Date: Tue, 12 Dec 2006 12:32:20 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: NATURE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS 03

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.

%

NATURE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS 03
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"What the hell you waiting for?"

At the WRMH emergency room, Dr. Maria Scalia rules.

"X-ray, stat!"

Callan, on call, had reported to the hospital. Being
more personal than just anybody showing up in an
ambulance, Maria sought to `take him off the case',
where Barry was concerned. Instead she directed him
into the emergency room, alongside Aidan, providing
some `looking after' medicine for Philip.

"Aidan doesn't look so good, dad-Callan."

"I think he's groggy from the medicine they gave him."

"Yeah, he-looks sleepy too."

Even in the face of calamity, some humor was to be
had, with Callan realizing Philip didn't get the gist
of the meaning of `groggy'. He also noticed Philip's
clenched hand, clutching the back of his medical
fatigues, all bunched up in a ball. Reaching behind
him, he peeled open a few fingers, replacing them with
the palm of his hand.

"He's probably going to be in and out of sleep."

"Will he know me when he wakes up?"

For Callan, he immediately got the feeling his young
charge thought his condition life threatening, but he
knew otherwise.

"I'm sure when he awakens tomorrow morning, he'll know
you."

"That long? Why?"

"Because when you have pain, the doctor gives a
patient a medicine to relieve it. It's what I meant by
`groggy'. It make's a person sleep. Plus, I do believe
your brother has a very sore, and likely, broken leg."

Philip's nose turned up, his face resembling Aidan's
look, in the van, experiencing the pain. For the
squirt, with loving his brother, it became natural, no
matter what age, for him to feel such an attachment.

"Can I stay with him?"

"Not right now. They need to help make him feel more
comfortable. I think also, we should get a doctor to
look at your wounds?"

"James' mom took care of them."

Callan could see the homemade remedy, a bandage
round'n'round Philip's hand, plus the unintended limp.
Still, he tried praising the temporary fix.

"Yes, she did a mighty good job, but it's the rules. A
doctor needs to look at you."

"Okay. Are you sure my brother is going to be okay?"

Callan replied, in the affirmative. However, the
conversation became sketchy when Philip inquired about
his dad, a tough matter to fill in the blanks.

"Can I see my dad now?"

As Callan led Philip, hand in hand, to another area of
the hospital, he tried to give Philip's mind a detour.

"How about after we get you fixed up, we come back
here," Callan pointed to the door reading `cafeteria',
"and get a bite to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. When can I see my dad?"

That's what Callan figured the eleven year old would
say, regarding food, however he would try again later.
As for seeing his dad, he did his best to sidetrack
Philip.

"Your dad needs his rest."

"Why? He was sleeping in the car. Hey, why do you
think my dad fell asleep?"

"Wait," Callan looked upon the eleven year old, with
mixed reaction. "Why do you ask?"

Philip looked at Callan, a questioning look on his
face.

"Because if he fell asleep, then maybe that's why he
drove off the road."

"Drove off the road? No, I don't think so."

Callan stood there puzzled, thinking Philip actually
had no idea another vehicle had been involved in the
accident.

"What do you remember of the accident?"

Philip didn't get to readily reply.

"I was just about to ask that question myself!"

As Callan, unbandaged Philip's hand, in walks Officer
Mike Green, accompanied by Detective Berk Hewsen.

"Long time, no see, Mike," Callan greeted.

Philip, however, reacted more in a pouting sense, a
sniffle shuffled in between words.

"Hi Uncle Mike," he said in a low voice, "Aidan and my
dad got hurt in a car accident."

"I see. You look like you got hurt too?"

"Not as bad as them. My dad didn't wake up and Aidan's
got pain. Maybe his leg is all broken up!"

"Looks like you have nasty cut young man," the
twenty-six year old Turkish detective surmised.

"I think I cut it when I climbed over the window my
dad was behind. Yeah, that's it. I think I got some
glass in it."

"Where?" Callan asks, taking Philip's hand in his,
looking closely, his nose barely an inch from
colliding.

"I dunno."

"Don't you feel anything?"

Sure Philip felt something now, as he flexed his hand.
Without the support of Mrs. Kitchner's bandage for
support, folding it became a cinch and his enemy for
renewed pain.

"Owwwwwch! Ooooh! Ooooh!" Philip cried out, tears
automatically flooding his face.

"Sorry gentlemen, but your questions will have to
wait!"

After informing them, Callan quickly re wrapped
Philip's hand.

"Where are you going?"

"X-ray," he replied.

Also handy, had been a handicapped chair, so Philip
gained a free ride, as well, speeding down the
corridor.

%

"What are you two doing back here?" Michael Byrd
questioned.

"Big accident up on Bridges Lane," Christian replied.

Justin added, "They're not letting anyone through."

"Rather than drive twenty-five miles around, we
decided to backtrack to the cafe."

"Hmmm... then maybe you can give me a hand cleaning
up?"

No such luck, as Christian and Justin reminded Michael
he gave them the night off. With wishful thinking out
of the way, Michael offered them free drinks, as long
as they kept the bar area tidy, himself reporting back
to kitchen duty. Whistling became a good past time, as
he scoured some pots. Right in the middle of `dishpan
hands', a knock came at the service entrance door.

"Oh, it's you."

"Oh, it's me? It wasn't `oh, it's you', half a day ago
when I was pleasuring your cock!"

Laughing, Michael let Kevin in, closing the door.

"Well, you don't have to feel like a stranger,
knocking, you know?"

"The door was locked."

"Oh yeah. I knew that!" Michael smiled, trying to
cover his stupidity.

As a rule, the service entrance remained locked at all
times, except when deliveries occurred.

"So, did you get your delivery schedule worked out?"

"Y'know," Kevin started out on a different wavelength,
after helping himself to a bottle, from the smaller
fridge, "I don't know what I was thinking."

The twenty-six year old halts his intended
conversation, turning the bottle of ale, holding it
up, searching the label.

"What's wrong? Flat?"

"No. In fact, it's quite good. Funny name, though,
`Bigfoot Barleywine'?"

"Yeah. Got a case of it in the cellar. Thought I'd
keep a few on ice for myself."

"How did you come by it?"

"You need all the nitty gritty details, do ya?"

Kevin smiled, still reading the Sierra Brewing
Company's notes about the ale.

"Will it give me a hard one?"

Letting the stock pot fall into the sink, he dried his
hands, drying his hands on the soiled, offwhite apron,
Michael walks over to Kevin. He reached down, lightly
groping at Kevin's mid-thigh region. Smiling, Kevin
parted his legs, encouraging more massaging action.

"And here I pictured you the innocent type."

"Wait til you get me bedded down tonight!"

He chugged the rest of the ale.

"Oh? Who said you were invited?"

Setting the empty ale bottle down, Kevin takes hold of
the two straps of Michael's apron. As he gave a couple
of tugs, his lighter bod, a hundred and eighty-two
pounds, compared to Michael's beefy two hundred and
five, sprung forward. Their heights, roughly two
inches apart, made their lips about the same leverage
for a hot kiss.

Breaking, Kevin boldly says, "You're the one telling
me not to be a stranger!"

%

"Hi! I'm Chad Barr. You have my dad here?"

"Yeah, they just brought him in."

"Can I see him?"

"Don't forget about me," Matty nudged Chad.

The nurse on duty explained Chad's dad had been
admitted, but could not furnish further information,
other than the two would have to wait it out.

"C'mon Preppy."

Matty pulled at the back of Chad's shirt, a little
shirttail seeping out of his pants.

"But we've got to see my dad. And what about my bro
and Aidan?"

"Problem?"

"Dad!" Chad called out, running over to his
step-father.

Throwing his arms around Steve, he used the endearing
term, rarely heard these days, regarding visits vs.
busy lives. Matty kind of wondered about the identity
of the police officer, with Steve. Getting closer, it
became too obvious, Matty trying to make out the name
on the little metal title-bar.

"Peter Nelson?" Matty questioned, reading the name
right off.

"And you are?"  Offering a hand, the thirty-two  year
old police officer inquired.

"Matthew Bridges... most guys call me Matty."

"Oh, of the `famous' Bridges of West Richlan, I take
it?"

"I don't know about famous," Matty replied, feeling up
the big warm hand.

"Bridges Lane? Bridges Environmental Center? Bridges
Real Estate?"

"Yeah, I'm related to her. My mother," Matty offered a
smile.

"I figured so, it being a small town."

"Um, do you think I can have my hand back?"

"Sure. Sorry `bout that," Pete replied, loosening his
grip, adding a smile.

Matty could tell right away Pete's preferences. He
figured he'd set the record straight.

"By the way, Chad here is my partner!"

Grinning, Pete immediately followed up with, "I didn't
know I was that obvious!"

"Sometimes it doesn't have to be."

"Oh? How's that go?" Officer Nelson asked.

Quite impressed with the stature of the police
officer, Matty figured no harm in scanning the bod of
the blond, blue-eyed bombshell, stuffed into the navy
outfitting, adorned with metal and apparatus, fitting
for a well kept police office.

"Depends on if my gaydar is turned on or off," Matty
offered.

"On? At which point did it switch on?"

"As soon as you shook my hand!" Matty smiled.

"Well, now that you know, could you keep it kind of
tight-lipped?"

"Not out yet?"

"Um," Pete responded, his finger nervously playing
with his shirt collar, "not exactly."

Gone was the laughter, turning to a serious manner.

"Don't worry. Your secret is secure with me. Um, can
you exercise your authority, to help us see Chad's
dad?"

"But I thought ," Pete pointed to Steve, "is
his.....?"

"No, not quite. Partially true, but more like
dad-in-law."

Pete had to think on it, looking at Steve and Chad,
talking.

"You mean his dad and Steve here are..."

"Partners."

"Looks like I have a lot to learn."

"You don't know any gay couples?"

"I might. It's not the first question I ask a person.
In fact..."

"I know. You can't ask it."

"Right."

"So? How about getting us some info, Pete?"

Already, Matty felt a close camaderie with the police
officer.

"Sure. Hold on a sec."

Matty segued back over to Chad and Steve, as Pete
waltzed over to the info desk. His body headed
forward, his attention eyed up the cuffs and other
areas of the police man's navy pants.

"Pete's going to see if he can get some info outta
that bitch!"

On this night, the waiting room of WRMH, had been
packed tighter than a can of sardines, spilling out
into the street. Officer Peter Nelson tried his
darn'dest to seek passage for Steve, Chad and Matty,
but for now doctors still worked on him, so it became
a no win situation at negotiation.

"Good nurse they have there at the counter."

Chad and Matty looked at Pete like he was from Mars.

"You're pulling our chain, aren't you?" Matty asks.

Pete looking down, smiled, then replied, "Um, I don't
think I'd go `that' low."

"You know what they mean!" Steve pointed out, more
serious-minded.

"Sorry. I know you're all feeling touchy, but the
reason I'm saying so is the tougher the person, the
more of an asset they are to the hospital. I mean,
it's a good thing he doesn't let everyone past the
front, for the sake of asking."

"Wait," Matty questions, "you're not saying this only
because you think he's... um..."

"Matthew Bridges!" Steve ventured to accuse.

"Never mind. Forget I asked it," Matty said, turning
red.

"Yeah," Chad scolded him, "you know don't even know if
Pete is..."

Chad hadn't heard the conversation Matty had with Pete
only a few minutes prior.

"You know," he finished his assumption.

"Oh he is, believe me!"

%

"Any JD left in that bottle?"

"No, Michael, but there's plenty more from where.....
that..."

As Christian looks over the extra stock, moving
bottles around on the shelf above the bar, he
searches.

Coming up empty, he turns around and says, "Um, if you
squeeze the bottle, you might get a little out of it.
Otherwise, you'll have to try something else?"

"I can't believe you two polished off the whole
bottle!"

"What bottle?" Justin asks.

"I can believe it!"

Kevin responds, nodding to Justin, sitting at one of
the small, round, wooden tables. Relaxing as if a man
with not a care in the world, he has both feet propped
up on the back of another chair. Leaning back, with a
curvature of the spine, the twenty year old's shirt,
unbuttoned right down the middle, drapes over his
shoulders, his dusting of dark hair across his chest,
visible to the two men's eyes, along with the darker,
defined trail dividing his taut abs.

"Hot looking guy, for a nerd," Michael says to Kevin.

"The other one isn't too bad looking either. Ooooh,
will you look at that!"

Taking his mind off of pouring out a substitute for
the JD, Michael shares Kevin's observation. Sitting
down, Christian knocks Justin's feet to the floor,
parking his ass right on Justin's lap. His probing
hands reach right in the sides of Justin's shirt,
pushing it back, over his shoulders, letting it hang
on the back of the chair. Dropping his head back,
Justin moans, squinting his eyes, as Christian runs
his tongue along  the top of Justin's shoulders,
followed by licking his light chest hair, down to his
nips. With more of a sucking action, his hand pawing
Justin's other nip, Christian pleasures him, licking
and sucking away.

"Maybe we should whip our dicks out, while we're being
entertained with live porn!"

"I got a better idea," Kevin suggests, "why don't we
take the glasses and bottle upstairs and finish what
we started last night?"

Michael wiggles his eyebrows, picking up a fresh
bottle, substitute for the JD. Kevin scoops up the two
glasses in each hand.

"Have fun guys!" Michael calls out.

Kevin jokes, "They didn't even hear ya!"

Climbing the stairs, Michael takes in the view of
Kevin's tight jeans. With the h'orderve he just
witnessed, his cock is already primed. Without much
ado, both strip out of their clothing.

"Nice!" Kevin says, staring at Michael.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah," Kevin replies, walking over to Michael.

His hands immediately encompass Michael's torso,
Michael's hairy belly touching Kevin's tight stomach.

"Actually you surprise me Kevin."

"Oh? How so?"

His hands `handling' Kevin Spangler's shoulders, hands
exploring, running them through the lush fur covering
Kevin's pecs.

"Well, it's not every man who enjoys being with a guy
who's overweight."

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin', Michael. I love," As
Kevin is pleasuring Michael with his words, his mouth
is making an addendum to the exploration, "a meaty,
hairy bear."

"Mmmmm," Michael replies.

It's not long before Kevin helps fulfill Michael's
dream, a muscled man, making love to his slightly
overweight body, tongue and hands exploring, licking
the thick hair covering his chest, his tongue painting
a line down, over his belly. His knees going to the
floor, the twenty-six year old slides his tongue right
into Michael's navel.

"Ooooooh yeah!" Michael calls out.

As Kevin tongues out the pungent bellyhole, his hand
is already working the thirty-one year old's balls,
juggling the two orbs in his hand. Breaking his tongue
free, Kevin looks down briefly before hand feeding
himself one of Michael's delectable orbs. Looking up,
all he sees is Michael's neck, as he drops his head
backwards, at the touch of tongue to his balls.

"What'd ya stop for?"

Smiling, Kevin replies, "I thought maybe you're tired
of standing there and want to `rest'?"

"Sure," Michael says, a hidden agenda already in his
`brief'case.

Heading for the bed, he lays faced down, grabbing the
pillow as if holding a lover. Kevin scratches his
head, pondering.

"What'samatter, Kev? Y'never rimmed a bear's ass
before?"

"No, it's not that. I mean, I've only been with an
otter. No bear, but...."

"But what?"

"All that ass hair, man!"

Sure enough, as Kevin stares, climbing onto the bed,
the closer he got, the less flesh he could see, as
tufts of short hair protruded from Michael's ass.

"You've got more hair on your ass than I've got in my
armpit!"

"Repulses you, does it?"

"Not at all," Kevin replied, licking his lips.

"Then what're you waiting for. You come to my cafe....
now eat!"

Both get a chuckle out of Michael's joke. But then
Kevin gets down to serious matters. His hand first
feels up the hairy mass. Leaning over, his takes his
first taste of bear's ass.

%

"Um, how about I keep the desk nurse busy and you two
kind of wander up the main drag?"

"You mean you're going to break the law for us, Pete?"

"Nah. Just bend it alittle. Plus, I thought I would
try out some gaydar stuff on him."

Even though down in the dumps, the police officer's
humor has lifted their spirits a tad.

"Just wait a minute while I get him worked up in a
conversation," Pete lays out his devious plan to them.
"Then when I get his back turned toward the main
corridor, you three make your move."

"Sounds like a plan," Steve says. "Thanks."

"Yeah, thanks, Pete," Matty replies, again shaking the
warm hand.

"No problem."

"And Pete?"

"Yeah Matty?"

"Don't get into trouble. We all don't have the gift of
`gaydar'."

"Yeah," Chad adds, "he was such a bitch before. Be
careful."

Smiling, Peter Nelson walks over to the nurses
station, waiting for the latest bout of visitors to be
processed. Out of the fifteen, asking about Barry Barr
and his two sons, fifteen are sent off to the waiting
room. Like a charm, Peter starts up a conversation,
slowly stepping to the side of the desk, dragging the
desk jockey's head to the south, as the trio heads
towards the north side of the hospital.

"C'mon guys!" Steve says, almost whispering.

It was an easy plan and the three slipped by, heading
into the hallway, through the double doors, as Peter
wooed the nurse's attention away.

"Yeah, cops kind of turn me on."

"Really?" Peter beams.

"Say, what time is your shift over with?"

"Four A.M."

"I get off at five. Why don't you head over here and
pick me up?"

Each adlibbed the conversation, cop, to desk clerk.

"I could go home and shower before."

"Oh no. I want you nice and sweaty for me."

"Cool," the thirty-two year old police officer
resounds, as he turns to leave. "I'll be back for you
later then, Hans."

"And Pete?"

"Yeah," the police officer replies, coming back to the
desk.

In a hushed tone, Hans, the desk clerk, strongly
suggests, "make sure you're in full uniform, with a
complete utility belt?"

"I can't bring my gun."

"I know. But make sure you're fully equipped?"

The over-six-foot nurse adjusts his package, behind
the desk, before doing some computer catch up work.
After Peter's attention he's totally oblivious the
three men are not standing in the foyer of the
hospital. As for Peter, heading out of the hospital,
he's elated his gaydar worked, securing a date with
Hans Wenzl!

%


"You sit there nice and steady, Philip, so this guy
can take a picture of your hand."

"Okay, dad-Callan, but it hurts something fierce!"

"Well of course it does. You probably have some pieces
of glass stuck in there, but we'll find out soon
enough. Roll'em, Bill."

"Is this your kid, Callan?"

"Oh no. Neighbor."

"Oh, I wondered. He calls you `dad'."

"We're close."

As Callan steps out of the room, Bill wished he were
closer!

%


Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.