Date: Tue, 22 Aug 2006 11:11:36 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com> Subject: Stripes 01 The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblance to real people is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons in towns, cities, or governmental areas, in which the story is staged. If sexual scenes, involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you ought not read this story, by law. Check with your local laws, regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. In the real world, use protection, during sexual encounters. "Stripes" 01 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % Theme: As they age, two 14yo boys discover their gay lifestyle, with 'first time' encounters, involving older teens and adults. % I've been a water rat most of my life, having survived the boat mishap, at fourteen years old. I blamed myself for a long time, for reasons why I, who could swim, wore a life-vest and my mother, a non swimmer, wasn't fitted with one, at the onset of the trip across the bay. After counseling, I pretty much forgave myself, having seen that it wasn't my fault that my mom couldn't swim. Even for a short time, I blamed my dad. He didn't have a life preserver on, but he could swim and that's why he survived. At fourteen, my hormones starting to really get all shook up. It was a great day at the picnic, playing games, laying out in the sun, checking out some of the other boys. Ha! I had to laugh. I even checked out my history teacher, Mr. Martin, who got all sweated up, playing volleyball and stripped off his shirt. Something began to stir deep in my Quicksilver swim trunks, as soon as my eyes beheld the frontal view. I thought what a doofus I could be, at licking my lips, as I gazed at Mr. Martin's dark, hairy chest, the strip of hair dividing his six pack abs, fanning out over his navel, before dipping below the belt line. I didn't want to make it obvious, but of all the participants in the adult volleyball game, Mr. Martin drew key attention. Especially when he jumped, to spike the ball, my eyes shot to his waistline, to see his pants slip down. Even though he had belted shorts on, the fastening device did nothing to keep the high stretch from pulling his stomach taut, Mr. Martin's hairy navel riding high, divulging a line of pubic hair. For a first `adult' turn on, it was a hot one, to be remembered. To me, the `impeccable of the impeccables'. Though I wasn't really sure what it meant, other than probably the hottest sight on the planet! "Nice game, huh Sean?" My head swung to the side, as I stood there, behind the first row of onlookers. "Huh?" I responded. It was Mark Richman, the only guy in the world whom we both shared the same secret, about liking boys more than the `other'. After Mark tilted his sunglasses forward and shot his pupils downward, did I get the message! `OMG!' I thought. Mark laughed his ass off, as I did the only logical thing, crouched over. I accidentally hit the person in front of me, with the top of my head, Rob Lassiter, an upper class man. "You alright kid?" Kid, huh? I'm fourteen years old. I'm no kid. But at the moment, I wasn't in the mood for arguing the point. Fortunately, Mark came up with a plan. "I told you not to eat that many hamburgers, Sean!" He play-acted. "How many did he eat?" Rob questions Mark. "I dunno. Maybe five." "Geesh," Rob scolds, "the grease alone will clog your arteries!" Rob Lassiter would know. He worked out in the gym every minute of the day, he didn't have a class. Coronado Beach High School was known for it's unique athletic program. Being strategically located near the ocean, it drew upon a regiment of sports unassociated with normal high school programming. For instance, seniors had the unique opportunity to participate in the `Surf Club'. "I think we should go to the jon," Mark comments. "Why? You gonna barf?" Rob asks me. "Not sure," I replied, "but I think Mark's idea is a good one." I straightened up, as Rob turned back to the volleyball game, when everyone cheered. "Whew! That was a close one. Thanks, pal." "No sweat." "No really. First time I think I got hard, in public." "You weren't the only one." "You too, Mark?" "Yeah and I gotta do something about it." I laughed. Mark knew he wasn't the only one `hurting' to get rid of some pent up emotion. When we got to the park men's room, another guy, way older than us, stood at the urinal. We faked taking a stand at two other stations. Fortunately they had divisions, so that the guy standing next to you, couldn't take a peek. After hearing the door slam, we became alert. "He gone?" "Yeah, but." "What?" I asked Mark. We both looked at his cock, hanging down over his teen balls, anchored by the elastic of his swim trunks. "I think I lost it." Some of the thrill of losing sight of Mr. Martin's hot bod, had caused Mark's erection to subside. "What about you?" He asked me. He needn't had asked, as we both gazed at my nice teen endowment. "Looks like you need it bad, Sean." "I do." Perhaps losing sight of Mr. Martin's dark hairy chest, the stripe of hair down the center, the thin line leading to his navel, revealing a dark, hairy line from one side of his torso, to the other, didn't put a dent in my throbbing, hard teen shaft. That bod was indelible on my brain. "Oh-man-oh-man-oh-man!" "What?" Mark asked. "I wish there was someway of locking the door." "Or..." He began to solve the quandary. "You got an idea, Mark?" He smiled. "Spill it." "How about we go in there?" I looked at the stalls. "There? The two of us?" "Wouldn't be any different than the jon at home." Being the only child, of rich folks, I had a jon adjoining my spacious room. "True," I rendered. "Okay. I guess it's alright. But be careful." "Of what?" "I dunno. Germs?" "We're going to be jerking our cocks off, Sean, not licking the toilets!" I didn't realize I said something funny, but laughed it off, after Mark started the humorous frenzy of laughter. Without further ado, I led the way to the stall to the far right, bordering the wall. "Why this one?" Mark questioned. "I dunno." Then made up the reason, "Leaves only one side to be on our guard with." "On our guard? Huh?" I rolled my eyes. "Mark, just because we're going to jerk off in a stall, doesn't mean that some guy is not going to come in and use one of the other ones." Digging into his swim suit, cupping one hand under his orbs, Mark separated the fabric from his almost smmooth pubes. "I knew that, dah!" He replied. Following Mark's lead, I pushed the elastic of my swim trunks down the back of my ass, til it reached my knees. From their, it flopped down, on it's own, to my ankles, as did Mark's swimming apparel. Right away, we both latched on to our barrels. "You're way ahead of me, Sean." True, I still had the visions of Mr. Martin's barechested body dancing around in the sand. As I stroked slowly, I closed my eyes, momentarily picturing him leaping up, spiking the ball, resorting to some fantasy, more of his pubic region showing, than the actual amount. "Hee heee," Mark laughed, as he stroked. It caused me to open my eyes, momentarily halt some of the heavy stroking action. "What?" "Fantasizing again, Sean?" He questioned, that evil look on his face that I've come to know. "Again?" I lied. "Come off it." "Yeah, okay," I leveled with my best bud, "so what of it?" "Why not let us both in on it?" Before I could, we heard the men's room door slam. Our hands still on our teen barrels, we froze, looking at each other. Mark whispers out loud, "What do we do?" "Shh!" I made a slight hiss, my face speaking more for me. Both at once, our gazes shifted to the door of the stall we stood in. Feet shuffled on the floor, without a sound. They approached the first stall, but kept on going. There was only three stalls. I hoped he would pick the door number two. He had to. The third one was locked. At least I hoped Mark had locked it. I couldn't see over his shoulder, his back to the door. Again, with no noise, I mouthed, `You locked the door, didn't you?' "Of course I did!" He said out loud. I gave Mark the `death stare', for responding out loud. He cupped his free hand over his mouth, knowing he had goofed, in keeping our horny rendezvous secret. Still, whomever entered the men's room, gave no indication of hearing Mark's response. Mark mouthed to me, `He didn't hear me!' It prompted a grin to Mark's face. Still it didn't seem safe. We lost our humor, when the footsteps commenced, entering the stall next to ours. Our attention shot to the floor, watching the shadows. I thought I heard Mark gulp. I know I did. We shuddered, hearing the toilet seat bang down. Last used, it must've been in the pissing position. We looked at each other, giving a sign of relief, but still on the edge. Neither of us realized our hands still embraced our manhood. Possibly erotic, I later realized I never lost my erection. "Hi guys!" "Oh shit!" Mark and I yelled out at the same time. With lightning speed, apparently Rob Lassiter leaned with his both forearms on the top of the stall dividing wall and peered over. He laughed at our reaction. Mark then frowned, putting on an annoyed look. "You scared the shit out of us, Rob!" Being a joker, he replied, "Hmm, then no need for you guys to be in the stall, unless you have `other' reasons?" How obvious could it be, with two fourteen year old's, standing there in the stall, their right hands holding their teen barrels, swim trunks down, around our ankles? Of course, we didn't realize we still did, until Rob mentioned the incriminating words. Right away, we dropped what we held. My cock, still being rigid, bounced up and down, which seemed more embarrassing than Mark's flaccid dick, which flopped downwards and stayed there. "Look, we're just two guys jerking off okay?" Mark says sarcastically to Rob. "No problem in that." With saying that, Rob disappears from view. We hear two feet stomp on the cement floor. Then Rob's voice commands, "Unlock the door, Marky." Mark stares at me, this time silent, and asks, `What should I do?' I shrug my shoulders, gesturing, `I dunno.' "C'mon guys. All I want is a piece of the action!" Mark and I look at each other. Is Rob saying what we think he is saying? % 2B continued Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.