Date: Wed, 15 Mar 2006 03:08:24 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Tidelight Zone 04

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is
entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to
accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or
governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If a
sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships
offends you, then you should not read this story.
Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in
most state and countries, you are not allowed to read
this story by law. Check with your local laws
regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is
fiction. Use protection in real life. `Got condom?'

"The Tidelight Zone" 04
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Sure you don't want to come upstairs with us,
Mehmet?" Elton inquired, after their dinner had
concluded.

"No, thanks."

>From the guy whom turned into their dinner host, Jay
Bontempo says, "We could make it a hot five-some?"

Mehmet's three other friends, jumped at Jay's
suggestion, but it didn't interest the nineteen year
old.

In a last ditch attempt, Jay tried coercing, "Your old
man wouldn't ever find out, if that's what you're
worried about?"

"Yeah, c'mon Mehmet," Elton, his main buddy, badgered.


Anthony even suggested, softly so that no one was sure
to hear, "I hear you have a nice and hairy ass to
rim?"

Even the friendly flutter of eyebrows, from the cute,
nineteen year old Italian, couldn't shake Mehmet from
his standing decision.

"No, thanks."

Parting company, Jay led the other three over towards
the elevators. Mehmet, instead of heading back up to
the shared room, walked out the side entrance, via the
glass door. Out on the tiled veranda, he meets his
folks. The DuValier's, not only relations with Elton
Morrison III's parents and Marc Trivette's mom, but
their evening guests.

"Where are the other boys?" Mehmet gets to answer the
dreaded question by Elton's mom.

Not accustomed to lying, Mehmet fibs, "They go out to
play golf."

"In the nighttime?" Mrs. Trivette questions.

"It has lights to light up the field," Mehmet tells
them, not having much knowledge of sports.

A field. A course. What's the difference when they're
all painted with green!

"Mehmet, a word son?"

Taking Mehmet to the side, his Egyptian-French father,
rather handsome, dark-skinned, but with a French twang
to his voice, opens up the conversation, softly, in
confidence.

"Do you remember what I told you son?"

"I remember father. You don't have to caution me
again."

"I don't like that tone of voice, Mehmet!"

What seemed like a rationale answer to Mehmet, was
taken as an act of insuboordination by his father.

"Yes, sir. Sorry sir."

"If we weren't in sort a place, I would reprimand you
for that, Mehmet."

"Yes, sir," he agreed, but glad that the surroundings
prevented the action.

If carried out, it wouldn't be the first time that
Mehmet would have received corporal punishment. A
great believer in the use of the belt, Mr. DuValier
would have spared no compassion, in delivering a set
of lashes across Mehmet's back, to serve the purpose
of persuasion. A product of the old school, Mr.
DuValier would see to it that his son won't lower
himself to the act of having sex with other men, even
if he had to beat it out of him. Mehmet knew that
well. He knew he lived on shakey ground, shacked up
with the other three boys, something his father tried
protesting, but his mother convinced him, along with
Mehmet giving his word that he would not try anything
with the other boys. Bad enough Mehmet had to be
embarrassed that his father checked the room to make
sure it had a single's bed.

"Behave yourself, son."

"Yes, sir."

As Mehmet walked off the patio, his father heading in
the direction of the other dinner guests, all he could
think is, `Sure. Whatever makes `you' look good,
father!' Continuing down the path, along the reeds,
Mehmet found himself admiring the red sunset.

"Mehmet?"

"Steve?"

His first reaction was of disappointment, seeing this
young teen, hanging his arm around Steve's waist.

"Help me here, will you Mehmet? This is Sean."

Mehmet had seen Steve in his token, `gauze' shirt
before. More of the spirit suddenly dashed from his
being. A sinking feeling set into his stomach.

"Hey," Sean replied, in Mehmet's direction.

"Hello," is all Mehmet said.

"Sean's been hurt."

As if he had to explain, Sean tells, "Yeah, Steve gave
me his shirt. See here? Look what the jerk did to me."

In times of distress, especially of another's
misfortunes, things should be under control. However,
Mehmet couldn't help from feeling his crotch twitch,
as he looked upon the divided shirt, Sean pointing out
the bruise on his gut. All Mehmet could take in, as
Sean gave the quickie version of his ordeal, is the
tight abs, the light brown trail, forming mid-stomach,
thickening as it entered Sean's bellyhole, then much
darker as it disappeared into his Speedo.

"It look sore," is all Mehmet could think of saying,
under the circumstances.

"It's not so bad right now." Being more melodramatic,
Sean relayed, "Before.. oh yeah before, you shoulda
been there when this guy heaved his fist into my gut!
Knocked the wind right outta my gut! And if that
wasn't enough, he stole my loot!"

With Mehmet able and willing, Steve turned his
shoulder over to the use of his Egyptian friend. Steve
then led the way up the reeded path. Moving along,
behind the patio area, where a joyous party ensued, he
led the pair to the security area.

"What ya got there?"

One of the Kea Lani Resort security officers got up
from a small desk, after entering through two sliding
glass doors. It wasn't one of the normal two or three
that Steve had befriended.

"New here?" Came Steve's first gut reaction.

"Keffen Naegelen," the guard introduced himself. "What
happened to him?"

Keffen could detect something amiss, with Mehmet
humped under the fella's armpit.

"Another solo beach victim."

"Yeah, but looks like he got more than his gear ripped
off!"

>From what Steve gathered, the security officer wasn't
fresh to the staff. Yet, why hadn't they met up?

"Bring him in here," Keffen told the small party. Then
he went on to ask, "Got folks you want to call, son?"

Right away, Steve sensed a true caring in Keffen's
ways. At times, the other security troops at the
resort had given Steve a hassle over protocol.
However, Keffen skipped all the formalities, to make
Sean seem welcomed.

"Here's a pencil and paper. Write down anybody you
need to call, son."

"There's only my mom. She's probably already worried.
I was supposed to be home over an hour ago."

"Why did you not call her?" Mehmet inquired of Sean.

"Because, dah, I was robbed of everything except this
Speedo I got on!" Sean said plainly.

Coming across a little rash, Mehmet backed off. His
eyes did take in the object in point, the Speedo, but
also what it encased.

"Here, Steve, you want to start taking down
information while I buzz the authorities?"

"You know who I am, Keffen?"

Putting a hand to Steve's bare shoulder, Keffen
ushered him to the side.

"Between you and me, Steve, I hear the other security
people here talking."

"Talking? About what?"

"Actually, more than talking, Steve. Mocking `us gay
guys' out!"

"You?"

"Yeah," Keffen frankly gives Steve the notion, "and
I'll level with you Steve, that I find you real hot!"

Patting Steve on the shoulder, Keffen hands Steve a
pad and pencil, then faces his attention back on Sean.
Standing there, pencil in one hand, paper in the
other, he stares blankly, well sort of eyes trained on
Keffen, taking to account the information just
received, but not yet fully processed.

Joking, Keffen picks up the gauze shirt, tossing it to
Steve, calling out, "Heads up! Your shirt, buddy!"

Totally unexpected, hands full of implements, Steve
doesn't have a free hand to reach out. The shirt goes
over the front of his face, over his head. In a way,
Steve is grateful, as it shields his eyes and mind of
what has taken place, snapping him back to reality.
Setting the pad and pencil down, he places his shirt
on his body the proper way, fastening up a few buttons
from the bottom, then tucking it into his waistline.

"Got that Steve?"

"Whew! What a slave driver. I just got through fixing
myself."

"I can see that Steve!"

"What?" Steve looked down at himself.

Looking on, the three, Keffen, Mehmet and Sean
giggled.

"Oh that! Whatsamatter? Never see a guy button his
shirt crooked?"

The three of them went on to stare, as Steve dislodged
his shirt from his pants, unbuttoned the four buttons,
then refastened them shut. For the second time, Steve
unbuckled his belt, unzipped, tucked his shirt back in
and reworked his pants closed.

Looking up, he caught the three taking it all in, so
turned the tables on them, saying, "What's the matter?
Never see a guy's briefs before?"

Call it bravery or a downright wiseguy, but Keffen
couldn't let the opportunity go.

"It's not the briefs, Steve. It's what's in them!"

As Keffen turned to question Sean, Steve stepped up to
the table he lay on. His right hand swatted Keffen in
the ass.

"Fresh!" He called Steve's actions.

"Next time behave yourself!"

%

Meanwhile, a few floors upwards, two pairs of college
jocks lay out on one of the king-sized beds.
Originally paired off, the nineteen year olds, Elton
and Anthony, began to mix with Jay and Marc, both
twenty.

"Do something, Anthony!"

"I've never been with more than one guy before," he
complained to the other three, who interacted with
each other, orally.

The stranger to the group of sexually active jocks,
Jay Bontempo, gave his opinion of the matter.

"Funny."

"What's that, Jay?" Anthony questioned.

"It came to me that you're more the um.. now don't get
me wrong here, Anthony, but the `slut' type?"

"Slut?"

Elton and Marc didn't waste anytime listening to Jay's
rhetorical statements. Shifting his weight around,
each lined up for a `69'.

"Yeah, well you've got such a... um..."

To the twenty year old, used to tossing that type of
lingo around with his gay friends, suddenly found
himself in a quandary. It had been apparent that
Anthony had become more on the offensive.

"A hot body. I figured you'd have all the boys after
you!"

If Elton's mouth wasn't so stuffed with Marc's 7.5c,
he most likely would have straightened the whole
situation out, but right now he was too engrossed in
the tasty treat.

Mellowing out, Anthony gave in and answered, "Well,
thanks. You too, Jay."

"Huh?"

"Your body."

"What about it?" Jay asked, as he knelt in the bed and
looked down upon it.

"It's hot."

"Oh yeah?" he played with Anthony's emotions. "What's
hot about it?"

Inching his way over the surface of the bed, he knelt
about two feet in front of Jay's nude bod.

"Um," Anthony scratched his head, "I... I like guys
with hairy chests."

Placing his own hand on his quite massive amount of
dark brown pec fur, Jay rubbed it around.

"Why don't you show me how much you like it Anthony?"

"Well sure, if it's okay?"

"Feel quilty in front of your lover?"

"Lover?" Anthony questioned. Glancing to the two
performing oral sex on each other, he admitted, "Oh,
you mean El and me?"

"Uh-huh," Jay still prodded.

"We're not really lovers. More like `friends'. Yeah,
that's it."

As one Italian to another, Jay liked Anthony's answer.

"Cool! C'mon, let's find a more intimate space?"

Anthony watched as Jay lifted himself off the bed,
crossing the room. The light from the jon streaked
across the room. Briefly exposing Jay's ass, Anthony
detected something juicy about the way it looked,
mainly a hairy covering of the mounds.

"You coming, babe?"

"Um, yeah. Sure!" He replied to Jay, more energy in
the response.

As if he had to ask permission, Anthony quickly gazed
at Marc and Elton, then gave up, as the two had been
totally engrossed in their acts of deep throating.

By the time Anthony walked the width of the room, Jay
had lay down, flat out on the other king-sized bed.
Anthony stood there, taking in the faint view.

"I thought you wanted my chest, Anthony?"

"I do. I mean... yeah, sure."

In reality, nineteen year old Anthony Bosco has had
only one fling in his lifetime, as opposed to Jay's
being around the block numerous times.

"Well. Come on then." Then, realizing Anthony's
predicament, he suggests, "Why don't you use your
tongue to find my nips? I love having them sucked."

"You do?"

"Yeah. Goes straight to my cock."

As Anthony tread on the bed with his knees, his own
body blocked the narrow stream of light. Approaching
the left side Jay's five foot, ten inch body, he lost
all balance.

"Whoooooooa!"

Landing about two feet south of his target, turned Jay
on anyhow!

"Oh yeah. Got for it, Anthony!"

Now Anthony wasn't sure if Jay meant his navel or
cock. His nose picked up the scent of Jay's pungy
bellyhole. Plus, the defined trail down his stomach,
tickled his nose. All he had to do was stick his
tongue out, to taste the mass of hair, leaving the
plateau of his abs, as it dipped in his navel.

"Ooooooh yeah, Anthony. Do me!"

`Sensitive', Anthony thought to himself.

However, he didn't fight the feeling, while his saliva
turned to heavy spit. Plus, it turned him on that his
nose found the deep recess in Jay's stomach inviting.

"Ooooh man that feels hot, Anthony.. Hell yeah! Eat me
out!"

His tongue, on the ledge of Jay's navel, played the
lip of the hairy bellyhole, like ivories on a piano.

`Sensitive!' Anthony thought for the second time, as
his tongue played inside the pungent navel. At the
same time, he felt Jay arching his back. Anthony then
remembered what his primary objective had been. Since
his tongue was already busy, darting in and out of
Jay's deep navel, tasting that wiry fur, his hand took
on it's own target.

"Hell yeah, Anthony!"

Anthony felt great inside at just about now. As if
achieving greatness, now pleasuring Jay's navel, via
tongue action and mashing Jay's right nip with his
finger and thumb, Anthony almost felt like getting
graded on a test, scoring some high points. He stopped
to look, but couldn't see anything, only feel it, as
Jay took his hand, brought it to his lips and wet
Anthony's digits. Then Jay placed Anthony's hand back
down on his pec.

"Just giving you some lube," Jay replied to Anthony,
knowing that the halted action of tongue-in-navel, had
resulted from the gesture.

Not really thinking about it, acting out naturally,
Anthony replied, "If you wanted lube, you shoulda
tried my pubes!"

"Oh really?"

That opened a can of worms, as Jay lifted his head to
look towards Anthony, in the darkened bed. Not being
able to see it, Jay reached down in between the
nineteen year old Italian jock's legs.

"Shame to waste all that cock-juice!"

Ripping the now delectable treat, his bellyhole, away
from Anthony's tongue, Jay positioned himself so that
he could lap up the jock's nectar.

"Hmm," Anthony said in the dark.

"What?" Jay halted after two licks.

"I figured you more man on top."

"Depends on the guy. Figured that myself, but hell you
sure have a way of changing a guy's mind, Anthony."

Encompassing Anthony's knob in his mouth, Jay suddenly
pulls off.

"Um, you `are' a top, aren't you or at least
versatile?"

Going into this whole proposition unsure, Anthony
states, "I was versatile with El, but I think I want
to fuck you, Jay!"

Not sure where that came from, Anthony commended
himself on being quite sure, confident of himself.

"Hell yeah!" Jay called out. "Lay down, man!"

As Jay took the initiative to begin lapping and
sucking Anthony all over, the nineteen year old found
a new interest in touching Jay's bod. His over
abundance of chest fur made him want to run his hands
over the furry pecs. But more than that, the earlier
suggestion of playing with Jay's nips began to irk
Anthony's subconscious. He then thought nothing of
taking Jay's nips in his fingers and thumbs and
mashing them hard.

"Ooooooh yeah!" Jay sighed. "Yeaaaaah... work my nips,
man!"

"How's this?"

Jay let out a howl, as Anthony morphed into using his
fingernails. He didn't have a mean bone in his body,
but the idea of Jay being so very much pleasured with
him literally, torturing the twenty year old's nips,
made his lower half twitch. He even felt impressed,
when strangling the furry nips with his nails, that
Jay tried backing away. From that point on, not only
didn't Anthony feel any guilt, but encouraged himself
to squeeze and pull on Jay's pecs, real hard!

%

"What seems to be the problem here, Keff?"

"Hey Tom," Keffen left the table where Sean lay out
on, crossed the room and gave the Hawaii PD officer a
hug.

"Um, Keff?"

Keffen let on to Tom the atmosphere of the small group
of males.

"We're all `friends' here, Tom."

"I wish you wouldn't scare me like... that."

Tom's eyes ended staring at the half-unbuttoned shirt
of Steve Blair. Being noticeable, he shifted to the
barechested youth on the table.

"Ahem! Yeah, so what's the problem here?"

The twenty-seven year old police officer stole one
more glance at Steve before turning his attention to
Keffen, beginning to relay some information. Taking
out a little pad, Tom began jotting down vitals, after
questioning Sean.

Steve, after talking on the phone, came over to the
table and relayed, "I got your mom on the phone. She
said to put you in a taxi."

In a glum attitude, Sean said to them all, "Figures."

Mehmet could see, like himself that maybe Sean and his
mom didn't get along, as with him and his father. He
wasn't the only one to pick up on it.

"First thing first. I'm taking this lad over to the
hospital. Want to get your shirt on, son?" Tom asked.

"Hospital? No way. I don't have that kind of loot."

"What about your mom's hospitalization?"

Sean accidentally lets slip, "A go-go dancer
doesn't... oh shit!"

With it out in the open, shaming himself, Sean clasps
both arms over his face, blotting out the strangers he
hoped would become his friends.

Keffen, in the face of embarrassment says, jovially,
"What's wrong with being a go-go dancer? Some of my
best friends are go-go dancers!"

It was Steve's turn to take Keffen over the hurdles.

"Oh? They teach you how to disco? Maybe strip to the
music, Keffen?"

"You think he's kidding?"

"Tom, do you have to go there?" Keffen warns.

"Hey, it's not me who offered the info on your
boyfriends, Keff!"

"Just how many boyfriends do you have?" Steve asked,
now joining Tom in busting Keffen's chops.

"I don't have any boyfriends!"

"The way you talk about them, no wonder," Tom
continues the onslaught of demeaning ideas.

Steve takes a third wheel to the conversation.
Standing there, he suddenly realises that he's lost
Mehmet. It's only by assumption, but the feeling ran
strong, as he watched his Egyptian friend standing
there, holding onto Sean's hand, in consolation. Doing
some quick self-analysis, Steve realizes that maybe
the guy, six years younger, wasn't supposed to
`happen'.

"So, what do you think, Steve?"

"Huh? About what?"

"Now that's a fine how-do-ya-do!"

"Did I miss something?"

Tom reconciles, "Yeah, for not paying attention,
you're buying the beers!"

"Beers? Where did that come from?"

In reality, Steve swayed with the transition of saying
goodbye to what he thought was a developing affair
with the Egyptian surfer, towards the two men, more
his own age.

However, Tom didn't waste any time, asking, "You
attached, Steve?"

"Um," taking a quick look at Mehmet, he replied, "No."

Keffen, not only all around `good guy', but owing Tom
a lot, like his job for instance, states, "Why don't I
take Sean here to the hospital and you two can grab
that beer?"

"I have a feeling here, Steve, that we're being set
up?"

Looking over the Hawaiian PD officer, the deep tanned
complexion, beefy build of the five foot ten or eleven
inches tall, Steve doesn't object to the `set up'.

Steve smiles, saying, "You don't see me complaining,
do you?"

Tom puts on the biggest grin, twitching his eyebrows.
If Steve only knew something else twitched in unison!

%

"Oooooh yeah... harder, Anthony... deeper, man!"

"Am I fuckin' glad I had you pegged wrong, Jay!"

"That makes two of us... damn does your hard cock feel
good inside of me!"

For the last hour, Anthony's 8.5c has been pleasuring
Jay's ass chute.

Across the room, a half hour ago, Marc had pulled out
of Elton's ass, creaming his pubes and stomach. Now
they lay there, snoring.

Anthony suddenly stops the ass pumping, looking over
his shoulder.

"Somebody's coming!" Anthony clams up, as the door is
keyed from the outside.

"Damn, it's John."

"John?" Anthony questions, in the dark.

"Our waiter?"

"Oh, `that' John. What's he doing here?"

"Um, I kind of invited him... figured he could have
fun with your Egyptian friend?"

"Mehmet?"

"Yeah, but he's not.. oh shit! John's gonna be
pissed!"

Surely, it was too late, on Jay's part, as the bright
light from the hallway illuminated the interior of the
dark room.

"Jay? You in here?"

"Don't turn the light on."

"I wouldn't. Where are you?"

"Over here."

By the time John reached the bed, he had disposed of
his waiter's uniform, plus shoes and briefs, standing
in the faint light, totally buff.

The ray of light from the jon shone onto John's bod,
giving Anthony a sign of what he was packing. He began
swaying a bit, moving his cock once more, inside of
Jay's ass, picking up the visual of what looked like
could be a substantial amount of hard shaft.

"Where's the Egyptian dude?"

"Um, he's kind of not here."

"What tha fuck? You said..."

"I thought he was coming up here, John, but he's not."

"Damn it, Jay! Here I've got a ragin' hard on and need
relief and you're turning up zero?"

"Sorry, John."

Anthony clues John into, "You wouldn't have been
fucking Mehmet anyway. He's not that kind of guy."

"Bullshit! Every gay guy either wants to fuck or be
fucked!"

This gave Anthony fair insight to what these two had
been into. More relationship oriented, which is where
Anthony thought this had been headed, he slowly pulled
out of Jay's ass.

"Ooooooooooh!" Jay sighed, when Anthony vacated his
plumbing.

"Um, be my guest," Anthony offered, standing at the
bottom of the bed.

"For real? You done shooting your load?" John
inquired.

"Um, no. Um, I'm kind of tired. I think I'll go join
my friends."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, they're sleeping over there."

"Threeway, huh?"

"No. One way," Anthony looked on the way the rest of
his evening was headed, figuring jerking off would be
the way to suffice his urge to unload.

"Wait, Anthony."

Anthony stopped short, as John kneeled on the bed,
still firming up his 10.5c.

"Huh?" Anthony, hands on his hips, remained nearby.

Even though the room remained almost pitch black,
except for the stray light filtering in from the jon,
the threeway conversation continued.

"John, you can't fuck me."

"Huh? Why not? You like feeling my monster inside you,
Jay!"

That told Anthony even more about the two. He wondered
how many times John fucked his ass.

Stuttering, Jay slowly unraveling the facts, "John, I
think I'm going to be thinking about one man."

Welcome news to Anthony's ears, he proceeded to
turnabout, head back to the king-sized bed of `life'.

"You're kidding, Jay. You mean you're giving up your
life of whoring?"

Good thing for Jay the room was darkened. You can't
tell if a guy is turning red of not.

"Um, thanks John."

Suddenly, John puts two and two together.

"You mean, you and Anthony here?"

Not believing it himself, Anthony asks, "You and me,
Jay?"

"If you want to. I mean try it, Anthony."

Now twenty-four, John remembers back to where Jay got
him his job at his parent's resort when in high
school. The two go way back.

"Man, I never though I'd live to see the day you'd
turn away this... um..."

"Happens, John. It's not like I didn't warn you that
this day would be coming."

"I know man. Oh well, there's a businessman down on
two that slipped me a twenty."

Astonished, Anthony asks John, "You have sex with the
resort guests?"

Cackling, John replies, "Man does not live by waiter
tips, alone!"

Realizing what Jay is giving up, Anthony asks John,
"Why don't you fuck Jay this one last time?"

"Nah," John figits in the dark to pull his pants on,
"I hear this guy's got a tight ass anyway."

However, John feels a tug on the back of his pants,
which keeps him from pulling them up.

"I insist," Anthony tells him.

"You don't leave me much choice, man."

All this time, Jay wants to hold his allegiance
towards Anthony, but at the same time is not being
disagreeable!

%

4 Continued....

%

http://profiles.yahoo.com/survivalgame

Copyright 2006  T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold or made part of any
collection without prior written permission.