Date: Sun, 17 Dec 2006 10:50:21 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL 04

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, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends 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. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"OLD-FASHIONED GOOD WILL" 04
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"I'm soooooooo full!"

"Looks it," Jim commented.

Cliff looks down his front, pressing at his shirt,
trying to find `a gut'.

"Hee heee... made ya look!"

In place of a harsh or joking retribution, Cliff
stared at Jim, smiling.

"What?"

"As if you didn't know."

Grabbing Jim's arm, Cliff pulls his bod towards him.
Like dipping a dancing partner, he lets Jim fall over,
caressing his lips.

"Hmmm... I guess my club dancing days are over."

"Takes two to tango!"

"So I've noticed."

>From the front room, where they've entered, Jim ducks
out, into the kitchen.

"I guess I better tackle the dishes."

"Oh, leave them for tomorrow."

"Nope," Jim shoots back. One rule around the
restaurant, `nobody goes to bed until the kitchen is
clean as a whistle'!"

Already, the soap bubbles mounting in the sink, Cliff
figures he'll let Jim get his way.

"I'll dry."

"That's okay. I've got it."

"If you say so."

"Why don't you go upstairs and unwind?"

"Tough to do, without the `unwindee'!"

"I'll be up in a second."

It was 1 AM when Jim climbed the stairs. At every
other footstep, he yawned. Over his left shoulder, his
shirt hung, having removed it hours ago. Entering the
room, there lay Cliff, in bed, fast asleep. Looking
over his bod, Jim smiled.

He said to himself, out loud, "Not only did I get a
nice guy, but... what a hunk!"

Standing there for a moment, he stare at Cliff's
chest, the dark brown hair covering his pecs, the
trail down his stomach, deep navel, hair swirling
around before pointing the way to his pubes, hidden
beneath the sheet. He smiled, remembering sucking the
cock, now soft, outlined by the pliable sheet.

Next thing he thought about, is grabbing a shower.
After doing the dishes, washing and drying, stacking
them on the table, he proceeded to find a place for
them in the cabinet. He wound up cursing, finding
cups, small and big plates and glasses in five
different places. One thing let to the next. After
removing all of the dishes, to organize, he set about
washing them down. After the cabinets, came the
countertops, which led to the kitchen floor. Opening
the microwave door, presented another task.

Even though the shower felt so good, Jim was
exhausted. Cautiously he knelt on the bed, then sank
into the mattress, so as not to awaken Cliff. At
first, he lay there on his back, relaxing from the
kitchen chores. He couldn't fall asleep. Looking over
to his left, he had the urge to cuddle. Rolling onto
his side,  Jim lay his front up to Cliff's arm,
placing his hand on the tummy trail, utilizing a
shoulder for a pillow. Being out in the country, not a
being for miles, the second story window was void of
shades, blinds, nor curtains. The moon play across
Cliff's bod, lighting the spectacular sight.  Feeling
contented, Jim dozed off.

"Up and adam!"

Next thing Jim knew, Cliff's nudging shoulder made his
head flop up and down, til it awakened him. Unlike the
postion he fell asleep in, Jim's ass faced upwards,
making it simple to blot out the morning with a
pillow.

"Oooooooh, not yet," he whined.

Eyeing up the two mounds, piled on the bed, Cliff
became tempted. From standing, he knelt, not taking
his eyes off the target. Having returned from taking a
piss, neither his cock, nor his mood resembled last
night, waiting for some hot love action.

"What happened to you last night?"

No answer came.

"Hey!"

Trying to shake Jim awake, instead of patting him on
the shoulder, his ass worked good enough.

"Whaaat?" Jim, half asleep, answered. Turning, he
squinted, saying, "Turn the lights out."

Cliff laughed, replying, "Would be mighty tough, being
the morning sun!"

"Oh," Jim said, falling back down on his chest, pillow
back in place over his dark head of hair.

"Looks like I'm not getting far here. Guess I should
see about making some breakfast."

"Fine," came the faint reply from underneath the
pillow.

Stuffing his saggy, 9.5c and balls into a pair of
boxer briefs, Cliff headed out of the room, through
the hallway, to the top of the stairs. His nostrils
picked up a scent. Crinkling up his nose, he followed
the strong trail to the kitchen.

"What tha?"

His eyes wide as saucers, Cliff gazed about,
questioning out loud the cleanliness of the place.

"Guess I have been kind of sloppy," he reconciled with
himself.

Curious, he began looking in cabinets and draws.

"Damn!"

Still shocked, he interrupted the silence, in between
opening cupboard doors and slamming them shut.

"Can't even get a decent sleep around here!"

"Well, aren't we the little white tornado?" Cliff
comments, turning around.

"If you don't like it, I'll leave. I'm sure, in a
week's time, it'll return to being a pigsty."

Realizing the truth in Jim's assumption, Cliff takes a
short walk. Beyond the table, he moves his hands in
between Jim's arms and bod, giving him the recognition
he deserves.

"Thanks," Jim cooly responds, adding, "what's for
breakfast?"

"Some romantic you turned out to be."

A place Cliff didn't get to yet, he hung over Jim's
shoulder, as the twenty-seven year old `shopped' the
fridge.

"Dang! Weren't you the busy little bee?"

"Oooooh, you would `not' believe what I threw out. I
judged this refrigerator ready to be condemned!"

"It was that bad, huh?"

"Worse. Stick you head in there."

"Why? You're not going to close the door are you?"

"I should."

Trusting, but being leery, Cliff bent to do it.

"What am I doing this for?"

"Just sniff."

Cliff sniffed.

"Hmm..."

"What do you smell?"

"Nothing."

"Case closed! Move aside."

>From the remnants of Jim's `ditching party', last
night, he pulled out a bowl with four eggs.

"What happened to the carton they came in?"

"Gummed up with the ones you broke and left there to
rot?"

"Oh yeah," Cliff replied.

Almost blushing, he knew he did wrong.

"We need to get some bread."

"There was half a loaf in there."

"Yeah and it was ready for St. Patty's Day!"

"Gone bad already? I just bought it last month."

Jim rolled his eyes.

"I was tempted with keeping it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Maybe you could make some penicillin from the
mold and use it in your practice!"

"Thanks for thinking of me."

Depositing the eggs and carton of milk on the counter,
Jim smiles. Looking at Cliff, a quick glance at the
waistline of his boxers, the deep bellyhole, nestled
in the swirl of dark hair, the embedded trail up his
stomach, fanning out over his chest, then the angelic
face, already admitting to not keeping things up to
par, he couldn't help but let himself be swept off his
feet.

"I suppose this means you forgive me?"

Attending to cracking eggs, after releasing Cliff from
the bondage of his arms and lips, Jim draws an
example.

"See this egg?"

"Yeah."

Taking a steak knife, he hacks at the egg, right in
the middle. Perfectly, it breaks in two.

"If you let this place go, this will be your head!"

"YikeS!"

Of course Jim is joking, but getting the message
across.

"I can't see how it would be possible for things to go
down hill, to the shape this place was in," Cliff
reasons.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Cliff continues, stepping behind Jim, giving
him a bear hug, his barechest against Jim's tee shirt,
"when there's two living here, instead of one."

It's one option Jim hadn't thought about. Sure, he
stayed one night, hoping to spend a few more, til he
figured out on what he was going to do, but it seemed
Cliff was making an offer, tough to combat.

"Oh? And how would that go, Cliff?"

Slowly, Cliff found the boundaries, where tee shirt
edge meets shorts. His hands underneath, soon they are
touching flesh. Without the ability to see, he hears
Jim purring. Sampling his ear, Cliff realizes Jim is
taking it all in.

Not hesitating, Jim, eyes closed, taking in the
sensual foreplay, sets down the egg, shell and all,
into a bowl. Allowing Cliff to explore with his hands,
he stands there, taking in the delightful attention.

Sensing abandonement, Cliff raises his arms, taking
Jim's shirt with him. His hands grazing the lightly
haired chest, pawing over his dime-sized nips, it's
inevitable the top is coming off, over his head.

Placing his hands in the air, stretching towards the
ceiling, Jim conceeds to his tee shirt being peeled
off. He thinks nothing of it being thrown on the spare
chair, one sleeve acting as a rung to be hung up. As
he lowers his arms, he turns to the reason for the
sweet affection.

With chests facing each other, Cliff's palms draw Jim
into his quixotic intentions.

Breaking, Jim's hand helps speak the news, "Hard?"

"Yeah."

With intent, Cliff continues more necking, slowly
coaxing Jim's body over to the kitchen table. His arms
already around Cliff's neck, Jim allows him to pull
his legs up so they hug his waist. This enables Cliff
to deposit Jim's ass on the table. As Cliff bends at
the waist, Jim's back rests on the tablecover.

As Cliff's thumbs start to peel Jim's briefs, Jim
detects Cliff's bare pubes. `Fast mover', he thinks.
As his legs are lifted, tracing the outline of Cliff's
bod, something comes to light. Feet on each side of
Cliff's head, big toes near his ears, the thoughts
become more clearer.

"Hold it a sec?"

Pressing his elbows on the table, Jim's stomach
crunches up, wrinkles where his stretch out abs led to
his bellyhole, the tight treasure trail, still visible
somewhat.

"Um, I was almost `in there'."

"I know. I can feel it, but..."

"What? Not in the mood?"

"Sure, but..."

Seeing Cliff, all revved up, Jim flops back down on
the table.

"What?" Cliff questions.

Backing off with his swollen shaft, he allows Jim's
legs to ski down the front of his bod, as he backs
off. Sitting up, Jim's hard shaft rocks between the
cradle of his balls.

"I guess it's not important."

"Not important? Yeah sure," Cliff, on the sly, states
with question.

"Okay," Jim replies, ready to dish out his feelings.
As if it helps build up his self esteem, he holds his
hard shaft in his hand, saying, "What would you think
about me doing you?"

Eyes wide open, Cliff stands there, finally asking
back, "You do me? Like.... fuck me?"

"Um, I think that's how the slang goes."

Hands on hips, cock still hard, Cliff mulls over Jim's
frankness.

"You fuck me, huh?"

"Forget it. It's not important."

"Oh course it's important."

"It is?"

"Sure. If you and I are going to make a go of this
relationship then we need to make things clear to each
other."

"Relationship?"

Both remain stationery. Cliff has brought up an issue,
in which neither of them has translated into a verbal
writ of telepathic agreement.

"Hee heee," Cliff giggles it away, "silly, isn't it?"

"I dunno," Jim replies, "I think if we work at it,
like you say, get everything out on the table..."

Both realize the implication, Jim `on the table', and
laugh.

"Seriously," Cliff picks up where they left off, "if
we can reconcile our..."

Not finishing his statement, by now both already clued
in, Cliff moves between Jim's knees, spread wide,
taking him in for a long lip-lock. As before, he lifts
Jim up, legs hugging his waist. Only difference now,
both bottomless, they confront each other with their
hard reactions.

Already having mulled over his thoughts of Jim's
presentation, Cliff figures, with where all this is
going, meeting up with a man, worthy of more than a
one night stand, falling head-over-heels in loving
him, it's about time some guy took his cherry ass.
Turning, Cliff plops his ass up on the table ledge,
letting Jim's feet slide to the linoleum.

"What's this?"

"What does it look like?"

Having already separate, Cliff lays back, hands behind
his head, displaying his tufts of pit hair, a gentle
smile painted on his face.

"But you're going to let me take.... your...."

"Hurry up before I change my mind!"

"Would you?"

"I doubt it!"

As Cliff has already consigned, Jim realizes the full
intention. As if an equation, he sums up the words
`relationship', `love', his own ideas of `take ass',
coming up with a common denominator.

"Not here."

"Huh?"

"I want it to be special, Cliff. Like last night.
Wasn't fucking me last night something special for
you?"

The conversation paused.

"Fucking me was `special', wasn't it?" Jim responded
to his own question,

A bit worried, Jim began getting thoughts of Cliff's
one-night-standings.

With help from his arms, Cliff presses his bod
upwards, forwards. He slides his ass off the table.

Immediately Jim rethinks his thoughts, of seconds
beforehand.

He verbally states his opinion, "I `was' a one night
stand!"

"Nope!" Cliff simply returns. "Matter of fact, I had
already questioned myself."

"You did?"

"Yep. You're not the only one with those thoughts."

"I'm not?"

Slowly, as Cliff emptied his brain of all notions, he
backed Jim up against the kitchen counter.

"Nope. I had to be sure of it myself."

"Sure of yourself?"

"Yup. I had to make sure," his palms sat on Jim's
torso, "what I was about to do wasn't some whimsical
idea."

"Whimsical idea?"

"Yeah," their fronts came within inches, "I wanted
make sure the ass I was plowing wasn't a fly-by-night
orgasm. I wanted to make crystal clear, the ass I was
taking is the one attached to the man," his hairy
chest melded with Jim's light chest fur, "I'm in love
with."

"You... you're in love with me?"

Cliff gave Jim a fake smile.

"C'mon. Don't tell me you can't admit it."

Cliff turns his smooth palms into probing fingers,
goosing Jim, making his giggle from the sweet tickle
torturing.

Shaking his head, Jim replies, with a smile, "You saw
right through me, huh?"

"Why? Were you holding back on me?"

"Sometimes it's fun making you confess!"

"Son-of-a..."

Cliff's words got cut off by Jim's lips.

%

The eggs sat in the bowl, shell and all, along with
the knife which cracked them, slicing them in perfect
two's, until noontime. Making it a proper pact, the
two turned it into a pledging of their love, a two and
half hour romp in the bed, making the sheets wet with
sweat and other bodily juices, Cliff losing his cherry
and Jim having his ass pleasured for the second time,
by his mate.

"I guess this makes it official?"

"No, what would make it official, is to do it in a
church," Cliff states.

"Not in this county!"

Both lay there, the steamy few hours behind them.
Cliff, in his favorite stretch position, hands behind
head, Jim lay half on him, his finger winding little
curly-q's of wet chest hair.

"Hungry?" Jim asked, looking up at Cliff.

"Not for a certain pair of eggs lying on the kitchen
counter!"

"Probably rancid by now."

"I think we should trash the fridge and start all
over."

"There's not much to ditch."

With Cliff's idea already entered into Jim's brain, a
plan was hatched. While Cliff drummed up a shower, Jim
descended the stairs, with coffee in mind.

"Here ya go!"

At the tail end of his shower, Cliff takes the cup of
java, on the end of an intruding arm. He laughed,
saying it's the first time he's drunk coffee in the
shower!

"Y'know," Jim comments, as Cliff cuts the water flow.

"You're thinking of a face lift?"

Hands on hips, Jim deviates his thinking from the
mirror.

"No, I was thinking of maybe growing a stache. What do
you think?"

"Might be nice. A little ticklish, but nice."

"I'll think about it. My turn."

"Oh, I should've left the water running."

"No problem."

As the two passed each other, in the tight quarters,
between tub and vanity, some sweat rubbed from Jim to
Cliff's pristine bod. Neither said anything, their
lips taking in a quick lip-lock.

After taking a sip of coffee, Cliff, eyeing himself up
in the mirror, states, "Maybe I'll think of the same."

"What?" Jim calls back, from behind the glass doors.

"I said... never mind."

Busying himself with the shaving lather, Cliff made
his face presentable, past day's stubble removed.
Entering the bedroom, his nose picked up on the
mansex, clinging to the sheets. Before worrying about
what to where, he stripped the sheets, proceeding to
the jon, to deposit them in the hamper.

He mentions to Jim, as he dries off, "Last night's
memories!"

"Do you think we should immortalize them?"

"The sheets?"

Stuffing them in the hamper, Cliff laughs along with
Jim.

%

Copyright 2006 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.