Date: Thu, 25 Aug 2005 08:30:25 -0400
From: Bradford Dean Bigelow <blockhead_54321@hotmail.com>
Subject: Writer's Block 03

The following story is a work of fiction set in the format of reality. Any
resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature, and is not
meant to accurately reflect persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas,
in which the story is staged. If sexual scenes 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 states and
countries, you are not allowed to read this by law. This is fiction. Don't
forget, in real life, to think about 'sexual safety matters'; got condom?

"Writer's Block" 03
written By Bradford dean Bigelow

%

Our block of condos, built new in the late 90's, connected, via a security
controlled hallway, which made it nice, plus stable and secure, for safety
sake. In a way, since the inhabitants of all eight units are male, it turned
our building into a sort of 'gay frathouse'. Of course, all of us weren't of
the same age.

Let's see, there was Chase, in 8-1, 29yo and me, 8-4, above Chase, 25yo. I
would say that we progressed along nicely in our friendship, being of
longevity, as far as living there, was concerned. All the other guys moved
in, after us.

Kevin Hart, 24yo,  and Jordan Thorpe, 23yo, newlyweds is what you might call
their relationship, lived across the hall from Chase, in 8-2. They're the
next tenants, who bought into the condominium estate. They knew that pets
weren't allowed, however Jordan produced this little black toy poodle,  that
Chase and I thought we would learn to hate. However, we never heard a peep
out of the mutt. So, we made up the excuse that 'Killer', Jordan's poodle,
would be good for security reasons. When shopping, I even picked up a box of
small size Bonz, to feed the little pooch, carrying a few of the morsels in
my pocket. Jordan acts as if I'm giving 'Killer' golden nuggets or
something. I'm sure the pat on the back, as a little thankful gesture, from
Jordan, rocks my world more than it does 'Killer', whenever the little
furball gets a reward. In hot weather, it's alway nice to see Killer, out
for a walk, Jordan in his skimpy speedo... that's it, just the speedo and a
pair of sandals. Oh man, I've never seen such a long treasure trail, as
extends from Jordan's bellyhole, to his speedo-line.

Next to Kevin and Jordan, 8-3, is rented to three college jocks. Even Chase
was leery, when we all peeked out of our doors, at the spacial hallway
filled with trunks, weird looking furniture and a rather tall armoire. Of
course that 'had' to belong to the 6'5 tall resident, Kareem. The 18yo told
us his last name, but it was one of these two-tough-to-pronounce African
surnames, so we stuck with plain ole Kareem. On the same day he moved in,
Kevin, Jordan, Chase and I giggled, when the opposite end of the yardstick
showed up, 19yo Tony Morello. Next to Kareem, he looked like a real Italian
shrimp, towering under him, at 5'9. That's how we found out about Kareem and
Tony being gay, when Kevin began talking about Tony and his hiked up belly
tee, noticing the Italian's tight hairy stomach. Of course, Tony had to
strip the belly tee off, revealing his equally hairy 'built' pecs. Tony also
went on to mention, only because Kevin made an unashamed, big deal of his
masses of body hair, that he had been blessed with the body hair, at the
early age of 17yo. One thing led to another and soon Kevin's hands, all of
Tony, created the tent in Tony's gymshorts. This prompted Tony to explain,
the tip of his 9c cockhead revealed, hanging out of the leg of the pants.
Kareem went on to mention that it topped his dick, surpassing it by an inch.
>From that moving-in day, the seven of us knew the size of the other's cock,
making it one of the discussions, while we helped them move in. Also, Tony
showing off his hairy pecs, prompted Kareem to show us all his immaculate,
smooth chest. I know I should be watching my weight, but I had such an urge
to taste Kareem's chocolate nips. Maybe someday, if we ever got to know each
other very well. Contrasting to lanky Kareem, the tall basketball dude and
Tony, the Italian muscle jock, Akeno Suzuki rounded out the oddball group.
At 6' tall, he had a paunch for a stomach. That's about all of us could make
out, as, unlike 'Kareem-the-tall' and athletic-Tony, Akeno dressed in cords,
a short sleeve, buttoned down shirt and shoes. He wore glasses, which made
us all think that this Japanese guy had to be highly intelligent, plus the
only part of him that made him seem sexy, IMOO. Of all our assumptions, that
proved to be the most accurate, his brain a cross between Einstein, Mozart,
da Vinci and Bill Gates. The conservative, Japanese aspect, nada. Akeno woke
up our whole condo one morning, banging on the door, at being locked out at
5 a.m. None of us complained though, feasting on Akeno, dressed in
gymshorts, white socks and sneakers, a sweaty tee shirt hanging out of the
back of his shorts, tucked in. The sweat poured off of his body, down his
almost smooth chest, adorned with a dusting midchest of black hair, two
swirls around each nip and an almost invisible trail down his belly, to his
navel, which looked like a deflated tire. None of us will ever forget that
day, as we watched Kareem bust Akeno's chops for waking him up, to come let
him in. Authoritatively thinking, I thought of Kareem as the big, tall
master, however when Akeno began poking Kareem in the chest, with his finger
and Kareem started backing down, well all I could think of is Chase-baby and
me and how I would back down in a sex.. I mean, sec!

Moving along, right next door to Chase, unit 8-4, the 'odd' couple moved in.
We call them odd, because Adam Provo is a young 37yo and his lover, James
Worthington is 51yo. To each his own, is what we say. They are the nicest
guys, inviting every guy to their condo-warming party, sparing no expense to
make us guys feel at home, getting to know each other. Kevin, always picking
up on 'body-facts', couldn't get over Adam's bluest eyes, telling him the
classic line, 'It brings out the best color tone of your skin, Adam', then
Kevin's classic move, pawing his arm, hoping that it leads elsewhere. Then
again, it's Chase that pointed out to me later that Kevin also had an eye on
the elder, James, rubbing his bear-belly.

Unit 8-6 has been empty for a month. None of us have a clue to what's
happening with it. It remains bare to the walls and the door unlocked for
another to set foot in it. None of us has ever seen anyone inside, nor out.
Jeff Malone, the bachelor in 8-7, whom is in real estate, claims that it
belongs to a movie producer, whom holds onto it for investment purposes.
Then again, Jeff Malone, is a work in itself. The 32yo is always talking up
a storm, whenever he catches any of us guys' ear. He's one of those guys you
would like to smack, to make him shutup. Chase and I had to laugh one time,
as we stood with his condo door cracked open, watching out into the hallway.
There stood Kareem, dribbling a basketball, mostly likely wanting to bounce
Jeff up and down on his bed, with his cock sunk into Jeff's ass? Then again,
after I viewed the altercation with Akeno and Kareem, possibly Akeno
dribbled Kareem's ass up and down on the bed? I'm getting off the subject
here. We're talking about Jeff. It wasn't any secret that Kareem had a thing
for the 6'2, 195 pounds of lean body. Tony told Chase that Kareem even
thought about going into real estate, instead of becoming a rocket
scientist. To each his own.

That's for sure, 8-8 rounds out our building block with a father and son
duo. David Morrison, 39yo owns the condo, where his college age son, 18yo
Ian, lives. Nobody knows their background and so far, none of us guys care
to meddle. Maybe when our inquisitiveness about the other residents die.
David is very quiet, whereas his son, Ian, is quite the social butterfly.
He's been down to the 'jock' condo several times and has been seen in the
early a.m., jogging with Akeno. They both must work out a lot together,
since they are always sweaty. Ian also has piercings on his right eyebrow,
left ear, right nip and a tatt of an eagle on his stomach, seemling perched
on his navel. A light dusting of medium brown hair covers his chest and he
has a thin treasure trail that starts above his bellyhole and zips down 'the
eagle's back', into his pants.

"While you're lying in here, flat on your back, rubbing that bacitracin into
your nips, you missed it, Blockhead!"

"Missed what, Chase-baby?"

"Here, I brought you some chicken soup."

"You know you do that to me all the time, Chase?"

"Do what, Brad?"

"Start saying something juicy and then quit."

"No big deal actually."

"You care to lay it on me, Chase?"

Of course I left myself wide open for that one, especially lying here,
barechested on the sofa, with my sticky fingers.

"Hmm... I'd love to lay 'it' more 'in' you, than 'on' you, Blockhead!"

"You know what I mean Chase."

"It's not really that kind of news, that one would be consider gossip."

"Um, you going to ever tell me, Chase?"

"8-6 had a 'visitor'."

"The movie producer?" I questioned, a bit excited, jumping up from the sofa,
the light shining offa my lubed nips.

"I don't know. Jeff was showing some guy the condo. As I toted the container
of chicken soup up here, I saw shadows inside the door and heard Jeff's
voice."

"Now you have me wondering."

"Hey, you're not the only one, Brad. How are your nips, anyway? All healed
up, yet?"

"Why? So, you can work them over again, Chase-baby?"

"The thought did cross my mind, Blockhead, knowing how much you like it!"

That's Chase! His heart always in the right place. In all actuality, the
bacitracin did it's job in healing up my nips, but also my constant repair,
with my fingers rubbing the sensitive nubs, keeping my cock hard and
leaking. I knew Chase would notice the spot on my boxer shorts.

"Sit up, Blockhead. I don't want this hot soup in your lap and don't blame
me for that spot on your briefs. I'm making a mental note that it was there,
before I served the soup to you!"

What'd I say?

"Thanks, Chase-baby."

After setting the hot bowl of chicken soup, he nuked just for me, Chase
accepted the kiss of appreciation, reaching down to adjust the napkin in my
lap, more likely to check to see where the 'spot' came from!

"Mmmmmmm, good soup. Creamy for a change. What did you put in it,
Chase-baby?"

"Special ingredient, Blockhead. A good cook never gives out their
ingredients."

"Suddenly I don't think I'm hungry."

Chase smiles. I know that smile!

"What's the difference, whether it goes directly down your throat or if the
cream is diluted?"

"Hmm.. Now that I know, I'll make sure I eat every bit. I need the protein!"

Chase is so cute, sitting there across from me, one hand behind his head, as
if Antonio Sabato, Jr., modeling for his CK briefs.

"What's this, Brad?"

"Nothing, Chase. Just some magazines I picked up at the newstand, um, could
you get me some more crackers, pretty please?"

"Oh my... now what's this? The new issue of 'Balls & Chain' magazine? My...
my, Bradford. I hadn't realized that the newstand carried a magazine of this
calibur!"

My crackers request wasn't fast enough. I had hoped to pull the magazine out
from between Time, GQ and the Advocate, while Chase was in the kitchen.

"Rats!"

"Care to explain?"

"Um, do I have to Chase?"

"Oh my... what are these things circled? Your Christmas wishlist,
Blockhead?"

"Noooooo... just close that up, Chase and forget it, please?"

How embarrassing! How humiliating! How exciting for Chase to find the bdsm
magazine, loaded with gear that one could purchase, my picks circled, left
out on my coffee table!

"Nipclamps? Can't get enough nip punishment now?"

He knew he had me, as I sat there, a wry smile and blushing.

"Yeah, well and how do you know so much anyway, Chase?"

"You blockhead, Brad! How do you think I know anything about bdsm or leather
or how to turn you on, working over your nips?"

He had me. Good thing, as the napkin was over my lap. I didn't want it to
appear that I was too eager. Yet, trying to fool Chase McPhee was like
trying to hide a fully charged 10c, inside a speedo!

"Hey, what are you doing with my 'Balls & Chain' magazine, Chase?"

"Taking it with me, of course Blockhead."

"But..."

"Hey, better that I buy something worthwhile for you for Christmas, than
some tie and shirt that you'll only take back and exchange for a different
color and pattern."

"But I thought you had good tastes, Chase."

"Still, better to buy something more useful. Go buy your own shirts and
ties, Brad."

"Don't you want your bowl back, Chase?"

"Um, like you're fifty miles away, Brad?"

"Oh yeah. Forgot, hee.. heee..."

"I've got to do some writing."

"Will I see you later, Chase?"

"Depends on if you're going to bring back my 'clean' bowl, Bradford?"

Good thing Chase had work to do. I had work to do, too. Crumbling the napkin
up, I pushed my feet on the carpeting, to elevate my ass, tucked my thumbs
under the elastic of my boxer shorts and pushed them down, lifting them over
my hard 9c and anchoring them under my balls. It's at this point I made an
important discovery. No, it wasn't that my shaft was all gooed up with
precum. I was a lefty and as my left hand went to my cock, to get it's wrist
exercise, my right hand automatically grabbed hold of my left nip,
exercising it with it's index finger and thumb, mashing it viciously, in
conjuntion with the up and down movement of my hand. Oh man did I love nip
torture!

It felt so, so hot, the electricity running from my left pec, to my
twenty-five year old cock. At that moment, I thanked Chase over and over for
awakening the pain and pleasure, having me to drive my ownself over the
edge, as I twisted and pulled at my own chest, the same time, working my
cock up into a frenzy and wanted to cum so badly.

Never so vocal was I, than at this moment as I directed my piss slit back to
myself, pressed my head into the sofa, closing my eyes, picturing my finger
and thumb as the clamps in the 'Balls & Chain' magazine and shooting a huge
load onto my stomach, as my right handed finger and thumbnail stretched the
tidbit of my nip far out from my chest.

"Ooooh shit! Oooooh shit! Ooooooooh fuckin' shit!" I gasped, hoping no one
walked the hallway.

I couldn't believe that I still tortured my own nip, waiting for my eruption
to subside. However, with my lefty still around my softening schlong, my
hand let my pec regain it's shape, my flat palm slapped against the my
creamed stomach, rubbing the manjuices, as if trying to apply sunscreen
lotion. Then, it was just my luck to hear a knock at the door. Chase McPhee
wasn't the only one who didn't know enough to wait, until admitted.

"Hello! Brad! Are you....................................... around?"

There, in front me, stood Tony Morello. Like usual, he wore a belly tee and
it hiked up even more, as he held his fist on the door, readying to knock
some more, even though his other hand had turned the knob, letting himself
in.

"Oh man, Brad. I'm awfully sorry," Tony stared at my crotch, "I didn't
know... you... were busy, Brad...."

"Uh, is there something you wanted, Tony?" I asked the nineteen year old, as
he licked his lips.

"Uh, yeah...."

Classic gay college jock, I thought. Like Chase always remarked, 'been
there, done that', I could tell that what Tony came for is not the thing
that he wanted, at this moment, which slopped up my stomach.

"Tony?"

"Uh, yeah Brad?" He said, finally looking up from the lower part of my body,
moving inside the door frame, the spring-loaded door automatically closing
behind him.

Like a ping pong match, his brown eyes kept shooting back and forth, from my
lower to upper half. I decided to toy with him. See where it went!

"You want it, don't you, Tony?"

"Want what?"

"What you came for, of course."

Standing there, he replied, "Funny thing is, I forgot what is was I came
for, Tony."

Now he looked straight at my face, both hands on his torso, those hairy abs,
staring at me, his belly hair swirling around his deep navel, the dark,
defined treasure trail extending two inches, before becoming engulfed in his
gymshorts.

"I know how easy it is to forget things. Tony."

"You do, Brad? Of course we all forget."

"Especially when 'something' blocks that memory, huh Tony?"

"Um. Yeah, I guess."

"Tony, have you eaten lunch?"

"Lunch?"

"Yeah, it's around noontime, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think in about ten minutes it will be, Brad."

"Want some lunch?"

"Sure."

"Good. Why don't you kneel down on the floor and help yourself?"

"Huh?"

By this time, I didn't need to pinch my nips to activate my cock. The
nineteen year old hairy jock, in front of me, thinking about the
proposition, for 'lunch', was doing it all for me.

"Are you asking me to... suck you, Brad?"

"Getting greedy are you now, Tony?"

"Greedy, Brad?"

"Yeah. You want to eat the cream off my stomach and get a fresh helping,
too?"

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled at the same time.

"I'm kind of embarrased, Brad."

"Why, Tony? Don't tell me you haven't tasted a man's juice or sucked cock
yet?"

"Yeah, but Brad, it's always been with a younger guy. I mean you're... what?
Twenty seven or something?"

"Twenty-five and I can guarantee that my cream is just as sweet and tasty as
if I was Kareem or Akeno."

"Oh, we don't do that thing, even though we live together, Brad."

"No?"

"Nah," Tony replied, loosening up a bit, as he sank to his knees. "Hey,
would it be alright if I took my top off, Brad? I don't want to get it
dirty."

"Hmm, I wouldn't want to be resonsible for getting those gymshorts, nor
sneakers dirty, either Tony."

"Cool, Brad!"

"In fact, Tony?"

"What?"

"Kind of awkward out here, why don't we go in my bedroom and get more
comfortable?"

"Yeah, that's cool, Brad."

He saw me go to the door.

I replied, clicking the lock, "So we're not disturbed, Tony."

"Cool!" Tony replied, again licking his chops.

"After you," I said to him, watching him peel his belly tee off, as he
advanced down the hallway, watching the small amount of ass crevice showing
out of his gymshorts, thick with hair.

Like Tony didn't already see me almost naked, I dropped my boxer shorts,
kicking them up and catching them in midflight, tossing them in the hamper.
Tony kicked his sneakers off and then placed his thumbs under the band of
his Nike gymshorts. He tried to do the same thing, but he missed catching
them.  I didn't!

"Oops! Sorry about that, Brad," Tony apologized for messing up my hair, with
his soaring gymshorts.

"No problem, Tony. At least you get another try!"

It gave me the opportunity to stare, looking at the hairy thighs lapping at
the jock's strap, readying to come off. As he unveiled the package, I
immediately suggested, "How about we '69', Tony?"

"Yeah, cool!"

I got on the bed, first, my head facing the bottom of the bed, which gave
him the obvious hint at positioning his head. With his fit stature, he
pivoted his body so that he did a 'pushup' over my stomach, as if not
wanting to wet up his hairy chest with my still wet tummy-goo. Carefully he
allowed his 9c to lower, right into my mouth.

"I'd be careful, Brad. I'm a nine."

"No problem, Tony. I'm a natural at throating a long one!"

"Cool!" He replied, still lowering his pelvis slowly.

Like I had guessed, I felt Tony lapping at my stomach, before laying his
dry, hairy chest on me. His balls must've been driving him on, as he
finished the first course of his lunch quickly and moved on. I don't know
how long we lay there, each sucking, swirling our tongues around each
other's cocks, but then he had to start feeling up my body, his hand
reaching under his stomach, going for my pecs.

"Oooooooooh!" I sighed out loudly, my voice penetrating the outer diameter
of his meat.

Even though Tony weighed in at a worked out hundred and ninety-five pounds,
my bucking action, as a result of him mashing my nips, carried him upwards,
as if catapulted.

"Wow, you sure as sensitive there, Brad!" Tony exclaimed, after popping off
my 9c.

"Aren't we all?" I ventured to suggest.

"Hmm.. don't rightly know. I mean a little?"

I took the opportunity, while on the subject, to slide my palms in, between
my stomach and his chest. First thing to stimulate my psyche was all that
jock hair, then my hands found the pec bumps.  Replicating scissors, my
index and middle fingers opened, captured the small nubs and then closed,
pulverizing Tony's nipmeat in between.

"Oooooooooohshiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" He shouted out, popping off my cock and
arching his back, which drove his dagger deeper into my throat.

Tony almost got his cock scratched with my teeth, as he pulled out, flipped
over on his back and lay, panting, on the bed.

"Ooooooh man that was awesome, Brad!"

"You've gotta be kidding me, Tony," I looked up towards him, his shiny, wet
cock, standing straight as a telephone pole.

"No, honest Brad. Nobody's ever done that to my pecs before! I mean, I've
given blow jobs, but nobody's ever toyed with my nips before... I swear it!"

"Felt real good, didn't it Tony?"

"Oh yeah."

Suddenly, it seemed like I got a bad case of 'McPheeitis'.

"Bet you want your nips worked over now, don't you Tony?"

He thought about it, then bargained, "If I can suck your cock at the same
time?"

I turned my body around, laying my head on the pillow, as the nineteen year
old jock sunk down on the bed. I grinned at Tony, as he licked my cock head.
My fingers searched through the fur on his pecs, finding their objective.

Like Chase did unto me, I did unto Tony, kneading his nips with my fingers
and thumbs, alternating my soft fingertips and then the torturous
fingernails. It took Chase time to work my tender nips up to the nail
treatment, but I worked over Tony's nips mercilessly. He never objected. On
the contrary, he ground his pubes into the bed with hard force.

Several times Tony came off my cock, to voice his opinion, telling me how
good it felt or to work his pecs harder or how the feeling went straight to
his cock. Like I didn't know that already!

"I think I'm going to have to shoot my wad soon, Brad."

He wasn't the only one!

"Aha! My protein make you all better, Brad?"

Looking up from the my bed, I gasped, "Shit! Chase?"

Tony, popping off my stick, looked up, simply saying, "Uh-oh!"

"I'm glad I didn't wait to come back for my soup bowl!"

"Heeey, wait. Did you two have a serious thing going here?" Tony asked
either of us.

Tony backed off, a trail of spit attached to my cockhead.

"No, don't Tony, Brad's protein flow has been revived. Go ahead and milk him
dry."

I could see that even though Chase cut the cock jokes, that he wasn't
laughing, nor in the mood to do so. Simply put, I was up shit's creek,
without a paddle.

"C'mon, Chase-baby, it's not..."

"Don't you Chase-baby me, Bradford Dean Bigelow!"

I 'was' in deep shit! Tony, grabbed his jock and gymshorts off the floor and
started to walk towards the door, needing to pass by Chase.

"Chase, look, I'm sorry. I had no idea...Ugggggghhh!... Oh shit!" Tony
belched then swore, holding his stomach and doubling over, now hanging on my
dresser, bent over and breathing heavy.

"What the hell did you do that for, Chase?" I yelled at him, which looked
like I was defending Tony.

"Some gymjock!" Chase replied, not even answering my question.

I went over to see if Tony was okay, placing my hand on his shoulder,
bending down and asking him. When I uprighted myself, Chase was gone.

"Brad, I'm real sorry man. If I'd know you two had a serious relationship
going on here..."

"You don't have to apologize, Tony. It's all my fault. I tried to seduce you
and..."

"You did?"

"Yeah and..."

"Hmm... that's not the way I see it. I mean, I'm a grown up big boy and...
wow! I don't believe the gutpunch Chase gave me. Either he's got an iron
fist or I better start working out more!"

"Oh, don't go being so hard on yourself, Tony. You know what they say about
when the going gets tough, the tough get going?"

"I've heard about it, but Chase isn't exactly the tough guy image and... oh
man!"

"What Tony?"

"He bruised my abs!"

"Tony, look I"m sorry."

"Fuck, I better head down to the gym right now and do a coupla thousand
pushups and crunches!"

By before Tony could make it down the hallway, Chase came back, screaming,
"And you can have your 'torture' magazine back and go buy your own 'torture
equipment', Bradford!"

Chase threw the magazine at the first person, which happened to be Tony,
then stormed out. I had never been so embarrased in my whole life. Tony
picks it up off the floor and thumbs through it.

"Shit, Brad! You into this bdsm stuff?"

I stood there, my head in my palm, hoping it would hide the embarrassment,
my shame and red face.

"Wow! I would've never believed. Wait til the guys hear about this!"

"Tony.... Tony... Tony," I caught his arm, taking the centerfold of the
'Balls & Chain' magazine from his stunned eyes, "Don't you think that we can
keep this 'our little secret'?"

"Um, is Chase into this, too?"

"Um, no only me, Tony," I lied, rather than implicate Chase, too.

"Hmm.. you think you and I could... get together sometime? Try some of this
stuff out?"

"You, Tony?"

"Yeah. I mean you really turned my nips on, Brad and, look..."

Stripping the 'Balls & Chain' magazine from my hands, Tony flips through the
pages. He must be great at studying, flying through the text books,
accumulating the knowledge, because in the twenty seconds he held the 'Balls
& Chain' magazine, he remembered four things, pointing them all out to me.

"I want this done to my nips, this done to my balls," turning the page,
"tied up like this guy and would be cool, if you can get your hands on a
real whip, do this to my back. If not, maybe a belt will do. What do you
say, Brad?"

I had to admit, that the subject fascinated me, the idea of 'mastering
Tony', my crotch stirring at the thought. Then my mind doubled back to
Chase.

"I don't know Tony."

"Hey, mind if I borrow this, Brad?"

"Um... yeah, maybe it's better you take it. Keep it Tony."

"Cool! Thanks Brad!"

"No problem, Tony. Um, don't you think you should put your shorts on?"

"Oh yeah. Thanks again, Brad. Um, sorry 'bout you and Chase."

"No problem, Tony."

As I closed the door, I thought out loud, "Big problem!"

Going back to my bedroom, I decided to incarcerate myself, as I punished
myself. On the dresser, I found Tony's sweaty belly tee. I lifted it to my
nostrils and took a good wiff.

"Ahhhhhhhhh... sweet odor of life!"

Looking around, as if 'somebody' would be spying through my second story
window, I approached the mirror and held it up. Then I decided that I could
only tell how it looked on me, if it was on me, so I put it on. Right then
and there, my mentality led me to believe that I had turned into a nineteen
year old college jock. I ran both hands down the belly tee, letting my palms
slide from the fabric, to my belly hair. It even made my face gleam more.
Suddenly, it all started to wear off, as if awakening up from a bad dream.
Thoughts of Chase began to flood my mind. I looked up into the mirror and
became very angry at the guy in the belly tee. Not Tony. Me! I grabbed the
undersides of the tails of the shirt and lifted it, inside out, over my
head, instantly running my hand over my head of hair.

"Fuck!" I said, balling the belly tee up and tossing it in my hamper.

continued.........

       Copyright 2005 Bradford D. Bigelow All Rights Reserved.

       Permission is NOT granted to publish
       this story  to any PAY site, nor any site
       other than www.nifty.org, without the
       author's prior consent.