Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2007 10:05:08 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Natures Trail 13

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" 13
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Next morning, with most of the family at the breakfast
table, Max divied up the scrambled eggs and bacon.
Reporting to the kitchen, both Denis and Mark reached
across the breakfast table, to the upper right of two
placesettings,  scooped up their glasses of OJ and
gulped them down.

Max asked, "No breakfast?"

"No time," Denis replies. "Matt'll be here any minute
to pick us up!"

Barry and Steve make eye contact, but don't verbally
react, other than returning to them, "See you later."

"Max showed us how to make coffee today," Philip says.

Aidan adds, "I shoveled in the coffee and Phil dumped
in the water."

Joking, Steve asked, "Who flipped the switch?"

"Wiseguy!" Max said.

"I think it tastes mighty splendid," Barry says,
taking another sip from his mug.

"Cool!" the younger boys say, in unison.

Earlier, as Philip and Aidan grabbed the can of
coffee, this time Max had been on the scene. He didn't
go through a long dirge of yesterday's clean up, when
he came out to the kitchen, stunned by not only the
smell of burnt coffee, but grinds and trickling coffee
waterfalling over the countertop. But he made the
point of not turning on an appliance, without sticking
around, similar to a pan of food on the stove and not
watching it.

After eating, the two youngest boys helped Max clear
the table, even rinsing off the dishes before placing
them in the dishwasher, til he alerted them, "That's
enough guys. Your dads want you to get your stuff
together. Thanks for your help today."

Max had to laugh, when Aidan replied, "No sweat,"
Philip following with, "It wasn't so bad."

%

"You said that last night."

"Oh, I did? Did I mention the part about Michael
giving me a raise?"

Justin stood there, drying himself off from the
shower, as Christian stared in the mirror, turning his
face to one side, to shave it.

"Yes you mentioned that part, plus the car, new
position, hiring an assistant manager..."

"Oh," Christian replied, his voice turning low-keyed,
responding, "I guess you're tired of hearing me
rambling on about it?"

Stuffing his towel in betwee the bar and the wall,
Justin creeps behind his lover, grabbing him from the
back, arms circling Christian's torso, pubes matching
up to ass.

"I think all of this happening to you is great,
Christian. And one of the best things about it, is me
getting to share it with you."

His face turning from a pouty look to a small grin,
Christian picks up the washcloth, wipes the excess
shaving soap from his face, turns around in Justin's
arms, like his bod is coated with oil and matches up
their lips.

After they kiss, Christian says, "There's one more
thing and I know I didn't mention it."

Each bending back a  bit, separating their chests, but
keeping their waists glued together, Justin questions,
"Are you sure?"

"Positively." After a brief pause, Christian states,
"After I get done with college, I was thinking... um,
we could.... get married?"

Looking at Christian, staring deep into the blond's
blue eyes, Justin replies, "I like the idea."

"Really?"

"Yup, but one thing..."

Christian's smile lost some of its luster. "What?"

"I don't think we should wait."

"No?"

"Nope," Justin says. "Why should I chance losing you
to one of those college fratboys?"

"Ain't gonna happen, but for you, I'd get hitched
today, if we could!"

They embraced for what seemed like eternity.

"Hey, what time is it?"

"I don't know," Justin said. "I don't wear a watch in
the shower."

Walking off to the bedroom, Christian sighed, "Oh God,
I think I'm going to be late for the second day in a
row!"

"Not if I drive you."

"Like I have a choice, with my wheels in the garage?"

As of last week, their clothes had gotten so mixed up,
the two reorganized, combining briefs, socks and tees,
in the same drawer. "Think fast!" Christian called
out, tossing Justin a pair of socks, followed by a
pair of briefs. The balls of socks bounced off
Justin's chest, rolling under the bed, but he scored
two points, his arm going through one of the leg holes
of the tossed briefs. Right on cue, after Christian
had stood up from putting on his socks, Justin was
there, holding his white shirt to put on. Feeding his
arms into the shirt, Justin, already in a tee shirt,
reached between his lovers arms and ribs, buttoning it
up like it was covering his own chest. At the same
time, Justin smiled, feeling his cock rub against
Christian's butt, his briefs filling up quickly.
Slipping his pants on, Christian stuffed his shirt
tail inside, then zipped and buckled up. By this time,
Justin had his jeans on, but his erection hadn't
softened.

"Why at a time like this!" Christian joked, seeing the
bulge as plain as day. Walking over to Justin, he
reached out, groping his mate, feeling up the hardness
of his crotch. It drove Justin insane. "Later!"
Christian said, pointing to his watch. Justin whined,
after getting so turned on.

%

"Right after last period, I'll meet you at the
entrance to the gymnasium, Jim."

"Why? So you can check out the hot swimmers as they
leave?"

"No, doofus, because our car is parked near there,"
Connor tells him. "Yesterday it was chaos finding
you."

Walking past the gynasium entrance, Connor and Jim
happened by their buds.

"Hey man," Jim called out to Denis, giving him a cool
hug, looking to the side, seeing Matt.

"Who's the hottie?" Connor asked.

Mark buzzed by the quartet, saying, "See you inside."

"Matt, these jokers are my best high school buds, Jim
and Connor. Matt and I are kind of going together,"
Denis informs them.

"Hell, Denis, you're not even in college and you've
landed yourself a fratboy!"

"Hey, do you mind, Jim?" Denis asks.

Good-naturedly, Matt replies, "Thanks for the
compliment guys, but we better get going."

"Us too," Jim tells them.

"C'mon, Jim. Let's flee before we're late?"

%

"Would you believe this is our last day here,
swimming?" Philip asked the gang, as they positioned
their beach towels on the cement apron, surrounding
the pool.

None of the pre-teens refuted the fact.

Callan, who had the day off to watch them, replies,
"It's not like you don't have the luxury of an indoor
pool at home?"

"This is different," Aidan says.

"I suppose," Callan said, sitting down on his towel,
then stripping off his tank top.

No sooner had he stripped it, then a loud sound, the
door from the swim team's lockerroom sounded, on the
rebound from hitting the wall. To match the
disturbance, loud voices bellowed out, some curses
abounding. One look over to the kids and one of the
seniors, Nils Kjaerholm, tells them, "Hey guys, cool
it on the cursing?"

Scott Cutler, in a playful mood, slapped his hand over
Tony Gagliardi's mouth, smashing his chest up against
Tony's back. With a quick reaction, Tony swung Scott
around, putting him in a full nelson, his mouth freed
from it's prison. Scott's abs pulled tight, in the
wrestler's position, Tony announced, "Free
gut-punches!"

Walking over in front of Scott, Adam Charbonneau made
a threatening fist. However, before any punches, fake
or real could be thrown, the assitant coach, Sam
McMillan entered the fray, calling out, "Okay. Break
it up guys!" Then, in sadistic overtones, Sam
announces, "Fifty extra pushups, courtesy of Galiardi
and Cutler."

"What tha?" Tony reacted, freeing Scott from the
prison of his arms.

"Thanks a lot, Scott," Adam says, relaxing his hand,
slapping Scott in the stomach.

"Dah, does it look like I had a choice?" Scott argues
the point.

"You started it," Tony told Scott, slapping his whole
front up against Scott's back.

Turning his head, Scott says to Tony, "You're so gay!"

"One never knows," Tony jokes, laughing, wiggling his
eyebrows as if to suggest something.

Walking over to the bleechers, Scott tells Tony, "Suck
my dick!"

Adam, walking ahead of the two, turns his head and
replies, "Now `that' I'd like to see!"

"Not in this lifetime," Tony tells them, even though
he seems to have an insatiable desire for `tasting'.

Yet, what neither Charbonneau, nor the others can
read, are Tony's true feelings. Often, he's stolen
glances of Scott's 9.5c in the showerroom. Once,
horsing around, Scott firmed up his piece til it
became a hard boner, goofing off on Juan Ibarra,
saying, "Suck this!" That day, Tony almost saved
Juan's ass, offering to take on the job, til Juan
stood up for himself, turning his hand over, flicking
his fingernails against Scott's bloated cock, making
him scream out and bend over, cursing, because the
head of his cock stung so bad. Of course Scott became
the victim of the team's laughing, Kevin Kallis
calling out, "Oh shit that's gotta hurt!"

"Gagliardi! Cutler! Are you with us or do I have to
impose another fifty pushups?" McMillan said, after
his surveying the group, with two members missing,
from the team's stretched out position over the
bleechers, pecs and abs taut, biceps bulging, to do
their extended warmup.

>From the team, led by Tim Hadani, they were badgered,
"You guys get your asses over here and in gear?"

Cutler stepped up on the bleechers, hurdling three
stairsteps, til he stretched his arms forwards, arcing
the wooden planks.

"Hold it there, Gagliardi!"

Tony wondered `what now?', as Coach McMillan's hand
lay flat on his chest.

"What's up coach?" Tony asked, standing with hands on
hips, peering down at his own frontal region, where
McMillan's hand glazed over his pecs.

"When's the last time you shaved this chest?"

"I don't see anything," Tony said.

Right next to Tony's left nip, Coach McMillan plucks a
strand of hair.

"Owwwch! Oh shit, coach!" Tony gasps out loud.

"Y'know you're a real woosie, Gagliardi?"

Tony didn't say anything, following the twenty-eight
year old coach's gaze up into the bleechers, watching
him rubbing his chin. "Clark! Barr! Hustle down here."

Stopping in the `up' position of their pushups, Mark
looks at Denis, Denis to Mark, wondering why they're
being singled out. Getting up, they zigzag between the
other swim team members, watching deltoids and lats
being exercised to the max, hopping down from the last
rise of the bleechers.

"You wanted to see us, coach?" Denis asks.

"Yeah. You," McMillan chooses Denis, "I want you to
take Gagliardi here into the lockerroom and shave him
down."

Denis asks, "Shave him down?"

"Yeah," the coach paws Tony's chest and stomach, "All
this hair is going to slow him down, in the water."

"Um, coach?"

"What is it Gagliardi?"

"It really isn't all that much."

"Listen Gagliardi, you signed an agreement when you
joined the swim team. Do you remember what it said
regarding this?"

Tony swishes his mouth around, trying to recall the
rule. However, Denis blurts out, "It says if you want
to be a member of the swim team, you have to keep your
body smooth."

"Thank you, Mr. Clark."

"Um, yeah," Tony says, scratching his head, "I think
it's coming to me now."

"So, get in there and do it!"

"Um, coach?" Mark asks, his palm shoulder length, as
if raising it.

"What is it Barr?"

"Um, Denis never shaved a guy's body before."

"You old enough to shave?"

"I haven't yet," Mark replies, "but Denis does."

Coach instructs Denis, "Same as your face, except make
his chest and stomach smooth."

"Still," Mark tells him, a bit nervously, "it sounds
tricky. I mean, what happens if he accidentally cuts
Tony?"

Turning to Denis, Coach McMillan asks, "What about
you?"

"Me?" Denis answers, shrugging his shoulders, "I don't
have any problem with it."

So, it wound up where Mark was sent back to the
bleechers. Denis and Tony headed off to the
lockerroom.

%

"Goofing off again?"

"Will ya give me a break, Tom?"

Kevin Letterli stood by the bay door of Barr's &
Bridges, a coke bottle in his hand, shirt unbuttoned
to the third eye, taking in the breeze.

"You know I'm only kidding, bro."

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it, Tom. Do you know
you can be overbearing at times?"

Tom walked over behind his brother, placing a hand on
his shoulder, calmly rubbing it.

"I know I'm hard on you sometimes, Kev, but like I
promised dad when he passed away..."

"I know. You promised him you would take care of me.
But I'm not fifteen anymore, Tom. I'm a nineteen year
old man."

Letting his hand fall from Kev's shoulder, Tom came
around, standing in front of his brother, blocking his
sweaty bod from the sun's rays.

"You're right, Kev, but sometimes I can't help
distinguishing between fifteen and nineteen. All I
want is to protect you and for you to be happy."

"Is that why you're being an asshole to John?"

"John?"

"Torkelson?"

"I know John's last name is Torkelson, but I don't
know where you're headed with this, Kev."

"This past weekend it seems like you were gunning for
him."

"We needed the help up front. I had both of you
bagging."

"I'm not talking about that. You complained to him for
just about everything he did... `don't leave the
pallet jack in front of the door, John'... `don't
stack the chicken in the case like that, John'...
`don't...'"

"Okay-okay," Tom stopped him, with his right hand up.
"Maybe I was a little too rough on the kid."

"'Kid'. That's it, Tom. Like me, he's not a kid. John
is eighteen years old. Maybe I don't get it, but just
what is it you are protecting me from?"

"From not making a mistake..."

"What? Like you did?"

This is where the shit hit the fan. Dropping his hands
Tom turned around, walked the loading dock, rubbing
both palms together in front of him.

Snickering, exhaling, Kev followed him, this time
being the caring individual, placing his hand on his
brother's shoulder, saying, "I'm sorry Tom. It was a
cheap shot."

"No, Kev. I think rather you hit the nail on the
head."

"Huh? How's that go?"

His older brother tried to sum it up, "You're right,
Kev. I'm being over-protective of you. Like me, I
don't want you winding up with the wrong sort."

"Turn around, Tom. Look at me." With Kev's hand
sliding off of Tom's shoulder, he slowly turns to face
his brother. "Look, Tom. There's no way I can ever
make up the good life you've provided me, since dad
passed away. I wish mom could have at least been there
for us. I know I've never said this to you, but you
did a great job raising me. Heck, you're still raising
me, helping me pay for college. Doing more than a
brother should do."

"That's not what I'm talking about here. I'm not
talking about putting you through college, Kev."

"Right."

Reorganizing his thoughts, Kev turns his back to his
brother, stepping away a foot or so, then saying, "I
really like John."

Walking forward, stepping around Kev, to face him, Tom
says, "Why do you want to get mixed up with a guy
right now? You should be focusing on college... on a
career."

"Tom, I don't mean to keep bringing up old issues, but
you and Glenn were only sixteen. I'm nineteen, have my
roots planted in college, my mind set on developing a
career. I feel stable. Sure, I could have waited til I
was a grad student or completed college altogether,
but when a guy comes along, like John, who sweeps me
off my feet, I can't as easily put on the brakes and
say forget about him."

Digging his hands in his pockets, Tom says, "You're
really crazy about this guy, aren't you?"

"I think I love him."

"You think?"

"I like him very much. I more than like him," Kev
replies, with intent, waiting for the pause in their
conversation to pass.

"And what about John's feelings?"

"It's tough to speak for him. We just met, but we've
had time to spend together. When I'm laying with him,
we both get this warm feeling."

"So, you've bedded him?"

"We've spent one night together."

"You meet him in one day, spend one night together and
you're head over heels in love, Kev?"

Rubbing his face with both hands, Kev moans, like he's
up against a brick wall. In fact, walking over to the
cinderblock, he presses his forehead, with his feet
pivoted back. Strolling over to Kev, Tom places his
arms around him, holding him, his chest up against his
back.

"I'm sorry I'm being so rough on you, Kev. I suppose,
since you were fifteen, I've learned to protect you
and now need to realize you're a grown man, able to
make your own decisions... carve out your own life. If
John is who you really want, I won't stand between you
two."

Breaking his hold, Tom walks away, heading towards the
double doors of the stockroom. Halfway there, Kev
rushes over, stands in front of him and gives him a
kiss on the cheek, then a hug. "I'll never be able to
thank you for all you've done for me, Tom."

Returning the affection, Tom states, "And I don't
expect you to."

Kev lets Tom go. His brother leaves the stockroom,
holding the door open and lastly says, "Oh, I disagree
with you on the pallet jack... it shouldn't be left in
front of the door!"

The two exchange smiles.

%

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