Date: Fri, 21 Sep 2007 19:26:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: ROAD TRIP  off the road

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  off the road
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"We sure showed'em, huh coach?" Barry shouted out,
entering the lockerroom, with the rest of the
Applegate University Swim Team.

"That we did," Anthony agreed with the nineteen year
old college sophomore, catching Barry's hand, for a
`slap-me-five', the teen hopping up, as coach stood
there, his hand up.

However, when Robbie entered the room, he was more
than ecstatic over capturing the highest honor, after
making some of the best dives of his career. The
Applegate members were quite surprised out of their
gourds, when Robbie bent down, threw his arms around
Barry's waist and hoisted him up over his shoulder.

"We done good, huh Robbie?" Barry said, as his head
passed over Robbie's mane.

Responding, a spectacle for the whole team, including
Anthony, as onlookers, Robbie lined his lips up with
Barry's, giving a hearty kiss, breaking and agreeing,
"We sure did!"

None more amazed, than Barry's bro, Larry, his
identical twin, stood there, mouth dropped wide open.
Right away, as became the opinion of some of the other
team members, he wondered, while others voiced, "Out
of all the hot guys....." Their reaction faded, not
wanting to cut Barry down, in the midst of his
heightened excitement.

"Um, did you have any idea, Larry?" Anthony
questioned, in privacy.

"None, coach. I guess all those times Robbie provided
backup, for some dumbass action on my bro's part, had
more meaning than protecting a team member. I never
would have thought Barry would wind up with a
studmuffin like Robbie Sinclair."

"That makes two of us,"  Tommy Perez agreed, towel
slung over half his chest.

"Make that three," Emmanuel Rosado agreed, leaning his
arm on Tommy's other shoulder.

Senior member of the team, Jason Youngblood, fesses
up, "I guess that screws my chances of `getting to
know' Robbie!"

Defeat, obviously shown on some of the Greenville team
members' faces, shoulders slumping, two in particular
skirted the edges of Robbie and Barry, one comments,
barely audible, "Faggot!" One other says, "Yeah, watch
out... we don't want to get infected!"

As they continued, their path became blocked, as one
particular ear picked up on the two Greenville
freshman, as they chanced to make comment. Matt's
front butted up against Trevor's back, at the abrupt
stop.

Arms crossed over his chest, Anthony states, "I think
you owe us an apology?"

With the cheering on hold, Trevor looks over his
shoulder, then back to Anthony. Staring at Anthony, a
sly grin forms on his face. In the silence of the
room, Robbie slowly allows Barry to slide down his
body, passing the teen off to his brother, as he moves
in, towering over Matt's backside.

"We don't negotiate with faggots!"

It was a bad move on Trevor's part, stepping to
Anthony's right, shoulders connecting, pushing aside,
Anthony too stunned by the student's disrespectful
action, to let it register. However, the whole
incident, transpiring right in front of Robbie, set
off a chain reaction in his mind. Before anyone, let
alone Trevor could react, Robbie lurched forward, his
fist diving forwards, ahead of him, making contact
with Trevor's lower back, rightside.

"Oh shit!" Could be heard, ringing out around the
room, echoed by both Applegate and Greenville
swimmers. No comment could be as strong, as
Greenville's swim coach, upon entering.

Anthony was no match for hot-tempered Robbie, who
after causing Trevor excruiating back pain, grabbed
the freshman's hair, pulling him back, doing a
split-second maneuver to twirl the nineteen year old
swimmer around, planting his first punch, deadcenter,
right above Trevor's navel.

It wasn't a time for laughter, but if it was, it would
have been comical, to see Barry grab hold of Robbie,
around the waist, trying to hold him back, but
instead, being dragged along with the gargantuan
swimmer, in his quest to defend his coach's integrity,
delivering two more gutpunches, before nailing Trevor
to the wall.

Even both coaches couldn't contain Robbie's fury, each
grabbing the six foot two swimmer around each arm.
Finally, one of Greenville's members stepped in the
line of fire.

"He's had enough!" Gil shouted out, his back up
against Trevor's front.

Readying to punch Gil's lights out, Barry loses his
grip and sandwiches in between Robbie and Gil, saying,
"He's one of the good guys, Robbie!" Furthering his
explanation, not realising the implications, "He's gay
like us!"

Losing strength, rather the adrenaline rush which
powered Robbie's endurance and fists, the two coaches
manage to subdue him, Greenville's coach, nearly as
tall as Robbie, putting him in a neck hold.

Tugging on the coach's arm, Anthony says, "I don't
think that's necessary, Vincent."

"You don't do you? What should I do, Tony? Let him go
ahead and bust one of my boys' abs?"

Leave it to Barry, as he shouts, "Well, if Trevor
didn't call us faggots and harass Coach Torricelli,
all this wouldn'da even happened!"

Virtually, Gil's bod, wedged up against Trevor's
chest, amounted to keeping Trevor pinned against the
wall, upright. If Barry and Gil had moved, Trevor
would have keeled over, chin hitting the floor. Even
though doused by the pool, the beaten swimmer sweated,
resembling a dip in the pool. His head lagged to the
side, eyes barely open, groaning. Nobody could see his
hands, behind Gil's back, clutching his sore abs.

"Is that so?" Coach Grant replied, loosening his grip
around Robbie's neck. "Um, somebody want to fill me in
around here?" He asks, looking to the side of Robbie,
at Trevor, breathing heavy, his hair over his face.

Not as bold as when he stood with Trevor, Matt
approaches, fessing up, "Yeah. What he says," meaning
Barry, "is true. Trevor...." Seeing eyes trained on
himself, bent of the fact Trevor wasn't alone on his
assault with words and force, Matt adds, "Trevor might
have said some things about...." he decided to clean
up his mouth, "some of the Applegate team, but I was
there to back him up. I'm not exactly proud of myself.
I don't even know why I went along with the things
Trevor said...I..." Standing there, Matt thought he
said enough, too ashamed to say anymore.

"Well, that's a mouthful," Coach Grant says, a hand to
Matt's shoulder. But then defends, "It still doesn't
give," he directs this to Anthony, "your team the
right to haul off and slap around one of my boys,
Tony."

Finally, Robbie, tired of hearing all of this being
taken so lightly, states, "When it comes to pushing
Coach Torricelli around, I think `your boy' deserves
what he got!"

"Push? Like physically, Tony?" the Greenville coach
asks Anthony, still pressing for details.

He isn't disappointed, as Barry loosens his stance,
making Gil flip around, catch Trevor's sagging bod.
Stepping around Robbie,  Barry stares up into Coach
Grants face. A hand on one hip, the other finger
wiggles in front of Coach Grants face, as Barry tells
all, in the same sarcastic manner Robbie used, "Yeah,
`your boy' stepped over the line when he pushed Coach
Torricelli out of the way!"

Overriding Barry, the Greenville coach  exclaimed, "He
struck you, Tony?"

"More pushed by me. I probably would have had a better
hand on stopping Robbie here, but frankly, I was more
stunned, mentally, than physically."

Emptying his lungs, shaking his head, taking in the
revelation, Coach Grant reassesses the situation.
First he apologizes, "I'm really sorry, Tony. I have
to admit, I never knew any of this... bias stuff was
going on."

Still wound up, Barry corrects him, "It's called being
homophobic!"

By now, with Robbie calmed, he had come to Gil's aid,
taking one of Trevor's arms and gently laying the
nineteen year old down on the tiled floor. In fact,
Robbie had seen to the beating he had given Trevor,
placing a cool towel on the teen's abs, Gil wiping
Trevor's sweaty face with another wet one. Squatting
down, Barry looked over Trevor, casing his pecs,
following the thin trail, originating out of a mass of
midchest hair, down to where Robbie soothed the
swimmer's abs.

"Here, let me take a look at that," Coach Grant
ordered, replacing Robbie's hands.

"Still on the Greenville first aid squad, Vincent?"

"Yeah," the coach replies, focused on Trevor, as the
crowd of integrated swim teams close in. "Comes in
handy at times like these."

Anthony always thought Vincent a little `bent', but he
wondered even more, when the Greenville coach swiped a
glance of Robbie's speedo-filled package, almost in
his face.

"What do you think?" Anthony asks, hands on hips, bent
at the waist.

All eyes keyed in on the downed teen swimmer. Nobody
saw Barry, slowly make his way around Trevor, splayed
out on the floor, move around Gil and find his way
closer to Robbie.

"Looks bad," Barry said, not to anyone in particular.

However, Coach Grant picked up on Barry's comment,
looking in the direction of his input. His voice was
intended for Barry, but his eyes focused on Robbie, as
he revealed, "Uh, there's nothing seriously wrong with
Trevor here," then for fear of lingering too long on
Robbie's speedo, he looks to Anthony, assessing,
"other than a bruised six pack."

"You're sure of that?" Anthony questioned.

"To be sure, I think I should run him over to the
hospital."

Matt saw to it, to crack open Trevor's locker and
return with a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt. Good
thing for Trevor, being in a lethargic state, he
didn't realize both Robbie and Gil helping to dress
him. Not sure what he felt, when pulling the
sweatpants up over Trevor's package, Matt kept it to
himself, when his hand grazed Trevor's cock and balls.
In fact, being in on the homophobic harassment, he
surely did not want anybody to notice anything
suspicious, which would be perceived as `gay'.

Anthony offered to `mind the store', while Vincent
attended to Trevor.

"Hey, wanna come to the party?"

"What party?" Gil asked Barry, as he and Edwin
changed, right along with the Applegate team.

"Coach Torricelli always has a pool party after a
competition. Wanna come?"

Monitoring their conversation, Larry leans over, to
Barry, saying, "You better clear it with Coach
Torricelli first, Barry."

"Okay. Cool," Barry responds. Half dressed, the lower
half, zipper open, left forgotten, Barry, sitting on
the aisle of lockers, leans around, shouting "Hey
cooooooach?" He didn't really have to yell, as Anthony
was standing right there, causing Barry to almost yell
into his gut. "Oh hi coach," Barry says, looking up,
bearing a toothy grin.

"What's up, Barry?" Anthony asks, looking down at him.


"Alright if Gil and Edwin can come to our vic'try
party? I already invited them!" Barry asks, followed
by silence and a shiny smile.

"Well, if you already invited them, then I can't very
well say no, can I?"

Acknowledging him, Barry says, "You're the best,
coach." Then, turning back to his twin, asks, "Isn't
Coach Torricelli the best, Larry?"

"Yeah and very patient!" Larry comments, looking up at
Anthony, while tying his sneakers.

"'Scuse me coach," Robbie says, fitting in between
Anthony and the corner of the string of lockers.
"Aren't you ready yet, babe?"

Barry turns and looks at Larry.

"Don't look at me, Barry. He's talking to you,
doofus!" Larry tells him.

"Me?" Barry exclaims. Then, turning to Robbie, staring
at him, as if looking at the top of the Empire State
Building, "Is it me you called `babe'?"

Instead of pursuing the endearing namesake, Robbie
says, "How about you ride with me to Coach
Torricelli's?"

His head whisking around, Barry confronts Larry,
speedily asking, "Can I Larry? Can I?"

Since they were old enough to realize they were
identical in features, blond hair, blue eyes, cuties,
Larry has dominated his twin brother. In the past few
years, he's found something different about Barry,
making their likenesses split. Their parents saw it
early on, the differences in the two boys, having
Barry `checked out' by professionals. Like one of a
kind, doctors termed Barry with a variant of
Asperger's Syndrome. In school he did well, qualifying
for the resource room, showing off his vast intellect,
accruing above average grades, for his educational
level. However, outside, in the bigger world, he often
lost control, talking too much or lacking social
skills. Often this would lead to poor peer
relationships, leaving him in a lonely world of his
own. This is where Larry came in, always there for his
brother. Sometimes a constant companion.

As if suspicious, Larry stare deep into Robbie's eyes.


Reading his mind, alert at how attached Barry has been
with Larry, more like a dog on a leash, Robbie
comments, "Nothin's going to happen. He'll be safe
with me."

If Larry hadn't developed a camaraderie with Robbie,
as well as the rest of the Applegate swim team
members, he might have objected. Deciding to chance
letting go of the reins, he told Robbie, "I guess
it'll be okay just this once."

"Cool! Thanks bro! You're the best!" Barry exclaimed,
jumping around, hugging Larry, then addressing Robbie,
one-on-one, "Cool, huh Robbie?"

Robbie just smiled, putting Barry into a one-sided
hug, under his shoulder.

Ten minutes later, Anthony, walking the lockerroom,
doing Barry's `job', checked for left behind speedos,
jock straps and other items, happening upon the lone
habitant, sitting on a bench, head hanging down.

"Aren't you coming to the party, Larry?"

"Oh. Hi coach," Larry says, in a sullen tone.

Seeing Larry downcast, Anthony sits down on the bench
next to him. "Want to talk about it?"

Looking up, Larry seemed as if he was ready to let go
of the torrents in  his tear ducts. "I knew this day
would come."

"This about Barry?" Anthony questioned.

Turning his head, Larry looked at Anthony's face, then
returned his gaze to his speedo, still lying on the
floor. He picked it up, but didn't take the effort to
stuff it in his gym bag, handling it as if he needed
something to keep his hands busy.

"You two are close, huh?"

"When we left for college, our mom cried, telling me
to take care of Barry."

"And as I see it, you have, Larry."

"Yeah, until Robbie came along," Larry says, in the
same monotone.

"I would think you would be happy about Robbie coming
into Barry's life." Then, as if Robbie was standing
there, right in front of Anthony, not that he hasn't
seen Robbie, head to toe in the buff, he sums up, "I
mean, what guy wouldn't pass up the chance to have a
relationship with a six foot, two inch tall muscleman,
like Robbie Sinclair, not to mention the hottest stud
on campus?" He pictured the long cock, sagging over
the two humongous orbs, but left that to his private
memory. "Huh?" He probed Larry's thoughts, looking to
him, placing a hand on the nineteen year old's thigh.

"Relationship. That's it." Then, being more
suspicious, Larry says, "Why would a stud like Robbie
choose a guy like Barry?"

"Who knows," Anthony puts it. "They say there's
somebody out there for all of us and all it takes is
finding the right one. I mean, you must have thought
about some guy, at some time, crossing paths, huh
Larry?"

Still, passing the waistband of his speedo around and
around, from hand to hand, head down, Larry concedes,
"There's been one or two, but I've always thought
Barry comes before everyone else."

"You trust Robbie, don't you? I mean, you allowed him
to take Barry to my place, in his truck?"

"I suppose. I mean he's always been there for Barry,
when he's screwed up and gotten himself into trouble."


Anthony carefully chooses his words, "So don't you
think, since Robbie has taken more than an interest in
Barry, you might think along the lines of letting go?"

Looking up at Anthony, Larry's eyes immediately mist
up, tears beginning to drip down his cheeks, a sniff
rounding out his feelings for his twin brother.
Swiping his hand from Larry's thigh, he places it
around the swimmer's back, caressing him in the pocket
of his arm.

"Yeah... that's it... let it out, Larry."

%

Meanwhile, one by one, team members have sped past
Robbie, sailing along the country road, onwards
towards Anthony's estate. Not quite up to the speed
limit, Robbie's powder blue 4x4 glides along the
narrow roadway.

"Robbie?"

"Huh?"

Without flinching a muscle, his eyes glued to the
world outside his window, Barry states, "Did you know
that someday Aspen trees are going to be extinct?"

Wondering what brought this on, Robbie maintains his
gaze on the road ahead, answering, "No I didn't."

Still, his interest on the green world outside, Barry
continues, "Microbial ecologists have found that
atmospheric conditions will cause the Aspens to
disappear, birch trees crowding them out of northern
forests, by the end of the century."

"Really?" Robbie questions, already trying to figure
out if it was something he said, to lead Barry onto
this subject of conversation.

"It's already started. As global warming continues, it
traps gases in the atmosphere, heating it up. Rising
carbon dioxide levels can have a fertilizing effect on
trees and other plants, but not all. The birches will
multiply and keep growing, whereas the Aspens will
slowly be overwhelmed by the birches. Get what I'm
saying?"

Finally, coming to the conclusion of his thesis,
spawned by gazing at the passing greenery, Barry looks
to Robbie, probing for an answer.

"Sure," Robbie replies, retaining nothing close to
what Barry has just ripped off in the whole of a few
minutes. "Um, how come you know so much?"

"I don't know. I got straight A's in school. My mom
says I have a gift."

"Impressive," Robbie says, thinking he's got a genius
on his hands.

"Do you have any gifts, Robbie?"

"Well sure. Doesn't everybody?" Robbie replies.

"I don't know. Did you know that Albert Einstein, best
known for his theory of relativity, but specifically
for his equation for the mass-energy equivalence,
received the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics for his
discovery of the law of photoelectric effect?"

"Seems to me I've heard of it," Robbie replied, a hand
rubbing against the five o'clock shadow under his
chin. "Yeah, I think my dad had a camera like that."

Barry looks strangely at Robbie, wondering what a
camera had to do with Einstein's theory. He perked up,
realizing maybe Robbie had read something he wasn't
aware of.

Robbie just smiled, at their road trip conversation,
mostly one-sided, comprised of `why bears rub against
trees', `a mouse with schizophrenia', `the impact
hurricanes have on the carbon sequestration of
forests', `his own theories on how the world is not
ending, but changing from as we know it, evolving into
a new world' and `how some insects stop breathing, to
live'.

"You know a lot about science, huh Barry?"

"Yup. When I was a kid, I always wished I could grow
up to be a scientist. Do you think I could be one,
Robbie?"

A hand to Barry's thigh, rubbing it, Robbie assured
him, "You can be anything you want to be, babe. All
you have to do is have the desire to do it and work
hard to make your dream come true. All it takes
is.....oooooh shit!"

Faster than Robbie could get his hand back on the
steering wheel, the truck swerved right, off the road,
then back on, narrowly missing the deer in the middle
of the road. He slammed on the breaks, cutting over to
the shoulder.

"Whew! That was a close one!"

It's then, Robbie realized it wasn't his own hand
performing the fancy maneuver.

"Wait! How did you do that?" He questioned Barry.

"Do what?" He asked, honestly not sure what Robbie
meant.

"You like perfectly steered us around the deer and
then got us back on the road. It's as if I had done it
myself... except, I probably would have wound up
hitting it."

"Oh that," Barry finally admitted.

"You've done it before?"

"A few times. Once when mom was driving me to school
and a kid on a bicycle came out into the road.  My
doctor says it has to do with quick reflexes, plus
putting things into perspective, in split second
timing. My mom says it's a gift. In fact, my mom says
everything is a gift. Except when I get into trouble.
Then my mom doesn't call it a gift!"

"I think your mom is pretty smart. What about your
dad. What does he have to say about all this?"

"He's not around," Barry said of it, as if it meant
nothing.

"What do you mean he's not around? Is he like on
vacation, in the armed forces, um...." Robbie steered
around saying `dead'.

"I don't know. Larry and I... we never knew who our
dad was. He wasn't with us when we were growing up,"
Barry explained, the best he knew how.

"What a shame." Then, looking upon Barry, the blond
mane, deep baby blues, he couldn't help but make
excuse, "A good looking guy like you without a father.
It's a sin!"

His stare into Barry's eyes, forced Barry to ask,
"Robbie, do we have a relationship?"

"Meaning?"

"Do you like love me? Am I supposed to be loving you
back? Are we going to have a relationship where we
live together, have sex and you let me fuck you?"

It was coming at Robbie a little faster than he could
comprehend it. Yet, when Barry uttered the part about
getting fucked, it made his loins tingle.

"Have you thought about having a relationship with a
guy, Barry?"

"I don't know. The only guy I've been around is
Larry."

"Have you um... ever.. ah, have sex with a guy?"

"With Larry? I can't have sex with Larry, Robbie. He's
my brother. Brothers don't have sex with brothers."

It wasn't what Robbie was driving at, but it gave him
the impression there hasn't been another guy in
Barry's life.

"Um, have you ever thought about having sex with
another guy, Barry?"

The whole conversation was driving Robbie crazy. He's
glad the dark recesses of the steering wheel kept his
erection hidden.

"I don't know. You see," Barry sounded like going off
on another tangent, "one time Larry and I measured our
penises."

"Oh, really? And?"

"My mom says we're identical twins. We are. We're both
five feet, ten inches tall, almost the same weight,
varying by one pound, we both have blond hair and blue
eyes. But, as Larry puts it, when it comes to below
the belt... that's where we differ."

"Oh really?" Robbie asks, "How's that go?"

Robbie hoped Barry hadn't noticed his hand, closest to
the door, feeding his stiff cock down the left leg of
his sweatpants.

"Easy. I told Larry the only way we could find out if
we were different, is to measure us. So, I said we had
to make ourselves hard first. Larry said he wasn't
sure he could. I told him to think about something
that would turn him on."

"How old were you two?" Robbie inquires, almost sure
something was leaking out of his cock, feeling the
moisture, not pool water. He was happy his sweatpants
were black.

"Sixteen. By the way, Robbie, when you were sixteen,
did you have any hair on your body?"

"Where?"

"Anyplace. Well, other than your head."

Forgetting for a moment about his hard shaft,
tunneling down the leg of his sweats, Robbie swings
around in his seat, as if swiveling in an easy chair,
his feet on the floor, near the center, between their
seats.

"Hmm... let me think.. At sixteen, huh?"

Nonchalantly, out of the blue, Barry asks, "Hey, is
your penis hard because we're talking about sex
stuff?"

Slapping a hand against the leg of his pants, Robbie
tries to hide the inevitable, too late.

"It's okay," Barry says, plainly. "because I'm hard
to. It has to do with the levels of hormones and
connectivity to the brain. When you think about guys
and what they are saying, it's normal for your brain
to pass along the thoughts and makes your penis swell
up. Same reason my penis is hard. See?"

Robbie sat there, his mouth dropping open. Barry,
curving the fabric of his sweatpants over his hard
cock, it stood straight up, reaching far above the
circle his finger and thumb made around the
cloth-encased base of his briefs.

"Wow!" is all Robbie could get out.

Putting it bluntly, Barry asks, "Robbie, do you think,
if we ever get into a relationship, where we love each
other, that I might try fucking you with this?" Barry
nods to his lap, his cock still fighting to bust
through the seams.

"It could happen!" Robbie exclaims, not sure if his
ass could stand the beer can roundness. In a fit to
get off, he says, "We better get going to Coach
Torricelli's place."

Igniting the engine, Robbie turns the wheel to exit
the shoulder. Both hear, `klunk-klunk-klunk'.

"Uh-oh," Robbie says.

"What is it, Robbie?"

"Flat tire, I think."

Rotating his key in the ignition, Robbie turns the
works off. Both exit from their respective sides. In
seconds, they are standing at the passenger side,
front tire.

"I don't think it can get any flatter than that,"
Barry suggests.

"Nope. Well, I better stop procrastinating and get out
the spare!"

"You can't," Barry says.

"Sure I can. I `ve got one in the back."

"No. I mean you can't change it here," Barry again
mentions.

"I can't ride with it. It'll ruin the tire. It might
still be good."

Squatting down, his stiff cock, cut down in size, but
still noticably butting up against his sweatpants,
Barry picks up some soil in his hand, shuffling it
around like sifting it.

"What's that?" Robbie asks.

"Liquifaction."

"Uh, you mind running that by me again?"

"It happened in California, in 1989, during the Loma
Prieta earthquake."

"Oh?" Is all Robbie could ask, interested, but also an
interest in the barrel between Barry's legs,
distintegrating.

"Yep. The reason so many buildings collapsed, could
have been prevented if they were built on solid
ground. In the Marina district, they were built on
ground, a product of geotechnical engineering. The
foundations didn't have a chance, since being
constructed on manmade base. The soft soil amplified
the intensity of the earthquake shaking. Buildings'
foundations sunk and the tops fell."

Robbie wasn't into a scientific explanation of
everything, but at the same time, he was fascinated by
how a guy such as Barry, with such poor social skills,
could excell at scientific knowledge.

"So, what about this soil?"

"I'm getting to that. You see, the liquidfaction
causes slope failure. This soil," Barry refers to the
soil in his hand, "was put here by man."

"How can you tell that?" Robbie asks, for once not
paying mind to the hard or soft state of Barry's
pubes.

"I can't be sure, because I haven't analyzed the
ground, geologically speaking. I can equate it to
thixotropy, though."

Robbie tried repeating the word, getting tongue-tied,
saying it like Bugs Bunny would say it.

"Thixotropy," Barry said it like it was natural to his
conversational style. "You see, the properties of
non-newtonian pseudoplastic fluids, involved in a
time-dependent change in viscosity, undergo a change
in shear rate. Thixotropic fluid takes a great deal of
time to attain equilibrium viscosity, when first
introduced into the step time of shear rate."

Pausing, Robbie interjected, "I thought so."

"Cool!" Barry responded, thinking it awesome Robbie
must have a like interest. "So, you know what I'm
talking about, then?"

"Sure," Robbie waved it away with his hand.

"Then you know that this isn't a universal definition,
that the viscosity and time components need not be
present, when applied to the pseudoplastic fluids?"

"Um, sure," Robbie replied, in agreement.

Barry might not have had it all, `upstairs', but he
knew when he was being conned. He got all excited
inside, as he prepared himself to say something,
totally untrue and still question Robbie, in regards
to it being substantial fact.

"So you can probably relate to the fact, when shaking
occurs, the fungi decreases in velocity, increasing
the shear rate, causing the meltdown of the
solidification, reacting with the nucleus mucus,
following the waves of solar wind, causing the axel to
bend towards the opposite property, causing a shift in
the foie de gras?"

It was a little geology, mixed with Stephen Hawking,
with a pinch of Martha Stewart for added flavor, but
Barry's deliverance made it sound authentic.

"Um, yeah. Sure. I think it happened in my backyard a
few years ago. The gardners had the toughest time
growing anything there. Especially when you talk about
that solar wind. I mean it just blew everything down
in one storm. Man, the gardeners were just pissed,
after their hard work. I was thinking it, when it
happened, it was sure to have something to do with
liquidation."

Rising up, from squatting down, Barry approached
Robbie.

"What?" He questioned.

"Did you mean it when you said I was cute?"

"Well sure. You were... and still are."

"I think you're cute."

"Oh?" Robbie replies, a smile on his face.

"Y'know something, Robbie?"

"What?"

"When we were sitting in your truck and I got hard?"

"Yeah," Robbie replied, wondering where this was
going.

"Do you think we might get in love with each other
tonight?"

"I don't know," the eighteen year old gives his
opinion. "Sometimes love strikes all at once.
Sometimes it takes time."

"Well, I don't know much about it..."

"About what?" Robbie cuts in.

"All this stuff about gay sex. I haven't studied up on
it much. Do you know a lot about it?"

"Some," Robbie replied. "What's your question?"

With his hands on Robbie's forearms, Barry more
explains, more than posing it as a question, "Y'know,
when I was showing you how big my cock was, I was kind
of thinking something?"

"And?"

"I'm thinking you could read all about gay sex, but a
guy doesn't really know what it's about, until he
experiences it. I was just wondering if we fell in
love real quick, like tonight, I'd like to see how it
feels to fuck you. Do you think we can?"

Squeezing his asscheeks together, Robbie almost
yearned to feel Barry's beer can up his ass. "I think
I'm in love!"

%

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