Date: Wed, 15 Nov 2006 06:05:40 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: STRIPEs 12

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.

%

STRIPEs 12
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
%

Gaging by the sun, sinking on the horizon, I had been
sitting on this larger-than-life boulder, for hours.
What seemed like minutes, as I pondered, thinking of
what was most important to me. The afternoon wallowed
away.

"Oh! You scared the hell outta me, Mark!"

"Sorry."

The guy whom I had joyous moments, sad times,
experienced laughter, shed tears, sat next to me.

"Want a sip?"

I offered him the last of the coconut frosty, whipped
up over two hours ago.

"Um, no thanks. Doesn't look too appetizing, Sean."

"Sorry."

A minute passed before we each said something to each
other, simultaneously.

"You go."

"No. You go first."

"Well," Mark replied, "I went back to the house and
started on my homework, but couldn't concentrate."

"What was bothering you?"

As if I didn't know.

He didn't point it out to me, but rather saying,
"Sean, I think I'm seeing... well, I'm no expert at
relationships, but... well, what we have here is only
friends."

"Friends eh?" I replied.

Maybe I saw this as more, but played it by ear.

"Yep. Like all these years, as we were growing up, I
think I kind of mistook our bedtime fun as something
more serious. I suppose things like this happen and a
person gets to thinking because two guys feel good
together... its love, when it's not?"

Recalling the `years', as he mentioned, I thought over
the first time we confessed to each other how only
guys turned us on. I thought of the first time Mark
sunk to his knees, fished my cock out of my briefs and
began sucking me. I thought about all the times he
worked my teen cock up, getting the juices flowing.

"I'm no better than what you and Aldo had."

"You've had sex with another guy?"

"No. Well, not other than when Rob Lassiter made me
suck his cock, but he never fucked me. Only guy who's
ever done that, is," he paused, "you."

"I suppose that makes it special."

He agreed. Looking up at the beautiful orange and pink
sunset, I thought how fortunate I am, to have a
friend like Mark.

"It `did'," he annunciated the former tense.

Getting up from the boulder, he exited the way he
came, from behind. Smaller boulders and overgrown
stones, descended from some glacier, had made the
perfect stairsteps up to the summit, where I sat. With
my knees bent, my head sagged to my kneecaps, resting
there. As soon as Mark disappeared from beside me, I
felt more than a lost presence. Like a vacuum, he
sucked out all the energy from my being. A prescence
lost, also left me with feelings of warmth,
companionship..... love? What did I know, at
seventeen? Without much thinking, I sensed, if I
didn't recoup what I just lost, it may be too late.
Shuffling my feet under me, standing, I hustled down
the back of the boulder, jumping down the natural
steps, hightailing it down the pebbly path, to the
sandy reaches. I saw this small dot between myself and
the row of homes. Running at full speed, I aimed for
my target, to reconcile, make what's lost, found.

"Mark! Mark! Wait up!"

Calling out, a sense of urgency, excitement, filled me
up.

Doing his famous, `walking backwards', the last of the
daylight reflected off his face, questioning me.
Without a verbal reply, I grabbed him. This time, I
didn't bother gazing around, checking out whom might
catch us.  I kissed him; kissed him hard. Drawing his
lips and body into mine, I didn't feel the ordinary,
boyfriend-to-boyfriend emotion. Instead, reaching the
prime of our teenhood, I sensed a more man-to-man
reaction.

"Wow!" Mark replied, as we broke off.

"I... I really love you Mark."

"I know that."

"No. Not only love, but... `love' love."

"Are you saying `love', like
`wanna-to-be-together-forever' love?"

Again, I gave him the silent response. Two serious
seventeen year old high school guys, on the beach,
embraced, sealing the deal of a lifetime.

%

Both of us wanted to make this work, keep our
relationship together, no matter how each of us had to
bend. Neither of us had decided on our lifelong
vocation. Graduation in view, suddenly it slapped us
in the face. Soon we would be out there in the world,
part of the frat society, with no direction.

"I could get you boys summer jobs at the brewery, as
soon as you turn eighteen."

"Thanks dad, but it would mean we would be unemployed
for three weeks."

I added, "Time is money."

Mr. Garrison smiled, thinking how much his son wanted
to help out with his college expenses. As for me, I
didn't have to worry, unless my expenses exceeded a
four year program. My father's endowment, cut off
until I hit eighteen, would become available, but Mr.
Garrison admitted it would only cover so much time.
Plus, since the agreed amount had been instated, the
cost of attending college had risen. Masters courses
would cost me, but hopefully I would secure enough
work to save up. As for Mark, even though his parents
saved, he would still have to contribute in order to
carry on his coursework. It became an even more so
significance, to choose his vocation wisely. Another
idea, we both thought about, is joining the Marines.
However, Mark's dad reasoned we would go through all
that training, they would find out we're gay and then
kick us out!

"I saw our `friend', Jake Greeley today."

"Where?" I questioned Mark.

"Remember our graduation advisor called us and I had
to go get measured again for my cap and gown?"

"Right. I can't believe the doofuses lost half the
senior class' measurements. So?"

"Jake was there too. Though, first time for him. I
didn't feel sorry for him, when he lied through his
teeth about not knowing he had to sign up for a cap
and gown two weeks ago."

We both laughed at his ignorance.

"Were his thugs with him?"

"Nope. He was by himself."

"He say anything to you?"

"Yep."

"Oh?"

"But get this...."

I wonder if Mark saw my hopes, in mentioning something
- anything about the day we had the run in, plus my
knowledge of Coach Hanson `handling it', referring to
what would follow.

"He wondered if you had ratted on him."

"To who?"

"Rob Lassiter. And boy was he pissed."

"Who? Jake?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean Jake, yes and Rob too."

I shook my head, with confusion.

"Wait. Back up. What exactly did Jake say to you?"

"Well," Mark took a deep breath, "he mentioned you
being gay?"

"Okay. So he knows I'm gay. What else?"

"This part I don't understand. Apparently Jake got on
Coach Hanson's bad side...."

I played dumb, at the mention of his name.

"So?"

"So.... want to hear something?"

"Um, that's why I'm listening, dah?"

"No, not about meeting Jake at graduation."

"What, then?"

I was all ears, along with partially confused.

"Coach Hansen and Rob Lassiter had `a thing' going!"

"Nooooooooooo!" I reacted, terrible at acting skills.

Standing there, hands on hips, Mark looked at me.

"You knew and didn't tell me, Sean?"

Smiling, the same stance, my hands planted on my
torso, I admitted I had.

"You could've told me. I wouldn't have told anyone."

"I know. It slipped my mind, I suppose."

He bought it.

"So, what else happened?"

"Oh, so it seems Rob owed Coach Hanson a favor. So, he
told Rob all about your encounter with Jake Greeley
and told him to `handle it'."

"Wow! This is like the Mafia!"

"But Rob Lassiter was pissed at Coach Hanson, because
he was ready to head off to college."

"It's June. What would he being doing all summer?"

"Working. His `rents helped him set up his place and
settle in, before September."

"Something we should be doing."

"I know. Anyway, that's all I wanted to say, but oh,
Rob must've straightened out Jake, because he was nice
to me."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"A gay top meets a straight top and turns him
into....."

Our imaginations let loose and we came up with lots of
different combinations, mostly, knowing the effect Rob
Lassiter could have on a guy, with Jake on his knees.

"Yeah, betcha he had Jake sucking him off!"

"Wouldn't `that' be a picture?"

Both laughing, we walked down Horizon Drive, after I
had met Mark at the intersection with Coronado.
Suddenly, a van whooses by, this time leaving us
plenty of walking space. Up the road, it stops and
rolls backwards.

"Shit! It's Jake Greeley's van!"

"Wait Mark. There's no reason to get upset. Remember,
he crossed paths with Rob Lassiter."

"I guess you're right."

But like my teenaged lover, we both seemed a little
tense.

"Hey, dudes."

Standing there, we didn't say anything. His hair
cropped so short, Jake looked nearly bald, almost like
one of those skinheads. He walked around the back,
then confronted us.

"What's up?" I spoke for both of us, a little edgy.

"Um, say, um..."

Silence prevailed.

I don't know where it came from, in an audacious
manner, I ask him, "If you've got something to say,
say it, Jake."

I tensed my gut muscles, waiting for the punch. The
hand came forward alright. I flinched.
"I wanted you to know..."

We both could tell Jake had a tough time getting it
out.

"....I'm really sorry.... um for what my guys did to
you in the hallway, Sean."

I still didn't pick up on his apology.

"Here. Take my hand. Shake it."

Picking up my right hand, Jake combined it with his
own.

Then, I thought us both in deep shit, as Mark barks
out, "You should be getting down on your knees sucking
him off!"

Still hands clutched, we both turn our attention to
him. With no shame involved, hands on his torso, he
stands his ground. Jake gulped.

"Um... yeah... um, okay, if that's what you want."

Now he stared intensely at me, apparently looking for
my go ahead. News to us both, I'm sure to Mark, as
well as to my own ears, I had trouble grasping his
intentions.

"Want to say that again, Jake?"

"Um, yeah.... well.. I gotta do what... I mean I
gotta..."

It's apparent what Jake had alluded to, but didn't
mention Rob Lassiter's name. Mark made it easy for
him.

"Well, you going to suck Sean off or what?"

"I suppose."

Next, he broke off my handshake, sliding open the side
door of his van.

"I can do it in here."

With his back to Jake, Mark mouths to me, `is he
serious?' I shrugged my shoulders. As I climbed into
the van, stepping on a blanket, Mark followed. Jake at
first objected to Mark hopping into the van..

"Him too."

I didn't mean for him to suck off Mark, but it's what
Jake thought. After I dropped my pants, had him make
love to my teen cock, pulling out, shooting my load on
his face, he turned to Mark. If he thought this the
way I meant it to go, whom I to interfere! Before
leaving the van, Jake gave us a message.

"By the way, Rob gave me a message for you?"

"For me?" Mark asked.

"No. Him," Jake pointed his thumb to me.

"And so?"

"Call him."

%

That night, as we lay in bed, we waited for silence,
telling us the `rents had headed off for bed. With
ease, we slipped downstairs. Taking the remote phone
out of it's holster, we proceeded to the back porch.

"Got the number?"

"Yup. 7-4-1... Oops wait...start again."

"Okay....go.."

"Rather, 7-1-4-8-4-6-0-6-9-0."

"It's ringing."

Rob, picking up after four rings, recognized my voice.

Immediately he asked me, `so?'

I replied with, "Yeah," a bit with a questioning tone.

`And?'

I filled Rob in, Jake pulling over to the side,
apologizing, the `hand shake', then Mark mentioning
about his suggestion for Jake to give me a blow job.
Muffled, evil laughter followed, on the other end,
before replying.

To Mark, I said, "Rob says you've got guts!"

Mark smiled at me. I then mentioned Jake offering up
the back of his van, not only to give me a BJ, but
also my `buddy'.

Cupping my hand over the phone, I told Mark, "Rob
commented he thinks you're turning top!"

After the information I gave him, Rob fills me in on
how he `broke' Jake, which took him all of several
hours, but only a coupla minutes to relay to me.

Right away, after ending my conversation with Rob,
Mark asks, "So what did he have to say about me?"

"Not much else, other than over spring break, he hopes
the three of us can get together."

"Really?" Mark asked, all excited.

"Um, if you're going to do any of that pain stuff, you
can count me out."

Shrugging his shoulder, he said to me, "If you're not
going to be involved, then... I'll just have to give
it up!"

Even though I didn't care much for the intensity of
the play, I heralded his guts for giving up something
he liked, for me.

"You mean it?"

He nodded, `yes'.

"You're doing this for me, aren't you?"

He sort of blushed. In response, I gathered him up in
my arms, for a sentimental hug. I relented to a
possible compromise.

"We'll see what happens when spring break comes."

"Really?"

His eyes became aglow with a new spark of excitement.

"Maybe. Let's see how we get through our first
semester, okay?"

"Yep."

Placing the phone back in the holster, I made it known
I was `hurting' for some oral and anal action!

%

I never rekindled my efforts of getting back with
Aldo. Not blaming him, even though I knew he was
seeing other guys, having more than casual romantic
interludes with them, I blamed our little breakup on
Mark and I getting it on. He communicated he thought
we had a friendship. Without explaining numerous years
of our history, I just left it at, `getting serious'.
Graduation came and went. We celebrated with a few
classmates, but didn't go overboard on the frivolties
of grad trips and parties, knowing we would need money
for college. I found myself a job, teaching surfing to
kids, at a summer surf school. Luckily, Mark waitered
at a beach side restaurant. Sometimes I had free time,
while Mark worked, but after being in the hot sun all
day, the coolness of an evening in, became highly
welcomed. During those summer months, it's as if life
sped up, regarding the physiological  nature of our
bodies. Mark swore my fucking became more intense,
swearing my cock got bigger. I didn't notice a
difference and it's not like I measure the `before'
and `after'. For himself, the hair on his pubes became
more thicker, his treasure trail more pronounced,
extending above his navel, thrilled as much as myself,
extending all the way up to his midchest. One time
Mark mentioned how disappointed I would be if he
didn't grow much hair on the front of his body. Well,
summer's passing brought on growth like a guy wouldn't
believe. His chest filled out nicely, a light covering
of dark hair. Not enough to say I could run my hands
through, but with enough sensitivity to the touch of a
tongue. We never tired of his position as bottom and
me working over his chute.

"How much did you put away?" I asked him, upon
depositing his last paycheck.

"About sixty-seven hundred. And you?"

"Um, pittance compared to you! I suppose all those
tips paid off."

"That's what comes, with working in a swanky
restaurant."

"I have a little story to tell you," he said, smiling.

"Oh?"

"Remember the cook I told you about, Jean-Pierre?"

"Right. The old, French guy."

"Forty-two isn't really old, Sean."

I apologized for my ignorance!

"So what of him?"

"This past week he showed me how to make some French
dishes."

"Like French fries?"

Mark smiled at me.

"No. More complicated dishes. Some you would find on
the menu of a fancy French restaurant. He says I have
an aptitude for cooking."

"Really?"

"Yup. And so I asked him how long it took to get a
degree."

"Are you saying you're ready for a career in cooking?"

"I think. But you know what Jean-Pierre says?"

"What?"

"Going to cooking school is valuable, but you learn a
lot of cooking know-how from other chefs."

I had a feeling there was a point to get at here and
Mark was beating around the bush.

"Uh-huh, so?"

"Jean-Pierre, obviously taking a liking to me..."

"Enough to try to get you into bed?"

"No, Sean. Not every man has sex on their mind!"

Saying sorry, I admitted there a percentage of the
male population, small, doesn't think about sex all
the time. I set the record straight, telling him I
fall into this category.

"He gave me a list of chefs he's known and restaurants
I could use him as a reference, to become an
apprentice."

"What about college? I thought we had it all settled?"

His chin nearly touched his chest, with a pouty look.

"We had it all set, going to the same college."

Not a word did he say. Only this sorry look on his
face.

"You're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Mark."

"Disappointed?"

"I suppose it a better explanation."

Then he cut to the chase.

"I won't fall in love with another guy, if you won't!"

"Of course we won't," I replied, more or less as
pledging the fullest extent of my love.

%

Graduation came and went, without a hitch. Mark's mom
assembled a catered affair, inviting family, friends,
their's and our's, plus both of us guys almost fainted
when my dad showed up, alone.

"Hi son."

At the time, Mark and I stood aloof, by ourselves. I
suppose my dad waited until the optimum moment, us
guys as dueting, a lull in the flux of conversation
between us.

"Dad," I greeted him, in one syllable.

"I talked with Mark's dad," my dad nodded across the
way. "Listen, by far I don't think you are going to
get by on the trust I left you, so here...."

He handed me a business envelope, fattened.

"Y'know dad, instead of this," I clutched it in my
hand, "I'd much rather have had your attention these
last couple of years."

"I'm sorry about that. It's been hard, with Susan
being a born again Christian. She doesn't see things
as I do."

"It's not like you didn't have a choice?"

"I know how it looks Sean, but at the time I longed
for companionship and..."

Dad shrugged his shoulders.

"I can't rightly say I understand your motives. Same
thing as me, I felt this terrible need for somebody
to...."

About to dive into my heartfelt longings, it then
occured to me, as Mark stood there, where my thoughts
were headed, the choice of words, meaning so much then
and so much now. Standing there, Mark listened,
looking back and forth as if watching a tennis match.
My arm rose from his back, railing the top of his
shoulders.

"Like you, I've made my choice, Dad."

"Well, son, I can't say I'm unhappy about your
decision. As with the Richman family, I became
confident I did the right thing..."

"Disowning your son?"

"Like I say, Sean. With Susan, I figured if you came
to live with us, it would've been a life in hell for
you."

I had to give dad the benefit of the doubt. He didn't
apparently share views with `his wife', regarding my
gay male sexuality.

"And yourself?"

Nodding his head `yes', dad revealed, "Yes. Me too."

Reviewing bulging envelope in my hand, I decided I
didn't want to accept his `charity'. Taking it,
pulling on the front of dad's belt, I stuffed it in
the front of his pants.

"No thanks. C'mon Mark."

My arm already there, I came around the front of Mark,
making his body pirouette, turning to walk away, in
the same direction.

"Well, I thought you handled that alright!"

"I don't know. It kind of hurts."

Looking over his shoulder, Mark sees my dad turned,
his back towards us, walking towards the street side
of the house.

"That's the way it looks to me. Though it didn't pan
out the way I figured it would go, Sean."

"Oh? And how's that, Sherlock?"

"Actually, I saw this going one of two ways. Either he
was going to call you back, fall all over you,
apologizing, insisting you take the money, or make the
`payoff'."

"Payoff?"

"Sure. It's like all these years. He's used money in
place of affection. What makes today any different?"

Looking out over the bay, the same one which claimed
my mom's life, I folded my arms, looking at the
pristine view. Without warming, Mark's hands began on
my torso, then encircled, settling right under mine.
His front touched my back, as we two became one.

%

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