Date: Fri, 20 Jun 2008 06:00:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: ROAD TRIP  catching and pitching

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, nor governmental areas, which the story is stages. If a
sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offences 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. This
is fiction. Use protection, in real life.

ROAD TRIP   pitching and catching
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"You missed a spot, `boy'!"

Down again, Coach Dekker's shoulders went in for a landing, his mouth open,
tongue alert at licking up the small spot of cum next to Jayab's big toe.

Smiling, Jayab never realised the bonus punt, how good it felt to have his
big toe sucked. As sensuous as it felt, his minded raced on when he heard
the dryer buzz for the second time. "More of the later boy!" He pulled his
toe out of Dekker's mouth, swearing he could hear a whimper, a spark for
Jayab to carry on, seeing how much more he could get away with. So far, no
protests from his four-legged dog, following him to the laundry room.

For right now Trevor Dekker strutted along behind his college-jock master,
his zipper area cramped with his excitement.

Entering the laundry room, thoughts flooded Jayab's mind. With quick
thinking, the spinning towels made him do some quick math, estimating the
amount of towels utilized by the swimming, track, wrestling, basketball and
other Applegate teams. Then opening one dryer after the next, he stopped at
the third, the one Dekker knelt by. Convinced he could get away with
anything but murder, he reached down, grabbing the coach's dark-haired
scalp. "Up!" He commanded his `dog'. So far things were copasetic. Jayab
wasn't decked, wasn't lying flat out on his back with a stomach ache,
wasn't ever spoken to as the wrestling coach rose to his feet. With the
direction, "I'll be back in ten minutes. I want every towel neatly folded
on the table!"

Watching Jayab's back, every fiber of muscle move, his attention on the six
foot-three inch jock's chiseled shoulders, muscles reacting to movement,
Dekker's hand slowly slid to his crotch. When the track star left the room,
he looked down, amazed that this college student, eight years younger than
himself was treating him as if he was owned by him. The prospect added to
his adrenline fix. "Oh shit! The table!" He shouted to himself, which set
him in motion.


His sneakers clopping along the tile floor, little did Dekker realise, nor
sense, Jayab's back up against a locker, an aisle a few feet from the
shower room. Being cautious, Jayab teased his cock with his index finger
and thumb, rubbing against the sides of his ten inch shaft, on his mind how
much fun he was having taking advantage of an Applegate University athletic
coach.

%

"I didn't order pizza. Did you order pizza, babe?"

Robbie, still sitting at Barry's feet, turned towards the door. Standing
there, Zach Leeson expertly balanced a boxed pizza on his palm.

"Un-uh," Robbie replied, sliding from the bed, standing.

"A cancellation," Zach replied. "When I delivered it nobody was home. It
was my last delivery, so Vito told me to keep it," he explained, taking the
liberty to place the box on the table overhanging the bed.

"Mmmmm, smells good," Barry said, lifting the lid, letting the steam
escape.

"I helped make it," Zach said.

In the meantime, Robbie stood off to the side, arms folded across his
middle, a smile curling his lips at the way he observed his lover
unintentionally coming on to Zach, Zach responding without hesitation.

"You can make pizza?" Barry questioned, lifting a piece out. "Owch!"

"Careful," the eighteen year old pizza boy responded, whipping a paper
plate out from nowhere, placing it under the crust. Right on with his
story, Zach full-speeds, "Yeah, I helped plane the cheese. I do that
sometimes when I'm not delivering or waiting on tables. Yeah, they let me
do some of the stuff behind the counter when it's slow. Vito says I'm good
at grating cheese, that someday maybe I can make pies."

Seeing Barry get caught up in the conversation, Robbie says, "Okay....well
I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow, babe."

"Oh! Sure babe," Barry responded, having a kiss ripped off his lips.

Departing, Robbie left with a smile on his face. Maybe it was the `cute'
association the two seemed to be developing or maybe the forsight he
thought of Barry opening up the portal to Zach's encounter of the gay
lifestyle. Traversing the hallway, he thought about their `open'
relationship, more immediate, his playing around with Jayab. He grinned
more profoundly thinking how far Barry was going to get with Zach, knowing
their friendship could go beyond the handshake.

"Oh.. sorry..."

Exiting the elevator, Robbie entering, butted chests with Barry's nurse,
Rashid Yacouba.

"I'm not," Robbie replied.

"Oh really?" Rashid replied, his finger still on the `open' button of
Robbie's escape route.

Then quickly eluding to the small talk, a fact he already knew, "You're
Barry's nurse, aren't you?"

Making more than a statement, the twenty-seven year old nurse replies,
"No. He's not the only stud on my rounds."

It made Robbie smile. One reason being his lover being termed a stud,
exactly how he translated the blond's appearance. Another being how the
nurse saw it his way as well, something guys put Barry down for just
because of his disabilities, his odd way of acting out sometimes. Staring
into Rashid's eyes suddenly made Robbie wide awake. "Hey, you want to get
some coffee or something?"

"I've got a few minutes," Rashid replied, stepping backwards, giving Robbie
a foot or so of entry leeway. "But what will your boyfriend say?"

"For now we have more of an `open' relationship."

Perhaps thinking more wiser than the eighteen year old college student,
Rashid says, "'Suppose I'll take you up on your offer."

He wasn't sure what the wink meant, but like in a trance, Robbie allowed
the mideastern guy lure him into the elevator.

%

"Where do you suppose our `other halves' are, Nicholas?"

"Only one way to find out!"

Getting out of bed, Nicholas and Anthony tossed briefs to each other,
stepping into them and pulling them up to their torsos.

"Borrow a robe?" Anthony asks.

"Nah," Nicholas replies, adding, "after all, we're all men here!"

Accepting it, Anthony feeds the bathrobe back onto its hanger.

"Hey, wait a minute," Nicholas calls out, pulling on Anthony's arm.

"Wha..."

Before Anthony could add question, his friend had jerked him around,
embraced and planted a kiss on his lips. Breaking, Anthony jokes, "And all
I thought you were interested in is a hot fuck!"

"Oh, you know that really hits `below the belt'!" Nicholas smiles at the
double meaning.

"Oh, you mean like this?"

Good thing the door was left ajar, a plus after Anthony pounced Nicholas in
the balls, hightailing it out into the hallway, running for his life.

%


"You disappoint me boy!"

"Um, finishing up the last one...sir... as you can see, I've neatly folded
the rest into nice, sleek columns."

In his mind, Jayab was tossing around just how long Coach Dekker was
standing there, his fingers bunching and rebunching up the last towel of
the many, folded the length of the metal table. He had to admit, of the
other fifty or so towels, they appeared to be cordoned off nice and
square. Jayab was catching on fast to `the game' Robbie and Alex had
played, even conjuring up images of horrid things to perpetuate their sir
and boy relationship. "You call this neat, boy?" Soon enough, Jayab
congratulated himself for holding his composure, as to where he would have
liked to have been laughing his ass off. Holding the single last towel in
hands, Coach Dekker looked down upon himself, his feet buried with the
heaps of towels swept from the table with one swipe of his master's arm. To
add to Dekker's `misery', Jayab informs him, "You have some punishment
coming to you boy." Then elaborating, "Untidyness, disrepect," after
looking to his
 watch, not that Jayab cared to study it, "two minutes over your deadline?"

Facing Jayab, it would be easy for anyone to see Coach Dekker's wordless
response. However, for Dekker he wasn't the sole participant, his crotch
feeling his emotions throbbing with excitement.

Stealing the lone towel from Dekker's hands, leaving them empty, he
commanded his `slave', "Now you get to folding these towels boy and I want
to see some neatness or there will be hell to pay!" He's commended himself
in remembering some dialogue from Robbie's story.

"But..."

"Tsk..tsk..tsk," Jayab degraded with reply, "you are incurring more and
more punishment by your delay, `boy'."

Getting to work, Jayab walked around his `slaveboy', admiring the sweat
Dekker worked up the first time, his Applefate University wrestling team
polo shirt sticking to his back and front, his chest as if a line was drawn
to separate pecs from abs. He was having a great time humiliating another
guy, older than himself, a pinnacle of the sports community at the
university, amazed at the authoritative figure bending to his every
whim. In retrospect he guessed how Alex Matsukaze must have felt. Being
this awesome, the fact he was staying erect, he was totally liking the
power in his grasp. Being he was `getting away with' all the things which
transpired thus far, he wondered what would happen if he kicked things up a
knotch. Looking to his watch, he noticed it getting on to about nine
o'clock. At first he felt a bit dismal remembering he was supposed to meet
the rest of the track members and swim team at Hoolihan's Pub. Feeling up
his pubic
 region was enough incentive to change his mind, allowing his smile to
return to his face.

First things first though. Walking to a sink, he bunched the towel up,
making the sink swell with water, dousing the white terry cloth. Retrieving
it, he wrung it out. Another thing crossed his mind. He remembers hearing
some of the wrestlers boast of how their coach had instigated a
`towel-whipping' fight. `Wow'! he said to himself, swinging the towel in
midair, slinging it against one of the tiled pilons, hearing it slap
harshly, sending water out everywhere. He wondered what it would sound like
slapping against the skin. Walking back to the laundry room, he spotted
Dekker quickly folding towels, squaring them off into even towers of white,
attitude almost that of a whistling domestic. The knotch was ready for
kicking.

Dekker froze in place, at the sound of tearing, but more shocked when his
Applegate shirt sagged down in front of himself. "You... you tore my
wrestling shirt!" he said, turning around.

Still congratulating himself for a fine performance, Jayab hadn't cracked a
smile as he stepped forward, his six foot-three stature towering over
Dekker's five feet, eleven inches. Talking down to him, purposely allowing
spittle to flow, Jayab sternly asks, "What are you going to do about it?"

"Um, uh..." A gut reaction a few seconds earlier had been a gut
reaction. Now Dekker was experiencing more of a reaction down yonder.

Before he could mumble a response, Jayab had taken the `V' of his shirt in
his hand and torn downwards.

With mouth wide open, shocked even more this college sophomore had the gaul
to tear the threads from his upper bod, Coach Dekker stood there, gazing
upon his hairy front.

Being he wasn't being pinned to the ground, most likely something Dekker
would not be able to achieve regardless of his wrestling skills, Jayab was
ready to throw some more gasoline into the fire. For now the wet towel hung
over his forearm, hands reaching forwards, feeling up the two quarter-sized
nubs on Dekker's chest.

"Ooooooooooooooh!" He sighed out loud at the touch. He howled in pain when
the intensity increased, the pain of having his nips pulverized,
electricity streaming through his bod to his balls.

Not totally convinced, yet nearly, Jayab confirmed Dekker's joy in having
his nips smashed between his fingers and thumbs, letting loose of one nip
and plunging his hand down into the coach's sweatpants.

"Oooohhh-fuck!" Dekker responded to the pain crossing over to total
pleasure.

But Dekker wasn't the only one hitting a natural high. Jayab wondered why
this feeling of enjoying teasing a man's physical and mental capacities
hadn't surfaced sooner. Perhaps Robbie's story had given him a new horizon
to explore, finding it `okay' for one man to play roughly with another, one
enjoying `the pitch' and the other glorified with `the catch'. As before,
he sensed Dekker's whimper, a downer when he stopped playing with the
twenty-nine year old coach's pec-spots. "You get these towels cleaned up
boy and then we play some more!"

"Um... yeah... okay," Dekker replied.

"That'll be `yes, sir!' to you boy!"

"Yes, sir!" his slaveboy returned, bending down to pick up another towel.

Standing at a distance Jayab was ready to give Dekker a new thrill to shake
up things between his legs.

%

"You mean you never kissed a guy?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Zach replies, "You gotta remember this is all new
to me."

"Oh yeah," Barry responded. "Hey, I got an idea!"

"What?" Zach answered to Barry's burst of energy.

"Maybe I can teach you!"

Maybe new to coming out as a gay teen, Zach didn't let his inexperience
hinder himself as he gazed upon the blond, blue-eyed college student. "How
would that go?"

Forgetting all about his bandages, the sores which had kept him from moving
about, Barry sprung into action, more than excited about helping his new
friend explore the world of being gay. "Well... why don't you kiss me!"

"Oh, I don't know about that. Isn't Robbie your boyfriend?"

Nonchalantly, Barry informs him, "Yup. But we have an open
relationship. Maybe someday it'll get closed up, but for now we have this
mutual understanding we can see other guys. I mean, not like," he's heard
it put this way, "go around fucking every guy, but...."

Zach hopped from the foot of the bed onto his feet when Barry flung the
sheet aside.

"Oops!" Barry simply replied when the gown didn't wasn't fully covering his
blond pubes.

"Whoa! I've heard guys at school saying some guy is `big', but
man... you're big!" Then sheepishly, Zach asks, "Do you like get sucked or
do the sucking?"

"I never really sucked a guy, but I've fucked Robbie on account of he was
my first and only boyfriend."

"He's like great looking too!" Zach added, which Barry already knew beyond
a doubt.

Barry adds the words of wisdom, "But I didn't pick to fuck him."

"Um, how did you know?"

"You don't... I mean we didn't. It just kind of happened. Robbie started
sucking me and then he said I was lubed up enough."

"Lubed up for what?"

Even though Zach seemed unaware, Barry figured he should have gotten the
clue, but played dumb, saying, "A guy's cock. It has to be wet to fit up a
guy's ass."

"I guess I never thought of it. Robbie and me are the same age. I wonder
how he knows all this stuff?"

Barry smiled. First of all, his cock was getting all charged up over this
talk. He wondered if the next part of their conversation would send him
over the deep end. "He knows because he's done it."

"Fucked a guy?"

"Both," Barry frankly spills the information. "Robbie played around a lot
with guys. Sometimes he's had sex with more than one guy." He also felt
cool being a teacher to Zach. In some ways the eighteen year old high
school senior turned him on. He pictured him as if himself, the same nerdy
looking guy he resembled when he was in high school. It even came over him
how much Zach could be a Harry Potter lookalike, except for the blond hair,
a more wildly styled, his head of hair without the gel, disheveled, a spike
here and there.

Barry laughed when Zack said, "Damn! I'd be lucky if I could stay busy with
one guy!"

Not refuting it, Barry says, "I got an idea!" A lightbulb went off in his
head.

"What?"

"I could like be your teacher," he said, reflecting on his feelings
already. "I mean, that is if you like me."

Other than friendly conversation, which Zach was enjoying, he already was
crazy over the blond college dude standing there before him. "I suppose. I
guess Robbie wouldn't care as long as you both have this understanding,
huh?"

After a quick glance to the big-numbered clock on the wall, Barry poses the
question, "What time do you have to be home? It's getting kind of
late. Don't you have to be up early to go to school?"

Perplexed for a good part of a minute, Zach finally produced the words,
"Um, my folks don't care if I'm out late. Nah, don't worry `bout it. I can
stay out as late as I want."

"Really? I wish I could say the same when we were in high school."

"We?" Zach asks.

"Yeah," Barry said. Even thought they had graduated from high school two
years ago, it always slips his mind he is supposed to be out in the world
on his own. "I have a twin brother. His name is Larry. Someday you will
meet him. That is if you stick around."

Perhaps shy to the gay world and new to having a gay friend, Zach was
already warmed up to Barry's charm. Stepping up to Barry, almost a half
foot of distance between he smiled, asking, "How about that kiss you were
going to teach me?"

%

"Owwwwwwwch! Shit!" Dekker screamed out loud, dropping an almost perfectly
folded towel, both hands as well as his back feeling the sting.

For sure Jayab had thought this was Coach Dekker's last straw, after
whipping the wet towel across his bare back, creating yet another pink
welt. However, rather than show his meekness, he swallowed and spoke out in
the bdsm dialect, "Fine," he spoke with dignity, "if you don't like it you
can go find yourself another master. I'm sure there's dozens of them
waiting to get in your pants!"

Worse than having a wet towel graze his shoulder blades, Jayab had
delivered his ultimatum, tossing the wet towel at Dekker's feet. It didn't
take long for Dekker's cock to change his mind, along with the longing
feeling his asslips longed for. "Um, sorry..... uh, for the outburst... um,
sir."

A sly smile on his lips, Jayad no longer feared what he said or did, having
been given the wet towel, picked up by Dekker and handed back to him. Then
in the other direction, harshly put, Jayab warns, "Now get back to work boy
before I use a belt on that sorry ass of yours!"

Dekker wondered if Jayab noticed the little wet spot on the front and
center of his gray sweatpants!

%

2B continued...

Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee

This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior
written permission, by the author.