Date: Sun, 4 Sep 2011 16:05:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: Tchase Mcphee <survivalgame@rocketmail.com>
Subject: BeaR GaRDeN 05

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 05
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

From the emergency room, Thomas was examined by a doctor without
hesitation, Hector's shrieking whistle bringing attention to the patient on
the gurney being rolled in.

"Yeah, Whatcha got?" the doctor said in a professional manner, losing the
formality after seeing Thomas more face to face, "What seems to be
bothering you, young man?"

Without hesitation, Hector breaks the fixation the doc has on his patient,
"Thomas tripped over something at the gym and has a sore ankle. You take
care of him," he leaves the three, Thomas, Dr. Pasteur and his EMT bud,
Justin Driver, who had entered the scene after reparking the ambulance.

"How you feeling, Thomas?" Justin asks.

"Okay," Thomas takes an interest.

Back at the gym, Hector did all the talking, more or less singling Justin
out as the silent partner in their EMS team. Because Thomas was paying
attention to Hector, he hadn't zeroed in more on Justin's defined features.

After answering in a dull manner and realizing who he's talking with, now
that Dr. Pasteur has stepped away, Thomas picks up the pace, "Oh I'm
feeling much better now that you've brought me to the hospital, Justin."

Humbly, Justin replies, "Hector, he's more the `doctor' of our team. Me,
I'm good at handling transport."

"You're a good driver."

"Thanks, but as Hector `always' reminds me, I need to work on backing up in
the emergency room port!"

Thomas felt the jolt in the ambulance, but says of it, "I guess I didn't
feel it as bad because I was lying down."

"You don't have to cover for me," was Justin's way of admitting his
inadequacy.

Joking about it, Thomas says, "Okay, so I felt like my neck was going to
snap!"

They laughed about it, Justin moving his head back and forth, making it
obvious he was stretching.

Dr. Pasteur approaches the two, "Ready to have that foot photographed?"
Two-seconds following, "Nurse!" he snaps his thumb and finger, like calling
a waiter with the check!

"Hey, how's it goin' gringo?" A nurse in green latches onto the table. Then
addressing Pasteur, "Where we headed?"

Thomas didn't have time to intervene with reports of his well-being, but
did happen to notice the tag on the nurse's uniform. As they pulled away,
first thing Thomas asks, "Are you Hector's friend, Jorge Villa?"

"That's me!"

Justin knew this, but Thomas didn't know what a talker Jorge could be and
his whole trip to the imaging department was taken up by Jorge telling all
about himself and Hector.

He wondered if Jorge left anything out, telling about him and Hector in
school, "Yup, that Hector. He is a born clarenvoyager," Jorge meant
clairvoyant, "could tell if a guy was gay or straight and when he found a
gay man... in no time he talked the dude into having a threeway with me and
him."

"Three-way?!" Thomas was surprised by the mentioning. "I'm lucky I've had a
`two-way!'"

Having his own silent thoughts, Justin wondered if Thomas' `two-way' had
included stats beyond innocent kissing or feeling up and under a guy's
shirt.

Thomas' questioning opened up another subject, Jorge telling all about how
good a three-way can be.

From the tale of Jorge, Hector and third party member, Thomas finds out the
Latino is a top and likes to lead his bottom, or bottoms, through a sexual
experience. A minute into Jorge's story, he learns the third dude's name
is, "And Vishal," Jorge says with exclamation, but then stops to do a
hallway check, finding themselves alone, "Vishal," he lowers his voice,
"omg, what a fuckin' hot cocksucker he can be!"

"And Hector?" Thomas is curious.

"Wait a minute! First I wanna tell you about Vishal," Jorge says
dramatically.

Justin is almost ready to bust his gut with laughter. Knowing Jorge can
tell a story like he's entertaining the theater crowd, he is silent so
later he can compare notes with Thomas. At least he hopes he will still be
around for a while!

Thomas learns Vishal Sivagurunathan is almost thirty, a `bear' like Jorge,
but a little more beefy, as opposed to muscular, but also carries himself
on a 6'2" frame, unlike Jorge, 5'11. Similar in the lower anatomy
department, because Vishal and Jorge both once tried to get their cocks
into Hector's mouth in a joint effort, Thomas finds out the least important
fact, yet interesting, Vishal works in the psychotherapy section of the
hospital.

All this talking about bears, cocks and other matters brought them right to
the doors of imagining.

"I can't go in," Justin informs.

Thomas whined, "Oh really?" with disappointment.

"I'll be back in a little while to pick you up," Jorge tells him, turning
Thomas over to the x-ray staff member.

"Before you go," Thomas wasn't sure whether to say, "why I wanted to know
if you were Hector's friend, Jorge?"

Profoundly, Jorge states, "I thought you wanted to know, because I am `his'
friend?"

Thomas swallowed, not sure if he should tattle or not, but at this moment
he wasn't feeling any allegiances to Bobby and definitely not Jason, "The
guy who stomped your balls at the `Bear Garden' last night?"

"What about the son-of-a-bitch?" Jorge replies, his eyebrows showing
dismay, a hand rubbing along his thigh.

Justin remained attuned as Thomas meekly says, "I know the dude."

"Oh, a friend of yours?" Jorge says. On his mind, he was thinking it was
Thomas' friend. Right now he was thinking highly of Thomas, but mixed
reactions of hearing about the `ball-stomper.'

Sensing Jorge's thoughts, a friendly connection, Thomas replies with
audacity, "He `was' my date. `Was', because at the door he had the nerve to
dump me!"

It put a half-evil smile on Jorge's lips, him saying of it, "Oh really?"

"That's a terrible thing to do," Justin made opinion.

Giving a short synopsis, Thomas told about his cousin Bobby setting him up
with Jason, Jason's impatience, then later on, Barry getting wind of the
confrontation. He also added, "What I found out later, Bobby had given
Jason money for `my' cover charge, but Jason didn't say anything and was
probably going to keep the $25 for himself."

Jorge gives his side of the story, "And you know why fists flew?"

From a lying down position, Thomas shrugged his shoulders.

Dying to tell, Jorge says, "The bastard `asked' me if I would sell my white
gold chain," Jorge puts a finger under the thick chain around his neck,
"but I told him he was crazy, that it was a gift from my boyfriend
and... to make a long story short, your cousin's friend won't take `no' for
an answer."

Thomas jumps the gun, "So he tried to take it from you?"

"Not quite. Instead he made a fuckin' pest of himself following me around,
`accidentally' butting his chest up against my back, saying he was sorry,
but he wasn't."

"Sounds like Jason," Thomas quips.

"Yeah well, a man can only take what a man can take and after the third
time of feeling his dick at my ass door, I turned around and sent his ass
flying!"

"Bobby says Jason is a good fighter."

"And how!" Jorge keeps the two salivating for more, "Comes running back,
ramming two dudes out of the way and punches my poor tummy," he pats his
muscled stomach. He smiles, "Didn't do shit. I'm a regular visitor to
`Blazing Muscles!'"

Justin asks, "So you clobbered him?"  "I almost got the chance, but the
bastard was too quick for me. He lifted his knee right into between my
legs. Oh man did I see stars! Like that wasn't enough, as I fall to my
knees, he brings his foot up and stomps right on my family jewels!"

Recalling seeing Jorge on his knees, holding his personal junk and howling
like a wolf, Thomas says, "I guess that's when Barry broke up the fight."

Sincerely, Jorge says, "I owe him one. Who could guess what that bitch's
next move would have been."

Curious, it was on the tip of his salivating tongue, Justin asks, "Um, like
I hope your balls are okay, Jorge?"

"I'll live," he says.

Another `man in green' appearing, Justin interrupts, "John is ready for
you, Thomas."

"I'll be right back," Jorge excused himself.

"We'll only be fifteen minutes?" the tech tells Jorge.

"I'll be back!"

As Thomas is wheeled into imagining, John says to Justin, "Jorge headed
down to `psychotherapy?'"

"I would assume so," Justin replies.

As a result of his new knowledge, Thomas isn't left outside the loop, "What
can they do in fifteen minutes?"

%

Ian had the most `rude awakening', a stale banana being swiped right out
from between his legs, "Oh! Ah! Oh!" and when he recognizes, not one of his
partying friends, but Tugba Ozbek, the house chef, Ian whines,
"Tuh-h-h-ug!"

The thirty-four year old immediately goes into a tirade, lecturing Ian,
"How many times I tell you Ian. The kitchen is not a room for your friends
to," he avoided using `sexual,' "play?"

"No problem!" Ian says, sitting up on the butcher block counter where he
spent the last two hours sleeping off the beer and after effects of being
fucked and jacked off. "I'll help you clean up?!"

"Look at you!" Tugba says, an Arab twang to his voice. "You are very much a
mess!"

Ian knew it. It wasn't the first time his bod hair was sopping wet with
chocolate syrup, shredded coconut, a bing cherry still stuffed in his
navel. He laughs at himself, suggesting, "Maybe you should try it sometime
Tug!"

"It same thing you tell me last time Ian." Noticing a thawed package of
popsicles, a stick on the counter, "And what is this?"

Giggling again, Ian answers, "Oh that. TC found them in the freezer and
asked me if it was okay to fuck my ass with one. Tell ya Tug, wasn't half
bad, other than being frickin' cold!" He laughs his ass off.

"You and your friend. You are sick!" Tugba replies, walking off. He turns
about suddenly, "You!" he points a finger, "This time Tugba not going to
clean up. I make you responsible for this!"

He had a good mind to follow Tugba to the freezer and lock him in there!
However, Ian figured Tugba was probably right, he should not have lured TC
into the kitchen for food play, especially when this is the second time
Tugba had to remind him. `Though,' Ian falls into a dream state, `it was so
fuckin' awesome', he goes through several stages of being flat on his back
four hours ago. He smiles, thinking how TC used his bod to build an ice
cream sundae, though the banana wound up somewhere other than `the dish,' a
bright smile on Ian's face. It wasn't only Ian getting his jollies,
thinking how TC thought it was so cool, first wiggling an ice pop up his
ass canal. TC apologized, but wasn't sorry most of the pop melted, him
pulling the wooden stick out, holding it up and saying to Ian, `Oops!
Sorry!' Ian again giggles, remember telling TC, `Well get something in
there and quick?' Then it was all history, TC first working a banana
 in, then squeezing his own cock in next to it. Ian smiled, thinking, `If
Tug only knew!' If he only knew he touched the banana which shared his ass
hole with TC's cock, before TC wanted all the action for himself and not
shared with a banana. Though TC never said it, probably thinking squishy
banana made good lube!

%

Michael had asked, Barry accepting the invitation to journey down the shore
to the Rinaldi home. What Barry wasn't expecting was, "You call this a
house?"

He knew, Michael thinking Barry might be overwhelmed by what the Rinaldi
dynasty had built up over a period of about forty years. "If it's too much
for you, we can..."

"Oh no you don't!" Barry says, trying to see through the dense foliage. "Is
this anything like the estate in `Charlie's Angels?'"

"Not quite, but pretty close and," Michael hesitates, but delivers, "there
are no angels!"

However, as Michael slipped a plastic card through the slot in the
gate-opener, Barry was thinking Michael came damn close to an angel. Even
though he never dreamed he would wind up with such a `skinny' cub, he
settled for the lush hair Michael offered with the frontal assault on the
eyes. Even though they went nonstop, from the `Bear Garden', to Michael's
family restaurant and now here, he was sure there would be a gap in the
schedule, where they could finally `get down and get dirty!'

Right now, as they drove beyond the iron gate which opened for them, Barry
was more awake at scoping out the long driveway. He happens to notice,
"Nice landscaping crew you have there, Michael!"

Michael smiled, knowing Barry's main objective at checking out the
`scenery', offering, "William Hillshire and Sons Lanscaping. William, Jr.,
better known as Davin, twenty years old and his older brother, Virgil,
which I believe is twenty-seven or eight. Any other questions?"

On top of things, Barry replies, "I didn't ask in the first
place. Remember?" In particular, he was interested in mainly the
dark-haired dude, but being in a car, creeping up a long driveway at 15mph
and the landscaping crew quite distant, it was on his mind...

"In case you're wondering, William doesn't know his sons are gay, so if it
comes up, keep it to yourself?"

Barry couldn't believe, two times, Michael was right on the ball with his
thinking, but refuted, "Oh really? Not that it really interested me, but
thanks for the inside info. Don't worry though, I'm very good at keeping
secrets." One hand sloped in a restful position on his inner thigh, Barry
managing to hide his crisscrossed fingers in the cock-crevice, hoping
Michael might not be able to detect a flaw in some future honesty, should
it arise he accidentally mentions to the wrong party regarding Davin and
Virgil's homosexuality!

"Here we are. Home, sweet home!" Michael switches off the ignition and for
no reason, leans over to Barry, places an arm behind his head, topping his
shoulders and kisses him on the cheek!

"What was that for?"

"Feels good for a change, bringing a man home." He cocked the handle of his
door and was about to set a foot on the ground, Michael leaning back in,
"Oh by the way, I saw your hand in your crotch."

"Right. Had a little itch," Barry lies with a smile.

"Oh," his twenty-five year old lover replies, "I thought for a minute there
it was `me' turning you on?"

Fibbing some more, Barry lays it on thick, "Oh, I was. That was some kiss!"

"Really?" Michael says, getting out of the car.

Barry does the same, outrightly saying over the top of the sports car, "You
don't believe me?"

"Just getting to the bottom of it, Barry. If you've got jock itch, I've got
some stuff inside for it?"

Their conversation taken to rooftop, Barry replies, "Nothing like a good,
old-fashioned remedy... `hot tongue?'"

Michael grinned, giggled, thinking he had a winner here. Walking to the
front door of the modest-sized mansion, all he could think of is two
things. One, at least ten hours have gone by and although they both knew
features from the waist up, only discussion has brought out what could be
lurking beneath the fabric of each of their pants. Second, utmost and most
urgent, Michael had an extreme urge of a salivating nature, strong desire
for licking and sucking!

%

Ian thought, if at this very moment Tugba decided to enter the kitchen,
from the `planning room', place where meals were drawn up for the week,
which included inventory of the walk-in freezer, he would be snagged! He
couldn't help it, such a strong desire leftover from the early hours this
morning, with first a banana, then TC's stiff shaft taking its place.

With placing his head and shoulders on the edge of the butcher block table,
for the past two minutes he's been working a fresh cucumber in and out. He
does joke to himself out loud, "If Tug ever catches me!"

Laughing, Ian had only hoped for the Arabian chef to catch him at it,
because for the longest time it had been part of Ian's sexual pleasure to
an exhibitionist. It's one of the reasons he involved himself in group sex,
to flaunt being the one used sexually.

Really, even though they didn't totally click, he owes this feeling of
wanting to be the limelight of the party to Bill Basehart. It was at one of
his father's `architect' parties he met this like `so-fox' waiter and after
targeting this dirty blond dude several times for finger foods and then not
one or two flutes of champagne, but four or five, he got it into his head
he `had' to have the hottie.

Too, Bill Basehart, waiting for his moment to spring into the world of
fashion with his erotic designs for men, hoped to pick up a healthy tip for
the evening, seeing maybe the son of the client an `in.'

Even though their first time together was in his bedroom, the two isolated
from the life of the party, Ian thinks of this as his inauguration into the
exhibitionist's lifestyle.

As he worked the cucumber in and out of his ass, he smiled, thinking of
Bill with a straight face, having him dismantle, strip him out of his
tuxedo, piece by piece.

When he tossed Bill's jacket on the seat of an easy chair and not `on' it,
he got reprimanded, "No, you fuckin' bitch! Fold it!"

Right away, Ian's nads started a churning and for the first time he was
discovering, a guy being rough on him, felt so totally cool!

"I expect the utmost respect. You will at all times address me as
`sir'. Got that boy?"

At first Ian thought, `Wow, his parents send him to etiquette school or
something?' before answering Bill, "Yeah, okay. Sure. No problem, Bill."

Ian didn't realize at the moment, not having the time to think, was it
`his' belt, or Bill's belt stinging his ass, him almost jumping over the
chair, clutching his sore ass cheeks, clamoring, "Yeee-owwwww-Bill!" And
because Ian hadn't `gotten it' yet, "What the fuck you do that for, Bill?"

Straight-laced and standing straight as a hard cock, Bill replies, "I told
you I demand respect. When I don't get it, you get punished."

It's then Ian got the notion where the thin dress belt came from, Bill's
belt loops empty! "So what am I supposed to call you?"

"I will be lenient this one time. `Sir', but in the future if you don't pay
attention, I will have no recourse but to punish you."

Boy, was this cucumber really making Ian `hard', coupled with fresh
thoughts of Bill's mean attitudes.

"Ian!"

"Oh shit!" Ian plucks the cuke out of his ass after two tries, because of
the slippery nature.

Falling on the floor, Tugba stares at it, saying, "I told you I am refusing
to clean up your mess!"

In his hands he had something, Ian's eyes lighting up, asking, "What's that
for?"

Arms full of apparatus, Tugba replies, "To preserve apples from the tree
and make apple pie, is what I'm going to do with this."

One item in particular made Ian not only salivate, but the lips of his ass
opening twitch, a conical shaped object made of wood. Upright and standing,
he stepped over to Tugba, plucking it from his arms, "And what is `this'
for?"

At 5'10", the thirty-four year old beefy bear had been struggling with
himself, daring, on the tip of his tongue to divulge a secret about
himself. Back in his Arab country, such matters had to be kept extremely
secretive, down to a man not telling about himself, except to the face in
the mirror. For two years, his length of stay at the McLachlan compound, as
chef and sometimes gardener, he had witnessed a few times Ian and his
friends and the type of fun they can have. Many a time he had stored up
memories, which provided the scenarios for getting himself off. Though, he
never did anything `live' to justify relieving himself. Like any gay man,
now it hit him, like a `hunger', more than wanting to `come out.' A
breakaway from the serious manner in which he conducted himself, Tugba
replies to Ian, regarding the purpose of the wooden cone used for crushing
mushy apples in a sieve, "I suppose it could be made for another use?"

Ian was taken aback, turning his head, leaning an ear towards the chef,
asking, "Wait! What was that Tug?"

Dropping his armload of equipment on the table, right on top of the residue
of chocolate syrup, melted ice cream, cherries, shredded coconut and
popsicle sticks, Tugba says, for the first time lightening up, "I say maybe
I would like to put that in your ass!"

"What the fuck?" Ian was stunned out of his gourd. Realizing what Tugba was
saying, Iam shouts, "Fuckin' hell yeah! Let's do it!"

Not as mean a disposition as Bill Basehart, Tugba mellows out, weaving his
way in, "And maybe I use something else?"

His eyes dropping down Tugba's bod, Ian questions, "Meaning you might want
to fuck me, Tug?"

"I never try. I can do it to you?"

Never passing up a perfectly hot fuck, Ian didn't let the moment slip away,
stepping up to Tugba and going for the white buttons on the shirt of his
chef's uniform, "Not in these duds!"

He knew men had sex together. Knew they sucked and licked each other. Tugba
had knowledge of one man fucking another, though never saw it done, only
imagined how it could be. Nevertheless, he was totally excited out of his
whits he was going to finally do it. Right now the apple baskets would have
to wait, as well as cleaning up the messy counter. His gay pride of newly
coming out, shone.

"First things first," Ian says.

Tugba didn't know what this meant, other than it was interrupting his
thoughts of how man sex goes. He found out, Ian pushing his shirt behind
his shoulders.

"Oh hell yeah!"

Next thing, Tugba learns why Ian exclaimed to him, after looking at the
massive hairy pecs, cocking his head and beginning to lick away at the
hirsute mass. "Oh that feel good!"

Ian smiled to himself as his lips cupped over Tugba's right hairy nip,
thinking, `Wait till you feel this, Tug!' He darts his tongue dead center,
targeting Tugba's nub!

A natural response, Tugba groans, "O-o-o-o-o-o-oh... it feel good!" As with
any man, feeling a tongue lick at the nub, swirling around the areola,
teething it lightly, Tugba's head drops backwards, eyes closing, not even
imagining what could be happening to make him feel so damn good!

Noticing, Ian stops to ask, "Got a question, Tug?"

"What?" he asks, uprighting his head and looking Ian in the eyes.

"You ever make it with a guy before?"

"No."

"I guess that explains it," Ian simply says.

"How you know?"

"You're standing there like a deadbeat."

"Deadbeat?"

"Yeah, like when a guy's making love to your pecs with mouth and if you're
liking it, do something."

"What I do?" Tugba innocently asks.

The surroundings were a tough environment for explanation, Ian saying, "How
about I explain in your bedroom?"

"My bedroom?"

"Or mine?"

Tugba's bedroom was closer, outside the side door of the kitchen, down the
hall and then through double doors which led to the suite of servants'
quarters.

"You live here?" Ian asks, realizing he has never set foot in the servants
quadrant.

"I try to keep it clean."

"Cleaner than my room!" Ian laughs. "Say, Tug, I'm kind of gooey and
messy. How about we shower?"

"We? You mean `me?'"

"Sure. Um, like you don't have a dirty shower, do you?" Ian thought the
possibility.

"I share with servants."

"What?!" Ian questions with audacity. "You don't have your own?" he
searched for a separate room, like he had, opening the only other door, a
closet.

"No," Tugba confesses, "I wait till others use. If I go in while they are
in, I might... I maybe might..."

"Throw a woodie?" Ian guesses.

"A what?"

"Tell me Tug, when was the first time you discovered you could get a raging
hardon, seeing a naked man?"

"You mean when I know I am gay?"

Ian says, "That's another way of putting it!"

It out in the open, Ian doesn't hesitate as Tugba explains his almost
thirty years of yearning to be with a man, but ghosts over what is expected
of him in religion and state, keeping his thoughts incognito.

Prior to their trek down the hallway, Tugba had thrown his shirt back over
his shoulders. Not only had Ian restarted the stripping process, but was
unbuckling Tugba's belt.

Paying keen attention to the busy hands, Tugba was also trying to keep
focused up, but the rekindling of a tongue wetting down his chest fur kept
screwing up his thoughts!

"Oh man you taste so good Tug!"

"Huh?" Tugba replies, again focusing on the top of Ian's head. He could
have sworn, when he felt Ian's tongue dart into his other nip and nibble,
his mane was closer. Then again, looks could be deceiving, but feeling not,
the wet tongue sinking down, from midchest to stomach. "Oh-h-!" He cries
out with pleasure, asking, "What you do?"

Licking his lips, like tasting banana creme, Ian replies, "I never pass up
a hot, hairy, deep'n'pungy bellyhole!"

Tugba was wondering `what?', but then realizes Ian's implications, feeling
a tongue `trying' to dig deep into the recess of his beefy stomach. Since
he didn't know how all this went, other than culminating with mansex, Tugba
gave Ian leeway with the licking and sucking.

Stopping momentarily, Ian reminds, "Hands, Tug?"

Lifting them, Tugba asks, "Where I put them?"

"Let me put it to you this way, Tug. You can put them anyplace you
want. Chest," Ian slaps his right hand over his left pec, "ewe,"
withdrawing it, saying, "I really feel ripe."

By mutual agreement, the two decided to take it to Ian's room. Passing by
the perimeter of the livingroom, it looks `partied'!

"Later," Ian says of cleaning it up, which will most likely be handled by
the staff.

Upstairs and entering Ian's room, as Ian hadn't ventured into Tugba's
living space, the same held true, "Oh my this is very lovely!"

"Lovely, Tug? C'mon. Get macho on me!"

"Macho?" Tugba replies as Ian closes the door and for the third time, tries
to disrobe him.

This time he wasn't getting oral on Tugba, but rather anxious to not only
get him stripped out of his chef's uniform, but curious to see what he was
packin'! Down to the briefs, Ian `knew', responding to the big bulge, "Oh
yeah," he rounds his hand under Tugba's clothed balls, "we got some nice
ones here!"

"You make me feel good."

Ian quips, "Well `good' ain't good enough Tug!"

The jon was well beyond what Tug would consider a lavatory, remarking,
"What is all this?"

Quick tour, Ian points out, "Shower, bath, toilet, sink, hot tub and
voila!" he opens a pair of double doors. "Towels!"

"Oh my!" Tugba says, viewing the wall to floor folding of pure white
towels.

Before he could tear himself away, Ian was running the water in the
shower. He yells, "Say, Tug, you have to absolutely, positively make that
apple stuff this morning?"

Turning around and seeing Ian already standing in the shower, water
cascading down his reddish bod fur, he immediately thinks ahead, "No. I can
wait."

Ian jokes, "That's what I like!"

"What?" Tugba asks, standing at the shower opening, like walking into a
walled room of glass.

"A gay man who can make smart choices!"

He still had the briefs on, which made it a perfect handle for Ian, digging
his fingers in the elastic, knuckles rubbing up against hard shaft and
pulling Tugba into the shower.

%

Copyright 2011 T. Chase McPhee

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