprising Tim by using the term Tim had been
feeling.  And then let his stream flow.  Tim's eyes flashed open wide when
he heard the force of the stream...but, bashful, he busied himself
finishing his task of cleaning his teeth and rinsing his mouth.  All the
while Darryl's stream continued.  Tim was astonished by the amount.  Didn't
think my bladder was small, thought Tim.  The big amount I just voided was
much more than a woman could hold, but is barely even a quarter what he's
unloading.  Amazed, feeling Darryl's masculinity even more, Tim turned off
the water and listened to him finish.

Darryl then washed his hands and brushed his teeth, with Tim standing right
beside him at the sink.  Letting Tim's eyes wander over the flexing, moving
muscles.  The bulk shifting under the t-shirt.  Then, after drying his
hands and mouth, Darryl reached his right hand around the front of Tim's
body, reaching down and picking the small man up, Tim's little butt against
Darryl's hip, and then carried him effortlessly into the bedroom.
"Wha...what are we going to do?" asked Tim weakly.

With a deep chuckle Darryl said, "Whatever I want."  And he slide his left
hand under Tim's butt and gave a slow, deliberate, deep squeeze.  "uhahghg"
escaped Tim's throat.

"I'm going to show you how it feels to be with a real man," Darryl exuded
as he gave another slow, strong squeeze to Tim's little butt while carrying
him in to the bedroom.  "Do you want to feel that, Timmy?"  Through the fog
Tim understood enough, and nodded.  "No," said Darryl in a quiet,
commanding voice.  "Tell me."

After a third devastating squeeze, with jolts coursing up his body from
that powerful hand, Tim finally said weakly, "Yes, I want to feel it."

Hearing this small but completely masculine man say he wanted to feel
it...to be the object of desire...to be the recipient...made Darryl's chest
swell and started the blood flowing south as he stepped in front of his
bed.  "Well, you will, little man," said Darryl with such a cocky, powerful
voice Tim stopped wondering why he wanted this, why he was feeling this
way, what was going on with him.  He had never before wanted to yield to a
man, yet here he was, asking for it.  Then a final squeeze on his butt sent
electricity to all parts of his body, driving out any questions or doubts.


To Be Continued