Date: Sun, 17 Oct 2010 08:24:20 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: i Was a Teenaged CuB 06

You know the drill: 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.

i Was a Teenaged CuB 06
WriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

Gregg was getting a little edgy. First it was the last customer leaving the
Garden Ristorante, the front door to the outside world being locked, stock
and bolted down for the night. For the next two hours the remainder of the
staff, fixing up the dining room for next day's business or the kitchen
being attended to and wound down. Last leaving, one of the kitchen staff
wore a hug smile, `wishing' Gregg and Terrence a `pulsating' evening.

"Now! Ready to get down to business?"

Gregg sat there, his butt on a wooden stool, with Terrence in front of
him. He wore a white apron over his gym shirt and pants. Resting on the
bottom rung of the stool were his Nike sneakers. "Uh, now Terrence," Gregg
braces his hand against the `Afro-American's' chest as he's peeling the
jacket, "I'd prefer we not get into any `rough' stuff?"

He was saying this, because as the evening went the course, with Terrence
ducking out now and then, the rumors would fly, some pertaining to Mark's
`Cub Club' and the goings-on therein.

"Rough stuff? What rough stuff?" To prove his point, Terrence slid his hand
behind Gregg's neck and drew him in for a kiss. Same time, one of
Terrence's hands helped relieve Gregg of the knotted kitchen apron behind
his back.

Breaking, Terrence asks, "Now what is all this talk about the Cub Club?"

"Some of the guys. They were talkin'."

Backing up, Terrence says, "I want names!"

Standing, protesting, Gregg says, "No, no, no, no, no... I don't mean to
get any of them into trouble. Besides, Terrence, by now I don't remember
who said what! Only what was said!"

Then there was a scuffle and as it wound up, Gregg was back sitting on the
stool, the kitchen apron still around his neck, but the bulk of it behind
his back, his wrists in a bind as his arms stay behind him.

"Terrence?" Gregg targeted him in fear. "What the hell is this? What are
you going to do?"

"If you are not going to name names, then I will have to get it out of
you!"

Sure Gregg was in fear, locked away in the kitchen with what now he thought
of a `lunatic', `maniac', both coming to mind instantly. But oh what a
sweet maniac, as he began stripping down. Terrence was very meticulous,
folding the jacket, then placing his shoe-string tie right on it. Same with
the white shirt, but back up - when he began unbuttoning it, from top to
bottom, he was being so sexy at it, revealing an inch of his bod at a
time. Pulling it open in the middle, dividing it over his shoulders as he
pulled it from his pants was such a sexy showing of dark skin, mingled with
a patch of hair in between his built pecs.

"Oh man," Gregg sighs, "why do you have to be so evil?"

"Evil?" Terrence laughs, "Humph! Why I don't have an evil bone in my bod!"

"Then why not untie me?"

He jumped off the stool. Terrence placing him back on the edge, pressing
his bod up against him, rubbing Gregg's nose in his musky, upper chest.

"Oh man Terrence!"

"Maybe you have a name for me?" 

Thinking, if this was part of
the torture, this part could be endured, even welcomed, so Gregg remained
vigilant, "Haven't a clue."

%

"How's the sub?"

"Good," Michael replies. "Thanks for buying it for me. As soon as I get a
job... wait! I've got a job."

"Where?" Geoff asks.

"West World Gym. Mr. West hired me himself." It then occurred to Michael
how quickly things changed.

"That's cool. You know where I work, but heck! You've got the coolest place
to work Michael!"

"Yeah, and...."

"And what?"

Michael was busting to tell somebody. He might've told Patrick this if it
came up. Now he's glad he didn't.

Second time, his lax of filling in the spaces quick enough, he gets out of
Geoff, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Three strikes I'm out, huh?"

Geoff quizzes Michael, "Huh? Three strikes?" 

"Yeah. Second time
you wanted to know something and I didn't come through for you," Michael
explains it.

Thinking it his age, what most people thought, him a year younger than his
true age, Geoff expresses, "I'm almost nineteen. Next month?"

"You got me beat."

"Huh?"

"I won't be nineteen until
November 11."

"Really?" Geoff lets out a laugh.

"What?" Questions the outburst.

"It's `so' weird, me being a senior in high school and older that you and
you in college and younger than me!"

Not taking it as being slighted, Michael replies, "But I think you're
cuter!" He sits back, smiling, seeing how Geoff is taking it.

"Really?" After adjusting his baseball cap with the lid to the back, "You
think I'm cuter with it this way?"

"Either," Michael replies.

He didn't come in wearing one, so Geoff assumes, "You ever wear a baseball
cap, Mike?"

"`Mike'. I like that. But nah. It's the fashion statement," Michael laughs
it off, adding, "clashes with my red hair!"

While he is laughing, Geoff is wondering.

As for Michael, he's taking the flack, Geoff's eyes probing the front of
his bod, from the collar down to the table edge. "What?"

Feeling comfortable with asking, Geoff says, "Are you like `red', all
over?"

It then dawned on Michael, Mark West's almost identical inquiry and it's
outcome. Too, it seemed the perfect lead-in question. He did make sure they
were sequestered away enough at the Sub Station, to talk personally before
he says, "Some guy asked me that question and guess what happened?"

Geoff answers, like it's being said to him, "You told him to mind his own
business?"

Not even asking if he could tell Geoff something personal, with risk of
having it retold, Michael gets a gut impression he can share, "Last time a
guy asked, we both wound up with our clothes off and the guy touching me!"

"Really?" Geoff asks and like any inquiring mind, driven by brain power,
but mostly the flowing juices at the base of the torso, "Like what
happened?"

"Nothing much other than him sucking on my nip."

"Yeah? And what else?"

Before Michael could elaborate, this tall `human' was standing above them
at the table. "I filled your tire up with air bro!"

It was strange, Michael thought. While Geoff's brother was talking to
Geoff, he was looking down upon him.

"This your friend?" Geoff's brother asks, looking down at Michael.

"I'm Michael," he extended a hand.

He was greeted by a partially greasy hand, wiped off on a shirt,
"Hey. You're a cute little cub!"

"What?" Michael said, taking the hand offered, but to Geoff a look of `how
did he know?'

Reading Michael, Geoff completes the introductions, "This is my brother,
Davy. I don't know how he knows, but he always knows."

So, Davy helped himself to sitting with the two, next to his brother so he
could have an all out view of the adorable, red cub!

%

"I thought you had it in the bag, Mark?"

Single for the night, Mark headed out to Denny's Bar & Grill, synonymous
with the meeting place of the Cub Club, but also the room they held
rehearsals for the `Bear Quartet'. Right now, the bartender, fifty-two year
old Heinrich Baden, or `Rich' to many of the clientele, `Bad Rich' or
`Master Heinrich' who liked to venture into the underground playground, was
reaming Mark out, figuratively, for his slip up in finding soprano and
tenor parts for their vocal group.

"I had a cute little red cub all...."

"Red?" Heinrich exclaims. "Red, like in red haired?"

Building on Heinrich's excitement, lessening his own infraction, "Oh yes!
You should have seen him," and in explanation, Mark drags both palms down
the front of his shirt, "a rich coat of red hair down his pecs and over his
stomach?"

"Stomach? Like in gut?"

Mark was hoping Heinrich wasn't putting two and two together, big gut with
working out at the gym, so he play it by ear, "Oh just beautiful, Heinrich!
Nice deep bellyhole where you can really bury a finger in!"

"Or tongue?" Heinrich grins.

With one of Heinrich's hands on the towel swabbing the bar, the other below
the counter, Mark could tell his friend was really getting into it.

"Anything `else' I should be aware of?"

He hoped this would not be a downer, "Nothing at the moment."

"You `did' get around to mentioning the Bear Quartet?"

"Um... no," Mark tread lightly on words.

All pent up in Heinrich's pants, he could very well have excused himself to
the little bear's room, but instead uses the ensuing circumstance to, "Bad
little bear."

In a way, Mark was keyed up too. It was a toss up of finding a place to
`relax' his erection or follow through with Heinrich's suggestion. It's how
it went. If Mark was too busy, he would walk away. However, rarely would
anyone give up on a session with `Bad Rich'. "I know. I've really been a
bad bear. Any idea of how I can redeem myself Master Rich?"

Tossing the white bar towel to the other end of the bar, Heinrich calls on
his assistant, "Pete?"

"Yeah, Rich?"

"Hold down the fort for awhile!"

Pete smiles, watching Heinrich and Mark enter the back room.

What resembles an ordinary door to `the back room', is really a portal to
an even more expansive room, located down a flight of stairs, to the
basement. Sure, there is a back room, big enough to hold rehearsals for the
Bear Quartet, complete with an old upright piano.

Already the `play' has began, Heinrich directing Mark, "When you get down
those stairs, I want all those clothes off and pronto!"

"Yes, Master Heinrich!" Mark smiles as he trots down the stairs,
unbuttoning his shirt as he goes.

"It's a real shame you didn't snag that cub while you had the chance. What
the fuck were you thinking of?"

 Meant to denunciate, Mark was feeling all tingly between the legs, but too
he knew Heinrich was digging for details to his encounter with
Michael. Because it was getting him off, being badgered into telling, Mark
says, "I suppose I let my insatiable desire for cub-fur get the best of
me!"

By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs, Mark had removed his
shirt. Not much different than an ordinary evening of the `Cub Club',
Heinrich too began to remove his clothing, except he slowed down. In no
time Mark was unashamedly naked, Heinrich down to his briefs.

For fifty-two he was in nice shape. Probably the oldest member of West
World Gyms, his bod showed his longevity in keeping faithful to the gym. He
was probably the most fit muscle-bear in the club. Along with the figure,
he could afford to wear a pair of Bjorn briefs, the kind which dipped to
near the barrel of a man's cock. Half-soft, Heinrich's ten-inch tool filled
out the briefs very nicely. Hard, it gave the manufacturer's warranty a run
for the money!

Upstairs they met at the bar in the resume of their ordinary
lives. Downstairs the outer facades were worn away, Heinrich ordering, "On
your knees boy!"

"Yes, sir," came Mark's response as he sank down till his unveiled cock and
balls touch the cold cement floor. "Oh-h-h," he reacts to the chill,
scooping his goods up.

"Hands behind your back!" Heinrich says, smiling evilly down at Mark.

What this meant is, knowing the coldness could put a dent in keeping him
firm, Mark had to either suffer from his dilemma or, if he kept his nuts
clear of the damp floor, he could keep them boiling.

Heinrich knew this too, so play on it, "Yeah, sit up nice and tall." What
play a part in this is Heinrich's stature, all of six-feet-two inches tall,
he had long legs. Once a basketball player, down on his luck, Heinrich play
a new ball game. After pinning his big balls under the rim of his briefs,
he held his heavy cock up so Mark could open up his mouth and take him in.

`Oh boy!' Mark thought, as has happened before without surprise, Heinrich
trying to stuff contents of both sacs in his mouth at once.

It had happened only once at the Cub Club, and not even a cub or bear, but
some skinny otter from a rival college, his mouth big enough to accommodate
Heinrich's monster balls.

"Oh fuck yeah!" Heinrich called out as Mark twirl his tongue around the
curvature of the first ball sac. Then, spitting it out, performed the same
with the other.

Any other man's cock, Mark would have been thrilled to tongue, suck,
throat, but he as well as Heinrich knew some men had their limits.

Heinrich says of it, "Just suck out a little juice and we'll call the debt
paid."

"Nobody can say you don't have a kind heart, Heinrich."

"What'd you call me boy!" Heinrich lashes out at Mark, bonking him on the
head with his fully charged cannon.

"I hope you didn't leave a mark!"

"Only a wet one," Heinrich jokes, laughing.

Mark knew the routine, this not being the first time they play-acted. Too,
as he got dressed, it was food for Heinrich, as much as if doing a
striptease.

"I'll be right back!" Mark said.

However, he would not be back, but it was their usual fare of words. How it
went, for a about an hour, Mark would relieve Pete at the bar and
descending the stairs, he would much follow Mark's prep, stripping his
Denny's tee shirt off overhead, unbuttoning his jeans.

All over again Heinrich would view the show, but this time, instead of an
almost thirty year old, he was being entreated to a stout, twenty-four year
old, a college grad without a job whom, mutually hit it off, both on and
off the job.

Giggling, Pete says, "I know this couldn't wait till closing time!"

"Oh don't you worry, `cub', I got plenty o'ammunition left for later!"

Totally in the buff, Pete approaches his fifty-two year old employer,
bending over as he takes his stalk in hand, "Oh man, you're not gonna waste
any of your juicy creme!"

Heinrich gasps, dropping his head back as the twenty-four year old stuffs
his ten inches in his mouth, sucking as he goes, Heinrich feeling the goo
vacuumed right out of his tube before it hits the back of Pete's throat.

Too, Heinrich knows how to keep Pete hard, reaching underneath Pete's bent
over bod, his hands playing up his meaty pecs, finding the two nips which
Pete's cock thrives on getting mashed. But for his own benefit, the harder
he mashes Pete's nips, the more the post-collegiate hums with delight. The
further his cock becomes embedded in Pete's throat, the more mesmerized he
gets from the soft massage. It's an `everybody wins' scenario!

%

Whereas Geoff was reserved, withdrawn, his brother Davy was just the
opposite and Geoff had hoped, by the way his brother conducted himself he
would not screw up his friendship with Michael.

There was nothing he could do or say though when Davy comes out with, "Hey,
you know Michael I find you highly attractive and if you would give me the
chance I would..."

`Oh brother!' Geoff was thinking to himself. This `wasn't' the Davy he
knew, not with all these flowery imputations! He just wondered where it was
all leading. Then it came to pass and all along Geoff had `wanted to', but
whereas he figured he would get past first base in days or even weeks to
come, his bro had done it in a matter of minutes. Still, he waited it out.

Michael sat there, not in shock, but startled a guy would point blank come
out and tell him he was `handsome' and to tip it off would want to `ravage
his bod with his tongue', to boot!

Because Geoff had his dibs on Michael too, he slips and says, "And I could
help?"

"Don't be a perv, bro!" Davy says.

With that, Geoff gets up, says, "Fuck you!" and storms away from the table,
outside.

"That was stoopid!" Michael said with indignation, but then wondered if it
was to harsh, Davy being an intimidating character. Just in case, he figure
it's best to go after his friend. Skittish about leaving without some type
of farewell Michael blurts out the only thing to come to mind, "Well thanks
for offering your... whatever," he meant Davy's tongue worshipping.

"No problem," Davy said. He sat there for a moment, then decides not to let
`this cub' get away.

Out in the car, the one Davy had doctored up the tire, sat Michael and
Geoff in the front seat of the four-door. The car rocks when Davy opens the
door and lunges in the back seat.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry for what happened in there," Davy hugs both seats and
tries explaining his rudeness.

"It's not `me' you owe the apology to," Michael tells him.

"Doesn't matter," Geoff shuns it off, "he's always being an asshole to me!"

Instead of backing down, Davy says, "You always `liked' me being an
asshole!"

Michael let the conversation go the course, the two arguing out their likes
and differences to where it fell on his shoulders.

"What do you think Michael?" 

"What do I think about what?"
Michael replies, not having followed precisely along.

Davy made Geoff say, "I this is going to make you feel used, Michael, but
Davy and me... we...."

"We want to see which one of us is the best cocksucker."

"Yeah. So?" Michael says, not sure if he's getting it, but thinks he is.

Now Geoff let Davy do the talking, "Either first I do it, or Geo does it,
but you be the judge of which one of us is the best cocksucker?"

"And what will that prove?"

"Um," the twenty-six year old mechanic inches his way with words, "which
one of us... is the best.... cocksucker?"

Geoff tells him, "I told ya he's a stoopid idiot!"

"Okay, I'll tell ya what I'll do and this is my last offer!"

Geoff and Michael exchange looks, their eyebrows up in wonderment, their
lips bent up.

Turning to his bro, Geoff asks, "And what would that entail, Davy?"

"I'll suck both of you at once!"

Again Geoff and Michael look at each other, Michael saying, "You're going
to suck off your own brother... and me?"

"It's not like I haven't done it before?" Davy looks at Geoff.

Michael looks at Geoff and just his look is inquiring.

"Yeah," Geoff confesses, "we've done each other at one time of another."

As if with admiration, Davy says, "But I've sucked you off more bro!"

Michael cautiously asks, "Have you like done any of the `other' stuff?"

"Fucked and been fucked? Nah," Geoff replies.

The pressure was on Davy, the two looking to him for an answer. A tough
character to everyone else, he bent low, down to a bottom's status as he
replies, "Hey, either one of ya can fuck me, I don't care."

Geoff had a field day with this one, "Oh cool! I can fuck you bro!"

Returning to what started all this in the Sub Station, Davy replies, "I
would much rather Michael do the honors!"

Sucking and fucking were two different things in Geoff's book. Doing stuff
with Michael was totally different than his bro. Sure, sucking his bro off
was something they did as teens, but they never went as far as fucking each
other over. Too, he didn't seem as willing to get fucked as his bro, so let
it slide, saying, "I think I'll hold off with the fucking stuff
for..... awhile."

Both Davy and Michael too showed interest in the guy who was crossing the
parking lot, hesitating before he passed inside the door to the Sub
Station. He looked directly at the car they were sitting in, then went
inside the eatery.

"Who the hell was that?" Davy immediately inquires.

Unknowing to the two brothers, Michael says, "I don't know his name, but
he's in my earth science class."

"You know him?" Davy tags Michael's shoulder.

"Like I said. He's in my class."

"It seemed he knew you," Davy pressed.

A matter of minutes passes, the same dude making exit, a bag with a five
foot sub sticking out. Instead of walking away from them, he rounds the
hood, stands at the side of Michael's window, bends over and pokes his head
in, immediately addressing Michael, "Hey, aren't you in my earth science
class?"

Red hair, but unlike Michael, darker, already Davy is taking in his
manliness, him speaking for the trio, "Yeah, this is Michael and I'm his
good friend David Trask, but my friends call me Davy."

Reaching across Michael's lap is the driver's hand, "Yeah and I'm the
inconsequential brother and friend, Geoff Trask."

"But we didn't get `your' name?" Davy inquires.

Before giving it, he asks, "Say, can you give me a lift? My friend dropped
me off."

True, they didn't see how Michael's earth science friend got there, only
when he entered and exited.

"Sure we can," Davy replies.

"Uh, David-dear brother, aren't you forgetting one little detail?"


"What?"

"Your truck?"

"Oh yeah. Got my tow truck," Davy replies. But oh how he the-heck hated
leaving his new-found reddish-haired cub-friend all alone here in the back
seat.

"Uh, I could come with you if it's not an imposition?"

Of course it wasn't, for Davy.

After the two cleared out, Geoff asks, "What was his name again?"

"He didn't say, did he?"

Geoff started up the car, but didn't immediately set it in gear, asking, "I
guess you're mad about Davy promising you all that tongue-worshipping stuff
and now it's like not going to happen?"

Plainly, Michael says, "It would have been interesting to see if he could
have gotten both your's and my cock in his mouth at once."

"I'm not that big. How about you?"

Smiling, he says, "Would you like to find out?" 

"Really? Cool!
Can I?"

%

Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee

`i Was a Teenaged CuB' 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.....