Date: Sun, 15 Jul 2007 17:57:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Natures Trail 11

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's Trail" 11
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Man, how'd you like those hot frats, Jim?"

"Yeah, what a kicker," Jim says to Connor. "In science
class, I saw this hot blond... had to be a senior, in
a long white trench coat. What a hottie!"

"Oh, I know who you mean. Hey, that wasn't any senior.
He's one of the professors!"

"Really? He's so young!"

"What do I know. When in doubt..."

The two teens say together, "Ask Maury!"

"Ask me what?" Maury says, coming in the back door of
the kitchen.

Connor says, "Some dude in a white coat, in Jim's
science class."

"Yeah," Jim says, "I thought he was a senior, but
Connor thinks he's a professor."

Maury rattles off, without thinking, "Dr. Aldo
Perriand, PHD from the University of Hawaii. Double
major in geology and volcanology. A real firecracker,
I tell you."

"He's gay?"

Laughing, Maury, says, "He `thinks' he's bisexual, but
someday he'll wise up to the true facts."

"You... you've had sex with him?" Jim questions.

"Bite your tongue, Jimmy-boy. You know two tops don't
mix!"

"How am I supposed to know!"

Connor asks, "I wonder if he's hot in bed?"

Maury, who observes very few rules, says, "Want to
find out?"

"You're kidding?" Connor asks him.

Jim jumps in with, "Connor! I can't believe you're
thinking about it! You don't even know the man!"

Again, the laugh of the devil, Maury states, "But I do
and I'm sure good Professor Perriand wouldn't
hestitate to plug up a nice teen hole such as yours!"

"Maury!" Jim yells at him, "Don't encourage him!"

"I wouldn't do it anyway," Connor tells Jim, "you know
that!"

More laughter follows, as Maury says, "Yeah, you guys
only do threeways with me!"

"It wasn't a threeway and you know it, Maury!" Jim
barks at him.

"What do you mean? There I am laying out in the bed,
Connor's got his lips sealed about my cock and your
fucking him. What do you call that?"

The boys knew they'd been had.

Connor enlightens him, "Okay, so we had three guys in
a bed. You and I only did oral sex. Jim is the only
one who did anal and it wasn't with you, so there!"

Still in a giddy nature, Maury says, "Yeah, but as
soon as I let loose of my load, you couldn't suck
enough of it down. Good to the last drop, huh?"

Maury laughed his ass off, but Connor and Jim failed
to see the hilarity, though they smirked.

"Still," Jim replies, "the science guy is bi, so he
doesn't want to hook up with gay guys."

"I dunno. He might be able to fit us into his busy
planner."

"We told you," Connor stresses, "we're not doing any
threeways."

"I'm not suggesting a threeway... but four could prove
interesting!"

"Oh no," Connor says, "you three top guys with me?
Shit! I'll drown in all that cum!"

Again, laughing in a jovial manner, Maury says, "Oh,
so you're thinking about it?"

"Maury?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"Let it go, huh?"

Maury let it go. For the moment!

%

"Wow what a day!"

"You look a little whacked out," Michael told Kevin,
as he sunk into one of the booths of the cafe.

"Care for a little nip?"

Smiling, Kevin says, "Sure. Open your shirt!"

"For your information, I meant something from the
bar!"

"Oh."

Kevin knew Michael's meaning, but his tastebuds
weren't convinced he would like a brandy over the
nip-meat!

"So, tell me about today," Michael asks, setting down
on the red vinyl cushion across from his lover,
setting a small glass in front of each of them.

"I need help."

"Need help?"

"Yeah. When Barr's & Bridges was a little supermarket,
I could do everything myself, but with the triple
square footage, I can't do it anymore Michael."

"So, did you forget we live in a college town? I'm
sure there's some college frat who needs some extra
bucks in his or her pocket."

"I was thinking of somebody older."

"Oh. Then it wipes the slate clean. How about an ad in
the paper?"

"I could do that. But for right now, I don't think
it's feasible."

"Why not?"

Kevin looked at his drink, then swallowed the
half-filled glass of JD.

"There's something you're not telling me, Kevin. Now
spit it out."

"I... I.. well, the truth of the matter is, I don't
have the money to hire another guy."

"Yes, and?"

Kevin tipped the shot glass to his lips, letting the
last two drops fall onto his tongue.

"Be right back," Michael said.

In a jiffy, he was plopping his ass back down on the
cushy seat, the whole bottle of JD making a thud as it
landed on the table. Michael tipped it over, saying,
"Well?"

Lifting his shotglass, Kevin met the exiting liquid.
He downed half of it, then rolled the small glass
between both of his hands, thinking.

"Maybe if I get you drunk, you'll level with me,"
Michael said, again tipping the bottle.

"No. No more. You don't have to go to extremes to make
me talk."

"Then?"

"You see, when I struck out on my own, I could have
taken on other accounts, but I didn't want to spread
myself thin."

"Understandable."

"So I only took on Barr's & Bridges. It kept my head
just above water, giving me enough rent for a room
over on Cherry Tree Lane. Remember I told you about
the old lady I rented a room from?"

"I remember. So?" Michael asked taking a sip.

"Like I said, I made enough just to get by on. Now
that I'm living here with you, I've been able to save
a little, but I started to get plagued by problems."

"The delivery truck breaking down?"

"Yeah. Even though Hank, down at the station gave me a
break, the repairs pretty much soaked up my savings.
Michael, I don't have enough to hire. What can I say?
I'm stuck and what's worse, starting tomorrow, to meet
the demands, I'm going to have to work til almost
closing."

Seeing the dire straits Kevin was in, toppled over by
worry, he felt compelled, from the heart to extend his
kindness. Reaching across the table, he made Kevin to
stop fidgeting with his glass, taking both hands in
his.

"I want to help."

"I knew you were going to say that. No, Michael. I'm
not going to take advantage of you."

"Now you've done it," Michael retreated, breaking off
the tender feeling up of Kevin's hands.

"What did I do?"

Smirking, Michael replies, "You went and insulted me,
that's what!" Looking around, seeing Christian taking
cash at the register, toning his voice down, he leans
in and tells Kevin, "You think I've been fuckin'
around with you for no reason? Huh?"

"Well... I...."

"Dammit, Kevin. If you haven't felt it yet... the
strong feelings I have for you... dammit, if you don't
feel love back for me, then get up right now and head
for the door!"

They were strong words. Serious words, spoken with
true conviction. Kevin sat there, biting his lip,
thinking if he hit the door, walked out, something
terribly important would be missing from his life,
draining his soul.

"I... I can't do that..." His head sank down, chin
almost hitting the open V of his shirt.

Hands moving across the table, Michael tenderly says,
"Kevin, look at me."

He stilled sulked.

"Look at me, Kevin," Michael said more forcefully, but
with tenderness.

"What?"

"Aside from loving you with my heart and soul, I think
we make a good pair."

"I suppose."

"I know it came as a surprise to you when the workers
walked in the cafe two weeks ago and started tearing
the place apart."

"I guess," he answered solemnly.

"Well that's not going to happen again. If we're going
to be a couple, I'm going to be sharing not only my
heart and my bed, but everything else. If we're going
to make this union work, we both have to be honest
with each other."

"Okay," Kevin agreed.

"Now, how much do you need to pull you out of the
red?"

"I'm not in the red."

"But I detect you're pretty close to being there!"

"Yeah. I guess," Kevin replied, still reluctant to
give up his woes.

"So what's it going to be? Ten grand?"

"Okay. I'm going to let you have it," Kevin finally
opened up. "The truck is a lemon. Hank says it's going
to keep sapping money out of my bank account."

"So what you need is a new truck."

"That's about the size of it."

"How much?"

"Michael, I can't ask you to buy me a truck."

"Y'know that wasn't some big long drawn out speech I
just made. Let me be blunt, Kevin. Suppose I fork over
the money for a new truck. Are you going to up and
leave me?"

"Now you're making me mad, Michael. What the fuck kind
of question is that?"

Getting up, slapping both hands on the table,
everything jumps, nearly knocking over the bottle of
JD. All eyes in the cafe focus on the loud
altercation.

"Kevin, sit down. I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean
anything by it. Just a wrong choice of words."

Kevin sits. All sweated up with emotions, he stabs the
napkin holder with his fingertips, drawing out six or
seven pieces. He wipes his face and around the back of
his neck. "I'm sorry too," he finally says.

"How about we... start again.. but without all the
drama?"

Michael hopes his choice of words are not provocative.

"Sure. I'm sorry for the outburst."

"So, can we talk about this, as a couple. Not just
one-sided?"

"I..." Kevin was almost ready to belabor the point of
Michael shelling out big bucks, but then his glance
caught him. He read the calm Michael felt inside and
it dictated a likewise behavior. So, he changed his
wording, giving in, realizing this is the guy he
wanted to spend all time with. "I was surfing the
internet, saw something."

"And that would be?"

"A medium sized cube truck."

"Want to elaborate on that?"

For the time being, Kevin skirted around the going
price, describing the ins and outs of the body of the
truck, revealing, "It's a Chevy Kodiak."

"And the price ticket?"

"You know, I could probably get an early model one,
secondhand..."

"Kevin, we don't want you getting another lemon now,
do we?"

"No."

"So, shock me. How much is a 2007 Kodiak?"

Licking the sweat off of his five o'clock shadow above
his lip, his right hand slipping inside his shirt,
rubbing his sweaty, hairy chest, he tried to work up
the courage to reveal the price ticket. "Um, sixty-two
grand?" He replied, squinting up his face, as if
hearing a squealing sound, unbearable to the ears.

Michael nodded, sitting back in his seat,
contemplating, replying, "I could have the money moved
over into..." he almost said `my', "our checking
account by Friday. When do you want to go pick it
out?"

Kevin went straight for the bottle, overriding the
shot glass, take a hefty gulp. "Just like that? You
have that kind of money?"

Smiling, Michael replies, "I've been in business for
years. I bought the cafe decades ago when it should
have been torn down, but fixed it up instead. I was a
gay man with only an interest in working. I saved.
Invested. What else do I have to spend my money on?"

"But for me?"

"Oh, don't get me started, Kevin Spangler!" Michael
warned him, threatening him with a spoon.

%

"Guess what kiddies?" Barry says at the dinner table,
surrounded by the entire Clark-Barr clan.

"Who you talking to?" Tom asks.

"Those two," Barry points out Philip and Aidan with
his fork.

"Us?" the two preteens ask.

Directing more to Aidan, but also Philip he says, "You
better start feeling good. School starts on
Wednesday!"

"What?" Philip questions, "Only one more day to swim?"

"You've been swimming everyday for the past month.
Time to wring you two out!"

Steve interjects thoughts to how Barry came by this
information.

"Our fearless superintendent called me. Seems the
elementary and junior high schools have been certified
`clean' by the county inspectors," Barry relayed to
everyone.

"What about the high school?" Seventeen year old Eric
asks.

"There's a chance we could move back in next week, but
for the rest of the week, it's back to WRCC."

"Cool!" Denis and Mark call out.

"Oh, by the way," Steve brings up, "I hate to put a
downer in your cheerful thoughts, but a certain math
teacher I was chatting with, clued me in that if two
certain seniors didn't have an excuse to him by
tomorrow, they were going to be marked `cut'!"

Barry's and Steve's eyes were on Mark and Denis, as
they squeamishly moved their asses around on the
chair. Visibly they could see Mark nudge Denis in the
ribs.

"Well... ah," Denis starts out, playing with his
spaghetti with his fork, twirling it around on his
plate, making designs, "y'see, Coach Hollister
said..."

Right away, Barry says, "I don't care what Coach
Hollister said. This isn't about him. So stop passing
the buck!"

Philip and Aidan sat there, with their mouths formed
into little o's, eyes wide opened.

Steve said, "Eric?" when he heard the sixteen year old
comment, "Damn!" almost too soft to hear.

"Sorry," Eric said, but he wasn't their focus at the
moment.

Then his partner in crime, Mark, blurted out, "Yeah,
we cut Mr. Hanson's class."

Steve picks up the responsibility, as part of the
parenting team, "You know, math is more important than
swimming. You two aren't even registered for it."

"But dad," Denis started in.

Barry cautioned him, "Let your father finish."

"I think Mr. Hanson was being a good sport about it,
rather than turning in a cut slip. But more
importantly, anything like a cut gets on your records,
how do you think it will look on your college
transcript?"

"Boys?" Barry prompted for an answer.

"Not good," Mark finally said.

Steve kicked in, "Now what am I supposed to write on
the excuse for tomorrow? Do you want me to lie?"

Philip and Aidan sat there, stunned. Tom and Eric
right away took this as a lesson to be learned. At
least not to cut and `get caught'. For now they just
thought how Mark and Denis were up `shits-creek',
without a paddle!

"May I add something here, please, if I may?"

All eyes turned towards the silent side of the table,
where Berk and Max sat.

"Yes, Berk?" Steve answered.

"I think it would be a good idea if Mark and Denis
wrote out the notes of excuse."

"Us?" Denis answered for the two.

"Yes. A letter of apology to Mr. Hanson, explaining
the reasons for not attending his class. In it, you
will explain this idiot thing you do."

"Sounds like a plan," Steve said, smiling.

"But dad," Mark protested, "Mr. Hanson wants the
excuse from you."

"Yeah," Denis jumps in, "he's not going accept
something signed by us."

Barry enters his opinion, "He will if you put some
thought into it. Make it convincing boys. Case
closed!"

Mark and Denis didn't like the decision they would
have to abide by, but they didn't have a choice. What
a bummer!

"Dad, our bikes are all rusty," Philip comes out of
nowhere with.

Instead of looking to Philip and Aidan, the dads look
over to Berk.

"He is correct," Berk tells them.

"Any chance of salvaging them?" Steve inquires.

"They would require a good amount of money to
refurbish, but I have a different concern."

"Oh?" Barry asks.

"Yes. The bikes. They are too small for the children."

"Well, that's a different story," Steve remarks.

Denis, in an attempt to redeem themselves, interjects,
"Seb's Army & Navy sells bikes."

There's a lull in the conversation, the dads looking
to Denis, as if asking `what does this have to do with
the price of eggs in China?'

"You lost me," Barry tells him.

"Mark and I are going to apply for jobs there. If we
get hired, we can get a discount, maybe."

"That sounds like a big `if'," Steve says.

"At least we're trying to do something, okay?"

Tom and Mark noticed the attitude, the chip on Denis'
shoulder, like right away, then shifted their
attention to the dads at the table.

"I don't like your tone of your voice, Denis. Now
apologize to your father."

Swallowing, Denis says, "Yeah-okay-I'm-sorry."

Barry, unconvinced of the emotion behind the apology,
says, "Denis, you can excuse yourself and go to your
room."

Backing out, making this awful screech on the floor,
pressing his ass down on the chair, as hard as he can,
he gets up to leave, saying, "Whatever."

After Denis leaves, Steve comments, "I don't know
what's gotten into him."

Mark slips, "Coach Hollister yelled at him today."

Of course it opened a new chapter of discussion, but
Barry quenched it with, "We'll talk about this later.
You're father and I have have another matter to take
up with you and Denis, so we'll discuss it when Denis
has cooled down. Now, let's see if we can enjoy the
rest of this meal in peace?"

"Oh, by the way," Steve smiles, looking at the
youngest boys, "did you happen to make coffee for us,
Philip or Aidan?"

"Yeah," Philip broke the icy environment, keyed up
with the good deed he and Aidan did this morning. "Did
you like it?"

"Um," Steve looks to Max, who puts his finger to his
lips, not to mention the fact coffee dripped out of
the maker, more like sludge. "It was tasty. Kind of on
the strong side. I think before you two decide to make
it again, you see Max for instructions on how to
measure it out?"

Neither the dads, nor Max let on to the method in
which they filled the basket to the brim, using at
least a half of a pound of coffee. When the water was
pumped from the reservoir, it had no where to go, but
overflowing the soggy grinds. What a mess Max had
cleaning up the countertop and floor. Steve thought of
reprimanding, but their intentions had been too upbeat
to cut down.

"Maybe next time we can make pancakes, too!" Philip
said.

This time Max spoke up, offering some cooking skills
addressed first before their first solo cooking
adventure.

%

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