Date: Tue, 9 Oct 2007 15:41:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: ROAD TRIP family affair

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 family affair
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

To Roberto's two pieces of luggage, Anthony packed
one, as they assembled their items for their trip to
Miguel's place.

"How come you are taking so many clothes?" Anthony
inquires of his lover.

"Well, I'm sure not going to wait around, watching
Miguel play with you."

"Oh? What are you going to do?"

"Visit some friends. On Saturday, I'll go to the local
high school football game. Watch all those hot jocks
run around and tackle each other!"  Roberto reported,
smiling.

"Trying to make me jealous, eh?" Anthony jokes.

"Is it working? `Cause I'd rather be going to the game
with you along?" Roberto says, meekly.

"What! And disappoint your brother?"

"I don't think it will only be Miguel who is
disappointed!" Roberto says, wise to Anthony.

Anthony smiles, as he closes his bag with only a pair
of navy blue chinos, dress shirt, socks, briefs and a
few little items. "I wonder what he's got in store for
me?"

"When I talked to him... told him what time we'd be
there, he told me he was going to make it so you would
want to come back for more."

"Hot-diggity!" Anthony exclaimed favorably, wiggling
his eyebrows.

"But I warned him..."

"I know. No marks and not to do anything that really
was going to hurt."

Roberto says, "Oh, I didn't mention the hurting part."

"Yikes!" Anthony shouted out. But, deep down inside
his loins tingled, with such want, coming with their
impending trip.

"Miguel wanted to know if you made up your list? Did
you?"

"Um, I sort of jotted a coupla things down."

"Like?"

Reaching in his pocket, Anthony unfolds a piece of
paper, til it reaches full size. "Um, hanging from the
hook of his tow truck, by my arms..."

"Naturally, I knew that. What else?"

"I liked how he had me stretched out on the lift."

Anthony, knowing last time he took some gut punches,
waited for Roberto's reaction, looking at him.

Knowing what Anthony was doing, in his silence,
Roberto says, "It's up to you Anthony. I don't want
you going home on Sunday, complaining of a bellyache."

"I know, but I've been working on my crunches for the
past month."

"It's up to you. What else?"

Placing his finger on the next option, Anthony moves
it along, reading, "Lots of different bondage
positions."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that one."

"Oh? Why?"

"Because, one time I saw how creative Miguel could
be," Roberto says.

"Really?"

Anthony's manner of question, dictated wanting to know
more.

"One Saturday he entertained two college guys."

"Oh, I'd loved to have seen that!"

"Believe me, I did. Stripped down to the buff and
tied, facing each other, suspended from the ceiling."

"Hmm, very erotic... are you sure you don't want to
stick around?" Anthony asks Roberto.

"No. You and Miguel have your fun."

"We will, but for now...."

Roberto knows exactly what Anthony alludes to, looking
at his bulging crotch.

"Feel like taking care of this?"

"Not right now. I have to get the turkey and
everything ready to take. No, you'll have to take care
of it yourself, Anthony."

Roberto steps out of their bedroom, heading downstairs
to the kitchen. Wrestling with his thoughts, Anthony
tries to decide whether to just wait for it to go down
or jerk off. Feeling he's beyond the point of no
return, he unbuckles his belt, separating the flaps of
his pants. He lays down on half the bed. Lifting the
elastic of his briefs, he anchors it under his big
balls. He goes to town, stroking himself off. A little
precum escapes and he adds it to the momentum, lube to
fuel the fire.

"What's this?" He suddenly says, seeing Roberto at the
door.

"I suppose I can pack the food later."

Anthony smiles. Kneeling on the bottom of the bed,
Roberto crawls up to Anthony's crotch. He takes away
his hand.

"Oh yeah," Anthony says, retracting his hand, wiping
the wetness on his own stomach. He proceeds to put
both hands behind his head. "Oooooooh that feels soooo
good!"

Roberto has opened wide, enclosing his whole mouth
around the 9.5c. Pushing down, he forces the head of
Anthony's cock into his throat. Pursing his lips he
strokes his lover, each time bearing down deeper, his
throat taking up the slack. Soon his lips ride down to
the base, the dark brown pubic hair tickling his
stache.

"I think that's about all the coaxing I'll need, hon!"

Already feeling it, the pumping of Anthony's hips,
Roberto figures he's very close. Reaching down,
Roberto unzips his jeans and proceeds to work them off
his hips. With precision, he takes each leg out, then
drops the pants on the floor. He easily strips off his
briefs.

"Quick!" Roberto calls out, "I want you inside me," He
says, popping off the prepped shaft. With haste, he
dives into the bed, trading places with Anthony.

Before his cock dries out, Anthony eases up to
Roberto's hole, hands on his legs, separating his
lover like a wishbone. Slowly he presses forwards,
filling him up. All it takes is a few ins and outs and
Anthony is howling with pleasure. Almost immediately,
Roberto's own hand brings himself sheer joy, spurting
ropes of cum onto his chest and stomach. Separating
Roberto's legs, Anthony, pulled out and half-deflated,
leans over onto Roberto, kissing him.

Roberto speaks softly into Anthony's ear, "That was,
sooo so good."

Out of breath, out of cum and out of energy, Anthony
closes his eyes, a hum returning a word of great
satisfaction. Slipping out from under his lover,
Roberto makes for the jon. After a quick shower, he
dries off, picks his brief and pants up, getting
dressed. He pulls his tee shirt out from under
Anthony's legs. Being sweaty, he chooses another from
his draw. Covering Anthony with a sheet, he leaves the
room, going back to where he left off.

%

An hour and a half later, after he's packed the food
away in the car, he returns to the bedroom. He shakes
awake Anthony's shoulder.

"Time to get on the road."

"I can't show up at Miguel's, looking like this."

"You better hurry. We don't want to wind up in
traffic," Roberto says.

"Right," Anthony replies, remembering, in the letter
Miguel sent, stating he expected his `boy' to hold off
from masturbating for three days. As he turned on the
shower, Anthony hesitated, grinning, wondering what
would happen if Miguel found out he lied, saying he
hadn't released his pent up balls for three days. Even
in the shower, his mind fantasized over it.

"Anthony, you've been in the shower for fifteen
minutes."

"Really, sweetheart?" Anthony replies, hastily passing
the bar of soap over the place where his bod pressed
against Roberto's load of cum.

Pulling the glass door half open, Roberto stares at
Anthony's pubes, saying, "I thought so!"

Grinning, Anthony gently moves the soap over his pecs,
as his other hand entertains his cock.

"Just hurry it up?" Roberto says, closing the door.

Ten minutes later, Anthony is trotting down the
stairsteps.

"Did you follow Miguel's instructions, Anthony?"

"Yup. Got the black thong on he sent. Um, let's
see..." he turns his head over his shoulder, same time
feeling up his back pocket. "Yep, got the cuffs in my
back pocket."

At the mention of the bondage tools, Roberto says, "I
hope you two are going to take it easy, Anthony."

"What's this? You don't even trust your own brother?"

"Of course I do. It's just that, when the testosterone
starts to boil, it's so easy to forget this is just a
game."

"And?"

"Anthony, I don't want you getting hurt."

Snuggling up to his concerned half, Anthony encloses
his arms around his stringbean lover, embracing him,
administering sweet little kisses. Breaking, Anthony
says, "You know, you didn't tell me how you made out
with your new job at the Eskridge Cafe?"

"I'll tell you in the car. C'mon. I'll got the keys,"
Roberto says, leaving little space for any other
conversation.

Picking up the last of their bags, the two make their
exit, Anthony stuffing them in the rear.

"Hey Anthony!" the two hear, as they are about to pull
away. "You forgot to say goodbye!"

"Oh." Then plainly, Anthony says, "Goodbye Nicholas."

Standing there, Nicholas' pose sends a message to
Anthony. "Oh, alright," he says, opening his door and
stepping out.

Scooping Anthony up in his arms, Nicholas says, "Now
don't you go getting yourself too tied up in your fun
with Miguel."

"Hey," Anthony says, "how did you know about...."

"Where's my hug?" Roberto asks.

With his head on Roberto's shoulder, Anthony standing
behind them, Nicholas says, "He asked," pertaining to
Roberto, "so I had to give my opinion!"

"Ask about what?"

"The bondage party?" Nicholas asks, as Roberto kicks
him in the shin.

"It's not a party, Nicholas. It's just Miguel and I
playing some bondage games."

Anthony didn't see it, the look Roberto and Nicholas
traded off, knowing the difference in opinions he and
Roberto held against Anthony's thoughts of how it was
going to go.

"Just the same. Have a fun time," Nicholas said, as
the two hopped back into the van.

As they pulled out of the yard, under the wrought iron
bough, Nicholas headed back inside, watching the rear
of the car, standing at the front door, grinning,
knowing of the surprise awaiting Anthony.

%

"Oh, you know what?"

"What?" Anthony asks, as they weave along the street,
not far from the Delgado homestead.

"I knew I forgot something."

"What'd you forget, sweetheart?"

"The cranberries. No problem though. While you and
Miguel are talking over old times, I'll run to the
store and get some."

While in the driver's seat, Roberto drove the whole
two hours, while Anthony either dozed or thought about
his list of `endurances', thinking of some of the
things Miguel talked about, in his letter. Writing
back, Anthony either said something was alright to
try, or changed an idea around, or ruled it out all
together. As he thought more and more about serving or
servicing Miguel, his cock rose to the occasion.

Pulling into the drive, Miguel was out the door,
standing in the yard, lickety-split.
He almost pulled Anthony out of the car, folding his
arm around the twenty-seven year old swim coach.

"What can I help bring in?" Miguel asks, after giving
Roberto a hug.

Yelling across the middle of the car, Roberto replies,
"I've got to run to the store for cranberry sauce.
When I come back, you can help bring the stuff in."

"Oh, okay," Miguel simply replies, winking at his
brother.

Putting his arm over Anthony's shoulder, Miguel leads
Anthony into the service station, his head peering
back over their shoulders, spying the bulge in
Anthony's back pocket, his request; the pair of
handcuffs he sent to Anthony, neatly tucked in.

"Place hasn't changed," Anthony says, not noticing
Miguel's evil grin on his face, nor detecting the
excitement growing in the Latino's pants.

"Not in here, but I've had some other `equipment'
installed in the garage, if you would like to take a
look?"

"Got the new tow truck in there?" Anthony asks, as
Miguel's hand touches the door knob.

"Oh, much more."

Blind to what he was about to be led into, Anthony
kept walking forwards, through the door, saying, "Uh,
where's the light switch?"

Being pitch black, Miguel heard Anthony fidget with
his hand on the wall, just inside the door.

"I'll get that," Miguel says, loosening his grip on
Anthony, letting him walk on his own.

As soon as the switch is flicked, the flourescent
tubes on the ceiling light the place up, like a
continuous lightning storm, then a steady stream of
light throughout the auto shop.

"Oh shit!" Anthony voices his opinion, looking around,
standing in the middle of a group of men, dressed in
leather chaps, harnesses, boots and other `leather'
definitions.

"Bet you thought this was the last you'd see of me, eh
gringo?"

Anthony gulped, swallowing, when the guy from last
time, Juan-the-gut-puncher stood before him.

"Take him, boys!"

"But..... Miguel...."

As hands grabbed at Anthony, targeting his arms,
pinning them behind him, he searched the room for the
likeness of Roberto's kin. Struggling did no good, as
arms wrapped around his thighs, swept him off his
feet.

"Hey! That's a good shirt you just ripped there!"
Anthony complained, as buttons popped off at all
angles, two hands tearing his shirt open, to reveal
his hairy chest and trail. "What the fuck?" Anthony
called out, readying to complain about his favorite
belt, unbuckled, being withdrawn by a hand, out of
nowhere.

"I'll take that!" The ringleader, the one who bashed
in Anthony's gut, last visit. "This will make a nice
toy, eh Gringo?"

Anthony didn't exactly favor the sound of his own belt
making a sound, expertly snapped in midair, making a
cracking noise. All through the whole experience of
being manhandled, his shirt literally being torn from
his body, except when pulled from his arms, his
sneakers pulled off and tossed to the side, pants
turned inside out, at his heels, then the final piece
of clothing, his briefs taken down and off.

"Nice," came the statement, a hand putting pressure on
Anthony's abs region, feeling out each ridge of his
sixpack, his arms forced behind his back.

Though, being subdued by what he perceived as a gang
of thugs, Anthony remained alert to two facts. One,
being Miguel's promise not to inflict unbearable pain,
having to answer to Roberto, with any infraction and
two, though totally surprised by the lot of Latino's,
his lower half wasn't adding any complaints to the
matter.

Right out the back door of the station, two men
carried him by the arms, same number, forcing his legs
through the door opening. "What tha?" Anthony called
out, as the two leaders, shoved his legs over a rope,
depositing him in a square. With the cushy feel of the
mat, he almost lost his footing. As he gained
equilibrium, Anthony spotted the men form a circle
around the ring of ropes, mat and the four posts
holding everything in place.

"Miguel said you are a wrestler, gringo. Now we will
see how good you are!" Juan says, his bod halfway
through the middle of the rings.

Straightening himself out, Anthony thought to himself
how easy this was going to be. He had already had Juan
pegged as a non-athletic, non-workout guy, standing
there at about five foot, nine or ten inches.

"From how Miguel speak of you, the years you have
coached the wrestling team at your college, that you
will be a worthy opponent."

After the buildup, Anthony drew a little smile to his
lips, the confidence firing up his muscles, recalling
some of those wrestling moves, both legit and
pre-fabricated.

"The fact?" Juan went on, "I think maybe you are
better than me."

Meant to insult, Anthony states, "No doubt, with that
big `pig-belly' of yours!"

It put a grin on Anthony's face, as he stood there,
defiant, same time believing he had it over on Juan,
even before the match started.

"So much so, that I think it fair I have a partner?"
Juan grinned.

The smile on Anthony's face turned upside down, as he
watched, from the side, a beefy, bear-like man step
under the top rope, leg over the bottom, hauling his
muscled bod into the ring.

"Meet my tag-team partner, Alfredo," Juan said, a huge
grin adorning his face.

Anthony stood there, mouth dropped open. Forcibly
taking Anthony's hand in his, the hairy wrestler, gave
him a hardy `hello'!

"Akkkkkkk, shit!" Anthony called out, at his palm
being squeezed, as if in a vise, retrieveing it.
"This isn't fair! Where's `my' tag team partner?"

"You didn't bring one?" Juan questioned, the same grin
lingering. He looks around the backyard ring.

"I don't know what you're trying here, but..."

Suddenly, a bell dings, same time Miguel walking out
the back exit of the station.

"Miguel, what the hell is.... ugggghhhhhhh!"

Unprepared, Alfredo's loaded fist, packs a punch to
Anthony's midsection, causing him to cave in. After
the hefty abs-punch, a whistle sounds above the
shouting of accolades, from the bystanders, around the
roped in ring.

"Rules, gentlemen?" Miguel shouts out.

Standing at the sideline, Miguel, decked out in his
leather ensemble, boots, chaps, leather vest,
signature cap and a leather vine draped down his
chest, a silver whistle attached, his look elliciting
everyone's attention.

"Care to recite the rules for our guest wrestler,
Alfredo?"

"Um, I thought you said there ain't none?" Alfredo
replies.

"No rules, Miguel?" Anthony barked out, holding his
hand to his gut, rubbing it, as he races across the
mat. "Besides, `this' wasn't on either my list, nor
yours. What gives?"

"Last time you were here, you showed interest in
having a wrestling match, Anthony. It's like you
begged me?"

"That was then. I'm not a wrestling coach anymore. I
manage swimmers."

The excuse didn't cut it, where Miguel was concerned,
bent sure on a wrestling match taking place,
thoroughly convinced Anthony would be thanking him for
the rough experience, even though he protested now.

"Tell you what I'm gonna do," Miguel starts out, with
Juan's and Alfredo's attention, Anthony ready to hear
the wrestling match is history, "I'll bend the `no
rules' clause just this once. Pick which man you want
to start with."

"Pick? I didn't even have this on my list... you
didn't have it on the list you sent me!"

Looking to the clock hanging on the side of a tree,
Miguel announces, "You have two minutes to choose,
Anthony. Which half of the tag-team will it be? Juan
or Alfredo?"

"That's another thing! Two against one?"

"Not my fault you didn't bring anybody with you!"

"No. This is `not' going to happen," Anthony strongly
states, a hand on the top rope, a foot almost outside
the blue mat, just about to touch the sparsely
populated green against dirt.

"Your choice, but before you step out of the ring, let
me caution you."

`Caution' was enough to make Anthony stop and wait for
the conniver to talk.

"Well say it and get it over with, Miguel!" Anthony
responded, bod in limbo between in and outside the
professionally looking, homemade boxing ring.

"Let me review the choices. You can either start with
Alfredo in the ring, or Juan... however, if you decide
to step outside the ring, you surely will have more
contencers than you bargined for!"

Turning from Miguel, Anthony took the cautionary
measure to heart, as he saw the other band of Latinos
gather around the side, stand near him, a circle like
a dam to hold the water back.

>From behind his back, he heard Alfredo badger,
"C'mon... pick me, gringo. I want a chance to pound
those abs."

"In your dreams!" Anthony said, realizing there wasn't
any way out of this, then to walk out of the ring as a
victor. He gulped, when he thought the opposite, being
carried out on a slab. Then, it flashed into his mind;
Roberto. Miguel wouldn't dare allow anything too
menacing happen to him. A fate worse than torture,
would be to have his younger brother cursing Miguel
out over `getting hurt' or worse, knocked out!

"One minute and counting," Miguel stressed.
"Fifty-nine, fifty-eight..."

Another psychological pawn, made Anthony nervous. The
heat of the sun, pouring out of the sky, into the
high-walled backyard, created the sensation of being
baked in an oven. His right hand had already sensed
this, sliding over his stomach, to the side of his bod
to catch some annoying drips of sweat.

Of course Anthony wasn't going to give Alfredo the
benefit of doubt, choosing, "Juan," as he stepped back
into the ring.

Right as he said it, outside the ring there arose a
bunch of grumbly words, out of the corner of his eye,
seeing one leatherman reattach his flogger to his
belt. A short blast of the whistle, everyone looked to
Miguel, who threw his thumb over his shoulder,
announcing, "Alfredo, out!"

As Anthony ran his hands down his bod, his face stayed
constantly in focus with the look on Alredo's face, a
look of hate, a lust for hurting.

Upon hearing the bell, Anthony's head swished to the
opposite side of the ring, keying in on Juan. As in
his own high school and college experiences, Anthony
drew off his own knowledge, regardless of the
fairlness or freewill of the match. Walking in a
circle, the two didn't take their eyes off of each
other. Anthony saw his `in', when one of the
sideliners yelled, "Pulverize the bitch!"

As soon as the little smirk formed on Juan's face,
plus the break in eye sight, him quickly glancing
outside the ropes, Anythony made his move. Since there
were no rules, he did his best to live by Miguel's
code. Even Juan's Doc Martin's were no match for
Anthony's high jump, his right foot landing on Juan's
toes. With the sigh of pain, Anthony hastily
side-swiped him, putting two hands together, like
praying and pounded them against his agressors back.
Falling forward, Anthony heard Juan's belly fall
against the mat, making a `farting' sound.
Immediately, he dropped his ass on the chub's back,
facing his ass and grabbed at the boot on his left
foot, hauling it backwards.

In pain, Juan tried squirming about, to break free,
but Anthony was the man in control.
"Feel good, Juanita?" Anthony slandered him, as he
bent Juan's leg back, actually getting a kick out of
the bear crying out for help. "Since it's
Thanksgiving, how about a wishboner!"

Reaching underneath Juan, Anthony took hold of the
codpiece attached to the zip side of the pants,
tearing it off, the sound of snaps all unfastening at
once. Anthony didn't know where this act of sadism
came from, but getting up, with lightning speed, he
took hold of Juan's legs, pulling them apart, his foot
stepping in between, his bare toes making contact with
a set of hairy balls.

"Ring the damn bell!" Juan called out, in between his
gasps of pain.

Instead of sympathy, Miguel chided Juan, praising
Anthony, "Yeah, tear that wishbone apart, Anthony!"

Of course, no one would think of challenging Miguel,
even though Alfredo ground one hand into the palm of
another, threw off sweat, as he thought, `Have your
fun... wait til I have you on your knees, begging to
suck my cock, boy!'

%

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


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