Date: Tue, 26 Jan 2010 10:10:10 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe  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.

HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe  04
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"So, what time is the hockey party tomorrow?" Marshall asks as he swings
the belt up, in between Hector's legs.

"Ak-k-k-k-k-k-oh-h-h-h-h-fuckin'-shit!"

Not answering soon enough, Marshall mercilessly draws the belt up,
thrashing his balls, "I didn't hear you boy!"

"Ak-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k! Afternoon! Two o'clock... I'll
be lucky if I can sit down!"

Marshall smiled, returning to his chair to allow Hector to sweat it out.

And sweat it out, Hector surely was, his wrists bound, tethered to the beam
above, bod stretched out, separate ropes attached to each ankle and spread
wide. Tied around each of the columns, same pillars binding Barrett's arms
and legs, before Marshall bound him out on the banquest table. In different
fashion, Hector stood, his cock and balls isolated by the slight breeze
flowing through the damp basement.

"You know I think you're balls have taken enough punishment and if you
want, we can forgo the remaining seventy lashes?"

"Really?" Hector sighed with slight relief, wincing a bit. "Oh that would
be great!"

"In exchange for a hot fuck?"

Hector thought this a trick question, so tested it by saying, "Sure. Let me
down from these ropes, hump your ass over the table and I'll have no
problem doing you!" He waited.

"Not exactly what I had in mind Hector, but I like your style!"

Seeing what Marshall was packing, the eight or nine inches of fully
engourged meat hanging between his adversary's legs, he wasn't sure which
would be the worst of his punishment, his balls or his ass at stake.

Picking up the leather strap, Marshall says, "Maybe I should remind you
which could be the easier outcome?"

"Uh no... um, hold on there. Give me a fuckin' minute?"

"Take your time." And as sneaky as his brother, Marshall says, "You got
sixty seconds!"

%

Lying there in bed, Hunter was dozing, but because of his still-stingy
pecs, Barrett lay half awake. Taking Hunter's hand he placed it on his own
pec and manouvered his friend's fingers so they gave himself a
semi-massage. 'Mm-m-m,' he thought to himself, slightly humming. It's then
Hunter stirred and as he did, Barrett fell backwards onto his back.

Still in sleep, Hunter sort of picked himself up and lay halfway on,
halfway off of Barrett's bod.

Wanting more, especially since he could more or less seduce Hunter when he
wasn't in control, he shimmied himself so his bod was more under his high
school bud. Of course the friction between bods caused Barrett to wince in
pain, but like the deed itself, the hot wax dripping on him, his contact
with Hunter made the painful effort all worthwhile.

Five minutes into getting comfortable, the bedroom door opens. Without
lights it was impossible to see who it was, Barrett asking, "Marshall?
Hector?"

Climbing into bed, the intruder says, "It's me, Marshall. Hector went
home."

Right away, Marshall nudges his brother off Barrett and scoops him up in
his arms.

"So, how's Hector's balls?" Barrett asks, not so much out of concern, but
for curiosity's sake.

"Fine. After thirty lashes I told him either he could finish out the
hundred or get his ass fucked."

Hoping for the first item, Barrett says, "So he finished out the ball
torture?"

"Nah. When it comes to pain he's like so far behind you. He wimped out and
got his ass fucked. Real tight I tell ya. Busted his cherry wide open."

"Oh," Barrett said as he lay in Marshall's arms, thinking he was something
special to the twenty-five year old. "So, I guess I'm just a torture toy to
you?"

Like his brother, Marshall started falling to sleep, answering, "Mm," which
Barrett was taking as a 'yes', but with contrasting mentality because their
bods faced each other and Marshall had an arm lock on him, bod-to-bod and
it to Barrett, sensed security.

%

Saturday morning, the whole bed seemed to awaken in spurts.

Hunter, the first to come awake, turned his head over his shoulder, now not
doubting Barrett's opinion of him and his brother, the two wrapped up in
each others arms. He tried not to awaken them, moving to the edge of the
other side of the bed. He was well-versed at doing so because other times,
over the course of years, they've experienced waking up and not alone in
the bed. Proceeding to the jon, he had a flashback, almost seeing an
apparition of Hector, standing in the hot tub with his legs splayed. It
then made him curious of how it turned out for his brother. Then, he took a
few steps backwards, seeing Marshall and Barrett in the same position in
the bed, wondering how this came to be. Minding his own business, he
showered, but then realized he hadn't emptied his teen balls last night and
with that he recalled one of the few hot scenes. He could've gotten off
with paddling Hector's balls, but his attention instead turned to Barrett
and their moments
 after the pec-icing.

"Oh yeah... oh yeah... oh fuckin' yeah!" he called out with each speed
increase of his hand and soon he was creaming the shower wall. "Oh fuck
yeah, Barrett!" he exclaimed as his teen seed spurt out, thinking all along
his hand was Barrett's ass. Coming down from high up, he stood under the
shower, stroking less and less, till his breathing caught up with his hand
job. Then, bracing his hands against the tiles, allowed the shower to rain
down on him, over his back, until things subsided.

"Hey, bro."

"Oh, it's you," Hunter said, looking over his shoulder.

"Of course," Marshall replied, closing the glass door of the three pane
shower enclosure. "Who else would take the chance of coming in here and
getting their lights punched out?"

Like normal, because normal as it was, Marshall picks up the bottle of
shower gel, squirts some out on his hand, deflects the showerhead and
begins rubbing it into his brother's shoulders.

"Oh-h-h yeah. Feels good. So, how did it work out with you and Hector? He
go home with blue balls?"

"Nah," Marshall says nonchalantly as he gives his brother an expert massage
with the shower gel. "He saw things my way, so I let him off the hook after
thirty whacks."

Knowing, Hunter asks, "Tight?"

"Very. I really had to shove myself in to break through the barrier!"

"I love it!" Hunter said with glee, laughing it off.

"He told me afterwards he was hoping it could've been you taking his
cherry."

"Me?" Hunter says in exclamation, turning his head to face his bro. "You
must've heard wrong, Marsh. If anything, it would have been Hector trying
to plug 'my' ass."

"Hector talks it up big, but deep down inside he's really wanting to be
owned," Marshall lays it out as he motions Hunter to turn, his finger
pirouetting.

As routine goes, when the two are alone, Hunter assumes the 'top' role,
Marshall falling to his beckoning needs. "Oh really? I guess we showed him
the light, huh?"

"Yeah, and how!" Marshall returns, the two laughing. Continuing his light
massage, their bods become close as soapy hands run along the extent of
Hunter's arms. "I can't wait till the hockey game this afternoon."

"What hockey game?"

"Hector and his moving buddies. At first he played it cool, but then while
I was fucking him he let on I wasn't the first to take his cherry."

"I hope you're going to punish him for that?"

The two smiled at each other before Marshall answers, "Next time and maybe
his fuck-buddy will come along."

Then, meaning to bring it up anyway, "And what about Barrett?"

"What about him?"

"You two kissed last night?" Hunter put it to him. "What was that about?"

"He can take a lot of pain, okay?"

Two things clue Hunter in to the deception, his brother's hands stopping
their sudsing action and the look on his face. Hunter could tell when
somebody wasn't telling the truth and Marshall wasn't any exception, him
accusing, "Liar!"

"What're you going to do? Beat the truth out of me?"

Hunter says, "Might be fun!"

"Okay, so I think he's more to me than taking some pain."

"I know."

"You know? What the fuck does that mean?"

Taking the soap bottle in his hand, Hunter squirts some out, rubbing it
between his hands. "Your turn?"

They switched positions, Marshall stepping under the shower. But before he
could get started, the door rolls open, Barrett standing there and after a
big yawn, asking, "Can I do that, Hunter?"

Of course they weren't going to discuss Hunter's intuition in front of
Barrett, so he relinquished the soaping up of his brother. "Don't forget to
clean his dirty cock!"

As Hunter left the shower, he heard from behind closed doors, "So, it
wasn't only my ass that dirtied up your cock last night, huh Marshall?"

It made Hunter smile, wondering 'who was owning whom', but he proceeded to
dry off, wrapping the bath sheet around his waist. Normal for a Saturday
morning, usually nothing much to do, he would head down to the kitchen for
a light breakfast. Not into coffee, he skipped straight to the carton of
orange juice, twisting off the cap and guzzling it like a tank of gas. He
had just put the near empty carton back in the refrigerator when he's
astonished at hearing somebody knocking on the back door. "What tha?" he
questions himself, seeing a tall dude, holding a coffee cup in his hand!

Right out, after opening the door, he says, "Hey! I'm your new neighbor
from next door and was wondering if I could borrow a cup of sugar?"

It seemed like the two synonomously checked out the other, their eyes
meeting when looking straight forwards.

Hunter replies, "Your baking at like eight o'clock in the morning?"

"It's ten o'clock."

Looking around the room, Hunter's eyes squint at the clock on the wall. "Oh
yeah." Then, leaving the door open he turns, looks around and says, "I
don't know where the flour is."

"Sugar," the dude says.

"That neither. It could be anywhere!" Hunter says, his hands expressing
himself.

"You don't cook for yourself?"

"Nah. Francis is usually here, but he's off today visiting his cousin in
LA."

"So, unless you come over to my place for breakfast, you're going to
starve?"

Shocked to say the least, Hunter maintains his outwards cool, saying,
"What're you? Gay?"

"As gay as you are!"

"And who put you up to such a notion?" Hunter wonders, from whom classified
information was passed.

"Gregg Malone."

"Gregg Malone?" Hunter replies. Now he's wonders 'how much' Gregg has
shared with his new neighbor.

"'Our' real estate friend?"

Hunter replies, still in the cool mindframe, "Okay, so Gregg told you my
brother and I are gay. What else did he tell you?"

"Your brother is gay too?"

"Gregg didn't tell you that too?"

"Nope," the neighbor replies.

"Do me a favor and don't tell my brother I told you?"

Being a nice neighbor, he responds, "I won't if you agree to come over for
breakfast?"

"I don't eat breakfast with strangers!"

It was his way of seeking a name.

"Steve Rhys. Now you know me. See you in a half hour?"

As quickly as he entered, he was departing, Hunter stopping him, "What
about your cup of flour, Steve?"

"Sugar and 'no'. I think I remember where I've packed it!"

"What tha fuck?" Hunter quizzed the still air in the kitchen.

"Who was that hottie?"

"Off limits to you bro," Hunter answered his brother.

Marshall says, "Oh shit!"

"What?"

"Francis is off. Who's going to make me coffee?"

"I know how to make coffee?" The two draw their attention to the doorway,
Barrett standing there, like Hunter, a towel draped around his torso.

Marshall 'wanted to', but with his brother standing there didn't want to
admit anything, so replies, "That's cool."

Hunter saw the disappointment on Barrett's face, as if somebody turned down
playing with his pecs. "Marsh?"

"Yeah Hunt?"

"Why don't you cut out the fuckin' act and get it on with Barrett?"

"The fuckin' what?" he returns with an audacious attitude, slapping his
hand on the counter top. He looks towards Barrett.

Being they weren't into any roleplaying games and seemingly having his best
friend on his side, not to mention an ally of sorts, Barrett renders, "I
think what your brother is trying to say Marsh, if you like me so much, why
don't you show it?"

It backfired. Putting it to Marshall seemed too much for him to handle, him
heading towards the door, "Um, yeah, well I had a good time with you last
night, Barrett, but I better start getting ready for the hockey game."

Hunter stops him in his tracks, "It's not until this afternoon, bro?"

"I know, but Hector said maybe him, his friend and me can get together
early and do some stuff. You know... fool around?"

He and his high school pal were left dumbfounded. As for Barrett, more so.

"I can't believe it. It seemed so... so, like he was... was being real!"

Turning towards Barrett, Hunter sensed he needed more than words of
kindness. "Hey, look. I'm really sorry," he walked towards a stunned
Barrett, opening his arms to him. "Marsh can act like such a fuckin' jerk
sometimes."

"No," Barrett realizes, "maybe it's me."

Their chests touched, Hunter drawing back and venting, "Sorry. Does it
still hurt?" meaning his pecs.

"Not as much as...." Barrett replies, whimpering, "as 'that jerk'!"

"I know. Hey! I just got a brilliant idea! Why don't we both get
dressed. My new neighbor invited me over for breakfast and you're coming
too!"

Cheerfully said, it did lighten Barrett's burden too, him asking Hunter,
"You mean that cute dude I saw through the telescope?"

"Barrett, you're pathetic!"

%

"Oh great! You brought your brother!"

"Um, not exactly. This is my friend, Barrett. Barrett, this is Steve."

"I figured so," Steve changed his mind.

Hunter looked like saying, 'huh'?

"You two don't look at all alike. C'mon in," he left them standing at the
back door.

"What was that all about" Barrett asks Hunter.

"Dunno, but something smells good," Hunter replies, his nose enuciating his
words, taking in whiffs of sweet smells from the kitchen air.

As Hunter led the way, Barrett was thinking, 'Something looks good!'

"So? What's your pleasure? Coffee, tea or me?"

Right away Barrett answers without reluctance, "Hunter can have the coffee
and tea. I'll take you!"

"Oh really?" Steve replies, seeming to gravitate to Barrett. "And are you
talking in general or a certain 'part'?"

As the two joked, back and forth, Hunter stood there trying to figure Steve
out. Underneath Barrett's clothing, he knew what his teen friend
beheld. From his outlook on the new neighbor, he already figured he was
late 20's, about six feet tall, nice build, some muscle, but the shirt
around his stomach suggested needing another thousand crunches!

He's withdrawn from his dreamy state when Barrett exclaims, "Isn't that so
cool Hunt?"

"What?"

"Steve is the English professor at Callish Creek!"

Subtley, Hunter replies, "Yeah. Real cool. So do we get stuck taking
English 101 from you or are there other professors to choose from?"

"What isn't there to like about me?" Steve asks, taking Hunter's sarcasm
jokingly.

Barrett even back him up, "Yeah, I think Steve's cool, so what's up?"

Smiling, Hunter goes out on a limb, "Very tough to tell with your clothes
on Steve!"

At first, Barrett was siphoning off all of Steve's attention. Now, with the
risky comment, Steve floated towards Hunter, saying as he hinted at lifted
the tails of his tee shirt, "Me first, then you?"

"Wow!" Barrett replies as Steve whisks his tee shirt off overhead.

Eyes locking, Barrett's ignored as Hunter follows through, doing a tee
shirt lift.

"Mind if I sample one?"

"Nerve!" Barrett says of Steve's comment, but feels for himself, his teen
balls beginning to react as the newsy neighbor places a hand under Hunter's
left pec and firms up the nip for suckling.

"Ooh-h-h, Steve!" he draws back.

"Sorry. Did I overstep my boundaries.... um, sir?"

It's then Hunter knew Gregg must've said 'something' to Steve, him
reacting, "Just what did Gregg Malone tell you?"

Barrett showed some disappointment. By the way Hunter talked about Steve,
and after meeting him, he was sure Steve was the one to carry the
leash. Hiking his tee shirt up to his neck, Barrett directs, "Hey Steve!
Wanna chew on 'my' pecs?"

Glancing over at Barrett, his still-red pecs, Steve replies, "Whoa!
Somebody knows how to have some fun!"

Not fighting him, Barrett allowed Steve to run both hands over his still
red pecs, sparsely populated by the light brown hair.

"You do this to him?" Steve asks Hunter.

Telling all, now that his secret life wasn't so secretive anymore, Hunter
says, "My brother did it. He and Barrett have this 'thing' going." Not sure
how much Steve was into the art of bdsm, he let his choice words stimulate
food for thought.

As Steve finished up his touchy-feely time with Barrett, dropping his
hands, he wielded his direction of attention back to Hunter, confessing,
"Wish I could find someone with an interest similar to your brother?"

Seeing he wasn't getting anywhere here, plus stuff to do at home, Barrett
drops his tee shirt and says, "Hey, y'know I just remembered I'm like so
behind on the paper due for science class on Monday, that if I don't get to
it today, I'll like never have it to hand in on time."

"You have all day," Hunter says.

"I know," Barrett replies. "I'm not a brain like you Hunt. It'll take me
'all day' to even think up a topic!"

He didn't even leave time or space for Steve to say goodbye, Steve
addressing the empty exit connecting the kitchen with the rest of the
house, "Nice meetin' ya Barrett!" Steve's hand was still waving, when he
realized it, dropping it. "So, how about the breakfast?" His shirt had
dropped, tucked a little underneath, showing off Steve's deep, hairy innie.

Hunter let his shirt drop over his abs, smoothing it out with both hands as
he replies, "Sure. What's on the menu?"

Making it a point to nix the coffee and take up with the OJ, Hunter and
Steve talked through eggs and biscuits and sides of bacon, about their
general lives. An hour's passing, the two began to find a lull, which meant
either was waiting for the other to lead the conversation back to the
initial subject.

Being the host, Steve felt obligated, "So, what do you like to get into?"

"Anything. Not that I've tried anything. I mean, there's some things I
don't get into and would 'never' even think about going there."

"Hmm... I've got a swimming pool out back and a grand piano in the next
room. You wouldn't happen to want to take a swim or know how to play the
piano?"

Acting like an dunce, Hunter's jaw dropped open, him replying, "I thought
you were asking about...."

Knowing, Steve sprung his joke of humiliation, saying, "I was!" He giggles.

Smirking, Hunter says, "I'll take the swim, but only in the buff. As for
the piano, it so happens I 'know' how to play!"

"Oh really? How about playing me a tune or two?"

Leading Hunter through the spacious, lux home, no different from his own,
other than a different design, they came to a very large, ballroom type
setting. Switching on a light, the dimly lit room seemed to beckon one's
interest towards the far side.

"Nice," Hunter said, lifting the keyboard cover and tinkling with a few
notes, playing the first seven notes of 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star'.

"Impressive!" Steve exclaims, applauding.

"Yeah right," Hunter replies, pulling out the bench and sitting
down. Prolonging his playing, he stretches out his fingers, lightly
cracking his knuckles.

"Oooh! I hate it when somebody does that!" Steve complains, a fake look of
pain on his face.

"I'll have to remember that when I have you tied down to the bed sometime!"

Unknown to Hunter, he's started something to stirring!

With a few quick blows of air to the black and white keys he says, "Long
time since somebody's played this."

"Was my mother's. She was quite the virtuoso," Steve replies, standing
behind Hunter.

"And what did your father do?"

"Other than tend to his business, I don't know. He wasn't around too much."

"Sorry," Hunter says, looking to the side, then realizing Steve is above,
looks at his face upside down, offering another, "Sorry."

"So, you going to play?"

"If I remember," Hunter says. Setting into playing, he throws his hands
onto the keys, playing a loud sour-sounding, dismal chord, saying, "This is
Beethoven!"

"His fifty symphony," Steve correctly names it as Hunter sets about playing
through the famous, 'dah-dah-dah-daaaaaah' - 'dah-dah-dah-daaaaaaah'.

"Do you happen to know 'Chopsticks'? It's my favorite!"

"You've got to be kiddin'?" Hunter questions, turning his whole bod around
on the spinning bench. But more was on his mind than Beethoven, Steve
standing there totally in the buff.

"Ready for the swim?"

"I thought you wanted to hear 'Chopsticks'?"

"Do you know it?"

"No," Hunter replies, more interested in other things.

Hands slightly behind his back, Steve could feel the backs of his hands on
his ass cheeks as he offers, "Feel free to touch!"

"I could just see myself in my first year of college, my first term paper
for English class, an intimate approach to describing my English professors
crotch!"

"It would be an instant 'A' if you described how it felt to touch with
hands and tongue?"

"Hands, okay, but as far as tongue goes, I don't do that, okay?"

Steve just smiled. He was testing the waters, but perhaps he was working on
the hidden agenda he had for himself. But he left the subject open with,
"Don't or won't?"

"Both," Hunter replies. Then getting up from the bench, he tears his tee
shirt up and off over his head, saying, "Where's the pool?"

Their conversation floated back to generalizations, Steve suggesting Hunter
should already know, him being a next door neighbor. Hunter's rebuttal
relayed he hadn't lived there long and hadn't trespassed onto the
neighbor's yard. Stretching the truth, he hadn't yet to divulge info
regarding his telescope, used to scope out the neighbors, one in
particular.

%

Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

`HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe' 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.....