Date: Mon, 30 Jan 2012 15:47:08 -0800 (PST)
From: Tchase Mcphee <survivalgame@rocketmail.com>
Subject: STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS 04

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,
of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages,
neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male
relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy
sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, 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 story, by law. Check
with your local laws regarding such.

% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use
protection.

%

STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS 04
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Need any help?"

He should have been repelled by the overlapping layers of cum stretching
far and wide over the surface of his chest, stomach and other areas,
dripping down the sides and over his shoulder, but more important than the
scented effect on his nose, Jean-Claude was more caught up in the only dude
who had not come, he looks up from his lying position, quitting the
strokes, "Yeah," he removes his hand, lubed by other guys' cockjuice.

Stepping over, in between Jean-Claude's bent knees, straddling the chest
press table, Louis grabs the eight inch horn of plenty, starts where
Jean-Claude left off, but throws a new twist into the twenty-two year old
trying to get off.

"Oh-my-god, Louis!" he exclaims, Jean-Claude doing a modest crunch. "You
had me entirely fooled."

Pulling his mouth off, like the end of a tootsie roll pop, Louis asks, "How
so?"

Because the eighteen year old had a white drip going down the underside of
his chin, Jean-Claude's finger wipes up from underside, depositing it on
Louis' tongue.

"Thanks!" Louis says, after a quick swallow. "Now, how did I surprise you?"

"You could have fucked me three time, you know?"

"Gerard was already inside you."

"After him?" Jean-Claude said, after Gerard came pulled out and
deposited his spunk on the lower back.

"I guess Davide was tired of your weak blow job?" Louis made note of Davide
pulling his long shaft out of Jean-Claude's throat, leaving an interval of
seconds between Gerard's fucking, release and his own implantation, after
Jean-Claude flipped back on his ass.

"Weak? Is that what it looked like to you?"

Louis fesses up, "Uh, maybe not. Tough to tell when Davide is fucking you
hard like that. Your throat must be sore, huh?"

Jean-Claude had to test himself, swallowing, replying, "Not too bad. I
suppose you want to fuck me too?"

"Well I hadn't thought about it," even though, after the third time he
spent his jizz, Louis had thought about it!

"Oh."

"Besides, Jean-Claude, I thought you were a top?"

"What I was thinking, except Davide turned on his cunning charm and... I
had to admit, for the first time, even though it was rough, when it came to
Gerard, his mild approach wasn't too bad?"

"I wouldn't know. I never was fucked by Gerard. In fact, never did anything
with him, but if I did, would not be..."

Like, throughout his whole life, Louis Lafeet, it not being his true
surname, but only a mental response to being recognized from his past as
the kid who took it from the bullies for the simple reason of being almost
the shortest kid in high school, for once felt accepted, for not such a
simple explanation, whereas his height mattered then, right now, what
mattered to the other models and `homosexual males', was size of the lower
spike.

Being a part of the supermodel-seeking group, he knew what the others
thought of Jean-Claude, today only learning he was not a total top, still
feeling out whether he was versatile. While the other models felt the need
to go wash the cum off themselves, freshen up their pubes and maybe horse
around a little, Louis did the quick approach, using one of the guys'
briefs, without them knowing it, to wipe off and in their absence, dig up
some more information about Jean-Claude.

"Would not be?" Jean-Claude, maybe as curious as Louis, only about himself,
looked for another opinion.

Sitting up, even though much of the residue had dried on Jean-Claude's
chest, a hand proved he was sticky as hell with cum, "Oh man am I a mess."

"You want to shower now and talk later, maybe?" It was also means by which
Louis might pick up a friendly ally.

"Nah. I'll wait till they're all done."

"Oh, okay."

Jean-Claude, without intention of absurd or ridiculous, thought he had to
keep explaining himself, all for the purpose of feeling embarrassment of
allowing every man in the room to expel his pent up emotion onto his bare
bod, "Y'know, don't want all this goo flowing to the floor at once and
`heaven-forbid' go and have one of them slip and fall!"

"I have an easy solution to that," Louis replies.

"Really? How would that go?"

"Instead of using the public shower, we could run back to my room?"

It was a hasty decision, not one which Louis had dwelt on for minutes
before, but after saying it, liked it very much!

However, Jean-Claude did mull it over for a little less than a minute,
foremost thinking if, he didn't want to shower publicly, he could have
raced back to his own room. Instead, here he was presented, not only by
Louis' brilliant notion, but also that eight inch prospect, "Y'know, that
sounds like a good idea?"

Around certain areas, like the gym, pool and the places where parties were
held at the compound, the models did not mind flaunting their flesh, but
certain unwritten rules were jotted down on the minds of the men, like
dressing semi-appropriately for traveling in between and at other compound
venues, like the tennis courts, basketball court and as Louis well knew,
grabbed two towels, giving hint to Jean-Claude by wrapping one around his
own waist.

%

"Looks like you're losing your boyfriend, Dean!"

"Boyfriend? What boyfriend?" Dean questions Scott as they survey a rack of
Quiksilver at the Surf Hut.

They were on two different wavelengths, Scott speaking of Dean and Michael,
whereas Dean not even thinking of boyfriends, especially since they had
just met and more considered, if referring to it as a kind of relationship,
would label it `friends'.

"You and Michael. You're going out on a date right?"

"Oh, I see where you're headed with this."

"So," Scott thinking he had it in the bag, "you're going out and then
afterwards `get it on' and then if thinks look good, maybe Michael and you
could live together?"

`Innocence', that's how Dean was looking at it! "Scott, `my son'," he
presented it, referring to how Michael perceived their sibling-hood, "you
have a lot to learn about meeting men."

"How do you mean?" Scott turned very serious.

"Listen, I like Michael..."

"I thought so," Scott replies, a big smile on his face.

"No, but not in the way you are thinking it, besides, because two men are
gay, are talking to each other, getting along, it doesn't mean we are out
to hook up, if I'm reading you right, like we're ready to hop out of bed
and head for the altar!"

`Altar'. That is a word Scott knew well, his aunt and uncle always dragging
him off to church. For awhile there he wondered why, in regards to
weddings, there were no men-men or women-women pair ups. Same with
baptisms, though he knew male couples adopt children and had baptisms at
other churches, none were performed at their church. But that one single
word, he had an idea what Dean meant, "You mean like getting married?"

"Like any other male-female relationship, it can take a lot of time and as
far as Michael and I am concerned, at least for myself, I'm not ready in my
life to take that leap of faith."

"You're an Indiana Jones fan too?"

Really, Dean didn't think Scott was evading the subject, "I've seen all
four, wasn't too impressed with the last one, but yeah, I liked the one
where he had to decide on taking the `leap of faith' or else say bye-bye to
his father."

Caught up in movie talk, Dean felt it refreshing to not talk about `guys',
`gay' and the like. It's the one thing he liked when he, Scott and Michael
were back at Abercrombie Kids, their threeway conversation, Michael taking
the helm and talking about surfing. His thoughts led him back to the
subject though, "There's so much about life, Scott. I hope you involve
yourself in it and take my advice and not get caught up in a relationship
before enjoying some of the things you like to do on an individual basis?"

Scott thought on it.

Dean didn't know whether Scott didn't like his explanation or just didn't
fully understand, "Like Michael. Would you believe he's been surfing in
Costa Rica?"

"He could have surfed with someone else?"

Dean didn't think about that, "Could be, but the thing is, he wasn't tied
down to a relationship, a job, and whatever complicates getting away to be
adventurous, instead of getting tied up in a mortgage and kids."

Like it has already been established in Dean's mind, Scott's maturity for a
fourteen year old and right now, with Scott rendering, "Why? Is that what
happened to you?"  Dean was floored as much as some dude sucker punching
him in the gut, him responding in a way to throw off his own personal
struggles of the past, "Maybe we should see if Michael has something for
you to try on?"

They walked over to where Michael and the salesclerk had been carrying on
conversation, Scott knowing he was onto something!

%

Whenever seeing opportunity present itself, Aksel was never one to shy away
from it. After leaving the Hansen compound, he went straight for the place
which always helped his to iron out his problems, `Cafe Alvarez-Delgado',
in the morning your usual coffee, donuts, eggs over easy place, come
afternoon light lunch and cocktails, but night came into full swing as the
local gay hangout. Right now, getting blown off by Gerard, Aksel was ready
for more than finger foods. Yet, he was conscious of funds. Sure, he had in
his pocket a `severance check' from Gerard, but he hoped to use
this eventually to get out of town. Right now he needed consoling and for
him, it came in the form of a bottle, possibility of strings attached,
scoping out a hot guy for `right now'.

He didn't have to look far. Sitting at the bar with his first martini in
front of him, he spots a single figure over in the corner, a plate of fries
and a burger, not sparing the ketchup, literally dipping his burger into
it, sopping it up and then, like the slob he presented himself as, pushed
as much as he could into his mouth.

Even as a suggestion of what the form the dude's bod took, hidden behind
the tabletop, gave Aksel palpitations on below. Oh how he had wished it
were evening hours, as he knew it could be, the cafe turned into the gay
club scene, it's usual night time facade, hardly a light lit from the
ceiling, which gave guys the opportunity to rub what irked them on the
most.

Keeping up with his sightseeing, he kept glancing between sips, until he
caught an eye from the one whom he spied upon. About to take another bite,
the dude hesitated, then bit into his burger. He started chewing, looking,
then chewing some more. After swallowing, he licked his lips. When he was
sure he caught Aksel's wandering eyes, the dude looked around quick then
nodded his head up and down once.

Aksel uses the same head language, motioning for the guy to come join him
at the bar. A ploy, he wanted to check out the goods before making any
commitments. He watched as the dude wiped his whole face it seemed, with a
swipe of his opened napkin. Aksel loved Gerard's tapered physique, but it
didn't mean he didn't think a beefy guy wasn't a preserved specimen of male
beauty. He cracked half a smile, watching the dude get up, grab his french
fries and head towards the bar. "Oh nice," Aksel says to himself in
a voice only he could hear, seeing the buttoned down shirt, slight tug at
the gut. If he was lucky, underneath would be a deep, hairy gut-hole to
sink his tongue into. Closer, he picks up on the pert nips showing against
the pulled shirt.

Right away he gets a pick line, discarding his own, "What's a hot guy like
you doing here all alone?"

Shopping the front of the dude's shirt, "Thought I'd stop in for lunch and
maybe more?"

"Got a name?"

"Aksel," and thinking right away this could play into his game,
"`sir'."

Doing what Aksel just did, do a bod scan, starting from the `v' of the
shirt, right down the line of buttons and back up, lest the other guy loses
interest, "I think I can do something for you. Got a place?"

But before he went any place with a stranger, "Got a name?"

"`Sir' for starters. If you behave you might get more!"

"I haven't a place. I'm from out of town. You have one?" Aksel coaxes.

"Sure. As soon as you get us a room at a motel?" said in a manner if Aksel
didn't, the deal was off. Yet, Dave was betting on his lucky stars this
dude wanted it and needed it bad.

Chugging the spit in the bottom of his martini glass, Aksel says, "Let's go
then."

Dave watches Aksel lead the way, picturing that ass. He could almost lick
his lips, thinking of turning it red with his belt, before busting it wide
open!

%

"I think..." Michael puts the finishing touches on securing Scott's
wardrobe, refitted into tubs and securing them under a roped tarp, "that
about does it."

"Thanks for taking us and my stuff home, Michael," Scott says.

Getting in the cab, of course Michael sat behind the wheel, Dean opening
the door for Scott.

"Don't you want to get in first, Dean?"

"Just get your butt in there," Dean replies, knowing where Scott was going
with his big bright ideas!

Mostly the chat on the way back to the Hansen compound circled around
surfing, Michael's friend, Buzz Kernel, whom he was offered a pad to crash
at for the summer, all set off by Scott asking Michael where he got the
bopping hula boy, attached to the dashboard.

Dean wondered if the hula boy was anatomically structured under the
lifelike grass skirt, but held his tongue!

"Left or right?" Michael asks, after exiting the main roadway.

Knowing the answer, even though new to the area, Scott says, "Roundtree
Hallow is to the left."

"You've picked up your sense of direction?" Dean says in a way which
sounded like a compliment.

To Scott, is sounded like Dean wanted to know how he developed such a
skill, "When I was nine, I think I was nine, doesn't matter I guess, I
lived in the mountains."

"Which mountains?" Michael asks.

"Tennessee Overhills. You know `em?" Scott stokes Michael's memory.

"Sure. Cherokee country."

Dean thought about it, sitting there and taking in the two conversing about
the American history of the Blue Ridge Mountains. As he had gathered from
Scott's interactions, plus previous opinion regarding him being more mature
for fourteen years old, he proved to be refreshingly smart. It also showed
something about himself. At one time he was more into education, but since
coming to work for Gerard Hansen, being around the models almost 24/7, he
had been swayed into their aura of conversation, settling around the sexual
nature of the gay male. There wasn't much solitude available other than his
own room, a modest, drab cubicle, which he was happy to wander out
from. However, no matter where he sought to wander, there were at least two
or three guys and with it being such, the conversation was about some dude
getting sucked or another dude getting fucked. Nothing wrong with that, as
long as you wanted to be hard all day, until you `had' to release
 the tension.

"What about you?" Dean was suddenly jogged from his reverie.

Pretending he was paying attention, "Nah, I don't know much about Indian
history."

While at the red light, Scott is the one to criticize, "We were talking
about stopping for a burger, Dean!"

"Oh! Right! Well, yeah," he tries covering up, "I was wondering about that,
I mean probably lunch has been on the table and cleared, back at the
compound."

Dean waited, pausing, like he was wondering if they were going to buy his
story.

Helping him out, Scott knowing Dean was in deeper than he could climb out
of, "Is there someplace in this dinky town where we can get a burger and
some fries?"

Michael just smiled.

"Cafe Alvarez, two blocks up," Dean replies.

Following Dean's easy directions, Michael pulls into the parking
lot, amazed, "Wow! Big place for a `dinky' town!"

The two adults having their little chit-chat, up pops from the center of
the seat, "I'm like starving. Can we eat?"

Both guys look to center seat after each other, Dean instigating a
bread-basket tickle to the ribs, "Hungry? You're nothing but flab!"

Jumping in, Michael helped, until Scott couldn't take it any longer,
laughing his ass off and shouting, "Stop! Stop guys! C'mon!"

They did, long enough to jack the handles of their doors open and scoot.

"Heyy-y-y-y-y-y-y! Wait for me!" Scott shouts, kicking open Dean's door
left ajar.

He catches up with them and is like Michael, fascinated with the sign
attached to a metal pole, "What's up?" he asks, poking his head in between
the two.

Dean already knew, Michael reading, "Cafe Alvarez-Delgado..."

Acknowledging the time Scott butts in, "Darn! We missed the donuts!"

"You don't need donuts, `flabby'!"

While there between the two, Scott took inventory, Dean's waistline versus
Michael, coming up with slim versus a slight muffin top. Then thinking,
perhaps Dean wasn't interested in Michael enough to start up a
relationship, maybe Scott should help, "Michael, you should get with Dean
and workout at the gym."

Michael had no objections. In fact, it was the reason he offered his truck
up for delivery options, because he wasn't about to allow Dean to exit his
life, chancing never seeing him again.

"Scott, don't press the guy."

Michael sticks up for Scott, "Oh, he's not pressing. In fact, I like
pressing!"

Scott was pretty sure what Michael meant, but in a nice way, because he
said it upbeat and backed it up with a cocky smile.

However, Dean erases the slate, "I thought your flabby stomach was so
hungry, Scott?"

Further reading of the sign, Michael states, "Oh, but breakfast is over and
they are serving drinks. Do you think they will allow Scott in?"

Edging towards the door, holding it open, Dean replies, "I got
connections!"

"Ami-i-i-i-igo!"

Michael says to Scott, "Good to have connections!" as Dean is welcomed by
open arms, a kiss to the cheek from the owner himself, Juan Alvarez Delgado
de Fernandez.

After brief introductions, the trio is left standing there for a moment.

Seeing the rope across the entrance to the `morning room', Scott limbos
under it, exclaiming, "Hey look guys!"

Turning around, Dean says, "Um, Scott, there's a reason why the rope is
there?"

"Okay," he responds in a low tone, admitting he's in the wrong.

About to bend backwards to play the `limbo' game again, Juan appears, a
spruced up waiter accompanying him, contradicting Dean, "No, no stay
there," he unlatches the rope. "My nephew, Miguel," he pats the twenty-one
year old on the shoulder, "will be at your disposal."

"Cool!" Scott says rushing into the room and picking out a table for them.

"Hold it! Hold it! Hold it there, Scott!" Dean hikes after him.

Whereas Dean wanted to pull at the reins, Juan complicated the issue, "It's
okay. You pick anywhere you would like to sit."

"Wonderful," Dean said to himself, thinking it the second time Juan
answered contrary to his thinking, but he liked Juan and not only for how
he could pleasure a man in bed!

"Whe-e-e-e-e-et!" Juan made a whistling sound, calling attention to his
nephew, still by the door with Michael.

The two hustle over, Dean saying sarcastically, "Nice of you to join us!"

"Sorry," Michael then revealing a tidbit of information, "Miguel here, he
goes to the same college as me. Funny we never ran across each other!"

Dean wishes he were back in college, especially the one Michael went
to. Miguel was `gorgeous'! However he played it down, "That's
nice."

"Would you like to sit down?" Miguel offers a chair to Michael, seating
him, Dean sitting next to Scott, Juan helping him scoot his chair in. Scott
had helped himself to the picked out table.

"Cocktails?"

Scott blurts out, "Do you got any chocolate milkshakes?"

"`Have', not `got'?" Dean sets the vocab straight.

Juan says, "Oh, what does it matter, Dean?"

Three strikes, Juan was out, Dean telling him, "Uh, Juan don't you have
something to do, like fill up salt and pepper shakers?"

As he says it, Juan holds up his pointer finger in the air, "I just
remembered, I have to do something!"

Dean smiled. Juan could be such a character. Since Miguel was explaining
the menu to Michael, who questioned one of the dishes, Dean conferred with
Scott, "Anything on the menu interest you?"

"How come these french fries look orange?"

"Because they are sweet potatoes. Every have them?"

"Nope!" Scott replies.

"According to this," Dean reads out of the menu, "they look to be
hot'n'spicy."

"Cool! I like hot'n'spicy."

Almost simultaneously, a split second after Scott mentions it, Miguel asks,
"Have you made a decision?"

Scott rattled off what he would like to order.

Dean only stare at Miguel, thinking about hot'n'spicy!

Michael had dashed off to the jon, Dean not even noticing. "Where's
Michael?"

"Bano," Miguel preferred his language.

"Hmm, maybe I should make sure he doesn't fall in!"

When the two return, they find they have left Scott in good hands, Miguel
sitting in the extra chair, carrying on conversation.

"Where were you?" Scott asks. "I finished up my chocolate shake already."

Miguel says, "We've got plenty more?"

"Cool!"

As the whole luncheon progressed, one of the peculiar circumstances, from
Scott asking Miguel what `banyo' meant, he learned a few more Spanish
words.

Dean had admired Scott already for the mature attitude of a fourteen year
old, but in particular now, found him to be quite receptive to education.

It was Michael who became a proponent of the idea, "You should take some
Spanish lessons from Miguel."

"Can I?" Scott turns to Dean, as if he were his father.

"It's not up to me. You would have to run that by Gerard."

"Can you ask him?" Scott confronts him.

"And," Michael adds, "that is, if Miguel would want to."

Miguel had gone to order up their menu selections and was on his way back
to the table, a tall chocolate shake in his hand.

As he sets it in front of Scott, Scott asks, "Miguel, can you be my Spanish
teacher?"

Michael says, "Dean and Scott were talking about it."

"Might be good for him to get a jump on a foreign language," Dean adds to
it, "but only if you have the time for it and I suppose we should get his
guardians permission, of course."

Scott well knew the word, `guardian', having several over his past
childhood, however as he looked upon Gerard as his latest, he didn't
discount the fact as Dean being special to him, him offering up,
"Dean is going to help me ask. Right Dean?"

Smirking, Dean replies, "I'll take care of it. How much do you want for
tutoring, Miguel?"

Michael, drawing off his mall experience, knowing of Gerard's wealth, "Make
it worth your while Miguel. His guardian's loaded, you know?" he winks.

Pushing his chair back a little from Michael, like he had BO or something,
Dean says in a ghastly manner, "I hope you're kidding, Michael!"

"I am! Really!"

Scott laughs.

Dean mellows out as Miguel says, "He got you! As for me, I would really,
really love to change living arrangements?"

Pretty much having it in the bag, Dean asks lightheartedly, "Uncle Juan
getting on your nerves, Miguel?"

"Don't get me wrong," Miguel kneels on a chair, "I love Juan like he's my
own papi, but..."

"What's a poppy?" Scott butts in.

Michael translates, "Like a father."

Hitting a tender note, Scott says, "What happened to your father?"

"Nothing. He lives in Spain and I have chosen to live here." It leads right
back to Dean's question, "I shouldn't complain. Uncle Juan has really been
good to me, it's just that..."

"Let me guess," Dean cuts in, "he can mean well, but come across harsh,
think he's right whether he is right or wrong, then stand by it, like you
should apologize, um should I go on?"

"Except for his corny jokes, that's good enough," Miguel replies.

Scott comes up with a brilliant solution, "I bet Gerard has a room you can
stay in!"

Again, the fatherly figure kicks in, Dean replying, "Um, I don't think it's
a good idea for you to volunteer Miguel a room without asking your cousin,
Scott," then `cold turkey' switching his attention towards Miguel,
"however, knowing the plight you are in Miguel, I'm sure, if you have some
trade you can render, I can't speak for Gerard, but he may have a place for
you to shack up."

With that being the case, Michael extends the invitation to himself, "Uh,
he wouldn't happen to have another spare room, would he, reason being it
would be a shorter trip from his place to the shore everyday, than the
college dorm?"

Dean was about to say, Scott cutting in, "I thought you were going to stay
with your friend Buzz Kernel?"

He sat there with his mouth open, Michael suddenly lost for words, until he
says, "Uh, yeah, um, uh, Buzz did offer, but it wasn't set in slate, like
he wasn't really sure."

Dean thought it was a pretty good alibi, considering Michael just finding
out Miguel might be staying at the compound. Scott had put a buzz in his
ear about dating Michael and while riding in his truck, thought about the
reality of it all. However, the scene changed when Miguel came into the
picture, but Dean wasn't perturbed about the outcome, thinking, `What would
a twenty-eight year old man want, with a twenty-two year old college dude
anyway!'

"Of which," Dean gets up from the table, "if you gentlemen have filled your
guts, I think Gerard might be wondering what happened to us?"

For Miguel, it was left up in the air, him saying, "Would it be an
imposition if I went along with you?"

Doing the math real quick, four in a three man cab, someone would have to
double up on someone else's lap to fit? Dean tells him, "Sure, if you don't
mind sitting on my lap?"

"I could!" Scott volunteers. "I'm smaller?"

`Rats!' Dean thought about it, but accordingly it would be the ideal thing.

When they arrived at the Hansen compound, Miguel and Michael piled out of
the driver's side. However, it was a way in which it made Scott laugh his
ass off, Michael stepping out first, because he was the driver, Miguel
scooting his ass over, making like he was `falling' out, Michael catching
him.

"Those two clowns!" Dean said of them.

Still sitting on Dean's lap, Scott says, "It's nice to feel someone hugging
me."

Dean wasn't feeling anything, not like in the sense of having a twenty-one
year old sit on his lap. Scott was just a kid. He wasn't into kids, other
than shooting basketball hoops or having chicken fights in the
pool. Innocent stuff, he says to Scott, "No wonder, all that moving around
from place to place!"

"You know what, Dean?" Scott finally slides off his lap, right out the door
of the truck.

Looking down on Scott, "What?" he asks, hopping out and closing the door.

"Out of all the families I lived with and all the people I knew, I never
met anyone like you."

"Is that good or bad?" he asks reaching into the back of the truck to untie
ropes.

"Good."

"That's good. I was getting a little worried there," he laughs.

"Did you ever think of having a family?"

"I've got a family. Three brothers in San Diego, Seattle and London and a
sister in Atlanta and a whole bunch of nieces and nephews," Dean replies.

"I guess you don't have any sons?"

He knew where Scott's money was riding on this one, "Nah, not yet, but
maybe someday." Exhaling, "Nope, someday, when some man shows an interest
in having a man like me!" He then deviates from family to foes, especially
when there is a ton of stuff to be brough into the house, "I wonder what
happened to our driver and his boyfriend?"

"The clowns?" Scott questions.

"You got it," Dean looks towards the main house.

"Michael isn't Miguel's boyfriend. He's `your' boyfriend!"

Launching into a sitting post, his back against the truck, Dean says,
"Look, it's a tough thing for a kid your age to understand, or maybe be
confused by two guys being friends, as opposed to boyfriends, but Michael
and me are nothing more than friends. I mean," he says whimsically, "what
if `I' thought you and Michael were boyfriends?"

"We can't be boyfriends! He's lots older than me!"

He didn't want to get into the `age difference' issue, but also rectified
it all by asking, "Don't' you think Michael and Miguel look nice together?"

"I don't know. I guess the thing is I just don't get it."

"And there's no reason why, right now in your life, you need to," Dean
thrusts upwards onto full footing.

"I suppose."

As he goes for the tubs, Dean says, "But promise me, if you ever need to
know anything about `boys', you wouldn't hesitate to ask me?"

"No, I won't," Scott replies, taking a bag of clothes, the one with `Surf
Hut' written on the outside.

However, Dean suddenly has a second thought, "Except maybe you should ask
Gerard about it first!"

Scott agreed, but right now, the only person who has been the superest,
nicest in his whole life, was helping him bring his clothes inside.

Opening the door, who was there to greet them, but... "Where have you two
been? Jerric has been worried sick over you being gone so long!"

Dean got even for Jerric abandoning them, handing the Jamaican the tub he
held, which immediately sent Jerric's arms to the floor, almost casting him
onto his ass and rubbing it in, "Well, if you hadn't abandoned us, hunney!"

Picking the tub up, Dean carries it along, Scott asking, "You okay Jerric?"

"Hunney, Jerric built like a tank!" he gets up and brushes himself off.

"Yeah, right Jerric," Dean replies, "like the reason I almost knocked you
on your ass!"

Scott laughed all the way up stairs, Jerric going after Dean like a jackal,
his tongue flapping a mile a minute. In a way, he thought of the two being
much like Jerric would react with Gerard, not meaning half the bad remarks
about each other, more like joking.

On the top of the landing, having traversed about twenty-five stair steps,
who should be coming in the opposite direction, but Michael, Miguel and
Gerard.

"Geesh!" Dean exclaims, "They didn't waste any time!"

It was funny too, Scott laughing, calling Jerric a `fake', since Dean
didn't hurry fast enough into his room, Jerric stealing the tub of clothing
away from him, like it held feathers.

"You were acting, Jerric?"

"Did you like Jerric's act?" Jerric asks him.

Scott had his reservations of Jerric's strength, asking, "But where's your
muscles?"

"Right under here, hunney!" He held up his long-sleeved arms and tried
flexing.

"I still don't see any muscle bumps?"

Dean didn't come back for awhile, so Scott had a chance to chat up Jerric,
finding out he has worked at the compound even before Gerard owned the
place. It's like Jerric came with the deal, when Gerard bought the property
for some cool millions.

Jerric didn't mention amounts of dollars, but did say it in a way it cost a
lot of money to buy.

"Is Gerard rich?" Scott asks, even though he knew, in order for a person to
own a house with a separate garage, two limos, some other fancy cars, a
swimming pool, tennis court, basketball court and lots of room to run
around on the grass, he had to have tons of dough.

Wanting to ditch the subject, frankly because Jerric figured it was
nobody's business how much money Gerard had in the bank and little boys
have a tendency to sometimes surrender information under or pressure, or
not realizing it so, asks, "You leave this to Jerric to hang up and you go
find Dean?"

"But this is a lot of clothes to put away. I can help?"

"Here!" Jerric says, forcing a swimsuit into Scott's chest, "Go wear this
in the pool!"

"Okay," Scott surrenders, walking away. From the closet to the
`roomy' part of his room, he had pushed down his pants, stepped out
of them, holding the kid's swimshorts by the string, between his teeth. He
agreed it tasted `dry and nasty'. After stripping the rest off, he stepped
into the swim gear and sought out a drink. He wasn't sure, but thought
there had to be a jon someplace, so stepped out into the
hallway. "Chilly!" he said to himself, his little boy nips freezing
up, feeling them do so as he hugged himself. Hearing something from the
direction the stair steps, he figured Dean would be on the horizon of the
hallway. Instead, it was Miguel and Michael.

His first question was, "Where's Dean?"

Toting clothes, Michael reports, "Talking with Gerard. Looks like Miguel
will be earning his keep this summer teaching you Spanish!"

"Comprende?" Miguel asks.

"Huh?"

"Do you understand?"

Scott shoots back to Miguel, "Now I do!"

It would stick by Scott all summer, whenever it arose, whereas he had to
question, asking, `Comprende?', his first Spanish word!

%

"Oh shit David!"

"It's `sir' to you, `boy!" David reminded Aksel, rubbing his red mounds as
he lay faced down on the bed of the motel.

For the past two hours it had been a mix of sex and David's fetish,
bondage, coupled with deprivation, stroking Aksel up, his hard shaft
standing tall, only to have David stop, causing Aksel to whine because he
had such a strong urge to come.

He wasn't sure it was a good idea, allowing David Hunt to tie him
to the bed, faced down, but found it at first kind of invigorating, playing
the game, whereas he had to take a belt across the ass in payment for
release, a bribe as such.

"Five more?"

"You said five more, five ago... Ak-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-shit!"
Aksel calls out, burying his face in the pillow, after another stinging
blow from David's belt.

Actually, it was his own belt, which David made sure Aksel knew, which
purpose was to make it more humiliating.

"Yeah, want a nice warm ass," his hand glided over the red-striped
surfaces, "to fit my cock into!"

At the church outing, with kids about, the former camp counselor used less
force, such as them being kids, but with his twenty-seven year old captive,
being a willing victim, he was less kind, dealing out the promised amount
of lashes with the leather belt.

Even though an adult, Aksel had tears in his eyes, masked by grinding his
face against the pillow.

"I think that about does it," the twenty-two year old whip-master says.

Tethered to the bed, in four directions, David had taken ordinary
clothesline rope, placing it strategically under each corner of the
mattress and fastened Aksels wrists and ankles, binding him faced down.

If David had had more time on his hands, instead of having to rush off to a
frat party, he would have used some of his fat ass toys on Aksel. Instead,
as a result of having fun whipping Aksel's ass, turning it a fire-red, he
was nice and stoked up, all ready for penetration, saying, "Yep, got myself
all primed up to bust your cherry-red ass!"

In order to do so, he had to loosen the bindings of Aksel's ankles, an easy
chore. His belt, along with his words, ordered, "Get that ass in the air,
boy!"

When he did, all David could do is laugh, seeing a whiny string of goo
reach from the tip of Aksel's cock, to the sheet.

"Oh-h-h-h-h!" Aksel moaned, David giving him one long stroke, from the
hairy base to the flange, pulling a heap of gummy substance out of its
cork.

"Eat it!" he ordered, bringing it to Aksel's lips, which in David's mind
served further to humiliate, a man eating his own cock-spit.

As for Aksel, he licked David's fingers off with no shame. For him, the
salty taste was a long-awaited treat.

Without further hesitation, David proceeded without anymore prompting,
since he was about an hour from where the party was being held, mounting
Aksel and sinking right in, his 7c piercing right to where his pubes rubbed
skin with Aksel's ass. It didn't take much for David to pump his primed
cock until it was necessary to pull out, something he preferred, adding to
the humiliation, by shooting his load on a guy's back, this case scenario,
Aksel's lower back. After doing so, he advanced to the top of the bed,
roughly fingered Aksel's mane and made him clean his cock off.

Getting dressed, Aksel panics, "You're not going to leave me like this?" he
pulled at the bindings of his wrists.

"The manager's gay. I'll make sure he comes and releases you!" David laughs
after zipping up. He left the room, a shirt over his shoulder. He laughed
his ass off, knowing two facts. One, the motel manager wasn't gay, to his
knowledge and two, he wasn't alerting anyone to the fact Aksel was tied to
the bed. One thing he did know is, all Aksel had to is slip his arms one at
a time off from under the mattress and with little sweat, free
himself. "Dumb ass!" he called it, if Aksel could be so naive as to not
realize it!

However, Aksel did figure it out and when he turned over onto his back,
flipped right back over onto his still hard junk, "Oh shit!" feeling his
burning ass still `hot'!

A little at a time he worked his way towards lying on his back and
surprised himself, how good it felt, rubbing his ass against the bed as he
jerked himself off. A minute before doing so, he had closed his eyes and
pictured himself, not eagle-spread to the bed, but in some fictitious
dungeon and being manhandled by a young, `college' master. When he came it
soiled up not only his stomach, but a few cumshots dirtied up his hairy
chest. However, he quickly stole one of the pillows, placing it over his
messy pubes when he heard a key turn in the door!

%

As for Scott, looking for the jon in the hallway, Michael says, "Are you
kidding? You got one right in your room!"

"Where?" Scott asks.

"Aqui!" Miguel says, holding open a door.

"I thought it was another closet!" Scott says, skipping over his last
recognition of a Spanish word spoken.

"Looks like you're going swimming?" Michael asks.

It was a hint, he would like to go to, Miguel picking up on it, "Me too!"

After Scott tinkled, he came out into his bedroom, finding not Michael and
Miguel, but, "Dean! Where did you go?"

"To find out all the dirt form Gerard! I guess Miguel told you he was hired
on as your tutor for the summer?"

"Michael said."

Moving on, Dean says, "Well it looks like Michael and Miguel will be
sharing a room."

Dean sat on the bed, Scott walking over, placing a caring hand on his
shoulder, saying, "And you wish it was you and Michael? Dean, how can you
forget about Michael like so instant? You were almost going to be
boyfriends?" Scott says.

"`Friends', get it? Not `boyfriends'."

Accepting it, Scott says, "If you don't get a boyfriend by the time I turn
eighteen, maybe you and me could be boyfriends?"

"I hope I don't have to wait `that' long!" Dean exclaims, both
laughing. "Oh, by the way, Gerard has invited me to be his guest for dinner
tonight!"

"Cool!" Scott quickly got over the Michael-Dean thing, "Are you
going to some fancy restaurant?"

"Nope! Just an ordinary dinner here at home with him, you and Michael and
Miguel."

"Don't other people live here?" Scott meant the `models'.

"Uh, yeah, right, but usually we eat in a separate dining room. Gerard
prefers eating in peace. Trust me, eating with that bunch is anything but
peaceful!"

There was a new scenario here to ponder, Scott thinking about Dean removed
from the pack of models and others whom resided at the compound,
transported to Gerard's dining hall. He hadn't a clue to how things worked
around here, slowly getting educated.

"So, Gerard has invited `you' to eat with `him'?" Scott rubs his hands
together, as if thinking up a well-crafted plan.

Intuitively, Dean replies, "And you're not to even think anything like what
you're conjuring up in your brain right now, young man!"

"But Gerard invited you to dinner. He must be thinking something?"

"Right, he's thinking how nice it would be to have you, on your first
night, dine with some of the friends you have just made, me, Michael and
Miguel and nothing else, so don't go thinking up stuff in your mind of
something that's not going to happen!" Dean replies.

"Hmm," Scott pouted for a second, saying, "Hey! You want to go swimming
with me!?"

Unknown as yet to Scott, for the summer, Gerard has communicated to Dean,
he would like to change up the staff at the compound, have Dean placed in a
position where he could chaperone Scott, make sure he stays out of trouble,
keep him busy and not allow his summer go to waste doing nothing.

"Do you know how to swim, Dean?" Scott asks, as Dean gets up, heads for the
door.

"Of course I do. I've been swimming since I was two!"

"Good!" Scott says, walking out the door, accompanying him in the hallway,
"You can teach me!"

"You don't know how to swim?"

Scott exclaims, "Nope! Nobody bothered to show me!"

It was one thing, in light of the fact, non-swimmer, Dean suddenly made up
his mind to take Gerard up on his offer, being there wasn't any fence
around the pool by which a person could not wander in. Deep down inside
though, it was only an excuse. Really he liked Scott and it would make him
feel good helping the kid, as Gerard reminded, had been passed around the
family, like a bowl of broccoli around a dinner table!

%

Copyright 2012 T. Chase McPhee

`STReNGTH FRoM WeaKNesS', may not be sold, nor made part of any collection,
without prior consent from the author.

The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!  TCMcP

%

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