Date: Thu, 1 Oct 2009 11:03:48 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: CK's STuD MuFFiN PaRTy 02 (For Sale By Owner)

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. If this is
the first time you are reading of my stories and like it, check out the
info at the end of this story.

% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use
protection.

CK's STuD MuFFiN PaRTy 02
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Hey."

Geoff's head switched around to the right. Not seeing anybody there, quick
reflex action brought his chin around to the left side. Making an about
face, he exclaims, "Ale-h-h-ex!"

"Hi Geoff." And like giving Geoff the once over, "I'm so happy to `see'
you!"

"Funny Alex," Geoff replies to the wisecrack about him in the buff. "Oh!
And what are you doing here? You're `entourage' is not supposed to arrive
until much later?"

Standing there, swinging his arms back and forth, shooting the breeze, one
hand in a fist, cupping it against the palm of the other, making a slight
popping sound, Alex rather taking in `the breeze' of naked dudes around the
pool, replies, "On the contrary Geoff... looks like we're here right on
time!"

"Well don't get used to it Alex. When the clock strikes one, everybody's
bottom gets covered up!"

"In that case I better get a move on it and find our room!" Alex replies,
all giddy.

"Oh cool!" They hear from the other side of the pool.

It's Michael Coelho! And he wasn't waiting for anybody's permission to
start stripping down!

"Michael?" Alex yells to him.

His head is bopping left and right, trying to figure out who is calling him
from within the wall of naked dudes. When he spots Alex, he points quickly
to him and with his tee shirt stuffed in the back of his pants as if he was
at a club, he runs around the perimeter of the pool.  "What's up Alex?"

"Before any of us can enjoy living in the lap of luxury, we need to get
ourselves situated in our room?"

"Bummer!" the eighteen year old replies.

Alex laughed, never seeing Michael run so fast, down the walkway they came
from.

Suddenly they are interrupted by a dude, totally out of context with the
naked bunch around the pool. He informs Geoff of something he already
knows, "The guest in the ambulance has arrived."

Right away Geoff steps from in between Alex and the over six foot beefy
dude and says, "Alex, this is Timothy Ryan. He is in charge of making sure
our guests are kept happy!" And in turn, back to Timothy he relays,
"Timothy, Alex Nouguet is the boyfriend of Kyle Dryfiss, and...."

At first Timothy wasn't sure, but finding out it was the boyfriend of the
Dryfiss lad, the forty-one year old takes both of Alex's hands in his and
sweetly says, "Oh I am so happy to meet you Mr. Nouguet." And commandeering
Alex away from Geoff, "Allow me to welcome you and show you the house where
you will be staying."

"You can call me Alex," Alex offered.

"As you wish, Mr. Nouguet," Timothy replies.

Alex bid Geoff farewell with a wave and "Catch ya later," as he hung on
Timothy's arm, not by choice. He didn't catch it, when Timothy had said it,
but looked forwards to getting him and Kyle situated in their room. But it
was a new awakening when, being steered away from the complex of guest
rooms and towards a modern looking building, much different in appearance
than the rest. "Nice place," he comments to Timothy who hasn't shut up
since they left Geoff.

"Yes. Mr. Karlyle has built up quite an estate, speaking of which, this is
the building you and your boyfriend will be residing while guests."

Timothy held one of the two heavy oak doors for Alex to pass through.

"Oh, if our room is upstairs, I don't think Kyle will be able to make it,"
Alex comments, seeing the staircase.

"I beg your pardon?" Timothy replies.

"The staircase," Alex says. "I was saying, I don't think the EMT's can
manage the stairs with the guerny he is on."

Baffled for a moment, Timothy explains, "I think you misunderstood me
Mr. Nouguet. Mr. Karlyle, who is an old friend of Mr. Dryfiss' father,
specifically stated when you two arrive, to put you up at the guest
`house'!"

"House? Meaning?" Alex thought he heard right and understood, but wanted
confirmation.

Timothy explains, "The others in your party and all of Mr. Karlyle's other
guests will be staying within the main complex. You and Mr. Dryfiss will be
taking up residence here, at the second house."

"Mr. Karlyle has two houses?" Alex asks, trying to figure out if what he
was thinking was correct.

"Yes. This one, which is almost identical to his own residence, which is a
stone's throw across the narrow path."

It was as Alex thought. "So, we're not staying at the hotel?"

It wasn't called a hotel, but Timothy didn't correct Alex, instead took him
by the arm and told it like it is, "You and Mr. Dryfiss will have full use
of all the facilities in this house. Allow me to show you around."

He felt obligated he should be with Kyle, but then again he was shooed away
by Faraj and Justin, the two EMT personnel, figuring he was being a pain in
the neck about Kyle's transportation from the ambulance to the inner
estate.

"This," Timothy says, "is probably one of the most used rooms in the
house."

"OMG!" Alex exclaimed, looking up, his head dropping as far back on the
hinge of his neck could go, as he looked up into the skylight, which seemed
like it extended three stories up. Landing at eye level, he looked around,
catching up to Timothy who began pointing out the entertainment center,
pool table, "... And here, you may find your choice of dvd's..."

Alex blinked, not believing the size of the collection, as Timothy unveiled
section after section, walls of movies and other titles.

"And on this particular computer is the database of every dvd here. If you
don't see what you like, which is highly improbable, unless you're looking
for the science of the Monarch butterfly, all you need to do is
tell.... where is that boy?"

"Sir?"

Alex turns around to see a neatly groomed young man, blond, in a tuxedo,
answering to Timothy's beckoning.

"There you are... Mr. Nouguet, this is Wattie Piper. He will be staying
here with you and Mr. Dryfiss during your time here..." and Timothy had
such a tough time getting this `idiotic' phrase,in his own opinion, out,
"'Stud Muffin' party."

"Nice to meet you, Waddy," Alex said, advancing to shake his hand.

LIttle did he know how Timothy was frowning on such a gesture, a guest
shaking hands with a `hired hand' more or less. `Whatever', he thought,
rolling his eyes. "Wattie, have you made sure everything is arranged for
our guests arrival?"

"Yes, sir," Wattie replied in between greeting Alex, which, in the act of
doing so, holding Alex's hand and after a quick "Nice to meet you," carried
on conversation with his boss, "Fresh flowers are in place in every room as
you requested, the beds have been remade with the silk sheets and the
master bedroom has been remodeled so Mr. Dryfiss may be able to have
greater comfort in mobility."

"Remodeled?" Alex asks. "You didn't have to go and do anything special like
that."

Timothy could tell Alex was very rough around the edges when it came to
high society living. If it were one of their high end guests, most likely
he would be already complaining about something, instead of taking
everything in stride. Yet, he was on his best behavior, giving Alex a
cordial smile and assuring him, "Any little thing you desire Mr. Nouguet,
all you have to do is give your request to Wattie and he will make sure you
are satisfied."

Wattie answered for himself, "Yes. Any little thing, Mr. Nouguet."

One thing Alex `was getting' here, was the chain of command and for sure he
didn't want to get Wattie into trouble, especially when he was ready to
suggest he call him `Alex' and not the more formal greeting. Too, he
thought the house servant, or whatever title he went by, was very cute!
"Thanks. I'll keep it in mind."

Breaking in on the conversation, Alex stepped lively across the room after
hearing Kyle's voice, "We're here!"

"Are you okay sweetheart?" Alex immediately sought need to inquire of his
lover's comfort.

"I'm fine. Good thing they have an elevator or I would have never made it
up the back stairway from the parking lot."

Faraj butts in, "I beg your pardon," he folds up his elbow and shows his
jacket busting its seam from the bulging bicep underneath. "Between Justin
and I, we could have gotten you up those stairs, and in one piece, without
as much as one peep out of you!"

For Timothy, the humor was a bit crude, but if he wasn't feeling a stir in
his loins gazing upon the `Arabian Knight' who just waltzed in the back
entrance, he probably would have found excuse to leave their
presence. Instead, he stayed and breathed in Faraj's big, beefy, muscular
bod and the most handsome face to match and that beard! `OMG!' Timothy was
thinking about how he had such a love for a bearded man!

"Oh Kyle... here," Alex walks across the room and escorts Wattie over to
where Kyle is stretched out, "this is Waddy Piper."

"Cool name," Kyle responded. Unlike Alex, he didn't take Wattie's hand.

Immediately Timothy sought to dub Kyle as two steps up from Alex!

"Thank you," Wattie replies. "Was your trip comfortable?"

"There were a few rough turns and some potholes..."

Faraj breaks in again, "Rough turns? Where?"

Justin, who has been quiet, taking in the surroundings, adds in Faraj's
favor, "I thought the pill Dr. Azayzeh gave you was to put you to sleep?"

"Oh yeah," Kyle remembered. "I guess it was the last few miles after I woke
up!"

"Hmm," Faraj replies, like he was being raked over the coals. Then, eager
to get out of his glad rags, asks, "Where do you want him?"

Faraj was looking at Timothy and Timothy `getting it', put the matter in
the house manager's hands, "Wattie will show you to Mr. Dryfiss' room."

Normally Timothy would put things in Wattie's hands, allow him to take on
things with solo responsibility. But being he would be wrapped up in all
the responsibilities his two hundred and fifty thousand dollar salary would
demand, he doubted he would set eyes on Faraj again during their
stay. Though, he remained positive!

%

"Michael?" Scotty stopped him in his tracks as he was about to head out the
door of their accomodations.

"What?"

"Y'know just because all the other guys don't mind showing off their
jewels, doesn't mean you have to too?" Scotty said so sweetly, grabbing
Michael by the arm and flinging him around in a circle, pulling him on the
bed, right on top of him.

"Bummer!" Michael replies. "I never swam in a pool with nothing on."

More disappointed, especially the means by which Michael was expressing
himself, a pout and a little whimper, Scotty gave in, "I suppose it was too
cold to even swim in Fairbanks?" he talked of where his boyfriend hailed
from.

He enlightened Scotty with some more of his home state deatils of growing
up, "We were always wearing some clothes in Alaska. Excep-twen somebody
makes a dare."

"Dare?" Scotty asks.

"Not me. But once there was money put on a bet the captain of the football
team wouldn't streak around the school one time."

"Did he?" Scotty asked as Michael's mude bod lay on top of him.

"Of course. He was making a hundred bucks to freeze his buns off!"

Scotty laughed. It wasn't of the dare, but the way in which Michael was
saying it. "You're so cute!" He kissed him.

"I am?" Michael asks.

"Yeah." And rolling Michael off to the side, onto his back on the bed,
Scotty gets up, says, "What the hell!" and begins to strip down.

"Cool! We're both going skinny-dippin'?"

And when it came to it, Michael had no problem scooting out the door, but
he had to do some coaxing with Scotty!"

%

"I think we are lost."

"How about GPS?" Dr. Azayzeh asks over the front seat of the private taxi.

With a slight Norwedish accent, the driver replies, "I was to hope, after
you pay me for the fare I could go and get myself one."

Mohamed and Asaf exchanged a little Farsi, the outcome, Dr. Azayzeh saying,
"Why don't we stop in this town and get you one?"

"Like I say," the Scandinavian college dude says, "I was...."

"I know what you said," Mohamed reiterates, "but Asaf and I think
you.... `we' would all like to get to our destination sometime today?"

"If you say so," Bjorn replies, mumbling something about college tuition
and falling deeper into debt.

They cruised up one side of East Hampton, then made a u-turn, not knowing
it would be the case by entering a road called `The Circle'.

"How do you know this will bring us out to Main St., Bjorn?" Asaf asks.

"I don't, but if it says it is `circle', then it has to bring us back!"

"Brilliant deduction," Mohamed makes judgement!

And it did, but it was Mohamed yelling, "Stop!"

"What?" Asaf and Bjorn were questioning him.

Like a teenybopper, the thirty-one year old doctor yells out, "I must go
there!"

"Where?" Asaf shifts his attention to the right side of the vehicle.

"Pull over there in front of J Crew!"

As requested, Bjorn uses his excellent driving skills to weave through town
and pull directly in front of number fourteen Main St. But before they get
out, Bjorn makes comment, "I know J Crew. My grandfather shops here. One
year I save some money and buy him a scarf."

"Your grandfather?" Mohamed finds it nervy, but it strikes him as wanting
to shop for a more younger taste. He then announces, "Go back."

"Go back?" Bjorn question him.

"To `the circle'," Mohamed says. "I want to check something."

Asaf is wondering if Mohamed wants to check something out, which he had
seen with his own eyes, a younger man's store for clothes shopping.

It was busy, but Bjorn navigated the streets of East Hampton as if his own
hometown, New York City. In as much as ten minutes he was back on `the
Circle'.

"There!" Mohamed pointed for the second time today.

Asaf smiled. He was right. It was the store with the blue-striped awning,
`Blue & Cream'.

He told Bjorn, "You go and find a parking place and meet us inside."

"You're the boss!" Bjorn replied.

`OMG!' Asaf thought, looking at an ordinary white tee shirt, a little
baggie, but nothing more than a white pullover tee shirt, `a hundred and
eighty-five dollars?' He could get a 3-pack of Hanes for ten!

"I think you would look good in this!"

Asaf turns around and sees Mohamed holding up a black jacket. "Come. Put
your arms in here Asaf."

If the white tee shirt cost a hundred and eighty-five dollars, then the
jacket had to be at least double the price. "I don't think I better."

"Nonsense!" Mohamed replied, his arms holding up the jacket.

"Allow me!"

Both Mohamed and Asaf turned to their side. Standing there, a young man,
sun-tanned, dark brown hair, dishelveled, with in a toss, held out his
hands. "May I please hold this for you?"

"Go on," Mohamed replied, turning the jacket over to the sales-boy.

"Okay," Asaf replies, very reluctant to even touch the fabric!

"One moment please," the sales-dude tosses the jacket over one of his
arms. "This I believe would look very nice with this jacket. Would you care
to step in the back to try it on sir?"

`Sir?' Asaf thought. This man is probably the same age as himself, give or
take a year.

"Go with him," Mohamed encouraged his boyfriend. "I will wait here for
Bjorn."

The dressing room was amazing. It wasn't at all like Macy's, where Asaf
happened to shop with Chris one year at the end of the summer. It wasn't a
small booth meant for one. No, instead it was a room bigger than his jon at
home.

"Would you prefer I wait outside, um...." he fished for a name.

"I am Asaf."

"Good to meet you Asaf. I'm Eric and if you need anything you let me
know. If I think this shirt does not look well on you I will tell you the
truth. As for myself," Eric says with cordial abandon, "I would not want to
wear clothing which does not fit my look."

"I don't know much about it," Asaf replies.

Smiling, Eric replies, "This is why I am here. Now, shall I wait outside?"

"No. I might need help."

Eric was hoping for such a response. He watched, not trying to stare, to
see Asaf remove the yellow windbreaker. Labels were his business and he
thought it a nice choice, probably bought at a high end store. Little did
Eric know Asaf got it for seventy-five percent off at the Macy's end of
summer sale, from last year. But he had more important matters to attend to
when Asaf peeled the tee shirt he was wearing off over his head. He was
almost salivating at Asaf's nicely formed pecs, a small patch of brown hair
midchest, a sliver of dark hair jutting down his stomach, a deep navel and
a tight, dark trail leading under his beltline. "Here, let me assist you,"
he said of the charcoal gray shirt.

In the meantime, Mohamed shows up, Bjorn in his company. "How are making
out here?" Mohamed asks.

Asaf had the gray shirt on his bod, Eric making comment as he is shaking
his head, "No. It's not you."

"It's not me?" Asaf asks, looking down the front of him, the shirt tightly
clutching his pecs and abs.

"He's right," Mohamed says. "It doesn't look good on you. It needs to be on
a slimmer guy." After Asaf peels it off, Mohamed says to Bjorn, "Here. You
try it own."

"Me?" Bjorn replies. "I can't afford to try this on!"

Fortunately, Eric had stepped out to rustle up some more clothing.

Mohamed cautions Bjorn, "Sh-h-h! We don't mention things like that in a
store like this!" He ended his comment with a smile.

"Sorry," Bjorn replies, not understanding the custom.

`Nice!' Eric thought to himself of Asaf standing there shirtless. But
turning to Bjorn he says of the shirt clinging to the Norwedish youth's
bod, "Oh now that fits you just perfect! Here," Eric picks up the seven
hundred and twenty dollar Rag and Bone Classic Tux jacket, "put your arms
in here."

As he fed his arms into the jacket, Bjorn was thinking he would much rather
be feeding his hands into Eric's pants!

"Oh yes. Very nice. What do you think sir?" Eric asks Mohamed.

"I like, but what about Asaf?"

"I think he will like this," Eric picks up a very pale, orange cashmere tee
shirt and holds it for Asaf to fit on his arms. Lifting it up and over his
head, Eric gets a good look at Asaf's stretched bod, the black hair against
his naturally tanned skin, his bellyhole nice and deep. Eric was getting
`thirsty'.

At the same time, Mohamed was suggesting a pair of jeans Eric had brought
in, to Bjorn.

Bjorn didn't say a word, but he looked like `death', pale at comparing the
price tag of the jeans to his salary for the next three years!

"Sir, how do you like Asaf in this?"

Bjorn beat Mohamed to it, making note, "I think it looks very good on Asaf,
um..." and he went fishing for a name to put with the face of the sales
help.

"Oh... many pardons. I'm Eric Wagley."

"I'm Bjorn," Bjorn simply states, shaking Eric's offered greeting. "How do
I look?"

"Not bad," Eric says of Bjorn in the gray shirt, the shoulders fitting him
perfect and he almost slipped and said it fills out his pecs very well, but
last minute diverted his true intentions to, "It fits your physique very
well." He then felt a little embarrassed, smiling as he blushed, holding
the jacket open for too long a time. "Uh, the jacket goes very nice as
well."

"Thanks," Bjorn replied.

Mohamed rolled his eyes at Asaf, whom smiled back.

Looking down, Eric sees Bjorn holding onto one side of his pants, his hand
keeping them from falling to his ankles. "Were you going to try on some
pants?"

Bjorn replies, "Mohamed said I should try on this jeans." Right now,
pricing was the farthest thing from Bjorn's mind.

"Not with the tux. No. Try... .um," Eric searches through the twenty to
twenty-five pieces of clothing he has brought in the large dressing room,
not at all cramped for space even though four occupy it. "Hmm, try these,"
he holds up a pair of black denim jeans.

"I'll try," Bjorn says.

The shirt hung a little in the way, but somehow Eric managed to get a short
view of Bjorn's package. Something twitched down yonder when he saw that
Bjorn was `hung'!

"How do I look?"

The three turn to the thirty-one year old doctor, decked out in blue check
shorts.

"May I suggest something and I hope you don't think I'm being forward,"
Eric tread with caution.

"Yes?" Mohamed gives the go ahead.

"I would most stongly suggest, if you are going to be on the beach, that
you should...." and he started to chicken out a little bit, "think about
having your legs shaved?" Eric thought for sure he blew it, they would
think he's got a helluva nerve and beat it out of the store quicker than a
speeding bullet.

"My legs?" Mohamed looks down, same time pulling up on the shorts, which
are already quite short, which means part of the briefs encasing his big
balls are partially showing.

Asaf fesses up, "I wanted to say the same thing myself."

"You did?" Mohamed turns his head and faced Asaf. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He makes excuse, "Because then I think maybe you will not love me anymore."

Eric smiles, saying, "Oh that's so sweet. You're a couple?"

It's Bjorn who tells, from what he's found out so far, "As soon as they
legalize gay marriage in New York City, they are getting married." And then
throwing a hint Eric's way, "Maybe if I find the right guy I will think
about it too!"

If he hadn't blown the deal of selling roughly five grand worth of clothing
by now, he wouldn't be, so took a gamble, "How do those jeans fit Bjorn?"

"Snug!" He replies.

Eric jokes, "They aren't too tight around the crotch?" And then before a
pause and a smile, "We don't want to cut off the circulation."

%

Copyright 2009 T. Chase McPhee

`For Sale By Owner/CK's Stud Muffin Party' may not be sold, nor made part
of any collection, without prior consent from the author.

Feedback is welcomed. Include your age, height, build, `size', hair and eye
color. Optional: Are u smooth or hairy? Where are u hairy? Bet you never
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question, then answer it! Make sure the name of the story, as copy and
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The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness!
TCMcP.....