Date: Tue, 11 Sep 2007 18:23:47 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: ROAD TRIP  confrontation

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  confrontation
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Rumor has it your coach is a faggot!"

Well, Robbie Sinclair, a freshman at Applegate
University, currently stripping down in the Greenville
Community College lockerroom, an aisle over the top of
lockers, couldn't help hear the homophobic comment.
Rather than make a fuss over it, he was ready to let
it go, until he heard Barry Billington's voice ring
out over the airwaves.

"Whether Coach Toricelli is or is `not', is none of
your fuckin' business, so take it back or I'll make
you fuckin' sorry you ever said it!"

Rolling his eyes, Robbie said to himself, plus the
team member next to him, Starke Richter, "Not again!"

"'Fraid so," Starke assured Robbie, with his German
accent.

Being patient, not wanting to intervene, both he and
Starke looked to the end of the aisle, when Larry,
Barry's twin brother, appeared, pleading, "Um, I think
we need some backup, Robbie?"

Whenever Barry got himself into a fix, which was quite
often, Larry always got the same comment, like a slap
in the face, as Starke asks, "Are you sure you two are
from the same sac?"

Then, the three hear a belch, not the kind you hear
after downing a full bottle of beer, but the kind when
fist makes contact with abs.

"Robbie, you gonna help out or wait til my bro's abs
are jelly?"

"What abs?" Robbie asks.

"You know what I mean!"

"You're gonna owe me big time for this, Billington,"
Robbie says, the six foot two, two hundred and six
pound, `built' freshman states, slamming the locker
door shut, stepping into his speedo, while walking the
length of the aisle.

Larry's mind was mostly on his twin brother getting
bashed by two of Greenville's goons, but picking up on
Robbie's comment, `owing him', he only wished he could
pay him back, in more ways than one!

"Um, you want to let my little buddy go there, stud?"

Neither of the two Greenville swim team members, nor
their backup, assorted swimmers, green and black
speedos, Greenville's signature design, came close to
topping Robbie's height. With his mouth dropped open,
the swimmer holding Barry, arms behind his back, for
his bud in front of him to warm up Barry's stomach,
with his gut punching skills, lost momentary motor
control, frozen in place.

"Uh, could it be you didn't hear me punk?"

Dropping his fists, the one guy steps aside, allowing
Robbie access to Barry, still restrained by the
Greenville swimmer.

"Um, sure," he said, finally realising the hold on
Barry's arms.

As soon as Barry cleared the swimmer's six pack,
Robbie drew his hand up into a ball, stating, "Next
time pick on somebody your own size," he cautioned,
swinging his arm back and plowing into the six neatly
stacked abdominal muscles.

"Yeah, pick on your own size, asshole!" A few strays
from Applegate and almost all of the Greenville swim
team, witnesses Barry plunge his fist into the gut of
the guy who punched him.

"Owwwch! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Barry yelled, withdrawing his
fist, holding it with his other hand, hopping around
the valley of lockers. "Ohhhh... I think I broke my
hand!"

The Greenville swimmer recovered, `miraculously',
cracking a smile, which broke the icy waves between
the dividing teams. But it put a tailspin in the
short-lived humor, when he comments, "You're nothing
but a little woosie faggot!"

Stepping right up to him, Robbie made it a point to
pin the guy's left foot down to the tiled floor with
his size 13, grabbing the dude's gelled hair, a fist
ready to punch his lights out, as he threatened,
"Speaking of `faggots', maybe you'd like to tangle
with this one?"

Not as big a man, the guy looked scared shit, but also
questioned, "You? You're...? But you can't be.. you're
so.... masculine!"

Just as Robbie pulled his fist back, making it look
like he was going knock him out senseless, they hear,
"Uh, Sinclair, are you and the rest of the team
intending on reporting to the pool sometime this
afternoon?"

It was so quiet, they could hear the crowd from the
swimming pool. Both opposing teams frozen in place,
Robbie, speechless, his right fist ready to pounce,
his left hand mussing up the swim jock's head of hair.


"Well?" Anthony questioned, when neither team moved,
Anthony's hands helping to get the point across.

"Uh yeah. Sure Coach Torricelli," Robbie led the
troops, from both sides in getting their asses in
gear. He turns to the guy who didn't suffer from
Robbie's fist, saying, "Uh, sorry I messed your hair
up", Robbie `fixing it' with his hand, wiping the gel
on his torso, right next to his hairy navel.

"No problem, man," the Greenville guy said.

"Hustle!" Anthony shouted when the aisle, composed of
both teams, emptied out. "Except you!"

Even though Robbie Sinclair stood there at over six
feet tall, the body of a locomotive, Anthony's hand,
pressing against the hairy midchest, stopped Robbie in
his tracks.

After the masses left, leaving Robbie and Coach
standing there, he rashly said to Robbie, "I'm really
surprised, Sinclair..."

"But coach..."

"Wait, let me finish. When you joined the team, I
specifically remember you stating you had goals to
become a role model for people. Some role model!"

"But Coach Torricelli..."

"I should ban you from the competition...."

>From the sidelines, around the corner of the lockers,
they hear, in a small, mousy voice, "Greenville called
you a faggot, coach. Robbie came to my rescue. Shit,
coach, if Robbie hadn't put those two guys in their
place, I woulda been mincemeat!"

"Guys?" Anthony questioned.

In two breaths, Barry had the whole story out, as if
play-by-play of a sports game.

"Coach, they're looking for you," Josh Berg came to
inform.

"This is not over," Anthony told them, turning to walk
out of the aisle.

"Am I still in the competition?" Robbie questions.

"How can you not be, when you were never out of it,
Sinclair?"

With haste, Anthony and Josh lightly jogged from the
place of confrontation. Barry smiled, as he tugged on
Robbie's dark-haired forearm, speaking in a bright
tone, "Thanks Robbie!"

"No problem," Robbie replied, putting on some haste,
right after he kissed Barry on the top of the head.

Stopped in his tracks, Barry stood there, mesmerized
by the fact, one of the hottest guys on the team, if
not the whole university, actually touched him with
his lips. With a hand to his head, he petted himself
over the place, saying, "Wow!" In a slow dirge, Barry
made his way to the hallway, dividing the pool area
from the gym, smack into a guy hustling to the
lockerroom, butting chests. Immedately, after both
bounced backwards, Barry plastered his back up against
the wall, eyes as wide as saucers, mouth dropping
open, as the guy recovered from the collision.

At first, the green and black clad speedo guy, looked
at Barry. Then realizing the sophomore's horror, most
likely because his `bodyguard' wasn't about, cracked a
smile, as he calmly said, "Y'know, not all of are us
are like Matt and Trevor?"

The quaint smile became infectious, Barry unpinning
his traps from the wall. "Who?"

"Matt. He was the one holding your arms and Trevor,
trying to act like Mr. Toughguy. They're both losers."

"Then how come they are on the swim team? Coach
Torricelli wouldn't put up with two guys like that,"
Barry said, as his shoulders sloped down, taking on
the shape of his normal self.

"Then again," the Greenville swimmer says, "not all
coaches are like yours!"

He meant it, meaning the feeling he got, from Barry's
and Robbie's allegiance, coming to the defense of
their team manager, which showed their high regard for
him. However, as Barry sunk into a `pissed off' look,
eyes squinting, losing all semblance of a smile, he
knew he better put his feelings. "I mean... Uh..." But
the guy couldn't find the right words, on such short
notice, so finally decided to divulge a secret he's
only revealed to one other person in the world.

"I don't think you got what I meant... I mean I prolly
didn't say it the way I meant it," the eighteen year
old said it, like he was pleading a case, at the same
time stalling, not wanting to play his `gay card'. I
mean... look, I don't have anything against your
coach... I'm gay too."

It was a quick metamorphosis, Barry on the edge, his
demeanor melting. "That's cool," Barry replied,
touches of a smile at the corners of his mouth. As
long as the guy had brought things out in the open,
Barry added, "I am too, and so are some of the guys on
the team!"

"As far as I know, there's only Edwin and myself." An
interval of silence passed, the two just looking at
each other, til the Greenville swimjock mentions, "My
name if Guillermo, but you can call me Gil."

"Cool," Barry replied, for lack of words, other than,
"I'm Barry", then so used to saying it, "Larry is my
twin brother. We're almost the same age!"

Gil stood there, smiling, before admitting, "You know
what?"

"What?" Barry asked.

"I..." Gil stretched his neck, his head looking around
the corner, down the hall, "I think you're cute,"
ending with a killer smile.

"Me? Cute? That's a new one!"

Then, to break the camaraderie of the moment, they
hear, "Giaimo, you stupid asshole! The guys are
shivering their asses off, waiting for `you', with the
towels!"

"I was on my way," Gil stated.

As Trevor passes between them, he purposely presses
the point of his elbow against Barry's stomach.

"Hey, that was uncalled for, Trevor!" Gil shouted to
Trevor's back, as he moved towards the back of the
lockerroom.

"Just what the world needs -- another faggot-lover!"

Returning, burdened with fresh, white towels, Trevor
barges by, roughly telling Gil, "Move it,
faggot-lover!"

"I guess there's a first time for everything," Barry
says.

Realizing the minutes passed, Gil asks, "Um, wouldn't
your coach be looking for you, Barry?"

"Nah. I'm not good enough to do any of that fancy
diving stuff, but Larry is one of the best on the
team. He said if I couldn't be on the swim team, he
wasn't going to join. So, Coach Torricelli let me be
on the team."

"But if you don't dive, what do you do, Barry?"

"Oh, lots of stuff. I get to make sure all the guys
have towels, make sure they are clean, make sure they
don't leave any of their gear out. Yeah, I guess I
have an important job!"

Flashing his teeth, made Gil's loins dance around in
the confines of his speedo, relaying, "Yeah, you're
cute alright. Guess what?"

"What?" Barry asks.

"I was the best swimmer on Greenville's team," Gil
replied, sort of gloating.

"Then how come you're in here and not out there?"
Barry asks, not catching the past tense usage, looking
Gil up and down, noticing for the past three minutes,
since Trevor made his way in and out, he's taken small
steps of advancement.

"This," Gil says, his left hand peeling his speedo
away from his ass, carefully pulling it down, over a
rather large, white bandage attached to his left
asscheek.

"What happened?" Barry asks.

As Gil is talking, twisting around, looking at the
gauze, telling about accidentally sitting on a broken
bottle, Barry tries to pay attention. But he's
distracted by being inches away from Gil's black,
hairy pubes, a hint of his cock buried in there some
place.

"So, what do you think?" Gil asks.

"Uh, musta hurt real bad!" Barry chooses his answer,
not getting a word of Gil's explanation, trying to
play it `middle-of-the-road'.

A smile turned up Gil's lips.

"What?" Barry asks.

"You were checking me out, weren't you?"

"Me? Check you out? I was paying attention to your
ass... I mean, not your ass, like checking it `out'
out, like a sexual thing or anything. Yeah, um, I was
following your story of how you bumped up against
the..."

"Did you get anything of what I said, Barry, or were
you trying to figure out how I fit my coming on
erection in this tiny little space?"

His lips forming an `o', the nineteen year old
couldn't say anything against Gil's thoughts, upon
staring at the prominent bulge in Gil's speedo, which
Gil didn't do anything about not flaunting it. Barry's
eyes opened wide, as the Spaniard took Barry's hand
and placed the palm on the front of his speedo.

"Shit, for a guy who's not out of the closet, you're
sure not shy about it!"

"I'll say!" Came the remark from behind Gil's back, a
baritone voice cheerfully speaking, taking on the
scene. Spotting Barry flinch, take his hand away from
rubbing the tube through Gil's speedo, the intruder
says, "So, you finally went and did it, Gil?"

"What?" Barry and Gil said at the same time.

But directing to his fellow teammate, the Greenville
team member tells, "Gone and got yourself a
boyfriend?"

Barry didn't know what to say. It was on Gil's mind,
way back when Trevor restrained Barry, wanting to do
something, but wimping out. He dropped a subtle hint,
"Jealous, Edwin?"

"You're the other gay guy!" Barry blurted out.

This time, both Gil and Edwin look, simultaneously
down the long corridor. Stepping around the two,
Barry's arm grazes Edwin's abs, picking up the
sensation of moving across body fur. He didn't say
anything, other than, "Nobody's there."

"Good thing too," Edwin suggests. "One thing I `do
not' want to do, is have it out with Matt and Trevor."

"They're bad news," Gil adds.

"It's okay. I won't say anything."

"Oh, the reason I came out here. Coach," Edwin says,
"is wondering what you're doing in here, when you
should be attending to the team. He says you better
get you're ass out there, before he excommunicates you
from the swim team!"

"I'm coming," Gil replies, as Edwin disappears.

Not one to hesitate to speak his mind, Barry renders,
"Edwin has a nice build. I like the way his hair is."

"He styles is okay. When he's not swimming, he uses
gel on it, then spikes it up..."

"No," Barry cuts him off, "I meant the hair on his
stomach. I accidentally nudged by him, when I looked
around the corner."

"You didn't try to nudge by me!" Gil commented,
looking down at the perfect black stripe, from his
midchest to his navel.

"I like trails, too." Barry says.

With a sly smile, Gil conveys, "I gotta get out there,
but if you're interested, we could meet up later?"

"Would be cool."

Seeing a ball point on the storage locker, Gil picks
it up, saying, "Give me your cell number."

Both stand there, in a quadary. Neither has a paper in
hand. Grinning, Gil sticks his thumb under the elastic
of his speedo, moving it down inches. "Here, Barry.
Write it here!"

"On your thigh?"

"Yeah. Good, safe place to keep it."

Barry was distracted a few times, spotting about an
inch of Gil's cock, nestled in his black bush, from
the base, to where it became hidden.

Before putting the cap back on the pen, Barry asks,
"Can I have yours?"

%

2B continued...

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection without prior written permission, by the
author.

Check out my other stories:
FRIENDLY PERSUASION
nifty/gay/authoritarian/friendly-persuasion
NATURE's TRAIL (NATURE WALK)
nifty/gay/adult-youth/nature-walk/
FOR SALE BY OWNER
nifty/gay/highschool/for-sale-by-owner/
5b & 6c
nifty/gay/beginnings/5b-6c/
FOR THE LOVE OF MICHAEL
nifty/gay/highschool/for-the-love-of-michael/
STRIPEs
nifty/gay/adult-youth/stripes/
OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL
nifty/gay/beginnings/old-fashioned-good-will/
TIDELIGHT ZONE
nifty/gay/adult-friends/tidelight-zone/
SENIOR CUT DAY
nifty/gay/highschool/senior-cut-day/
BUFFALO BOYS
nifty/gay/authoritarian/buffalo-boys/
iCONS
nifty/gay/beginnings/icons
MUSCLE JOCKS FOR DOMINATION
nifty/gay/authoritarian/muscle-jocks-for-domination/
CHRONICLES OF MARK SASSOON
nifty/gay/authoritarian/chronicles-of-mark-sasson/


The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP.....