Date: Sat, 8 Oct 2011 17:18:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tchase Mcphee <survivalgame@rocketmail.com>
Subject: BeaR GaRDeN 10

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.

BeaR GaRDeN 10
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%


The Bear Garden:

%

Extending from first hand experience, Ian found `food play' could be fun on
both the giving and receiving ends.

Perhaps hints from seeing his good friend, Geoff Long, arms twined-out in
eagle-spread fashion, rendering him submitted to Bill Basehart's will, gave
Ian an idea as how to keep Avraham from squirming about on the table. Will
food play, especially if it were `cold', like rubbing two popsicle sticks
over a dude's nips, as was done to Ian himself by TC, in an attempt to melt
down the tips of the popsicles before shoving one up his ass, for Ian's
playing with Avraham, what irked him was his victim's prying hands.

Finding a couple of chef aprons lying about, they made perfect bondage
equipment, easily wrapped around a leg of the butcher block table and
affixed around each of Avraham's wrists.

Ian felt his bondage skills equivalent to Bill's, rendering his victim
helpless, but not totally immovable. However, it served a purpose, Ian
rather enjoying watching Avraham squirming around as he would coat each
pink nip with `cold!'

Leaving the popsicles, tips touching nips and lying on Avraham's dense,
dark, hairy chest, Ian rubs hands together and with a snide remark, "Let's
see what I can dream up next?!"

He couldn't believe he was getting a kick out of this, Ian having to drop a
hand to stroke himself.

Too, it was Avraham, his ability to unintentionally, or maybe
intentionally, who knows what was lurking in the submissive's head, to
drive him into saying, "It is so-o-o-o cold! I can't imagine how it feels
for you to be in your ass Ian!"

`Cold, real cold,' was Ian's thinking to himself, regarding TC working a
popsicle stick in and out of his own ass, till the cold torture implement
was whittled down to next to nothing! From Bill, Ian got the idea of how
this torture stuff went. Whenever he did something to Geoff and Geoff liked
it, he knew Geoff hinted for more. It's the exact thing Avraham was pulling
on him now. Asking was like `wanting!'

Coy, Ian responds, "Cold. It was really, really cold, but like anything
else, one doesn't know unless one tried it!"

Returning to the freezer, Ian pulls out the box of multi-colored popsicles.

"No! Please!"

Ian laughs out loud, not because of feeling sadistic, but at Avraham's
pathetic pleading. Like he's felt, based on Bill and Geoff's playing
around, Avraham is feeling exactly the opposite of his projecting
words. Removing a wrapper from the cold pop, Ian can tell by Avraham's
jerking cock, moving around on the bed of dark pubic hair all by itself,
his victim's `wanting!'

He didn't mean to, but was his first time doing this and seeing the only
alternative of getting Avraham's balls out of the way, grabbing both up in
his hand, forming a `cockring' around them, he first makes impression, "Oh
my god Avraham! I never noticed what big balls you have!" He laughs!

It also humors Ian, when Avraham says, "Oh please! Don't do anything to my
balls! I beg of you sir!"

Knowing he's smiling, which is probably turning Avraham on further, Ian
humors himself, saying, "You mean like doing something like this?"

Ian could not believe he was humoring himself at Avraham's expense, pulling
up on the two sacs, till the enclosed globes were ready to burst their
seams!

"Oh-h-h-h-gr-r-r-r-r!" Avraham bore the brunt of the pain.

Ian couldn't believe he was laughing his ass off, primarily because he knew
Avraham was liking what he was doing. It was no different than the time he
witnessed Bill, a chain in his hand, pulling at two clamps snagging up
Geoff's nips, stretching them out from Geoff's chest. Too, stretching nips
away from a really hairy chest made it `very' noticeable!

Letting go of Avraham's balls, Ian proclaims, "Hey! That was kinda cool!"

As Avraham sighs with emotion, Ian thinks about the popsicle melting down
over his hand. Without giving Avraham time to think and because of the
dripping pop, he shows no remorse over grabbing up the two oversized
walnuts and shoving the popsicle `in'!

"Oh my god!" Avraham pulls his restraints, arching his back.

In doing so, arching his lower back, Ian says of it, the popsicle, the
action driving it in deeper, "Oh cool!" But he's happily horrified when the
wooden stick breaks loose, the cold ice lodged in Avraham's ass, "Oh shit!"

"Oh, it's too cold! Too cold!"

This time, Ian figures Avraham not playing up to him, but voicing
opinion. With the unknown left with his victim, Ian tries to think of how
to get the popsicle out, since the `handle' is no longer intact! With
corporate decision making, he again goes at Avraham's balls, getting them
out of the way and biting a lip, because he's never stuck his fingers up a
guy's ass before, goes for it with his thumb and index finger, getting
grabby.

"Oh-h! Oh shit `yes'!"

"Yeah?" Ian is more puzzled by the reaction of pleasure. Also on Ian's
brain is, this isn't working, because Avraham's asshole is way too
pea-sized to fit the tips of his digits in! `Now what do I do?' Then he
comes to conclusion, out loud, "It's probably all melted by now?" He looks
to Avraham for supportive reaction.

"Why you stop, Ian?"

`Ass? Stop?' Ian thinks. `He wants more up his ass?' Then snapping his
thumb and and finger together, remembering the cucumbers he saw in the
fridge... he stops to look at his thumb, why didn't make a clicky sound,
finding Avraham's ass-juices have deadened it, skips over it to open the
vegetable compartment. He giggles to himself, holding up two different
sized cucumbers, thinking, `Now, what would Bill do?' Closing the door, he
decides on both, chucking the two different sized cukes up onto table.

Landing on Avraham's furry stomach, the green tubers bounce a little before
coming to a stop. Avraham looks over his hairy chest to see in Ian's hand a
butternut squash, the base of the vegetable wider than the slender
`plug'. Playing Ian up, "Oh no! That is way too big to fit in my ass!"

"Save it, Avraham. I know you want it!"

Avraham smiles, gets his last dibs in, "Okay, but don't shove it in too
fast!" Seconds later, Avraham is wondering why Ian takes to looking in the
cupboards.

He finds out, Ian announcing,"Ah, here we go! Extra virgin `lube'!" Laughs
out loud!

%

For the rest of the afternoon, Jorge had a few estimates to call on, one
out in the middle class end of town, was next on his calendar, but then
thinking, `What a fuckin' shame I have to double back,' an appointment an
hour and a half later in the same neighborhood. He chanced calling
`Mr. Middle-class,' able to switch the appointment to 3:30. He calls, the
voice on the airwaves telling Jorge, `Okay, c'mon over.'

All the homes out this way replicated each other from the street view, big
wrought iron bars cemented in place, connecting every twelve feet or so,
dense foliage for privacy. Each had a gate which, if the driveway hadn't
begun there at the street, one would never know it wasn't part of the
fence.

Unrolling the window of his van, Jorge presses a button, saying, "This is
Jorge Villa, from Modern Cabinetry. I know Senator Quagmire is not
expecting me until 3:30, but I phoned ahead and..."

"You're permitted to enter," Jorge got cut off.

Rolling up his window, he proceeded up the driveway of the Quagmire
estate. He thought the dude a real snot, when he pulls up in front, the
asshole telling him, "You can't park here. Pull your van around to the
side!"

Driving away, Jorge reiterated, talking to himself in a snooty manner, "You
can't park here... pull your van around to the side... Yeah, around the
side of your ass," and whether the dude had followed his van or not, Jorge
held up his middle finger, outside his window, condemning, "Fuck you,
bitch!" Instead of anger, Jorge laughs his ass off!

To the side of the two story mansion, Jorge wasn't feeling at all
remorseful over having to drive the extra several hundred feet.

"Hot diggity!" he says, getting out of his van and looking towards the back
of the house.

He could hear in the distance, an unseen individual coaxing on a group of
about ten men... ten `shirtless' men, doing exercises. Walking over to the
chain linked fence, interwoven with ivy, he peers through a portal.

"State your business!"

"Oh shit!" Jorge says of the dude suddenly appearing, "You scared the hell
outta me!" Regardless, Jorge didn't take the dude as `scary', but rather,
`a fuckin' hottie,' stripped down to the waist, except the baseball cap on
his head.

"Did you receive clearance at the main gate?"

"No," Jorge replies, thinking the half-stripped dude a little dense, "I
flattened it with my truck after I stormed it and ran over it!"

"I see," he replies to Jorge.

From his side of the fence, he figured all the dude could see was face and
top of his tank shirt. He knew they were checking each other out, the blond
dude on the other side of the fence getting the raw end of the deal, only
seeing from the pecs, up! Knowing he had a later appointment, "Well, do you
believe me or not?"

"No. You believe for one minute I'm going to buy your story?" Blondie
replies.

"If you did, I'd wonder why, this being a U.S. Senator's home, why I'm not
being surrounded by a hoard of secret service men, guns out, my chest
plastered to the ground, my hands pinned behind my head?"

"You watch too my Tv. Not the case at all. I don't believe your story,
because I could see from the security camera it was you."

"Oh, so you're the voice behind the charming guy who let me in?" Jorge
replies, trying to stay in the good graces of this dude, because he was
rather appealing. Whether he was gay or not was not the problem. Straight
guys could be a lot of fun on the spur of the moment!

"Senator Quagmire is in a meeting. His appointment is at 3:00."

"3:30 to be exacti, but I phoned," Jorge complains, "and whomever it was,
said it was okay to come by now."

Jorge stood back from the fence about a foot. Slowly, the other dude had
been inching towards it. In his final words regarding the situation, he
places two hands on the upper part of the fence, sort of hanging on it, his
nose almost poking through it, "Probably Grant. Between you and me he's a
real jerk."

Jorge lent a smile, seeing dude break his perfectly serious facade, a smirk
on his face, one which could make one think it was a result of joke-making.

Of the fence, "Careful. Might be poison ivy. You wouldn't want to harm the
surface that milky-white skin!" Jorge was't for certain, but had an idea
the reason behind clinging to the fence, possibly wishing it wasn't there
at all?

Taking his hands off, swiping hands up and down his own arms, the dude
says, "Thanks for the tip."

Because the men in the field have been standing there plain as zombies,
Jorge asks, "Don't you think you better get back to your robots, before
they melt in the sun?"

Turning his head, the dude knew there was a reason why he was barechested
in the field, "Dismissed!"

"So, what are you? Their sarge?"

"I'm head of security here at the Quagmire compound. Like myself, I demand
my legions to be in top physical shape."

Smiling, Jorge says, "You got a name or do they call you `muscles'?"

"The gate is over there," blondie casts a thumb to Jorge's right.

Walking through the gate, if Jorge thought he was trying to read this dude,
this guy was way ahead of him! His hand was already on Jorge's person,
feeling up his hairy forearm, saying, "Troy Trainor and I think you look
more sexy on this side of the fence!"

On the same wavelength, Jorge was way ahead of Troy, saying, "Really?" Not
waiting for an invitation, Jorge takes the initiative to place a hand
behind Troy's head and mashing the rack of muscles into his tank top!

%

"You know what Barry?" Jef asks, after finishing up a mouthful of pizza.

"What?"

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners?"

Barry knew there was more to this, "And?"

Reaching across the table with a napkin in hand, Jef replies as he dabs it
to Barry's lip, "You're such a sloppy eater!"

Cute, but also the way Jef was fussing over him, Barry replies, "I did it
on purpose."

Reeling in his arm, Jef says, "Why?"

In a cutesy manner, Barry replies, "So I can have my boyfriend fuss over
me?"

"How old are you?"

The quick change of subject threw Barry, "Twenty-eight. Why?"

"I'm twenty-three. I'm five years younger than you. Do you think it's going
to work?"

Puzzled, Barry says of it, "Works for me. How about you, unless I'm too old
for you?"

"I thought I might be too young for you, but no, you're never too old for
me. Besides, if you were I wouldn't care, because I like you even if you're
older."

"Oh really?" Barry was entertained. "Exactly what is it about me you like?"

"To me you look like a perfect man."

Wondering where this was going, Barry questions, "Perfect man? I doubt it,
but go on."

"You are." Rubbing his hand over his own close-cropped beard, Jef tells, "I
like your beard, but more than that, did you know you are a really good
looking man?"

"I knew that! What else?" Barry chuckles.

Serious, Jef responds, "No, really. You are like so good looking and
before, in bed?"

Barry answers, thinking of their bear bods together, "Gr-r-r!"

Jef laughs, replying, "I liked it too," the light sex, "but I really like
you being hairy."

"Like I'm the only one?" Barry replies.

Being Barry the one who went to town, lapping up Jef's furry chest and
other hairy places, Jef could relate, "You like doing me?"

With discrepancy on his mind, oral vs. anal, Barry says, "I think you
tasted delicious, though I would have liked to have parted the valley!"

"Done what?" Jef didn't get it.

Looking around Rinaldi's, Barry leans in, saying, "Do a little fucking
around?"

Skeptical this afternoon about `roles', not which Barry was totally into,
except maybe as part of the atmosphere at the `Bear Garden', with Jef, it
was `however it goes,' when they were in bed. He wasn't singling either
himself or Jef as `me top-you bottom.'

Jef comes out with, "I think I'd like to try fucking a guy!"

It's not exactly the way Barry was hoping it would go. Hours ago, when they
were in bed, he had visions of maybe something longer lasting than hopping
in bed, fucking and then the occasional get together. In his mind right
now, he had thoughts of parting Jef's ass, but his own?

"Why don't we wait until we get between the sheets, before we make any
hasty decisions?"

"I have a question?"

Barry asks, drinking a sip of wine, "What's that?"

"Do you fuck guys or do you like to get fucked?"

Figuring it a little in reverse, Barry thinking this should have been the
question before Jef assumed it was fine to divide and conquer, his earlier
assumption, Barry tread lightly, "I think I could get into both." He only
hoped, even though he wasn't being deceitful, he could get to Jef's ass
door, before Jef plowed through his!"

%

The rest of the afternoon at the gym was a hectic one. Not one in which
Raymond minded, a few new patrons, one, "Renato sent me, telling me I could
get a good deal?"

On his side of the counter, Raymond stood about two inches taller than his
normal 5'11". Overall, he had a poor sense of measuring, but being the dude
about the same level eyesight, he figured 6'. But it wasn't height which
concerned him.

It was always safe to ask, "Are you in college?"

Taking the shades off, the dude says, "I know. I look older with the
sunglasses on, don't I?"

Prying, Raymond says, "Older than?"

"I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen and a senior in high school. I know, Renato
says a guys has to be eighteen, but I was wondering if..."

"The rules state you have to be eighteen to join the gym, but it's now only
my rule. The state has guidelines too, unless I can get a not from your
parents?"

"Nah. I guess I'm out of luck."

Raymond stresses, "You can't get a note? They out of town or something,"
which he found common with folk around here, leaving their kids in care of
an older sibling, relative or nanny.

"More like out of touch. Nah, I can't ask either of them for a note."

"Why not?" Raymond asks more out of curiosity than being nosy.

He stood there, smirking.

"Never mind," Raymond amends his inquiry, "none of my business."

Surrendering, the youth says, "No, because my mom came home early from
shopping one day and found me in bed with my buddy from school. When my dad
found out I was gay he went ballistic. Now they keep tabs on me wherever I
go and banned me from having any guys in the house. If it wasn't for
Renato, I would probably not be having sex again until I'm in college!"

Thinking about it, especially Renato's fidelity to himself, Raymond asks,
"You and Renato?"

"I don't have sex with my uncle, okay?"

"Oh, Renato's your uncle?"

"Yeah," the Italian dude says, "and he lets me bring guys to his
apartment."

"Apartment? I thought he lived at home with `his' family?" Raymond
questions, the plot thickening faster than a cock in heat!

"Oh shit!"

"What?" Raymond asks.

"It's supposed to be a secret. Nobody's supposed to know."

Raymond quips, "Apparently!"

Putting his sunglasses on, the dude says, "Look, I think I should go. Nice
meeting you."

"Wait," Raymond replies, "I thought you wanted to work out?"

"I did. I do, but I'm seventeen and there's no way I'm going to get
permission from my dad to work out at the gym."

With thought, Raymond asks, "What are your intentions of working out at a
gym? Do you want to bulk up or is it for the sole purpose to `watch
clients' in the locker room dress and undress?"

"That's so lame! I don't believe you, especially when Renato said you were
such a nice guy!"

"No! Wait!" Raymond is around the corner, tagging the dude on the shoulder,
"Wait up!" Before the dude can react, "There's another way you can work out
at the gym and you don't need permission from your parents."

Turning around to Raymond, with an idea of `how', the seventeen year old
replies, "Sex?"

More with anger, Raymond replies, "Is that all you young people think of,
is taking it up the ass?"

Again the sunglasses came off, and in a remorseful manner, he says,
"Sorry. No, it's not the only thing I think of. What I really want to do is
meet a nice guy. `Not' do what Renato does all the time."

Personally, it puzzled Raymond, but keeping his cool over Renato, he
states, "The gym `could' be a place to meet guys for sex, but I try to keep
that from happening."

"How do you manage that? Renato tells me a lot of guys are gay."

"Spot checks. If I catch anything which resembles two guys getting it on,
bod contact or even kissing, their membership is revoked. As far as their
contract is concerned, I'm judge, jury and executioner!"

It made the dude smile, thinking, `This dude has a sense of humor', but
more important to him, "So how can I work out here without the `rents
knowing it?"

"Part time job after school?"

"Job? Like how much do I get paid?"

"Minimum wage and you get to work out as much as you want off the clock?"
Raymond offers.

"Sounds too good to be true."

Putting a hand on the lad's shoulder, Raymond says, "Why don't you take a
seat at the bar and we can talk it over.... Hey, I didn't get your name?"

"Oh right," he lightened up, holding out a hand to shake, "Tomasso
Venturini, but you can call me `Tom' is you want."

Taking Tomasso's hand, Raymond says, "I suppose you already know I'm
`Raymond'?"

"Yeah, Renato told me about you."

Sitting at the protein bar, Raymond took the seat next to Tomasso, asking,
"What do you like to be called?"

"Tom is cool."

"Tom it is!"

A few seconds pass, Tom asks, "Now that I'm working for you, can I ask a
question?"

"Feel free to ask more than one!" Raymond says lightheartedly.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

In all honesty, Raymond thought `Renato' was his boyfriend. At least it's
way his thinking went, when Renato left the gym today. Rather than get into
it, he answers, "I think you're a too young for me!" meant as joking!

Smiling, Tom says, "I have no intentions of dating my employer."

"Oh," Raymond felt `silly,' but didn't readdress the question. Instead, he
deviates, "You're not a `Rinaldi'?"

"Adopted. I have a very small family. The family back in Italy are
dead. Killed in the earthquake."

"Sorry to hear that," Raymond shows remorse.

"Renato got me to stay with his family. They live down the road from where
Michael lives, but now I'm feeling really tense about living there."

Raymond senses, piecing a few things together, "Ever under the watchful
eyes, I take it?"

Griping, Tom replies, "You got it! From the minute I walk in the door from
school, it's a total hassle."

Walking around the counter, Raymond hauls two waters from the refrigerated
case, presenting Tom with one, asking, "It's your senior year, if I'm not
mistaken?"

"If I pass. I'm not a great student. I'm pulling a couple of D's. I don't
think I could stand another year living there."

Raymond could see the conversation take a dive into a dismal state, "But if
you worked out.... worked at the gym, wouldn't they gripe about that?"

"Nah. That's where Renato comes in. He would explain to them I have a
really solid job and... and Renato, he has a good way about stuff. He can
bullshit and make it sound good!"

`I'll say,' Raymond was thinking the same regarding their newfound
`romance!' Again though, he sidetracks himself, "If you have a few minutes,
I can show you what you can do around here to help me out?"

%

Ian was really getting into this. He would not believe it himself, if he
didn't prove it, one hand on the olive oiled-cucumber, turning it, sliding
it into Avraham's tight ass, hearing the groans of pleasure, mixed with
pain, his other hand firming up his own `cucumber.'

"Oh, I'm getting close," Ian says, his hips beginning to fuck air!

At that moment, Bill Basehart busts in the door, "We're finished. What's up
in here?"

Unknown to Ian, his playtime was over, Bill stealing the scene.

"Oh, awesome!" Bill exclaims, grabbing up the butternut squash. Moving in
between Ian and Avraham, Bill says, "Pull that twinkie out. Time for
something substantial."

Whimpering, because he was almost on the verge of expelling his man-seed,
though Ian didn't stop stroking, Ian's concerned, "I didn't widen him up
enough yet, Bill."

"Hell with that crap!"

Ian's amazed, licking his lips, not out of physical taste, but the `taste'
of wanting to see what the prognosis of the squash in Bill's hand,
inserting into where the cucumber had been pulled out!

"You want this boy?"

Looking down over his hairy chest, now flattened by man-sweat, the
twenty-six year old replies, unsure, "Uh, um..." he bit his lip, realizing
Bill asked, but wasn't expecting a `no' answer.

"Don't you want to oil it up, Bill?" Ian says of the big squash in his
hand.

"What for? Takes all the fun out of it!"

Ian wasn't sure he wanted to stick around, mainly because he wasn't into
the pain thing, but respected other guys if they were into it, "Where's
Geoff?"

With glee, Bill replies, "Still `hanging around' downstairs."

"You done torturing him?"

Snottily, Bill replies, "It's not torture, okay? It's what he wants!"

Perhaps, by joining Bill on `his' side of the fence, topping out Avraham,
Ian feels less inferior than before, "And not what `you' want Bill?"

Next thing, Ian's yelling, "Oh fuckin' shit!" when Bill draws his elbow
back and with battering ram technique, uses the butt of his hand to slam
against the fat end of the butternut squash.

"Akkkkk-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-k-kkkoh-h-h-h-h-h-shit!" Avraham screams at the
top of his lungs.

"What do you want of me, Ian?"

He might have backed down, surely the force of the fat squash stretching
Avraham's ass out to the max and the ensuing painful scream affects his
ears, derailing Ian's thoughts, but Bill's accusation bringing him back on
track, "I don't want anything from you Bill. I got what I wanted from you,
a night in the sack with you. But no, this is not about what I want from
you Bill" He couldn't believe he had Bill Basehart up against the wall,
pounding his chest with his finger, "It's about what you, Bill. It's like
before the accident I was nothing but a pile of shit to you. Now I'm
like.... like..."

He had to stop, Ian forced to shut up, because he lost understanding of
figuring out Bill, his motives of where he was coming from and where he
going. As far as direction, he was overwhelmed by both mind and matter,
Bill sinking down the wall, Bill's tongue stuck out, licking down the trail
of hair separating his stomach, feeling a pair of hands on his torso,
apparently Bill steadying himself.

Only sound in the room was that of Avraham, moaning, feeling from the big
gourd tightly wedged in his ass. It's not until Ian feels a wet mouth on
his cock, he cocks his head back and now with opinion, "Oh Bill... oh man
that feels so hot!"

Way back in the recesses of Bill Basehart's brain, he's had this hidden
desire, since his tweens, to have a hot man to service. As he has been to
other guys, dominant, disciplinarian, top-fucker, looking upon Ian,
regardless of beefy exterior, he's been the only man in Bill's life who
could drive him to his knees without a fight.

"Oh-h-h-h-h," Ian pulls at the back of Bill's head, forcing himself down
Bill's throat, "I'm getting close."

Pulling off, it made Ian grumpy, "No-o-o-o! What'd you stop for?"

"I want to go downstairs. You and me."

"Downstairs? Um, wouldn't you rather go upstairs?" Ian pictured a `bed' and
not a `dungeon,' especially whereas Bill having desires to cut down Geoff
and string him up?

He had to think on it, Bill saying, "I want to be in Geoff's place for your
pleasuring."

`He's serious isn't he?' Ian had to question it for himself. "Um, like, you
know I don't get into that pain stuff?" From Geoff's account, except for
getting fucked, he knew about the whippings, ball torture and other stuff
they like to do, with mutual respect.

Building his own fantasy, Bill replies, "I want to be in the stocks,
helpless to whatever you want to do to me." Taking Ian's already stiff
shaft in his hand, Bill strokes it, saying, "I want you to make me a slave
to this!"

Ian couldn't deny the feeling. After the accident, he had his first take on
Bill's savory lips, tasting his cock. All stoked up for another jettison of
man-jizz, he couldn't very well deny Bill his desires, as well as his own!

"Slave, huh? Does that mean I'm the master?" Ian joked.

Knowing Ian has knowledge of what he does to Geoff, "You can do to me
anything I do to Geoff, or more?"

"Can I help?" Avraham again gazes over his sweaty bod.

"Good idea," Ian thinks it, since he wasn't into this bdsm stuff, "can
Avraham help?"

"No," Bill says it, reverting back to the dominant mode, "only you can play
me."

"Play you? Like fantasy stuff?" Ian replies, getting a notion this could be
helpful to him. Being the victim of bullying for years and taking to some
extent, he had always pictured Bill Basehart as a perfect example of
one. Over the last couple of years, especially after the accident and
having sex with Bill once, he's softened his opinion of Bill. But not of
the others. But before the accident, Ian often lounged in bed at night,
closed his eyes and thought up scenarios of the bullies, turning the tables
on them. Very much to the scenario of Geoff, decked out in the stocks, his
ass on the same plane as a guy's cock, Ian would jerk off as he imagined
plowing the fields!

In their intimacy, following the accident, Bill had gained knowledge of
Ian's bullying, so he used it to his advantage, "Get even. Get your
revenge." Building the scene, "I'm the bully in school, in the gym locker
room, the wood shop, every boys jon in the school. I'm the bully lurking
around every corner."

"Wow! That's deep Bill," Ian responds.

"You want to get with it before I go soft?"

Not having handled Bill's cock or nuts, Ian was amazed at how he built
himself up into a full erection, "Damn, Bill!"

"I need it. I need you now!"

"And who am I to refuse!" Ian replies, both joking, but more, his pulsing
loins wanting it probably more than Bill's lust for it!

%

"Look," Barry finger-points to his watch, "we better get going. Soon it's
going to be time to open up at the Bear Garden."

"It's only four o'clock?" Jef replies.

"Right and just before sundown things start taking shape, but if I don't
get some shuteye, I'll be nodding off and you know what that means?"

Thinking scientifically, Jef says, "If you're sleeping on the job, guys are
going to slip in without paying?"

"Exactly," but on Barry's mind, "except one guy I'll allow to go right by
me!"

"Who?"

"You!" Barry replies, them getting up and leaving.

Right off, Barry figures they would be heading back to the
mansion. Arriving, they find Michael and Sven have left. Not only left the
mansion, but the country!

"I can't believe that Michael!" Barry says.

Rehashing what he's told Barry, Jef says, "Yeah. Sorry I forgot to mention
it, but they had airline tickets to Cancun about a month ago. I heard Sven
talking about it on the phone. But at the time he didn't mention
Michael. He just said his `boyfriend.'"

On the same wavelength, Barry says, "Yeah and who would have guessed
`Michael', that dirty rat, being his boyfriend!"

"I thought you weren't mad at Michael anymore?"

Replying to Jef, Barry morphs from sad to happy, "Not anymore, but I think
it will be a sensitive issue with me for a while."

Jef asks, "Are you taking your nap in your truck?"

Smirking, Barry says, "Would be kind of tough for us, huh?"

"Us? You want me to take a nap with you?"

"Sure. How else am I going to fall asleep, without somebody rubbing my
hairy belly?"

"Can you rub mine, too?" Jef asks.

"How about we rub bellies?" Though, Barry was thinking of rubbing other
parts of the anatomy as well!

Entering the house, Jef was quick to escort Barry through it, out the back
door, along the apron of the pool, cross the tennis court and, as Barry
mentions, "I take it we're sacking out in the art studio?"

"Unless you want me to sketch you?"

"I think you `know' the answer to that, Jef!"

As they undressed, glancing between taking off a sock, to the other's bod,
Barry thought about Jef's build. Not at all like he thought he would wind
up with, big belly, a stripe down the middle maybe, he suddenly thought,
all his aspirations of the build of owning his own bear-lover, it didn't
matter. It didn't matter that Jef had more of a hefty, squared off bod,
resembling a football player. He was still meaty. Thinking through,
`meaty', especially when Jef had just depantsed his briefs, Barry smiled,
like a chef presenting dessert at the end of a feast. For Barry, the feast
was about to begin.

Taking the initiative, Jef lay his bare-self down on the bed.

"Well! Not giving me much choice, are ye?" Barry says, a swashbuckling end
to his words.

Lying there, hands behind his head, Jef says, "You look so cool, Barry."

"Oh really?" his hand slipped down to his soft cock. "What is `so cool'
about me?" he fondled himself.

"`That'," Jef read Barry's mind, "and," he shrugged shoulders, "everything
about you!"

Even though he was feeling it in the crotch, Barry, as he knelt on the bed,
allowed his bod to hang in the balance, kneeling up Jef's bod as he zoomed
in for some lip-locking. After docking his lips, Barry's hand not only
handjobbed himself, but latched onto Jef's soft stick and tried making both
`hard'!

%

Thomas, hovering over Justin, peering at both through the reflection in the
mirror, gently kissed his shoulder, saying into Justin's ear, like it was
going to be something sweet and affectionate, "What are wearing to the Bear
Garden tonight?"

Turning, a gesture as if he was going to return that sweet affection,
Justin replies, "Pretty much what we've got on, except some pants, socks
and sneakers?"

Even though they had just exited from the bed and lovemaking, an amorous
feeling came over both, talk of their later plans falling by the wayside.

"What'll we do in between?"

"We've got like five hours," Justin replies. "What would you `like' to do?"

"Sex?" Thomas replies, his hands all over Justin, lips returning to his
shoulder.

"You like doing that, don't you?"

"Doing what?" Thomas asks, backing off somewhat.

"Cupping your lips and sucking on the top of my shoulder?"

"Me? How about you cupping your lips and sucking my pecs?" Thomas retorts.

"Felt awesome!"

"Awesome for you, sure, but incredible for me! You know you have a very
talented tongue?"

"I know," Justin boasts. "I'm told I can really drive a man's cock wild
with it!"

"Oh? And who would that lucky guy have been?"

"Checking up on me, Thomas?" Same time asking, the back of Justin's hand
tells him Thomas is getting turned on. What kept a smile on Justin's face,
his crotch wasn't reacting any differently!

Deciding with haste, it didn't phase Thomas anymore who had stoked up
Justin's jewels. Right now, he was taking his own pleasure from Justin,
hands down his back, arms caressing, lips locked and feeling the fever of
true love.

%

"Oh-h! Oh-h! Oh-h-h!"

With each thrust of his hips, Ian delivered a punishing blow to Bill's ass.

When they arrived down to the dungeon, Geoff was much too groggy to find
his way home. Sagging in his bondage, spread eagled and tethered by wrists
to hanging chains, the intense session of flogging, nip clamps, weights
attached to an apparatus which appeared to be strangling Geoff's balls, was
all way too much. Not too much pain for Geoff, but because the pain crossed
over into sheer pleasure, combined effort of Bill's cock massaging his ass,
Geoff didn't need to be stroked to get off. Right in front of him, on the
floor, was the proof of his hot sex and pain session, a puddle made from
several jerks of Geoff's cock. Too, when Bill was ready to come, he pulls
out, whips off the condom and finishes beating off, his cup of creme
shooting on Geoff's back. So, when he returned Geoff from bent over,
literally pulling Geoff's chain, his arms shooting into the air, the creme
dripping down his ass and melding with his own reservoir on the floor.

So much gloss, Ian was amazed, "That all from Geoff?" It's then it was
explained to him, Bill so stimulating Geoff with the weights swinging from
his balls, massaging his insides and about to come, too much for Geoff,
then the little addition to Geoff's shot spunk.

Actually, Bill's explanation is what got Ian going, plus Bill saying to
him, "I don't want you holding back Ian."

He knew this whole scene had been spawned from the accident, but Ian sensed
there was more to why Bill was surrendering his will, as well as his ass to
him, "Bill, why are you doing this?"

Getting around to asking, Bill had already opened the top beam of the
stocks, placing his wrists in it, replying, "Because I owe you. Now come
close this."

"I already `paid' you back. Remember?" Ian replies, standing there with
arms across his chest. With right hand in the pocket of his left elbow,
against his bod, it did phase him to feel up his own nip, but more his mind
was on an explanation from his hot stud man.

"Look," Bill took his wrists out of the cutouts. Facing Ian, he was either
lost for words or a little scared to reveal the truth.

"Well, say something," Ian provoked.

"I need you to do this for me," is all Bill said, adding, "unless you're
too much of a woos?"

Bill `said' Ian could do anything to him, but mainly because Bill was
pissing him off, gave his mind gaul enough to raise a hand to Bill and slap
him right across the face.

"Oh shit!" Bill said, strumming a hand over his scruffy shadow.

Ian asks, "How come you're not beating me up?" like he thought was going to
happen?

Surprised, Bill smiles, saying, "That's what I need you to do. What I need
you to be for me."

"What? Slapping you around? I don't get it Bill."

"Ian, I know you're going to think this sounds crazy, but... I think you're
hot Ian."

"Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you're fuckin' crazy, Bill! How can you like me? You like fit
guys."

Walking right up to Ian, Bill doesn't say anything, but places his hands on
the top of Ian's shoulders, sliding them down, saying now, "I wanted to
show you some affection for the longest time, but I suppose I was afraid
what everyone would say."

"Uh, Bill, in case you haven't noticed, I have this round, hairy gut?" Ian
planed his hand over his stomach, for effect breathes in and makes it bulge
even more.

"I like it."

"Oh my god, Bill!" Ian exclaims, Bill bending over, tonguing from the
middle of his chest, down his embedded strip of hair, right to the `first'
target, his bellyhole. "Oh my god, Bill!" he again questions, but feels the
sweet pangs of a wet tongue, Bill darting into his navel.

Retreating, but sinking to knees, "Nobody knows this," Bill says, a boyish
grin on his face, "but I love sticking my tongue into a guy's deep
navel. I'm glad you have one."

Scratching behind his ear, because this was all kind of weird, Ian waiting
to wakeup from the sensual dream, "Uh sure, Bill. Thanks."

Down on one knee, Bill sinks into the submissive mode, "Would it be okay if
I sucked your cock?"

Spinoff on Bill himself, Ian says, "I was just going to suggest that. You
better get on it, before I give you a whipping!" He laughs.

Smiling, Bill replies, "If I don't do a good job, it might help to coax me
on."

"Bill?"

"Yeah?"

"You're acting pretty weird!" Ian slaps himself lightly on the cheek.

"What was that for?"

"Seeing if I'm awake or if I'm dreamin'!"

Bill show him he wasn't asleep, very much awake when `wet' surrounds the
tip of his cock.

"Wow!" Ian said, not only about Bill closing up around his cock, but the
position he did it from, Bill on his knees, sitting up erect, his head
cocked to the side to lick and suck, his hands clasped behind his
back. This was the prelude to locking Bill in the stocks and Ian the
ramming force behind a hot fuck!

%

Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee

`BeaR GaRDeN' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without
prior consent from the author.