Date: Wed, 8 Sep 2010 17:50:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: PLaY FoR PaY 02

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.

PLaY FoR PaY 02
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"This is fuckin' shit!"

None of them could predict the outcome of Jac's comment, watching Coach
Stahl walking up behind the bent over twenty year old, lifting his foot and
stomping his ass.

"Who the fuck?" Jac called out as his doggie-styled position flattened out
to lying on his stomach, the soaked floor seeping into the fabric of his
lightly haired chest. With the bristled brush in hand, Jac perhaps with
intentions of using it as a weapon against his perpetrator, exclaims,
"Okay... which one of you guys deserves...." he perused the few team
members and coach.

With a look on his face of saying 'watch your step', incoming freshman
Geoff Hilkert, thumbs the guilt towards Coach Stahl.

If one of the team members, Jac might have cast the scrub brush he was
using on the floor towards one of them, but instead threw it to the floor
and throwing his opinion at Coach Stahl's face, complains, "Doing all this
menial stuff is crap!" And not allowing coach to slide on the abuse,
"Y'know I should get on my cell right now and call my pop's attorney
and..."

Rico cuts in, "Yeah, yeah Darling, cut the rich kid shit... we've heard it
all before!" Since he was chummy with Jac, he smiles.

Whereas the confrontation stopped their new duties, scrubbing down the
stockroom, cleaning lockers and other jobs formerly performed by the
layoffs of the custodial staff, it left Jac Darling III as the only
inactive partner.

However, they were all left aghast, pausing in their duties, as Coach Stahl
says, "This place isn't going to get cleaned spotless standing around doing
nothing!"

Gasps, 'wows', a few whistles and an "Awesome," from Thierry Zarate's
mouth, all summed up the beauty of Coach Stahl whipping off his
university-marked polo shirt, dropping to his knees and claiming Jac's
brush.

His brush up against Jac's foot, "You going to move it or what, Darling?"
the thirty-six year old football coach says, looking up as if he's looking
up Darling's shorts.

Just the thing coach needed to break the ice, Jake Danzinski, whom almost
instantly became branded as 'comedian' of the group outspokenly renders,
"Hey Darling, you got Coach Stahl exactly where you want him!"

"Fuck you, Danzinski!" Coach replied. Then the others began opening up,
showing him a picture of how fun-loving they could be.

Rico stood there with his bud, Ronaldo Gilaty and couldn't believe how
accepting coach was, not the picture they formed in their minds outside the
gymnasium.

"Hey Coach? Fuck me?" another freshman joker, Austin Latourette spoke up as
he sunk down to his knees like a monkey, his ass projected in coach's
direction.

Jac Darling's opinion of their stern coach began to fade.

"Do me a favor, Darling," Coach slaps the back of his hand against his
calf, "go get me a baseball bat?"

The team roared with laughter, Coach Stahl receiving many
high-fives. Austin backed his ass off real quick!

Bending down, Jac stole the brush out of hand, "I've got it Coach Stahl."

"Great," he said with a smile, surrendering his place on the floor, Jac
sinking down.

Going back to their assigned duties, whistling and not minding they were
doing somebody else's job, nobody notices Coach Stahl and Jac giving each
other a locked-on smile.

%

Back at the entrance to the track, they were ready to exit, Hans Baasch
hanging loose on the chainlink fence, confessing, "Hey, I hope I didn't
hurt you back there."

Steve, usually on top of things, questions, "My own fault. I had other
things on my mind."

Unknown to Steve, it wasn't an 'accident', but rather a planned assault,
with intent, Hans stating, "I heard something and had to meet you."

"Huh?" Steve inquires, folding his arms across his middle, at the whiff of
maybe this not being an accidental, chance meeting.

"Yeah. I'm pretty good at gaging distances versus speed."

"Wait. Are you saying...."

"Yeah," Hans admits, "I planned 'running' into you. Only thing I didn't
plan on is you being so flimsy?"

Steve accuses, "You fuck!"

"Yeah I know. That's why I'm going to give you a chance to get even."

He had no idea where this was leading, Steve pondering, "Yeah. I'm
listening."

In full confession, Hans says, "I know about your little bdsm club on
Saturday nights?"

"Yeah? So?" He said it relaxed, but wondered how this jock found out.

To put it plainly, Hans replies, "I can either give or take?"

"Oh really?" Steve suddenly sees the light, not so much in the giving,
though that aspect of Hans, to look at him, the physical stature could work
out as well. It then dawns on Steve, Hans' track running, "You know, track
and field was one of the sports programs on the chopping block?"

What he assumed was a by-product, as well as something else particular
about Hans' matriculating status, "I know. I'll miss checking out all the
guys in the shower, but it's not like I'm dependent on some sports
scholarship?"

"So you know the scheme of things?" Steve's implication of the 'play and
pay' Saturday night events. Too, he was fishing for a name, someone else
involved who put Hans onto his trail.

Right out of the blue, Hans asks, "You want to know who filled me in on
every single detail?"

"Like I was just thinking it!" Steve stated with exclamation.

"I'm good at this," Hans replies.

"At?"

"Figuring people out."

"You are?" Steve searches for more input.

Eyeballing Steve up and down, not that he hasn't done it already, Hans
says, "You're a good looking man Steve. Ever get partnered up?"

"Maybe when I think about retiring."

Smiling, the twenty year old college freshman replies, "What are you?
Twenty-nine? Thirty?"

"Thirty-two."

"Long way off before retirement." And then throwing Steve a curve,
"Especially when you're thinking about passing up an opportunity to make
something of a guy who thinks you're a really hot man?" He impressed upon
his view, Hans' hand sliding down Steve's shirt and connecting with one of
the reasons in his thinking.

Not discounting the fact he felt very similar to Hans' thinking, Steve
freezes the ball-handling issue, grabbing hold of Hans' wrist and saying,
"Tonight I could show you how 'hard' I am for ya?"

Withdrawing his hand, Hans asks, "Oh, do I have to wait that long?"

%

The guys kept cackling, commenting on Coach Stahl's physique, catching him
at times scrubbing down some tile from high above or bending over to catch
a runaway drip of dirty water, sponging it up.

Skeptical about what they were going to get, in regards to a new coach, at
first they had bad vibes, hearing about having to take up the slack,
whereas the housekeeping staff of the gymnasium was cut, in lieu of cutting
the soccer coach, which would mean the demise of the program.

However, the guys didn't see Coach Stahl as being all blood and guts, him
softening after disciplining Jac. Too, it went unsaid which way Coach
leaned. He seemed very masculine and not wanting to make judgement, they
all assumed he was straight. When coach bent over, Geoff Hilkert mentioning
'what a pretty sight', they all were on him to shut up, whether he was
being funny or not!

As they scrubbed every little detail of the lockerroom, soon they lost
interest in Coach Stahl's hairy physique and he too took it at liberty to
check out the showers. While there, he noted some plumbing needing to be
tightened up. He remarks out loud, "Oh shit!" when he checks out a faucet,
the showerhead busting off, him getting a flood of water spouted at him.

"You okay coach?" He hears out of the dim brilliance of a short distance.

"Darling?" Coach questions him standing there.

Much earlier on, his tank was soaked, Jac had removed it, standing there in
only his gym shorts. In one hand he held his sneakers, the other his socks
as he approaches, "I'm kind of wet. Um, the guys want to know if its okay
to hit the showers?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" Then looking up, "Except for this one here." The
force of water dissapated, Coach Stahl reaches for the faucet, turning it
off. But it doesn't turn off!

About the guys, Jac responds, "They wanted to make sure you got your
privacy." Then, about the leaky faucet, "It works like this," Jac says,
walking over to the faucet. Hands full, Jac tucks a little of his socks in
his mouth for anchorage.

"Give me that!" Coach says, stealing them from Jac's lips.

"Thanks."

"Very unsanitary, Jac!"

"You want the water off?" Jac replies, his eyes dropping from face level,
down Coach Stahl's chest and abs, then up to where the faucets are attached
to the wall. While he busies himself, Jac finds he needs both hands, so
balances his sneakers between his legs.

He took the socks, so relieves Jac of the sneakers.

Turning from using his fingernail as a screwdriver, Jac's eyes make a
beeline for Coach Stahl's face, smiling.

"What?" Coach asks.

He could have shucked the feeling, ignoring the fact the tip of one sneaker
sucker-punched him in the balls, but was filled with as much curiosity as
his teammates, "You hit me in the balls with my sneaker, you know?"

Knowing it wasn't the case, Coach Stahl replies, "Are you going to get on
your cell to your pop's attornies?"

And then digging deeper, Jac says, "Not for that, but if you try to kiss me
I might just do that Coach?"

Coach Stahl smiled, thinking how cute Jac was being, but he had to set the
record straight, replying, "Look, I know probably you're all thinking and
the answer is 'yes'."

But he doesn't get to finish, hearing in the background, "I knew it!"

Stepping around Coach Stahl, Jac shouts, "You guys want to fuck off!"

Jake-the-comedian approaches, then does an about face, saying in a
monotone, "He wants me to fuck off. Okay, I'm fucking off." And near the
the door, "I've fucked off!"

Coach replies, "I think he's fucked off?"

"He's a funny guy," Jac says of Jake.

Meant to reinforce what's he's dropped, Coach replies, "Also very cute!"

"Do you think I'm cute?"

Coach Stahl did. He wasn't saying it, but found quite an attraction to
Jac. Finding screwdriver in his pocket, he offers it up.

Jac remarks, "I guess that would make it simpler." It did, but he made it
tougher for coach, "So. Do you think I'm cute?"

Coach had a gut feeling about all this. Sure he thought Jac was very cute,
but about digging so deep into his personal, gay affairs of the heart he
responds, "So... they nominated you to come find out all the dirt?"

Oblivious to where Coach Stahl was coming or going with this, Jac replies,
"Dirt?"

"Finding out if I'm gay or straight?"

It wasn't so, Jac getting a little peeved at Coach's remark. Though he
couldn't put a finger on it, by all intentions, he assumed spokesperson to
find out if it were okay to shower, stating that and, "I'm here to help you
fix the shower, but forget it! I'm the fuck outta here!" He was, then
turned to take his socks and sneakers. He didn't know what to say or do,
froze there in place, seeing Coach Stahl with 'his' socks, stuck between
his lips!

%

"I'm really not supposed to be doing this," Steve Rawlings claims as he
ushers Hans Baasch in, "The security office is off limits to anyone except
security."

Even though a university, the grounds didn't dictate such an atmosphere or
nearly the acreage of expanse. As such, the security office amounted to a
small, eight by ten room, an 'auxillary' room off to one side. Within the
confines of the room Steve was entering, followed by Hans, was a jon,
complete with shower.

Hans speculates, "What would you think of me working you over, stripping
you and raping your ass?"

Steve, as he unbuttons his shirt replies, "You'd never make it to my
zipper. I have a black belt in karate!"

Rubbing his hands together, Hans says, "Ohh-h-kay! Well that scraps that
plan. Plan B?" Likewise, Hans is stripping down as well.

"Plan B?" Steve says, unbuckling his belt, stripping it from his loops.

Smiling, the smooth athlete replies, "Almost the same, but in different
order... you strip me down," and showing his intentions, "use that belt on
me and when your hand gets tired, rape my ass?"

In his briefs, Steve leans over the little table next to the bed, saying,
"Oh I have way more than that planned for you 'boy'!" When he rights
himself, Steve is holding a chain, a clamp attached to each end.

"Daymn!" Hans stood there, thumbs and fingers feeling up his own hairless
pecs. When he came in here, he wasn't sure exactly what he was getting
into. At all odds he figured, his own height weight, vision a of a
musle-god, Hans had it pretty much wrapped up, until Steve mentioned the
karate. But then too, that was part of it, him losing the upper hand and
falling under Steve's domination, especially where the uniform is
concerned.

Walking up to him, Steve divided the rubber-tipped clamps between two
hands. He moved the edges apart and together as if the jaws of the nip
clamps were talking. Meant to send fear, "Oh yeah. These hot babies really
like to suck nourishment out of a nice pair of nips!"

After biting his lip, Hans renders, "Um, like... I've never... had anything
on my nips before?"

Allowing them to dangle from one hand, Steve takes Hans right hand and
placed them in the pocket of his palm, "No problem because I'm not going
put them on you."

"You're not?"

"Nope. I think it would be more fun if you did it yourself!"

Looking down at the pile of chain and two clamps in his big hand, Hans
replies, "Put them on myself? But...." he looks up as Steve strips down,
his big log and golf balls falling out. He lays down on the bed, parking
his hands behind his head as he spreads his legs as if trying to prove
something.

He knew all about Steve and his operation, how guys in all walks of social
life paid for playing with college dudes, how the college benefitted, much
of the resource trickling down to helping guys pay for their tuition,
through scholarship money for select individuals. Too, he knew how Steve
picked up where his predecessor left off, about ten years ago. Hans had
enough on him, but something which kept him from using the bribe, unaware
of the fact, he didn't feel at the moment like suffering a fractured
collarbone, or worse!

%

In order to retrieve his socks, Jac had to agree to meet with Coach Stahl
later on at the off-campus bar. Maybe he bargained for too much, Jac
showing up with almost the whole football team and as he sat down at the
table coach picked out for them, "I hope you don't mind that I brought a
few of my friends?"

Coach exclaims with his arms up, "It's like the whole goddam football
team!"

Innocently, Jac says, "And a few soccer team members and a coupla tennis
players, but who could blame them when I told them you're buying the beer!"

"What?" Coach stood there, jaw dropped open, eyes bugged out.

Then he felt a hand on each shoulder, the tennis coach on his left saying,
"No problem John, when you've got Mike and me to help you out!"

He knew the soccer and tennis coaches were out in the parking lot. He felt
disappointed, but figured it wasn't the right mix to sit at their table, so
Jac excuses himself, "Uh, I'm going to check out what the guys are up to."

It's not exactly the way coach had wanted things to go, but accepted it as
probably Jac feeling uncomfortable, "Sure. I'll catch up with you later."

Guido Morachini headed over to the bar, saying, "The first round's on me."

"Water for me, Guido," Michael Brat yells after him.

They sat there in silence about ten seconds, each offering conversation
simultaneously, "So how's...."

Michael butts in, "Go ahead. You go first."

"No, you," John replies.

"I was going to ask you how you liked coaching at Quartermaine?"

John replies, "I was about to ask you the same," adding, "So, how do you
like your tennis team?"

"It's only my second year here. I think we have a fighting chance, because
a few of the returning players are very sharp."

Almost what he felt in the shower with Jac, the warmth, John replies, "You
must be a very good coach!"

Both their faces glowed, exchanging smiles.

How Michael wanted to thank John properly for his kind comment!

% It didn't take much for Steve to lure Hans out of his briefs, coaxing him
with "Nice," the first unveiling of the package, "Nice," as he knelt on the
foot of the bed and "very nice," when he got closer, Steve's eyes feasting
on the long schlong and low-hangers.

"Glad you think so," Hans replies.

"Whatha-fuck!" Steve exclaims.

Hans laughs as he slaps his butt down on Steve's chest, his knees engaging
biceps, keeping the security man's arms in bondage.

Dominantly, Steve yells, "Let me up! Now!"

Still humored, Hans leans forward, his cock and balls scraping against
Steve's lightly haired chest, him teasing, "What'sa-matter Steve? You can
dish it out but can't take it?"

Like a snake was at his throat, Steve peers down, shouting, "You get that
thing away from me!"

As he play, it was feeling mighty good to Hans, his cock responding to the
treatment. "Hungry for some nice warm cock-milk, Steve?"

"I'm warning you, Hans!"

"Warning me? I hardly think you are in any position to order me about
Steve!" He roars with laughter.

So rowdy was his response, he didn't detect the door moving ajar.

Fortunately, Rick had the same idea as Steve and after peering through the
gap in the doorway, "Some dude is threatening Steve on the bed. We gotta do
something!"

"You leave it to me," Wali replies, his bod moving Rick out of the way as
he busts open the passageway. He hurls at the bed, "Hey! What're you doing
with my bud, asshole?"

"Shit!" Hans reacts to the gargantuan six-foot-three, eighteen year old
football player. As his cock starts to shrivel, "Nothin' man!" He begins to
dismount Steve.

"It doesn't look like nothin'!" Wali replies, approaching in his tank top,
looking like it's ready to bust at the seams.

As for Steve, he could have made his move, done some hand-chopping, but
remained stationery, still in a relaxed position, allowing Wali to 'handle
the problem'.

Hans backs off the other side of the bed, keeping it between him and
Wali. On the bed, he was below him, but standing Wali looked a little less
intimidating, but at the same time Hans was feeling something for him,
which made his loins pulse.

In the meantime, Steve taking on the confrontation, was sure there could be
something materialize, such as headlocks, perhaps some gut-bashing, all
resorting to one or the other getting it on with some
ass-punishment. Making him feel this way, he relaxed his right hand and
brought it down to his pubes.

Rick, keeping an eye on all directions, addresses Steve, "I can take care
of that for you."

His hand giving himself two strokes, Steve replies, "Of course you'll take
care of it bitch! Now get your fuckin' lips wrapped around it and you
better be good!" Sure, Steve was being facetious. Four years of friendship
has at least taught him how a good cocksucker works a cock and set of
balls!  %

Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

`PLaY FoR PaY' 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.....