Date: Tue, 20 Jul 2010 11:39:55 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: THe HaRDee BoYs 12

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.

THe HaRDee BoYs 12
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"You wouldn't want to take care of this for me, would you?"

"Fuck you, Bart!" Rick replied to the dripping, sloppy mess Bart's cock
made after the two pulled out of some 'lucky guys' ass.

An alternative, Bart had already passed up the dorm dude lying on the bed,
mentally and physically psyched out from the double-dicking. Looking over
him again, Bart says, "Sure was worth the hundred bucks, doing his tight
hole!"

Rick joked, "What tight hole?"

They both laughed.

Before getting back in their clothes, Rick and his thirty-seven year old
double-dicking fuck-buddy found a resource for clean up, using the
fucked-up dude's shirt.

"Hey," Rick comes up with an idea, "if you're up for another round, I know
a cop who doesn't mind getting his ass 'kicked'?"

"'Badge'?" Bart termed it. "Hell! Last time a pig pulled me over I wanted
to 'whoop' his ass!"

So, from one floor down, the two journeyed to the room Rick shared with
Jared. He turned the knob and instead of walking in, walked into the door!

He pounded on it, "Hey Dave! Open up!"

"Dave?" Bart questioned Rick. "Not the 'Devil-Driller Dave' from the
college football team?"

"Yeah. Why?" Rick asks, wondering what Dave has over on him.

Now, meant to 'hurt' Rick's feelings, "It's like two of you and me bustin'
an ass open!" Bart giggles.

"Fuck you Bart," Then like nothing was said, slapping the door with the
palm of his hand, Rick cusses, "Dave! Open the fuckin' door."

Bart asks, "Doncha got a key?"

Smirking, Rick looks in both directions and finding the coast is clear,
reaches down and peels back the carpeting enough to get two fingers
underneath.

"Tighter than an ass, huh?" Bart comments, laughing at what he said.

Like a threat, Rick says, "Someday I'm going to find out just how tight
yours is, Bart!" Then, walking into the dorm room, Rick looks at the bed,
saying, "What the fuck?"

%

"See you later?" Was his farewell endeavor, Jason parting Sikandar's
company mid-campus.

"I'll pick you up at five and we can get some of your things?" Sikandar
replied.

So it went, Jason walking as happy as a lark, past the commons, a
thoroughfare where students congregated in between classes or just for the
hell of it. Jason did make note of the two dudes lying out on the grass,
barechested, thinking, "Mm-m-m!" Just as quick, his mind turned back
towards his meet up with Sikandar and foremost, the move he was going to
make out of the dorm after barely moving in.

A tall bush stood there as he rounded the corner. With keen reflexes, Jason
stopped short and backed up. Incognito, he made his looks scarce, peering
across the way at a wooden bench. At first he was questioning himself,
thinking if his mind was playing tricks on him, but sure enough, after
scrutinizing the two guys on the bench, one giving the other a back
massage, he slowly came to realize the truth. The one doing the hands-on
activity, was Jared's friend, Dobie! After living with his own brother so
many umpteen years, he knew 'the back' not to be that of his brother. Too,
the top half of the bod, dude lying on the bench, it was much more the
swimmer's build. So, collecting himself, fixing his sunglasses and baseball
cap, Jason continued on his way, distinct rhythm in his walk and managed to
pass by without incident of recognization. On his mind, he couldn't shake
the feeling his bro was being played for a sucker, both figuratively and
literally!

%

There the two sat in the same booth, at Linguini's Italian
Restaurant. Things began to progress to getting intense. Jared thought
Faris to be quite loveable and even though they were in a public place, the
two managed to kiss twice. The second time, Jared took the liberty of
sliding his hand in between Faris' legs.

"What're you doing?" Faris said out loud.

Quickly, Jared looked about. He sighed with relief finding them still quite
alone, the lunch crowd not arriving yet. Just some dude, several booths
away, he noticed like a dot on the horizon, but he was minding his own
business. Like a devil with angel's wings, he asks, "What do you mean?" He
sat there with a forced grin.

Backed away, Faris almost fell out of the booth. However, it gave him
enough push to stand as he accuses Jared, a finger wiggling as he says,
"Sikandar told me about fast guys like you. Are you a fast guy?"

Totally whacked out of his gourd, especially when Jared thought of Faris as
acting 'fast', he only thought of, "Um..." gesturing like he didn't know.

"Fine!" he throws down the napkin he had in his hand and stormed out.

Throwing his hands up in the air, Jared comments to himself, "What'd I do?"

"Probably not enough!" Came the voice from over the aisle corner of the
booth.

First revealed, was a hairy arm. Following the hirsuite trail to elbow, it
disappeared under the sleeve or a polo shirt. By this time, Jared had laid
eyes on the voice of the man whom addressed him.

"This seat taken?"

Jared replies, as the dude welcomes himself to sit down next to him in the
booth, "Why don't you help yourself?"

"I'd like that!" he replies.

He didn't know what to do or say next, as the dude closes in on him,
plasters him up against the corner or the booth and kisses him deeply, his
hand busy at Jared's crotch. After a quick French kiss, he says to Jared,
"Got a few hours? I need a tight hole to fuck!"

What was Jared to do? Disappoint the dude? Too, coercion was taking him
over, the hand on his crotch firming him right up, fingers streamlining his
8.5c, the other hand moving up and down his chest and abs.

"Ohh-h-h... you're making me so hard!"

'Making him hard?' It was an understatement, Jared about to burst out of
his zipper! So filled with enthusiasm, Jared didn't think of exchanging
names, asking, "You got a place?"

But before they can make their escape, Tone comes by, exclaiming,
"Professor Tavakoli?"

"Professor?" Jared questions.

"Oh, hi Tone," Professor Tavakoli greets him, standing up from the booth,
ironing out his shirt with his hands.

"'Professor'?" Jared says in a shadow of a breath.

Not at all surprised by his early civilization professor's attire, Tone
Guilini half-smiles, "Making new friends?"

Pulling himself to the edge of the seat, his legs relaxed over it, Jared
readjusts, speaking up to the dude who was fondling him, "You're a
professor? At, like the college we go to?"

For lack of what to do with his hands, Professor Tavakoli scratches the
back of his neck behind his ear and fesses up, "Ahh-h, yes. I didn't really
have time to introduce myself or....."

Tone, thinking Jared might have qualms over all this says, "I saw the whole
thing Jared. He came and sat himself down and helped himself to...."

In the short minute all this had taken place, Jared had to outweigh the
facts for himself. True, the professor, if he had intentions should have
gone about this differently, the two getting to know each other more
slowly. But then he thought, how many times has he seen a hot, built dude
and wanted to know him instantly, putting haste above wasting time?

"I'm really sorry, if...." The professor began to panic, seeing it from
Tone's view.

"Why? I'm not!" Jared says standing up, making his statement.

"You're not?" Tone asks. But then again, he's not surprised. He knew the
twenty-eight year old professor's 'reputation' for instant pickups of good
looking college dudes. And each time he's seen it happen, Tone wondered,
'Why not me?' or 'What does that guy got that I don't got?' Of course, his
questions always went self-answered! He walks away.

"Have you any classes today?"

He already checked out the mideastern tan, but wondered what lay under the
clothes. Unlike some of the professors, he lacked the tie, white shirt and
jacket, opting out for the relaxed look, jeans and half-unbuttoned shirt
look. "Not till four o'clock. How about yourself?"

"Looks like we're on the same schedule today!"

In both their minds this made it unanimous.

%

The second psychology class of the term, Jason hardly wanted to establish a
reputation of missing it, but weighing heavy against it was what he just
witnessed. He walked up to the door, put his hand of the flat handle, then
withdrew and walked away. Torn between cutting and 'Jared', he figured, 'no
better time to miss a class than in the beginning'!

"Hey! How's it going?" Dobie was the first to react towards Jason standing
there.

In Jason's mind 'it wasn't going good', him standing there in front of his
brother's boyfriend, his hands not flinching as they rubbed some oil of
some dude's bare back!

Before he could even voice opinion, Dobie says to the dude he has his hands
all over, "Hey Philip?"

He was flat on his stomach, lying on the bench, head lying on his balled up
tee shirt, head facing the side, so it was the first time Jason's got a
look as Philip lifts his head to utter, "What?" He must've been half
dozing, turning to Jason at knee height. Pulling the sunglasses down the
bridge of his nose, he squints, asking, "Who's this?"

As he's checking Jason from the knee, up, Dobie replies, "Jared Hardee's
brother."

"Um, no offense," Philip says as he pushes his chest up from the bench to
get a better look, "but you're as hot as your brother! Are you sure you're
not twins?"

Standing there, he could have acknowledged the compliment in a bigger way,
but he was still kind of in a pissed mood. He had no qualms with Philip, so
said, "No, we're not twins, but thanks," then without a breath, "Dobie,
what's this? I thought you and my brother..." he gestured with his face the
rest.

"Not that I think I have to explain," Dobie replies, "but I'm rubbing
suntan on Philip's back. It's not like I'm in bed with him and fucking the
living daylights out of him?" And maybe Jason had it coming to him,
"Besides, I think Jared is old enough to take care of his own business?"

One of Philip's legs hung over the edge so Dobie could park his ass on the
bench. When he got up and stormed away, he dropped the plastic tube on
Philip's back.

Jason didn't know what to say. He kind of froze in place, thinking.

Tilting his bod, Philip caught the tube underhanded as it slid off his
back. He says, "Hey, Jared's bro?"

Coming out of his reverie, Jason asks, "What?"

Holding the tube of suntan lotion by his fingertips, the blond beauty asks,
"Would you mind finishing me?"

Straightening himself up, maybe Jason was partially putting the blame on
Philip, denying, him, "I've got a class!" He walks off.

"Great!" Philip says, flipping the tube out of fingers and resuming his
position, firming up his tee shirt for a pillow once more.

"Drop something?"

"Hey!" Philip responded abruptly, because he knew whomever slapped the tube
of suntan lotion down on his back, made it squash out. And knowing the
reputation of the person, as he turned about, "What do you want, Rick?" He
not only gazed at Rick, but his 'fuck-buddy friend'.

"Have you seen Dave? He might have been with a cop?"

"Good!" Philip replies. "He should arrest the three of you and put you
behind bars!"

Bart, not taking kindly to this, says, "If we weren't in public, I'd take
care of you!" Bart's hand slipped down to his weapon of mass destruction!

"Why?" Philip turns and sits up, reaching behind him to pick up the tube of
lotion. "So I could finally have you arrested and thrown in the can for
dick-raping guys?"

Defending himself, Bart replies, "I've never done a guy who wasn't a
willing participant."

"Sure, but did they know what they were getting into Bart, until after
you've ruined their hole?" With that said and out of the way, Philip bends
over to pick up the cap to the tube.

Being a wiseguy, Bart takes a step forwards, which puts his crotch almost
in Philip's face.

Still bent over, Philip could have sat up seconds ago, but reading Bart's
unspoken message, he tells him, "I've got a fist all ready to make your
move worthwhile Bart. Just give me an excuse to ruin your sex life!"

All this time, Rick's been standing there looking far west, then south and
east, keeping tabs on the comings and goings of other college students,
hoping to catch a glimpse of either Dave or Deputy Mark. Without much clue
of what's happened, he steps over, tags his fuck-buddy and says, "C'mon! I
think I saw them head off towards the parking lot!"

As he was reaching out for the cap, Philip's eyes were watching the two
hustle off.

"I've got it!"

"Oh. Thanks, Faris," Philip said, taking the cap and replacing it on the
tube, giving it a twist.

"Nice tan!"

"I really was getting started, but Dobie... never mind," he said, rather
than explain the whole story. Too, he didn't want to put it into Faris'
head, Dobie applying the suntan lotion to his bod.

But rather the opposite, Faris says, "I've always wanted to know somebody
who would want to spread suntan lotion on me, so I could take my shirt off
and lay out on the campus and soak up the sun?"

Of course he was hinting and Philip, it being tough for him to turn a guy
down for doing a favor, but at the same time didn't want to encourage
Faris, asks, "You have any suntan lotion?"

"Nope. Can I buy some offa you?"

Outweighing things, Philip put things into perspective rather
quickly. Probably this was a 'no win' situation and what it would
eventually come to, he would have to hurt Faris' feelings in order to get
out of spreading suntan lotion on his back. To the plus, what harm would it
be, other than if somebody else caught him in the act of lotioning up
Faris' back? He could take the ribtickling. So, after brief consideration,
"No, you don't have to buy it, Faris." Standing, he says, "Why don't you
take your shirt off and lie down?"

"Cool!" Faris said.

Funny thing, Philip smiled, watching Faris get caught up in his own tee
shirt, as he stripped it overhead, him having to help.

After it was off, Faris says with honesty, "Is it cool to tell you it felt
good when your hands touched me, Philip?"

"You've told me Faris?"

"Oh yeah," Faris replies.

In his own mind, Philip was thinking of 'why' Faris even needed a tan, his
Pakistani origins making him darker than most guys on campus anyway!

"Is this good?" Faris asks, lying down on the bench, hands parked behind
his head and looking upwards. "I guess I should keep my eyes closed,
right?"

Strangely, Faris under the light of the natural sun, as opposed to
lockerroom light bulbs, made him look, or seem, like two different
persons. Then Philip thought, maybe it's a possibility he's never really
taken a chance to get to know Faris, instead of like the other guys on the
soccer team, their innocent play at making fun of him.

"What's so funny?" Faris asks, seeing Philip smile.

"Nothing Faris." As he towers over the dark-haired twenty year old.

"Okay," Faris says, squinting his eyes shut, squirming to get comfortable.

Making reference to himself, "I was lying there on my stomach, Faris."
Faris was on his back. "Don't you want to tan your back?"

Opening his eyes, Faris says, "Both okay?"

In reality, Philip thought 'right'. True, he had lay out faced up, until
Dobie came along. There were plenty of benches, so he figured as soon as he
got Faris situated, he would move on. "Whatever you say Faris."

"Cool!" Faris said, closing his eyes.

Uncapping the suntan lotion, Philip put a dab on one hand. It's then it
struck him, he would be spreading it out on Faris' bod, in particular his
curvy pecs, following the trail down to... He wouldn't have had a problem
with it, other than he's always spread it on a dude's back and never on the
front!

"Um, Faris, maybe you should start with tanning your back?"

"Okay Philip. Whatever you say."

He had to smile, watching as Faris reajusting his pants, as he flipped
bottom up. As Philip looked down at Faris' back, he suddenly had a feeling
of disappointment, one of losing out, knowing his hands weren't going to be
massaging Faris' chest and stomach. He snapped his thumb and finger, but
because of the lotion they made no sound!

%

"Happens when you're not on time?"

All eyes were on Jason as he searched for an empty chair, after
interrupting the professor in charge. Casing the perimeter of the room, he
spotted a waving hand. Observing a slight whistle, a faint voice calls out,
"Over here!"

"Thanks," Jason replies softly as he lowered himself into the chair with
the desk attached.

"No problem," the dude whispered, introducing himself, "Anson
Wilson... from the soccer team?" he asks Jason to recall.

Intent on getting into his couse study, Jason would get a reprieve from
Anson, the professor, meaning to embarrass, exclaims out loud, "Uh
gentlemen, if you want to get to know each other, would you please take it
over to the commons?"

"Let's go," Anson says, folding up his notebook.

"What?" Jason replies preposterously.

True to what Anson was about to lay on Jason, Professor Dapperson stood
there like a soldier, arms folded across the middle. "He's going to stand
like that until we vacate the room!" He gets out of his seat.

"Oh really?" Jason asks. Still pissed over Dobie 'cheating' on his bro and
then to have this professor make a scene about him being late, the only
thing running through Jason's mind, other than the instructor being a
fairly hot dude, he was being a total asshole about all this! He folds his
hands on the desk and bides his time, staring up front.

As Anson leaves, the professor's eyes are not on him, but stares across the
room, to the far right corner, unflinching from his legs-spread,
arms-folded position, saying nothing.

Some guy he doesn't know, bursts out with, "Will you fuckin' leave, dude?"

Two or three others join him in the insult.

Then, two minutes later the same dude says, "This is shit!" He gets up and
leave, causing half of the others to do the same.

"I'm with them," another student says, packing his stuff and exiting.

Finally, the rest couldn't see any reason in staying in a silent room. The
last guy to leave says to Jason, "Have fun man!" One of a few who took this
in stride, smiling.

With a straight face, the professor kept up his vigil.

Slowly, Jason's attention wandered to outside. Whistling, he rocked the
chair-desk unit back and forth, his books hitting him in the chest. While
changing his view, he breaks silence, saying in a plesant tone, "Nice day
outside, huh?"

Looking back inside, he caught the professor still staring and looking
straight ahead at him.

Being this psychology, he wasn't reluctant to ask, "By the way professor,
you wouldn't happen to be gay, would you?"

Knowing he was getting somewhere, the professor tilted his head a quarter
of an inch, his eyes in conjuction with the bridge of his nose revealing he
wondered 'why' the question was being asked.

Placing his hands behind his head, Jason chilled out, but then realized the
air conditioning was exceptionally high. He started 'playing' with the
professor and wasn't either getting kicked out, nor his ass kicked. Looking
down upon himself, something which has occured before, he asks, "It sure is
cold in here. By the way Professor Dapperson, I don't know if this happens
to you, but when I get cold, I start to shiver and my nips get hard. Do
your nips get hard when you get cold?"

Whether the professor didn't want to answer or even react to such personal
questions, which is what Jason figured, he was surprised when he broke down
the strict facade, "You!" he pointed the finger, "Were late to 'my' class
and..."

Standing, which almost tipped the contraption he sat in, over, Jason says,
"And 'you' could have let it go," he traversed serpentine through the
aisles of desks, "but instead 'you' decided to act like some fucked up
child, who is so used to getting things his own way, professor!"

Professor Dapperson clearly was not prepared for this. In the past, when
the situation called for it, every student had acted in the manner Anson
Wilson had, leaving him to carry on with his lecture. "If that's the way
you feel, I think you should seek out changing classes!" Calmly placing a
book into his attache case, Dapperson closes it shut, picks it up and
leaves.

"Wow!" Jason says, backing up and sitting down. "Oh-shit!" he calls out,
the front of the desk falling forwards, him landing on his ass. Picking
himself up, he uprights the desk, assuming, "I guess a desk wasn't made to
sit on." As he straightens the desk he suddenly gets another chill. A hand
goes to his right pec. Finding his nip hard, Jason stands there in a fog,
wondering if Professor Dapperson's nip gets hard.

%

Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

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

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