Date: Sun, 30 May 2010 13:30:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bar Tab Buy-out! 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,
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.

Bar Tab Buy-out! 13
wriTten by Travis Chase McPhee

%

"Wasn't that the doorbell?" Scott questions Marco, all dripping wet with
sweat.

"Could be a mail delivery. I'm receiving things all the time. He'll leave a
card." Then coaxing Scott onwards, "You stopped at number forty-two."

But the doorbell rang again, Scott saying, "Persistent mailman."

"And right when I was just getting into it, too," the thirty-eight year old
says, landing on his feet and walking towards the door like nothing
transpired between the two.

"I can't believe you!"

"What?" Marco says, leaving the dungeon first.

"Forty-two gut-punches and you act like 'nothing'," Scott replies.

"Here," He produces two bathrobes from a closet. "I keep these here in case
of emergencies."

It didn't dawn on Scott, not until Marco's hand was on the front doorknob,
if anyone saw the two in bathrobes, would they think they came from the
breakfast table, which it being way past the breakfast hour, or could the
stranger at the door opinionate they just hopped out of bed? But Scott
shrugged it off. In the last three decades of his life, if somebody
questioned his gay sexuality, he didn't fight it or put them off with lies,
but rather fessed up to it.

"Hey, how's it going?" Tom said, passing right by the two and walking into
the house. "I guess I forgot to mention I have early leave on Friday?"

"No, you didn't mention," Scott replies.

"So, what are you up to? Just get up?"

And then as Marco closes the door, "I'll have to get you a key."

But something more than a key was on Tom's mind, "Hey, you guys weren't
like having sex, were you?"

Marco said 'yes'.

Scott said 'no'.

"Oh, so which is it?"

Scott replies, "We were just headed out to the pool for dip. How about
yourself?"

"Yeah, cool!" Tom replies. "I'll get ready."

Marco and Scott look at each other, when Tom drops his books on a chair in
the foyer and begins peeling off his shirt.

"Um, Tom?"

"Yeah?" He stops, with his tee shirt over one shoulder.

"There's a bedroom upstairs for changing or a cabana out back?" Scott told
him.

"I guess I'll go out back." And looking at Scott and not Marco, "Wanna
help?"

"You run along. I have to speak with Marco about something."

"Cool!" Tom replies, the eighteen year old hustling off.

"You lied to him."

"I didn't lie to him, okay," Scott contests. "I just fibbed, long enough to
figure this out."

"What's the big deal anyway Scott. We weren't doing any bdsm shit. Guys at
the gym are always testing their punch-proof abs."

"By the way, I guess I didn't punch hard enough, because you never got to
confess?"

Marco smiled at Scott's gesture, leaning his fist into the breadbasket of
the bathrobe. "In a nutshell, the company goes on, business as usual,
though some assets have been frozen, mainly the Barnett brothers' personal
accounts."

"And mine?"

"You're free to do banking-as-usual, Scott. For now you can live in your
house, but I would think about doing some light packing."

"I'm going to lose it, huh?"

"The way Jasper Barnett Tarkington set up the owndership of the mansion? He
didn't do it right. Sorry. It's gotta go."

"Fortunately, I don't have to worry about the furniture much, in that it
came furnished."

Marco advises, "You told me, but don't mention that to anyone else!" He
smiles after a wink, patting Scott on the back.

Scott jokes, "That eight foot grand piano I never learned to play, should
fetch 'something'."

"Hey! Are you guys coming?"

Marco and Scott stood there, eyes wide open, seeing Tom in the buff, water
dripping off him like he came out of a fresh shower.

"You're getting the floor all wet!" Scott scolded him.

Tom teases, "So what're ya gonna do Scott? Whip my butt?"

Watching as the two play-acted with one another, Marco laughed as Scott
chased Tom down the hall, Scott stripping his bathrobe as he flew out the
backdoor, in anticipation of where this was all going to end up.

%

Nearing noontime, Down at the Wildwood, a private session, one not held
during the late evening hours, was taking place in the basement dungeon.

"Please, no more guys. I've really had enough," Gregg Traskin, the one who
was Marco's 'guest' at the Wildwood, accompanied him, following an internet
hookup-gone-wrong, questioned Mike Turk, a dungeon guest who couldn't
refuse Marco on training a 'top' to be his 'bottom-boy'.

Last night, as Mike took over ownership of Gregg, he and Tim, the Wildwood
bouncer, had taken Gregg down the road to the gym Gregg had
mentioned. Having some fun doing some two-on-one, or three-on-one, they had
really worked Gregg over good. For most of the morning, Gregg had been
sleeping it off, tied to a bondage table in the basement dungeon at the
Wildwood. Going home, freshening up, getting some rest and grub, Mike Turk
was back for some more fun. He thought last night such a good time, he
decided to make it a three day weekend for himself. Too, whatever Gregg
Traskin's plans were, didn't matter. Whatever was going with Mike, went
along for Gregg as well.

"Let's see now... I think a little examination is in store?" The
forty-eight year old says, probing Gregg's stomach. "Hurt?" Mike smiles at
Gregg's wincing. "And these?" he gets the same reaction with handling
Gregg's balls.

"What do you fuckin' think?" Gregg answers, "after you and your asshole
cronies beat them to a pulp?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk! I thought maybe you might have learned some manners after
our fun last night, boy."

Gregg's reply, "After I get out of this, I'm not waiting for some cop to
haul your ass off to jail!"

Laughing his ass off, Mike replies, "Hey, we've got a three day weekend
ahead of us and if that's not enough," Mike runs his hand up Gregg's hairy
front, "I have my own business, which means I have people who run it for
me. What I'm saying," he manhandles Gregg's left nip, "if I don't show up,
nobody'll miss me!"

"Argh-h-h-h-h!" Gregg cries at in pain as Mike twists his nip, doing a
little 'twist and shout'!

In walks Tim, informing Mike, "We've got all the bases
covered. Reggie-down-at-the-gym gave us the name of the place Gregg is
employed, as well as his boss of the construction company. I gave him a
call and he acted like he didn't give a shit Gregg was calling out sick."

Gregg couldn't really complain, even though he was hearing what transpired
between the two, regarding his own personal business, what with being
fitted with a leather hood, whereas the only skinned surface was a place
left open for breathing.

However, it tickled Mike to know Gregg didn't take kindly to someone else
calling him out sick, the way he thrashed about on the bondage table,
pulling with his hands and at his feet.

"Hey, Tim, you got any duct tape?" Mike asks.

"Upstairs, why?"

"Just too lazy to shave him, but there's really too much hair around his
nips."

"Nice," Tim said about the idea. "I'm sure there's one or two rolls lying
about. Need some help?"

A full chest of dark brown hair, wrapped around his pecs, Mike knew Gregg
was sweating under the mask, as little beads of perspiration began forming
between the dark follicles, not only on his chest, but down his stomach,
all the way to his bruised lower anatomy.

%

They had their playful fun, frolicking in the pool, with Scott at first the
aggressor, then Tom chasing him underwater like a submarine.

"Gotcha!" Tom says, after Scott has surfaced, holding him around the
middle.

"Oh really? And now what are you going to do with me now that you've got
me?"

"Take you up to the dungeon and make you play with me!" Tom replies.

As if deja vu, an hour ago being coerced by Marco, Scott replies, "I guess
you won't let me rest until I've played with you in the dungeon, huh Tom?"

But he was surprised as hell when Tom responds, "What else can we do
together?"

"Do together? You mean like play golf?" Scott suggests.

"You know how to play golf?"

"Miniature golf?" Scott says with a giggle.

"Yeah, cool!" Tom reacts. "Like now?"

"Why not?" Scott replies.

The two hiking up the side of the pool, Tom says, "You know, for an old man
you're kind of physically fit, Scott?"

"Am I now?" He says, but thoughts creep in from an hour ago, him being
challenged by Marco, regarding losing the edge on his physical prowness. "I
think I'm having a midlife gut crisis!"

With excitement, as they found clothes which fit Tom, the shirts a little
baggy, pants naturally sagging for a kid his age, fitting just okay, the
two talked for the first time about anything but bdsm.

"I was thinking of joining a gym. How about you, Scott?"

There was a gym at Barnett-Tarkington, but he wasn't sure how it would
look, him, the highest worker on the totem pole, working out with an
eighteen year old. So he went with, "Sure. Wouldn't hurt seeing the inside
of a gym... I hope!"

Tom laughs, putting the finishing touches on, tightening his belt. "I hope
I don't sag too much."

"Why's that?" Scott asks.

"The briefs? Remember, they were too big?"

Scott laughs, saying, "That should turn quite a few heads!"

"Especially yours Scott. Everytime you see my naked butt, you'll want to
fuck it!"

"Now you know that's not true Tom," though it had occured to Scott, what a
lovely ass Tom has!

"I know. I guess it's wishful thinking," Tom replies with a depressed
attitude.

As Scott is bent over tying his sneakers, Tom stands there, saying, "Even
with a shirt on you have a beautiful back Scott."

Sitting up, he cuts off Tom's hand from planing over Scott's shirt. "I'll
take that as a compliment. Thanks! Ready to go?"

Before they do, Tom says, "I've only got fifteen bucks in my wallet."

"I've got a credit card. You're buying the pizza!"

They headed downstairs like the house was on fire, stopping at the front
door.

"What's wrong?" Tom asks.

"One problem. Wheels!"

"And where are you two headed?" Marco asks, dangling a set of keys from his
hand.

Scott asks, "You wouldn't happen to have an extra car in the garage, would
you?" staring at the shiny set of keys.

"I want it back in pristine condition," Marco said, handing the keys to
Scott. "And these," he produces an extra set, awarding them to Tom, "are
your keys for the front and back doors."

"Um, should I like ring the bell before coming in?" Tom asks, taking the
keys.

"No," Marco replies nonchalantly. "I have nothing to hide. We're all gay
men. I'm sure it will not shock you if you come in and find some guy on top
of me in bed, fucking the living daylights out of me?"

Both Tom and Scott laugh at Marco's candidness.

He harbors, "In fact, if you want to, come and join in!"

"Really?" Tom asks, eyes like saucers.

"I think we better be going," Scott says. He also leaves with, "Have fun
getting fucked!"

But as the two left, Marco did indeed feel horny, but in a different
sense. He didn't know how or what controlled the urges, but he had it in
mind right now of wanting to take on some hot, narrow channel for
himself. Right away he thought of his fuck-buddy, Tim Brecker, down at the
Wildwood. When he connected with him, almost immediately, he found Tim
enroute to the dungeon.

"Really?" his tongue licked his lips, hand feeling up his balls, when
learning the dude he was with last night, Gregg, was stretched out on a
bondage table. "Mike Turk still there? Oh cool!" And when he heard about
the next thing on Mike's agenda, involving the two rolls of duct tape Tim
had in his hand, Marco had hung up, saying he was on his way!

%

"What happens if we get to the miniature golf place and my friends are
there?"

Scott replies, "How 'out' are you?"

"How 'out' I am, I'm not thinking of." Then thinking about it, "I'm out to
a couple of the guys who are also gay, but 'straights', I'm not really, but
Scott, what I mean is, how do I explain to them, if I do come out and I'm
pretty sure that's how it's going to go, unless I tell them you're my older
brother."

Scott was ready to interject thought, but didn't, on account of he got cut
off.

"But they all know my brother and they know you won't be him, but it's
okay. I could tell them you're my uncle or something, or..."

"Tom!"

"What?" Tom responds to the call of attention.

"I have a better idea."

"What?"

Scott regals, "Why don't you just introduce me as 'Scott' and let them draw
their own conclusions?"

"I guess I could do that, but what happens if they start thinking you and
me are like drawn together, like a gay couple or something?"

Smiling, Scott replies, "Maybe 'we' should start thinking along those lines
ourselves, then it won't seem so strange when others think the same thing?"

"Couple, Scott? You mean we're like boyfriends or something?" Tom says,
feeling this new thing out, with an effervescent feeling of excitement
growing.

"Well look! If somebody had asked me 'Scott, what are you doing Friday
afternoon?', never in my wildest imagination would I have thought I'd be
telling them, I'm on my way to play miniature golf with my boyfriend!"
Strange, it didn't seem weird, except to look upon Tom, an eighteen year
old sitting there in the passenger seat of the Firebird.

Thinking the same, but with a different twist, Tom says, "Can I tell you
something?"

"Sure. Tell me anything." Dwelling on the 'boyfriend' issue, "Isn't that
what boyfriends are supposed to do?"

"I'm nervous."

"We don't have to play miniature golf?" Scott slows for a red light.

"I want to play miniature golf."

"Why don't we then leave it as 'friends'?"

"Sure," Tom agrees.

But when they pulled up to the miniature golf complex, a rather upscale
development of a fanciful array of golf holes, Tom was more aware,
searching out cars he 'knew'.

"See anyone you know?" Scott quizzes.

"Ah... yeah," Tom replies, looking out the passenger side. "Plenty! Friday
afternoon like, the whole school is here!"

"Want to change your mind?" Scott asks, giving Tom one last ditch effort.

Tom wanted to change his mind, but something inside of him was giving him
the push to be brave. He popped the door handle. "I'm ready, I guess?"

Scott joked, "You can pretend I'm your chaffeur?"

They walked shouder to shoulder, the only variation, Scott being
older. Decked out in tee shirts and jeans, they matched as far as wardrobe,
which among the others of Tom's age or a little older, the two blended in.

One idiot they met asks, "This your father, Tom?"

Somebody else answers, "Shut up Jack."

Another of Tom's buds clarified it, "His 'rents are up where the angels
are."

Tom let all their comments go over his head. "This is my friend Scott," he
told them.

"Nice friend," one of them replied, shaking Scott's hand, giving it an
extra squeeze, rendering Scott a smile and exchange of sentiments via
eye-staring.

As they continued to where the clubs were rented, Scott comments to Tom, "I
think at least one of them are on to us?"

"Jimmy. He's like so gay!" Tom replies.

It made Scott laugh.

As for the rest of the time spent playing miniature golf, they had fun,
mostly their own two selves, making mistakes or perfectly setting the ball
in the hole. Afterwards Scott drove them to his favorite pizza joint, a
restaurant about a half hour from the amusement.

"Have you ever eaten at Luigi's?" Tom asks.

"A few dozen times," Scott replies. "It's the favorite Italian pit stop for
lunch hour for Barnett-Tarkington employees."

Walking side by side to the front facade, Tom asks, "What's it like being a
big boss of corporation?"

Holding the door for Tom, "A big responsibility. Almost like caring for a
family."

Tom asks, "When you meet the right guy, about how many kids you want to
have in the family, Scott?"

"I think first I will wait and see if and when I meet that special
someone!"

Before Tom could react, a cute maitre-d had showed, asking, "How many?"

Tom walked behind Scott since the aisle was single file, joking in a soft
tone, "Tell him three, then invite him to sit with us!"

Scott threw a smile over his shoulder.

A little embarrassed, Tom only smiled when they sat, the head waiter dude
saying, "Would you care for 'the usual', Mr. Brock?"

"I think I could really go for something cold and non-alcoholic, Adrian."

'Adrian?' Tom thought, looking up at Adrian's face at he went to sit.

"Allow me, sir," Adrian said, quickly leaving Scott's chair to usher Tom
into his seat.

"Thanks!" Tom replies, looking up into Adrian's face.

Scott noticed the two, Adrian taking an extra breath.

"You are entirely welcome, sir."

Tom immediately answers, "I'm Tom."

"Nice to meet you Tom. I'm Adrian. Can I get you a drink?"

"Water would be cool." And then he nodded at his hand, Adrian still holding
it.

"Oh sorry," Adrian let go. "I'll be right back with your water. What would
you like Mr. Brock?"

"Water will be fine and Adrian?"

"Yes, Mr. Brock?"

Feeling older by the name-calling, Scott says, "Why don't we drop the
formalities and call me Scott?"

"You got it Mr. Brock... I mean 'Scott'!"

After leaving, Scott says, "Adrian just happens to be gay?"

"Yeah, so?" Tom asks.

"Nothing. Just saying."

"What's he, a college-dude?"

Scott replies, almost as Adrian is bringing back two goblets and a jug of
water, "What year are you in college, Adrian?"

Because he knows he's explained this to Scott, Adrian figures it's being
asked for Tom's benefit, so unloads, "I'm a second year criminal justice
major." And as if Tom had asked, refers back to Tom, "How about you?"

"I'm graduating from high school in a few weeks."

Adrian replies, "If you need a summer job, they're hiring. I know the
owner, so let me know."

"There you go," Scott says to Tom.

"I've never done any waitering before," Tom says.

"It's no sweat. All you have to do is be polite and have muscles!"

Tom tells him, "Oh then there's a big problem. I can be nice, but I'm not
too built up when it comes to muscle."

Adrian asks, "Let me see your bicep."

Feeling promiscuous, Tom asks, "If you show me your six-pack?"

Smiling, Adrian replies, "Sure. I'll show you my six-pack. I get off at
six. Where do you want me to pick you up?"

"Ahem!" Scott draws attention back to the 'third person'.

"Oh yeah, Scott, um, you don't mind if Adrian drops by to show me his six
pack, do you?"

Facetiously, Scott answers, "Oh really? I was under the impression he was
going to show you more than six defined muscles... and vice versa?"

It's then, Adrian, whom has served Scott numerous times, 'gets it', "Uh, do
you two have something 'going'?"

There, exactly as Scott had impressed upon, 'youth', was dealing a hand in
Adrian's interpetation. Acting on it, Scott replies, "We're friends."

Now, Tom with a measure of wishful thinking, since Scott has pondered the
question already of the difference in ages, says of all this, "Are you sure
Scott?"

And because Scott and Adrian have always been upfront with each other,
regarding their sexuality, Scott poses, "Weren't you seeing a guy already,
Adrian?"

"Yeah. Juan. He wanted me to go off to Puerto Rico with him and... I like a
northern climate," Adrian explained. "Another reason I wasn't ready to pull
up roots yet."

Following the conversation, Tom asks, "Like how old are you Adrian?"

"Would you care for the whole run down of stats?" Adrian returns, a smile
attached, which meant essentials and nonessentials, as pertaining to the
ensuing moment.

"Your age for now. I can check out the others for myself later!"

Sitting back, smiling, Scott wasn't a bit perturbed over Tom's decision to
'abandon' their blooming relationship, as it pertained to developing into
something more than friends. Perhaps he was pleased, relieved he was being
set free to 'shop'. While they still chatted, Scott says, "If you'll excuse
me, I need to find the little boys room?"

Adrian pointed out the direction, even though Scott could probably find it
blindfolded.

"Thanks!" Scott replies, even though he knew Adrian knew he knew.

Off on his way to take a leak, he's passing an area of back to back booths,
hearing, "Mr. Brock, how are ya?"

Scott looks to his left, right, then notices a guy rounding the quad of
boxed in tables, wiping his mouth and hands on a napkin. Walking right up
to him, Scott accepts his hand in friendship, but not recognizing him, "Do
I know you?"

"I saw you going out in your car once, but you got away before I could
introduce myself. I'm Tony Gravelli, your new landscaper... or rather
'was'." And all in a nutshell, "Remember Guiseppe retired?"

"About a two weeks ago, wasn't it?" Scott recalls.

"I'm his nephew. The Barnetts hired me on Guiseppe's reference, only it
doesn't matter now because everybody's on furlow."

"News to me," Scott replies.

Tony was following up with another bit of news, "Yeah, so I'm looking for
another job. Hey, by the way, I saw you at the Wildwood last night?"

Scott knew Tony was probing for information, so he kept it short and
simple, "Right. I thought I'd drop in for a drink. You?"

A smiling criss-crossing Tony's face, he replies, "I saw you knee some guy
in the balls. Pretty hot. Anytime you get the urge to do it again, I'm your
boy!"

One thing Scott had on his mind, when Tony was making the effort to catch
up with him, the closer he came towards him, the more he liked what he saw,
the Italian facade, shirt collar v-shaped, showing enough of that dark,
Italian mane lying on Tony's chest. But the outline of the shirt caught his
eye too, which probably clothed a physically fit man, what with the wide
shoulders. If Tony was thinking he had an interest, Scott did, so rather
than turn off Tony's pilot light, he keeps him stoked, "I was just about to
use the boys room...."

"I was just on my way there."

Scott thought to himself, 'Yeah, right Tony!'

For the most part, the remainder of their trek was down a secluded hallway,
which looked like the backdrop of a movie set. The whole time they left the
restaurant domain and went along their way, Tony couldn't shut-up about how
awesome Scott acted at the Wildwood. Slowly, Tony's thoughts turned to
himself.

Having two ideas in his head, one was to have Tony get off his back about
how he smashed some dudes balls, how awesome it was when he surprised the
dude with a gut-punch. So, drawing off these ideas, it humored Scott to
think of putting Tony in Marco's place. Stepping inside the jon, Scott held
the door.

Tony entered, saying, "Thanks."

But when he turned around, Scott's fist was waiting for him.

"Hough-h-h-h-oh-shit!" Tony belted out from the sudden expulsion of air,
after Scott drove his fist into his gut.

Biting his lip, Scott wasn't sure he had done the right thing.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck!" Tony managed between catching up on his breath.

Scott wasn't sure if he should be on his guard or not, had mixed reaction
as Tony held his stomach with one hand and pulled himself up to his feet by
tugging at the sink with his other hand.

"Oh man that was so fuckin' awesome Mr. Brock!"

Shedding a sigh of relief, inwards, Scott knew he was in the clear. And by
the way Tony was expressing himself, he knew he could push Tony
further. Standing there, hands on his torso, he says, "I've got to go kind
of bad, so whenever you want to stop thinking about your weak gut and start
doing something about my zipper needing opening up?"

"Hell yeah!" Tony's eyes lit up.

When he started walking over towards Scott, he says in a gruff manner,
"Whatsamatter with you boy, don't you have no manners?"

Tony 'knew' right away to fall to his knees.

But there on, Scott wasn't sure how it was going to go, more putting it on
auto-pilot.

Sure enough, Tony went ahead, unbuckled Scott's belt, unbuttoned his pants,
unzipped him.

Only part unsolved by Scott, for the moment, was how he was going to get
from the center of the jon, to the urinal. He thought, 'Should I have Tony
hold my cock for me?'

But if he allowed Tony to drop his pants to his ankles, like he was doing,
he would trip. Then, as Tony put his thumbs in the elastic of Scott's CK's,
he figured Tony was going to give him a blow job, so he informed him, "No
Tony. I have to piss."

"I know," Tony replied as he took Scott's cock in his mouth, lay the head
right on his tongue.

Now Scott was doubly unsure of this. He was cringing at the thought of
thinking what to make of this, his cock pointing into Tony's mouth.

He was saved from anymore thoughts when Tony took his hard cock in his hand
and says, "Anytime you're ready to piss, Mr. Brock, let loose," replacing
his cock on his lower lip.

A thought flooded Scott's mind, the growing possibility of Tony wanting him
to piss in his mouth and secondly, Scott thinking it an okay thing to do,
because if Tony wanted him to do it, then Tony has done this sort of thing
before. However, Scott had to think fast because he was in dire need of
having to piss. Then he couldn't help himself, allowing a little to seep
out of his piss slit.

"Mm-m-m-m," Tony made a guttural sound, swallowing and posing his pleasure
of swallowing the warm yellow juice.

Scott swallowed too, but it was a reaction of Tony there on his knees, his
cock half in Tony's mouth and him emptying his pent up piss.

"Mm-m-m-m....  Mm-m-m-m-m!"

Scott squashed his lips all together, thinking how repulsive this all is,
something he would never in a lifetime catch himself doing. He got the
scare of his life, forgetting this was a public room, some dude opening the
door.

Sticking his head in, Scott was totally bonked when the guy said, "Oh,
you're busy Tony, okay... just checking up on you."

The shock made Scott stop streaming, but right after the dude, who looked
to be around Tony's age, summing up maybe early thirties, says, "I think
that's all I have to give Tony. Um, you're not going to be sick or
anything?" He also scrutinized Tony's wardrobe for any spillage, but there
wasn't any.

"Hell, Mr. Brock, I've taken gallons of piss down my throat. Haven't you
ever noticed the two special urinals at the Wildwood?"

Scott wasn't at the Wildwood long enough to have had to use the facilities,
but he was curious, so answered in an inquiring frame of mind, "No, I
haven't." He waited.

Taking the bait, Tony elaborates, "Above two of the urinals there are pairs
of chains with leather cuffs hanging from them. The master I hooked up with
one night had me kneel in front of the unrinal. He told me to put my arms
over my head and he fastened the cuffs to my wrists," Tony goes through the
motions. "Being I'm right in front of the urinal, when a guy comes to take
a piss, I have to open my mouth and take his load of piss down into my
stomach."

"What happens if he misses?"

Moving his hands over his shoulders, down his chest, Tony replies, "Then it
streams down my bod."

"But your clothes get wet and then you have to wear them home like that?"
Scott says with a look of disgust.

"No. I forgot. He has me strip down before he chains me to the urinal."

"So," Scott takes a deep breath, "how long do you have to remain in that
position?"

"All night. The action gets going around ten. Some guys come back two or
three times. Lots of times they've had too many beers, so they don't even
aim for my mouth. But hell... feels so awesome having hot piss stream down
my bod."

"Sounds unsanitary," Scott says.

Giggling, Tony clues Scott in, "Only if my master wills it, do I have to
lick up the floor."

Scott's the one holding his stomach now, replying, "I think I'm gonna be
sick!"

Tony then gets the idea, "This is all new to you, isn't it Mr. Brock?"

Confessing, Scott says as he tidies himself up, "I wasn't even sure if I
should have gut-punched you. After doing so, I had mixed reactions as to
whether you were going to punch my lights out."

Still on his knees, Scott talks down to him, Tony speaking up, with lifted
chin, "You know, I think you have possibilities of becoming a top-notch,
hot-shot master, Mr. Brock."

"You think so?" Scott takes it as a whim as he rinses his hands.

Tony, still on his knees, talks to Scott's reflection in the mirror, "I
could give you a lot of pointers. I've been into this for some number of
years."

"Is that so?" Scott asks, fussing with his hair.

Finally standing, Tony says, "I'm not one into bragging, but I think I have
a nice, tight ass to fuck, if that helps sway your answer?"

Scott turns, snaps back at Tony with, "What was the question?"

Translating his inner thoughts into reality, Tony asks, "What are you doing
after lunch with your friend?"

Scott smiles. It's the same thing Adrian thought, Tom being his
friend. And, as it stood now, it looked like that's exactly what Tom was
starting to mean to him. At first, he thought Tom pressed for something
more, but now Adrian was sweeping Tom off his feet. Thinking Tony was cute,
in great condition and more than willing to help him explore an unknown
field in which he has barely gotten his feet wet, Scott asks, "You got a
place?"

"Not really. I still live at home with the family," Tony replies with
dissapointment."

Of course, Scott was going to check out his place of residence, but wasn't
sure about it being under surveillance. He chose the next-best place!

%

Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

`Bar Tab Buy-out!' 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.....