Date: Wed, 11 Oct 2006 11:00:50 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: STRIPEs 07

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 ares, 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 07

wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

After doing Mark, I had the desire to try fucking
another guy. Compare. See if there's any difference.
Gary became my next willing victim. I didn't get to
feel my cum shoot up his ass, though I filled his
belly once and got turned on, shooting my second load
on his hairy chest. As with Mark, I got into playing
with Gary's nips, pulverizing them some more, which
drove him insane. He loved it too, when I massaged my
teen cum into his swollen nubs. In fact, that's what
made him cum. He had a lot of it, too. More than Mark
and I put together, shooting out eight or nine ropes.
As for Mark, when we left the boat, both Gary and Rob
rowing us back to shore, he complained of not being
able to sit. His own fault that he had to kneel all
the way!

"So, how did you like fucking him?" Mark asked, when
we lay together that night.

"I didn't."

"Oh, but..."

"We had a nice time laying together."

"That's it?"

"No. He took one load down his throat and... you know
what?"

"What?"

"I really like hairy men."

"No, dah."

"But it's not only that."

"What then?"

"I like Gary."

Mark rolled his eyes.

Then he reported, "You would not be able to make him
happy."

"I'm twelve years younger, dah!"

"I don't mean the age thing. He needs pain."

"What do you know about it?"

"I found out from Rob. That's why those two get along
so well."

"They get along because they're in love," I reckoned
with Mark.

"Nope."

"What do you mean `nope'?"

"Nothing, other than they don't love each other. Gary
likes Rob only for the way he treats him."

"And that is?"

The next ten minutes Mark filled me in, informing me
of Rob whipping Gary on the ass with the leather belt
and sometimes on the back. He told me of the special
`closet of toys', laden with things like clamps for
nips.

"Rob showed me them. He turned this little screw, then
opened up the jaws."

"Jaws?" I asked in horror.

"Not these ones. Yeah, they do have these clamps with
jaws that look like teeth."

"Teeth?"

My horror showed through again.

"Yeah, but these clamps are square and they have
little screws. Rob pressed one on my chest, pulled my
nip through and started tightening the little screw."

I'm not sure I wanted to hear it, but then thought,
it's not real.

"He turns it, squashing my nip. Felt so awesome that
he let me keep both on!"

Mark said it like Rob did him a favor.

"Sick!"

"Oh come on Sean. Don't be a spazz. It felt awesome.
Kept me real hard."

"Like I have a problem doing that?"

For the rest of the night, which was already into
Sunday morning, Mark kept it cool on the fetish talk.
He hugged me til we fell asleep.

%

We drifted through the first half of our junior year
of high school, in the normal mode. Like always, at
school, we kept it cool on being gay. However, I felt
a little depressed not having Mr. Martin a part of the
school scene. I returned to the swim team, taking up
some surfing after school. Mark, on the other hand,
hitting his sixteenth birthday, began to bulk up. He
ditched swimming for wrestling. At home, things
remained pretty much the same. I got my needs met with
a hot cocksucking and an ass to satisfy my cock's
hunger for a anal workout. Other than sex buddies, we
didn't  feel much like a couple. That night, after
Mark didn't disappoint me with a hot blow job and I
plowed his ass, we lay there, shoulder to shoulder,
talking over the day's activities. Even though we had
both unloaded, Mark lay on his side and toyed with my
bod.

"Getting a few hairs here?"

"Yeah, I know."

Even though I had noticed in the mirror, a few dark
hairs coming in mid chest, several more below my
navel, I looked to where Mark ran his index finger
over them.

"I guess I'm destined to be smooth."

"Yeah? Then what's below your navel?"

I laughed my ass off, watching Mark jump up to
kneeling position and hike up his stomach to look
below his bellyhole.

"Oh shit! You're right! Cool! I'm getting a stripe!"

Rolling my eyes, I watched him count them.

"3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8... heeeeeeaaaay!"

Not letting him finish his inventory, I pulled him
over sideways, slapping his body down next to mine.
Quick to change the subject, I blurted out, "Got a new
guy on the swim team."

Even though we haven't been `romantically' involved
for several months, Mark acted saddened.

"Oooooh?"

I looked at him, adding, "We've talked about this,"
pertaining to each of us meeting other guys, we showed
an interest.

"I know."

Smiling, I knew what he meant. Lifting his chin from
his chest, I kissed his lips.

"We're always going to be special friends, right?"

"Yeah."

We paused.

Then he asked, "So, is Aldo cute?"

"Very. Seventeen and..."

"Don't tell me..." Mark blurted out, with sudden
excitement, "he's hairy?"

I smiled a big grin.

"Where?"

Not letting up my excitement, I told him, "He's got
thick pits and..."

"What?"

"A real sin I tell you."

"What?"

Mark slapped me in the stomach, wanting to desperately
hear the guy's stats.

"Man-oh-man was I getting hard."

"Hard?"

"Yeah. I had to stand there while John Beecham
lathered up his body and shaved him down."

"Shaved him? Where? Why did he have to be shaved? Man!
Is he that hairy?"

Mark was more excited than me, which made  me the
same. I sat up in the bed, as he slipped down onto his
back, head on the pillow.

"Was. Before John soaped up that gorgeous bod and
applied the steel to it."

I fell backwards, my head towards the bottom of the
bed, Mark's feet to my left. As I thought about the
after school shaving incident, my hand wandered to my
cock. Seeing that I was already sprouting another
boner, Mark exerted himself.

"Ooooooooh man!"

That's one thing. I never tire of Mark's hot mouth.

"So?"

He popped off along enough to irk me on, then engulfed
my tall, wet shaft.

Placing my hands behind my head, relaxing, I
continued, "Aldo stood there. What a dream!"
"Um, want to get to the good part, Sean?"

Mark quickly gulped me down, after asking.

"Before John shaved him, he had these wisps of almost
black hair around each nip, a patch of hair midchest.
Man-oh-man, for a seventeen year old, he sure was
hairy. From midchest, a dark, thin stripe led down
between his hot abs, digging into his most perfectly
sculpted navel. And as if dipping in and dipping out,
the stripe ran right into his pubes."

I stopped there, which obiously disappointed Mark.
Yet, it didn't stop him from getting a raging hard on.
Along with the rest of his physique, between his legs,
his sixteenth year brought on a change in his basket.
I already accused him of catching up with me. He joked
about it, swallowing so much of my cream, it made his
cock grow longer and fatter. And his balls! Oh-man!
`Big' is not the right word for them!

Another pop off, he asks, "And below the belt?"

I got used to Mark stopping and starting. I knew that
he would keep going back to tongue massaging my hard
meat. Neither of us knew, at the moment, that I would
need to take the plunge again.

"Yeah, that Aldo is one hot swimmer!"

For the next few moments, we lay there. Me, closing my
eyes, feeling Mark slobbering over my fucking tool,
picturing Aldo's eyes looking up at me, in lieu of
Mark's.

He pops off, asking, "Hey Sean, how about whipping my
ass?"

"How about you getting back on my shaft? Besides you
know I don't do that stuff."

But he didn't get with the gulping and licking action.

"C'mon. Please? While mom and dad are out with
Junior?"

My hand replaced his mouth, which wasn't the same.
Then his hand grabbed my hand, that grabbed my cock.

"C'mon, Sean. It's not like that happens all the
time!"

He was right. Mark's mom and dad rarely went out. If
not for Junior's open house, at his school, the three
would be home. I toyed with the idea, thinking it
would be the only way to shut him up. Beyond my better
judgement, I agreed.

"Hell yeeeeaaaaah!" He shouted out.

Bounding off the bed, he dashed for the closet,
reached in the bottom and came back.

"Where did you get `that' from?"

All smiles, the biggest grin, he replies, "Rob gave it
to me and a whole bunch of other stuff."

"Other stuff?"

I had to open my big mouth. Running back to the
closet, Mark hauls out a sports bag. He rips open the
zipper, holds it above the bed, right above me, no
less and dumps it out. Out onto the bed, pours it's
contents. Right on my own chest, where Mark found the
particles of hair, metal bounces off.

"Heeeey," I say, holding up two little square frames,
a screw attaching to each, secured with a chain,
"these are those nip thingees you talked about Rob
using on you!"

He snatched them out of my hands.

"Yeah. Here! Let me show you how they work!"

"No, you don't have to do that for me."

It was no use. Pandora's Box was open and there was no
going back. I had to smile at Mark though. Here, this
almost sixteen year old jock stood, like a ten year
old, opening his Christmas presents, having to show
them off. Wasn't I the lucky one?

"Y'see. Like I told you. I loosen up this screw, press
it against my chest, pull my nip through and tighten
it... oh... oh fuck! Does that feel hot!"
Apparently. His cock told all!

"Then the same with the other one. Here...."

He dangled the chain over the bed.

"Pull on the chain, Sean."

"I'll do no such thing."

Here Mark is, leaning over the bed, his nips all
squashed up, the nubs protruding beyond the square
hoops, the chain dangling down, with the addition of
his pouty lips, accompanied by Mark's whining.
"C'mon Sean. It doesn't hurt!"

Sighing, rolling my eyes, I knew there wouldn't be any
other way of appeasing him. Reaching up, I touched the
metal chain. Much to my own surprise, my cock
twitched, as if the chain acted like a lightning rod
from the silvery metal, to my shaft.

"Arrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...hell
yeeeeeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Good thing nobody was home!

Mark stood there, massaged his nips. Me? I lay there
on the bed, my hand holding a silvery chain, with two
square pieces hanging from it.

Within seconds Mark praised me, "That was sooooooo
fuckin' hot, Sean!"

Before I could get a word out, he had snatched them
away from me the second time, pressing one of the
squares up to his pec.

"If I knew you were going to rip them off, I would
have tightened the screw harder! Here, you do it!"

What was I getting myself into here? First I offered
to `watch' Mark attach the square clamps to his nips.
Now I was becoming a participant?

"No way," I shunned him.

"Oh come on, Sean."

"No!"

I picked up some of the other toys and began putting
them back in the satchel. I stopped, when I held this
rubbery toy, shaped like a dick.

"Noooooo. This would never fit up a guy's ass!"

My next mistake was looking at Mark's face, down at
his pecs, the metal jewelry hanging from his chest,
his puffy nips, then back up to that wanting...
needing look.

"Dammit, Mark! You still wince when my cock is forced
in. How are you going to ever take `this'?"

"Rob says it's called a buttplug."

"I can see why."

Rubbery, soft, but hard as a cock can get, twice the
width of mine, I didn't know why I just didn't toss
the thing back in the bag.

"Can you try it?"

"What? Shoving this up your ass?"

"No. Your's!"

He was being sarcastic. I thought realistic.
"No fucking way!"

Grabbing it from me, he straightened me out.

"No, doofus. I meant `my' ass."

Like a million other times, as with the nip clamps, he
had this wanting and longing that I couldn't bare to
refuse him. After all, Mark was my buddy. We've been
through a lot together. Whom else could he trust?
Seeing me weakening, he first sat on the edge of the
bed, then lay back, his head hitting the pillow.
Parting his legs, he tossed the buttplug in between.
It bounced on the bed. When I looked at him, I could
see that boyhood grin on his face, as he held his
thighs up, in fucking position. On the other hand, I
expected, without Mark's mouth on my piece, it would
be wilted. As with the clamps, it stayed rigid, hard
as the Rock of Gilbraltar. I stood there,
contemplating.

"C'mon. Hurry up, before mom and dad get home."

I looked at the alarm clock. It read seven. They would
be home in about an hour. If I didn't hurry up, I
figured I'd have to shove the thing in all at once,
instead of pacing the time to wiggle it in slowly. I
know from experiencing of first time fucking.

"Okay. But no tricks!"

"Tricks? What do you mean tricks, Sean?"

"You know. That first time I fucked you. How you put
your hands against the headboard, locked your legs
around my waste and forced me inside you. Don't you
play innocent with me, Mark!"

He just smiled.

"How we going to lube this thing up?"

Usually Mark had me all prepped, before forcing my
6.5c up his ass tube. This was at least ten inches and
way fatter.

"I don't think I can get it in my mouth."

I went in the jon and found some vaseline jelly.
"This'll do."

I didn't know how much to put on, but lifted a gob
from the round jar and smeared it over the big black
ass toy.

"I think you better secure me."

"Secure you? With what?"

"There's all kinds of stuff in the side pocket of the
bag. Or, there's rope in the closet."

This was turning into a big deal. Mark's folks would
be home in less than an hour. Here, my hands, all
gooed up with vaseline, held the black butt toy,
trying to keep it from squirming out of my hands and
he wanted to be secured down.

"Wait! I got an idea!"

He jumped off the bed. The jewelry hanging from his
chest jiggled around, chinking. He went in the side
pocket of the bag, pulling out something metal.

"Handcuffs?"

"Yeah! Look!"

Mark proceeded to turn around and show me how he could
put both hands behind his back, click one around his
left wrists, then the other secured around his right
wrist.

"There! I'm already."

He ran over to the bed, sat, then shimmied himself
back.

"Now you can't hold your thighs up for me."

"Oh yeah. Didn't think about....... that..."

I could knew something else was on his mind.

"What now? I'm not agreeing to anything else."

He gulped. I sensed something ill at ease.

"What now Mark?"

"I... I don't know where the keys are."

Standing there with my hands lubed up, trying to
balance this monster buttplug in my hands, I thought
on the word, `keys'. It finally came to me.

"You stoopid fuckin' idiot!"

"Ya gotta hurry, Sean. They'll be home in a half hour.
They can't find me like this!"

I hightailed it off to our adjoining jon. Tossing the
buttplug into the tub, I applied water and soap to my
hands.

"Hurry, Sean!" I heard from the other room.

Running back, I asked, "Well, you got them on. Any
bright ideas?"

"Yeah. You've gotta call Rob."

"Rob? He's at college."

"No. He didn't go yet. That's where I got the bag of
toys from. He gave them to me on Saturday."

With Mark's direction, I grabbed the cellphone out of
his jeans pocket. Opening it, I found `Lassiter' and
punched the button.

Through the receiver, I heard panting and "Hello?"

"Rob?"

At Mark's request, I put it on speakerphone.
Stealing the conversation, Mark blurts out, "Rob,
where's the key?"

Instead of hearing an informative reply, a thunderous,
distorted laugh bellows out.

Picking up the phone, I key it back to a one-on-one
conversation, yelling into it, "Rob, you better get
the fuckin' key over here right now! Mark's parents
are due back in fifteen minutes! And make it snappy!"

Hearing some mumbo-jumbo, hemming and hawwing, I hung
up.

"What'd he say? He coming over?"

"He better!"

"Didn't he say so?"

"Um. I didn't give him the chance to say `no'."

"You hung up on him, Sean?"

"He'll be here."

I was very confident Rob would be ringing the
doorbell.
%

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.