Date: Fri, 14 Dec 2007 19:57:58 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Adventures In Nature 05

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, 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. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"Adventures In Nature" 05
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Who was that on the phone?" Steve asks, fixing his
Monday morning outfitting of school clothes.

"Agnes. Of course she gets the news before it's `in
print'. She said to act surprised when the
superintendent calls me to tell me this will be the
last day we'll be holding classes at the college."

"Hallelujah!" Steve belts out.

"You're telling me. It'll sure feel good to be `back
home'," Barry states, with a sense of relief and joy.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, the announcement also gave
Max a break, as he said, "You mean I get to sleep an
hour later?"

"I know it's been hard on you and I thank you for your
dedication," Barry tells the twenty-two year old chef
and `bottle-washer'.

Steve suggests, knowing he's wasting his breath, "I
wish you would allow us to fatten your paycheck."

"No, no," Max replies, "it's only an hour a day. It
hasn't bent me too much out of shape."

When it came up, the issue of having to get up an hour
earlier to get everyone out of the house, for the
lengthier trip across the region, Max fended off any
additional pay, so it was needless for Steve to
mention it, other than to assure Max he was worth more
than money could buy!

"Mark, are you and Jose being boyfriends?" Philip
asks.

"Um," Mark looks at the dads, a fork-stabbed sausage
in limbo, "we're friends, okay?"

Steve taps the side of his shoe against Barry's shoe,
under the table. Little did Mark know, the dads had
been looking out the window, when the two lingered
between the seats of the Mustang, for a kiss, before
driving Jose home last night after dinner.

"He's a cool guy," Aidan says. "He showed us a lot of
cool stuff on the computer, to help us with our
project."

"You know what he said?" Philip asks the family group.

"What?" Steve answers on behalf of all.

"Jose says he can get a lot of people to help us with
our project!"

Eric voices his opinion, "That's Jose! Always with his
hand in doing something good."

"Right," Tom agrees, "you should see him at the `mud
cleanup project'. We told him to take a break with us
guys, but no, he had to keep working."

"They call `them' workaholics," Barry mentions, with a
chuckle.

"Yeah, well that's Jose," Eric says. "Too bad Mark had
to steal him away from me, before I had the chance!"

"You had your chance," Mark quips. "He's in the same
grade as you."

"Yeah, but not in any of my classes," Eric answers.

"Well, he prefers older men anyway," Mark
rationalizes.

"Big deal. You're a year older than Jose!" Seeing he
had no chance, Eric rests his case, "Still, if you
guys stick it out, Jose could wind up `in the
family'."

Barry kids, "I wouldn't mind having Jose for a
son-in-law."

"I guess you guys like Jose as much as I do, huh?"
Mark asks.

Steve speaks up, saying, "No, I think `you' like Jose
much more than any of us!"

Good thing Philip and Aidan wanted to catch a show on
Tv, with Mark already stating he and Jose were `just
friends'.

%

Even though he wasn't due to punch the time clock for
another hour, Kev, caught up with his drawing
assignment, wanders through the back passages of
Barr's & Bridges. Sensing Tom's vacant office, no
light shining through the vents at the bottom of the
door, he lets himself in. Using the light from the
hallway, he turns on the gooseneck light sitting on
his brother's desk. The spring-loaded door closes,
just as his ass drops into the swivel chair.

"Playing store manager, are we?"

"Oh, hi Ethan," Kev replies, noticing his shirt tail
hanging out, Ethan's shirt unbuttoned to the third
eyelet.

Sweat clinging to Ethan's hairy chest, is a dead
giveaway he's been hauling freight off the loading
dock. "Hi yourself. Alright if I take a breather in
here?"

"Sure. I don't mind. Where else can you get 100% air
conditioning, but the boss' office?" the nineteen year
old comments sarcastically.

"Well, I know you know for a fact how hot the
stockroom can get with the back door slid open." Then
going for the box of tissues Ethan asks, "Mind if I
dry off a little?"

"Help yourself."

"Thanks," Ethan replies, tearing four tissues out of
the box.

"Looks like you've worked up quite a sweat," Kev says,
to stir up the conversation, even though it's plain to
see the patches of sweat lining Ethan's armpits of his
shirt, plus the additional tissues used to blot around
the forehead, neck and then chest area. "More
charcoal?"

"It's gotta be at least a hundred degrees out there,"
Ethan says, pulling the left side of his shirt open to
dab at his sweaty bod. "...and no. This time it's
sacks of potatoes for all that potato salad folks are
going to be devouring on the fourth."

As the tissue pile in front of Ethan mounts, Kev asks,
"You know there's a better way to beat the sweat?"

"Oh?" Ethan questions, going for his
twentieth-something tissue.

"C'mon. I'll show you."

Leading Ethan back to the stockroom, they serpentine
their way around pallets, til they reach a bin next to
the jon. Opening it, he takes out a plastic bag
labeled, `ice'.

"This is a way better idea of how to keep cool. Here,
try it!" Kev says, tearing a small hole in the bag,
taking out one cube. Giggling, Kev clues him in, "Now
you'll just make your shirt wetter. Take it off, then
rub the ice cube over you, Ethan."

Taking a seat on the side of one of the pallets of
potatoes, Kev watches as Ethan unbuttons the soiled
white shirt, peeling it back over his shoulders.
`Feeling' Kev's eyes on his bod, right through the
layers of sweat, Ethan asks, "Hard yet?"

To counter Ethan's joke, Kev slips a hand from his
thigh to his crotch, reporting, "Solid as a rock!"

"Figures," Ethan replies. "Here... hang this
somewhere!"

Totally surprised, Kev yells out, "Heeey.. what tha?"
as Ethan's sweat-soaked shirt lands over his head.
Pulling it off, he shakes out his hair, planing it
back with his hand.

"Whatsamatter, Kev? Manscent doesn't turn you on?"

"Yeah, but there's a difference between a manscent on
a shirt, versus a stinking bod," Kev replies, on the
sly.

"Ohhhhhh... now that hurt!" Ethan exclaims, followed
by a smile as he's already coated his pecs and stomach
with the cool ice. "Um, mind getting my back?"

"Oh, I don't mind, but what about Tom?" Kev replies,
hopping off the pallet of potatoes.

"What about Tom?" Ethan asks, interested the
conversation has led in this direction.

"I dunno." Then, point blank Kev asks, "What about him
and you?"

"Us? How do you mean that?"

"Nice position to be in, employee shackin' up with the
boss!"

He meant it to be funny, but it didn't strike Ethan in
the same manner, as he collectively replied, "Um,
thanks for the ice cube idea, but I better get back to
work. There's mountains of goods to get out to the
floor."

Snatching up his shirt, Ethan fed his arms back into
it,  as Kev asks, holding an ice cube, "What about
your back?"

"I think one stabbing is all I can take for one day!"

"Stabbing?" Kev says to himself, as water trickles
down his arm. Then, `getting it,' Kev hustles after
his fellow stocker, calling out, "Ethan, wait a
minute... it's not how I meant it!"

Jacking up a pallet, "Oh really? I would say you made
yourself perfectly clear, Kev. Excuse me."

Plastering his back to the wall, Kev watches his feet,
his toes turned inward, as Ethan rolls the pallet
within inches of clipping his sneakers.

"I swear, Ethan. I didn't mean anything by what I
said. It was a joke," Kev pleaded, as he paraded
behind the pallet of potatoes, leaning his hands on
it, to help taxi it across the floor.

"Can't say I care for your humor.... watch the doors,"
Ethan warns, as he rolls the pallet through the
springy double doors.

It made Kev feel even worse, Ethan forewarning him,
about the pallet and now the swinging doors, which
could probably knock a man down on his ass, if
body-slapped, which Kev didn't refute he deserved!

"Want me to page Adam or Robbie?" Kev offered, as the
two waited at the area of transition between stockroom
and salesfloor.

"Adam quit. Robbie will be along. He's showing the new
guy around. Oh, here he comes now," Ethan emptied the
mouthful of words, his attention on the aisle, where
two guys walked towards them.

"Hey, Kev," Robbie, twenty years old, greeted him.
"Say hello to Josh."

"How's it goin'?" Josh replies, flaunting a toothy
smile in Kev's direction, offering a handshake.

"Um, good," Kev replies, smiling, then withdrawing it,
a sour feeling returning after what he said to Ethan.

Ethan breaks in, "Tom wants these stacked under the
glass, in the front, Robbie."

"No sweat," the college football frat responds,
commandeering the pallet jack.

"Want me to..." Josh goes to suggest hauling it.

"Nah, you watch. Maybe tomorrow we can turn you loose
on the store," Robbie says, the quarterback hauling
ass, with the slighest of ease.

"I guess it pays to be involved in sports!" Kev
comments, a light note of humor added, as he follows
Ethan back into the stockroom.

Ignoring Kev, Ethan moves a box of canned tomatoes,
from atop another case, to a shelf, to free up some
walking space. Sliding the next carton off the top,
Kev picks it off and hands it to Ethan, saving him
some steps.

"I can do this," Ethan says.

"I don't mind helping."

"You're not on the clock yet."

"So?" With three cases to go, Kev sits on the top
carton, folding his arms across his chest.

"C'mon, Kev. Stop playing games. Move your ass. I
don't have any time to kill," Ethan complains, all
business like.

"Not until you accept my apology, Ethan."

More sweated up than before, Ethan's whole shirt seems
as if he was doused by a bucket of water, his head all
drippy, as he wipes his brow with his sleeve.

"Can't we tackle this later? I'm on a roll here,"
Ethan replies, with elevated breathing.

"You only took a five minute break. You have ten
minutes coming to you," Kev made excuse for him.

"I don't care about the fuckin' ten minutes, alright?"
Ethan projects, more adamantly.

Still molded to the pile of cartons, Kev says, "Look,
the truth is, I'm glad Tom has finally met a guy."

"You are, are you?" Ethan says, standing ther
impatiently.

"Well sure. I mean, up until now it's been..."

Kev didn't want to say it, but Ethan completed his
thought with, "one night stands?"

"He told you?" Kev asks, dropping his hands to his
sides, grasping the corners of the case of canned
goods he was sitting on.

"Y'know, your brother and I spent a good part of
Sunday morning in bed together and it wasn't all sex?"

Kev waited, sure more was to follow.

"In fact, except for a little oral, we mostly kissed.
But that's not why I'm telling you this." With his
sweaty shirt and the returning coolness of the
stockroom, Ethan's hard nips showed through, as he
elaborated, "I don't go for the fly-by-night love
affairs. I was honest with Tom, telling him like it
is. Y'know, as I see it, it's not only Tom who has had
this protective aura over his brother. I think, where
you're concerned, it's gone both ways."

"Well sure," Kev states, "what do you want? He's my
brother and  only living relative. What else did he
tell you about me?"

"Plenty." Then, backing down, temporarily resting
against a pallet of potatoes, Ethan says, "I suppose I
got a little over-heated a few minutes ago." Standing
up straight, unleashing his tush from the pallet of
potatoes, he continues, "To be frank, I really like
Tom and would like to see where it goes, but if I'm
going to have to answer to you everytime we go
somewhere or do things, then it's going to make life
pretty difficult. I understand you and Tom had `words'
not too long ago, when you dated John Torkelson?"

"He told you about that too?"

"Like I said. We cuddled in bed. We got to talking...
got to know each other," Ethan explained.

Seeing Ethan was probably going to stick around and
become more a part of his brother's life, Kev started
to feel differently towards him. "Look, I'm really
sorry about what I said. I'm glad we had this talk. I
can see you aren't like the other guys. I...."

Pivoting his shoulders forwards, then back, Ethan
tells him, "I think that just about covers
everything." Then, sticking out his palm, Ethan adds,
"Maybe we can clear the slate and start over again?"

"You got it!" Kev replies.

"One other thing," Ethan says, his sweaty hand still
clutched in Kev's hand.

Thinking this could turn the tide back to their
indifferences, Kev is skeptical, asking, "What?"

Grinning, Ethan replies, "Maybe you can sketch me
sometime?"

"Is there anything Tom `didn't' tell you?"

Peering down between Kev's legs, Ethan, in a wiseass
manner says, "Size?"

%

"What time is it there, babe?"

Rolling over, Matt separates his bod from Tony,
opening up a valley between, his neck twisted so he
can view the Disney-themed alarm clock. "Um, Mickey
says it's nine fifteen. We've got... owch!"

"Whatsamatter, Matthew?" Tony gasps, as Matt turns his
head back, slapping their stomach's together.

"Prolly just a muscle spasm or something. It'll pass."

"Nothin' doin'... turn over," Tony orders.

Planting the side of his face in the pillow, Matt
flops over onto his stomach, as Tony rises up on his
knees. Throwing a leg over, he mounts his roommate,
slapping his cock and balls down on the lower portion
of the swimmer's v-shaped back. He leans over,
massaging Matt's shoulders.

"How does that feel?"

"Prolly would feel a helluva lot better if you sat
lower!"

The two exchanged glances, Matt offering a toothy
grin, as Tony says, "Oh really? So, when was the last
time you were fucked?"

"Oh, it's gotta be at least a week," Matt replies,
coolly.

Being a gay man, Tony wasn't exempt from the
temptations of his hardening cock wanting to see more
action. However, for the record, Tony wasn't into
`hit-and-run'. "Well you can stop hinting because you
know where I stand on that matter."

"Oomph!" Matt grunted when Tony slapped both hands
down on his shoulder blades, using the leverage to
pivot his bod up and off the bed. "What about my
aching back?"

"I thought it was your neck? Or maybe your ass?"

"Never mind," Matt relinquished the whole deal. "How
about a shower, then?"

"Yeah okay. I could go for that," Tony says, putting
on a pair of boxer shorts.

Matt grabs the dry speedo he wore yesterday and jumped
into it in a matter of seconds, letting it snap
against the place where pubes meets treasure trail.
Tony tosses him a towel and they are on their way out
the door.

"Hey, guys," Tony says, as Matt just takes in the view
of Kirk Donegal and Jason Dalbec, passing in the
hallway, like them, stripped from the waist up.

"Second time I've seen them together," Matt starts up
the bit of gossip.

"Really? Don't tell me the dorm cumdump has finally
decided to stick to one flavor!"

They both laughed at Tony's joke.

"Wouldn't mind it myself. I kind of dig Italian seed,"
Matt hinted, right before they pushed the door to the
fourth floor jon open.

"That a fact? Well you can forget it. I might've let
you drain my balls last night, but I'm not into..."

"I know... I know... you're looking for Mr. Right,
instead of Mr. Rightnow," Matt casts off the
conversation.

"Looks like we lucked out. A free shower stall," Tony
says, walking past an occupied one.

Matt, paused, leaning his ear in, hearing sounds
coming from the occupied shower compartment. Once
inside their shower stall, door closed, Matt whispers,
"Sounds like a fuckin' orgy going on in there!"

"Will you come on, Matthew? Coach will have our asses
if we're late," Tony relays, not caring who hears it.

Tony turns on the water, as Matt gets turned on by the
groaning sounds next door. Taking the side of Tony's
head in his hand, he pulls Tony's ear towards his
lips.

"What tha fu..."

"Shhh... Bend down. Let me get on your shoulders. I
gotta see this!"

"I am `not'..." Gazing upon Matt's face, he could see
he wasn't going to budge until he had his way. "What
the heck!" Placing his hands on the wall, Tony squats
down. Matt flings his legs over Tony's shoulders,
crushing his cock and balls up against the back of his
neck. "At least I'm getting `something' out of this!"
Tony says to himself. "Ready?" Ready or not, Tony
walks his hands up the wall, as he lifts Matt. "Going
up!"

Thinking he's being discreet about spying, Matt leans
back a little, in case some guy is looking up. He sees
a stripped guy, sitting, leaning against the wall, a
second sucking him off, a third with his cock planted
in the cocksucker's ass. All three are intent on what
they're doing, so Matt leans in a bit more.

Tony can only guess the hot scene going on, feeling
something stabbing him in the back of his neck!

Too late Matt is discovered, as he pushes backwards,
almost knocking Tony over. "What the fuck you doing?"
Tony says.

"I think they saw me!" Matt exclaims.

Sure enough, from the other side they hear, "I think
we've got company."

Another voice says, "So what?"

The first guy, "Maybe they want to get in on the
action?"

"What about it?" Matt asks Tony, stroking his already
swollen 8c.

"If you want to let coach down, fine then. Go ahead,
but I'm going to be on time."

"It'll prolly only take a second," Matt says, obvious
that his crotch is ruling his decision.

"Whateva," Tony replies.

>From outside, he hears Matt yell, "Open up! Let me in,
guys!"

Tony rolls his eyes, as he soaps up his bod. Then, his
curiosity gets the best of him. Taking the bar of
soap, he drops it right at the bottom of the open
partition. Down on his hands and knees, he looks
under, eyes focusing right on the guy looking at the
bar of soap. "Oops! Dropped the soap!" Tony says, as
he cases the inside of the shower booth next door,
seeing two guys getting blow jobs, Matt on the
receiving end of one of the bare studs.

"Tony Gagliardi?"

"That's me. Who are you?"

With mouth still attached to his shaft, the guy leans
over, extending his right hand, saying, "Evan Colfax.
I've been following your swimming stats."

"Really? A fan of the swim team?" Tony says.

In between their chat, Evan is sighing and moaning,
interjecting, "Yeah. One of my favorite sports. Hot to
see guys in those tiny speedos, if you know what I
mean?"

"Like Matt here?"

"He's a swimmer too?"

"Right now he is, but if we don't get a move on it,
he's going to accel at being a glorified cocksucker!"
Tony tells Evan, whom laughs along.

"Hear that Jim?"

"I hear ya," Jim Faulkner says, as Evan takes Matt's
skull in his hands, pumping his shaft furiously in and
out of his purses lips.

"Almost ready to blow my load too... see you around
Tony."

"Sure," Tony replies, still on his knees, soap in one
hand, his hard erection in the other, as he watches
the tops go at it, til they cry out in ecstasy.
Standing up, Tony works his own tool, ropes of cum
still going down the drain, as he bolts out of the
shower stall.

%

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.