Date: Sun, 27 Dec 2009 17:03:17 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: FoR SaLE By OwNEr:  CK's STuD MuFFiN PaRTy  09

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.

FoR SaLE By OwNEr:  CK's STuD MuFFiN PaRTy  09
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Oh now this is elegance!"

In the daytime or darkened night, the theater looked much like any other
building, matching the contemporary design of the rest of the buildings on
Cayman Karlyle's estate. However in the nighttime, all lit up like a
Christmas village, tens of thousands of tiny bulbs adorned trees along
paths leading to the main thoroughfare, which brought a small entourage to
the main entrance.

Alex and Kyle arrive second to Cayman and much to their insight from
earlier, the two acknowledged their host escorting former pool-boy, Darryl.

"My how one rises in the ranks, just by knowing the 'right' people?" Alex
comments to his lover.

"No pun intended, but I have a feeling there's going to be a rising in your
brief sales, after our weekend spent here, Alex."

Alex snips, after seeing all the eyecandy, in the way of tuxed-out staff
members, "Hey, I've got rising-in-the-briefs and the weekend's only begun!"

Kyle could have come back at Alex with a sweet, sarcastic remark about him
getting some boom-booms in his briefs, but how can another condemn a person
when they are feeling the same themselves!

"Hi guys!"

Turning heads, Alex and Kyle stop their processional just inside the
theater entrance.

"This is Phillip. Want some champayne? It's free!"

Of course they did, but they were more thirsty for knowledge, especially
with Michael's arm around the bicep of a guy other then the one he came to
the Stud Muffin Party with.

Rather than pry the info out of Michael, Alex asks, "Where's Scotty?"

To send a message, possibly make the explanation for his action simpler,
Michael says, "He's over there." Still holding his glass, Michael points
with his finger, his arm across his date's chest.

If confused already, things got a little more puzzling, Kyle and Alex
looking over the tops of heads to see an older dude with his arm over
Scotty's shoulder, conversing, drinks in their hands.

"I don't get it," Kyle says, which was meant as a lead-in to the 'why' of
the differing pairs of dancing partners.

For Michael it was the perfect means by which to introduce, "Guys, this is
Phillip Johnston. He's a model."

Knowing this was as awkward for Alex and Kyle, Phillip shook hands,
forwarding the normal, 'nice to meet you', but also amended, perhaps in an
effort to help Michael out, "We met on the tennis court and decided to hook
up for the theater party."

"Hook up?" Kyle says, him and Alex exchanging glances.

Alex replies. "Um, Michael, why don't we go get some finger foods so
Phillip and Kyle can get to know each other?" Alex had determined Kyle's
manner of eyes addressing him, precluded the need for a pow-wow between him
and Michael.

"Cool!" Michael said, his arm unraveling, detaching him from Phillip.

There was really no place intimate and for certain Alex didn't wish to pick
the obvious meeting place, the jon. So they stepped back out into the early
evening, when the sky had mellowed out to a darker tint of blue, the sun
hiding below the horizon.

"What the fuck has happened to you and Scotty?"

Michael had figured this was going to come up, so after this afternoon,
meeting up with Scotty in their room, he formulated his mentality of
addressing the situation as he walked from their bungalow to where he was
to meet up with Phillip. "Like how far back do you want me to go?"

Alex stood there silently.

With the look on Alex's face, Michael determined he wanted to know all, so
he spit out, "Well you see, Scotty kind of said to me that the cook he was
working with today, wanted to take him to the theater party tonight. But
then I figured, since this was happening with Scotty, I would tell him
about Phillip."

"Oh?" Alex replies, wanting to know more.

"So then we kind of look at each other and... well, you know how it is when
you look at somebody in the eye and you know there's more than somebody's
telling you, Alex?"

"Like I'm looking at you and wondering, Michael?"

With a bit of nervousness, Michael replies, "Um yeah... right... okay, so
right out Scotty tells me he didn't mean to, but did something with the
chef-dude, but I told him I'm no better, telling him about Phillip and me
in the cabin."

There was much missing in between, but from the general interpetation, Alex
was getting the message that Michael and Scotty weren't coupled up as
tightly as when they arrived here at the Stud Muffin Party. Wanting to hear
it to the bitter end, he asks, "So, what does this all mean, Michael?"

Pressing for details, Michael was still on edge of being nervous, but at
the same time welcomed the probing, because he wanted to clear the air.

"What Michael is trying to say is we're no longer lovers!"

It came from one of the lighted trees. Alex knew the voice, but the mass of
white light temporarily blinded him. "So it's over between you two?" He was
also feeling anxiety. Over the past months Alex has really developed a love
for the two. First off, Michael, whom he rescued from the subway, brought
him into their lives, then thinking about Scotty, whom Kyle had integrated
into their lifestyle as live-in friends. However, above his own feelings he
perceived, "But I get the feeling you two are alright with this?"

Making his advance, Scotty closed in on the duo, singling out Michael,
putting his arm around his back in an affectionate caress as he informs
Alex, "We're still going to be best friends."

It took some of the edge off and it came to Alex, the only thing left to do
was to show his support. "O-oh you guys!" Throwing his arms around the two
he hugged them tightly.

"Ahem!"

It was Kyle and Phillip, Kyle breaking up the camaraderie of the trio.

Alex states, "Scotty and Michael... I was just, well..."

"I know," Kyle replies.

All three look towards Phillip, standing behind Kyle. "I told him," Phillip
more directs at Michael.

In turn, Michael addresses Kyle, asking, "Is that good or bad?"

And passing the buck, Kyle says as he looks at Scotty, "It's not for me to
say. What's important is how you two feel about it. It's not my life, even
though," and he draws his partner into this, "Alex and I are very concerned
about the welfare of our close friends."

Scotty says, "We've talked it out and so far we're okay with it." But he
felt a little strange with Phillip there, so alluded to, "I better go see
what Aram is up to. He's responsible for all the banquet... he's quite
comical, with the insight of knowing whether a guy likes or dislikes
something he and his chefs have prepared." More a nervous response, he
smiled as he left the company of his friends.

Deep down in side, Alex and Kyle knew the emotional buildup within Scotty
and wondered what Michael was feeling. However, as Scotty departed, Phillip
took up the slack, moving in to stand with Michael.

Kyle breaks the ice, saying, "So, is this the new Mr. and Mr. Michael
Coelho?"

With affection, the two caress, Phillip saying, "Johnston-Coelho, or is
Coelho-Johnston?"

Michael says, "How do they know which comes first?"

Alex guesses, "Top first? Bottom second?"

"I think Nouguet-Dryfiss would be best," Kyle replies.

Taking upon themselves to see a tender moment unfolding, Phillip makes
reference to the h'orderves Alex and Michael were supposed to be heaping
onto plates, Michael agreeing with moving on, saying, "I'm like
starved. C'mon Phil!"

"What do you think?" Kyle asks Alex.

"Definitely 'Nouguet' before 'Dryfiss'", Alex replies.

"No, stoopid! I mean about Michael and Scotty... er, Phillip?"

"Only time will tell!"

%

"Why do I even bother?" Geoff says, pounding his fist on the wooden bench,
located within the confines of the private sauna, an extension of the room
he and his lover share.

Using Geoff's hairy ass as a cushion, most of his weight, Swifty's groin
lays on top and leaning forwards, both hands massaging Geoff's shoulder
blades as he replies, "Because you're so caring," he leans forwards, lips
puckering up, "and gentle a man?" He begins giving Geoff littles pecks of
affection along the ridges of his shoulder.

"I go to all the trouble of traveling out to the estate, do all this
research into setting protocol for Cayman's Stud Muffin Party," and because
of Swifty's ministrations, but not only, only as a reminder, "not to
mention, spend the entire weekend away from you and what happens?"

Right now Swifty was listening, but also the feeling of his bod stretched
out, his naked front making contact with Geoff's naked back and below,
still following the gripe session he fell respondent to his lovers pouring
out, "What?"

Having the sense to know his spent feelings were falling on somewhat
deafening ears, Geoff tells, "Y'know it's not too comfortable having
someone else pressing my bod into this wooden bench?"

Taking it in stride, Swifty replies, "Are you saying I'm putting on weight,
Geoffie?"

"Well I can definitley feel it on my arse, but you're not the only one and
these wooden slats are like murder on the chest, abs... and are like
crushing the family jewels?"

Filled with comfort, Swifty comes up with the solution, "Can't you just
push it between the slats?"

"At full proportions? Think Swif.... you've felt it between your own
slats... do you think it's going to fit between the bench slats?"

"I suppose not," Swifty says, gently sliding one leg, then the other one to
the floor, lightening the load on Geoff's back.

With Geoff getting up, sighing in relief as he fluffs up his genitals,
Swifty stands there laughing. "You look like a fuckin' vertical candycane!"

Looking down upon himself, the indelible printing of the wooden slats has
made small indentations up and down his bod, something even his bear-bod
couldn't hide! "Sure laugh, but what am I gonna do about this?" he firms up
his already hard shaft.

"The question should be," Swifty gets cute, "'what' do you 'want' to do
with it Geoffie?"

Just then, the door to the sauna opens. "Oh excuse me. I wasn't sure this
was occupied."

Geoff and Swifty turn their attention to a clothed man, appearing to be
late-thirties, standing amoungst them.

"You don't look dressed for the occasion," Swifty tells him.

"Uh no. I'm sorry to bother you, but I was sent to check the place out,
something about a faulty thermostat?"

In no time, the repairman's khaki outfit began resembling safari clothes,
ones exposed to a hundred and ten degrees of steamy heat, the mid chest and
back region soaked.

"It 'is' definitely getting hotter in here," Geoff mentions.

It wasn't too tough for the repair man to keep his mind on the heated
conditions of the room, what with Swifty and Geoff standing there in the
buff, their cocks still in the frozen-hard position.

"Oh yeah," the repairman replies, his free hand, the one not holding his
toolbox, venting his collar.

Then, Geoff making it even hotter in there, says, "Like I was telling my
partner here," he goes back to stroking his cock, which gets much eye
contact, "it does seem to be getting hotter in here, so it's good you did
come to fix the thermostat, um....."

"George," George drops the first name, his tongue giving his lips the
once-over as he half pays attention to their faces and Geoff's stroking.

Game to Geoff's deception, Swifty says, "So George, how does one go about
fixing a thermostat?"

"Huh?" George regrouped his thoughts, "Oh, the thermostat... um first I
have to find out where the source of the trouble.... is."

Swifty looks at Geoff. He knows what his lover wants and it's not like they
haven't discussed the occasional straying from fidelity. Fortunately,
George was in the right place at the right time, where they were concerned,
their late night sessions previously discussing the matter of a third or
forth joining in on their private love-making, the decision made, if both
were there, then playing around was permissible, as long as they both could
enjoy in the merry-sex-making. So he furthers the conversation, "Tell me
George, how would you go about fixing Geoff's thermostat?"

"Huh?" George says, not sure he understands what he's hearing. Sure, like
almost all the other guys on the grounds of the Karlyle estate, attending
the Stud Muffin Party, George is no stranger to the 'let loose and let go'
attitude, a more or less fairytale land, letting perfectly loyally
connected couples to seek out some of their wildest fantasies, as well as
those of the single nature. He replies to Swifty, "Well there's really
gotta be something wrong with the thermostat because it's really unbearably
hot in here."

It was a hint, one which was read by unspoken minds, until Geoff says,
"Well what're you waiting for George?"

"Here," Swifty says, taking the toolbox from George's hand, "let me put
this outside the door. I wouldn't want anything to rust."

As they passed the handle of the toolbox from hand to hand, George's eyes
made a beeline for Geoff's tool, saying, "That's quite a big heating
element you got there Geoff." They weren't properly introduced, but George
had caught Geoff's name in passing.

"Yeah, it can really spark up some fire if properly ignited."

He had unbuttoned his shirt, down to where it was tucked into his pants,
but George was too horned up to complete the job, falling to his knees,
placing a hand around the base of Geoff's big shaft, gulping it right in.

"Hungry bastard!" Swifty said upon return.

"Yeah. I betcha he can't wait to get it all primed up!" Geoff replies, then
is silenced into moans and groans of ecstasy.

Not wanting to be left out, Swifty carries out the task of helping George
out of his clothing. 'What luck!' he thinks as he kneels down behind
George, finishing the stripping job, unbuckling and unbuttoning. One of the
big turn-ons with Geoff was the hairy quality of his bod and he was feeling
up the same, even though George was as sweat-dripping as they were. Still,
as Swifty felt up George from behind, his hands traveling up the curvature
of George's abs, he could feel the wet hair, not different from the dog he
had when a kid, giving the dog a bath. He had to get a better look. In
order to get George on the same level as far as clothing went, he had to
interrupt Geoff's sweet ministrations.

This took another ten or fifteen minutes, Swifty the main valet, removing
clothes, but also getting in on some of the threeway kissing. While he was
lip-locking George, which he felt a decent kisser, Geoff bent over, took
George by the balls and used his hand as leverage to draw George onto his
pallet.

Unknowingly they could pretty much write the theater party off, the two
enjoying having their thermostats adjusted, George being lucky he didn't
have any other service calls for the night. In fact, much later when he lay
in bed with Swifty and Geoff, he confessed it was an emergency call.

"Oh man you guys are really awesome!" George says, lying between the two.

%

Back at the theater, a display of awesomeness was capturing the minds of
the audience, a pre-show, live actors on stage, performances based on a
rendering of scenes from movies of the past. Only difference in the
original productions, each wasn't given with an all-male cast.

"Frankly stud, I don't give a damn!"

The wet butler, after tugging on the hand of man of the house, pulling him
into the swimming pool at the Tara Estate, steps out of the makeshift
swimming pool on stage, leaving his loosely fitting trunks falling to his
feet.

"Oops!" he says, one hand as loose, trying to hide his goods as the other
reaches for his wet suit around his ankles.

As one scene ends, another takes place, the theme song from 'Oklahoma'
kicking in, a man arriving on stage by the name of 'Curly', a big bear with
dark, curly hair and his arch enemy, 'Stud'. Instead of following the story
line, it shoots off into another musical, Curly and Stud dueting the song,
'Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better'. Of couse it alludes to a
promiscuous, sexual nature with a lot of gang-banging, more cast members,
dressed up as horses, with fake, grotesque masks and loin cloths, the
extras 'used' as Curly and Sam's pawns in doing battle.

So it went, till Cayman seemed to tire of the takeoffs of 'The Devil Wore
Prada', a mean ogre with a whip, complete with a leather outfit, the name
Prada inscribed here and there, driving his slaves in the office. One in
particular kissing up to him, while the others stand in the wings, carrying
on with their own mini-scenes.

As the live, on-stage pre-show segued into the premeire movie, presented by
Ballintine Studios, featuring the awesome 'god' of porn, 'Gazilla', Kyle
turns to Alex and says, "I liked 'Thunderball'."

"You would," Alex replies sarcastically.

"Well won't you feel as horny if you hadn't had your ass punctured in a
whole month?"

"I don't swing that way, remember?" Alex replies.

And then it brought up a topic for discussion, Kyle rendering, "You know
just because you say you're a top Alex, doesn't mean you can't try it?" And
he continues the asking, "Have you ever tried getting fucked?"

"You already know the answer to that!"

"How do you know you don't like it?"

It was food for discussion, but for right now the credits were coming up on
screen, integrated with the stars of the premeire movie, 'Do Me Right',
coming out on stage, parading across, the main star, 'Gazilla', stripping
off his briefs.

"Malfunction!" they overheard Phillip say, Michael the wiser saying, "Yeah,
prepared malfunction!"

While the whistling, applause and other remarks are being thrown center
stage, Kyle whispers to Alex, "Why don't you go meet Gazilla after the
stage and see about playing with his 'toy'?"

Reading his lover's mind, Alex replies, "I'm 'not' getting fucked anytime
soon and if it were, it would not be with a piece of timber that size,
dah?"

"Well at least you're thinking about it Alex."

Flustered, Alex, even though he sat in his seat, sank into it. Rather than
the cat and mouse routine, slinging positive and negative ends back and
forth, Alex let it go. Though, it stuck in his mind, watching Gazilla walk
down the side aisle, flanked by his bodyguards, over to where Cayman sat,
watching as the two greeted each other. Maybe Gazilla had a bigger cock
than him, but Alex sure felt superior, stroking himself gently so as not to
be detected firming himself up, his juices flowing, telling him how hot it
would be to stab him right where it counts. In his mind he was getting even
for Kyle's remarks, saying, 'I'll show ya how to do it!'

Sitting next to him, the sole occupant of the aisle, Kyle smiled as he
watched Alex zone in on the area around Cayman's seating. He even exhibited
a toothy grin, glancing to Alex's lap, seeing him try to hide his
hardness-in-the-manking. He would have loved to be a bird on Alex's wired
mind, delving into his thinking, making heads and tales out of his
thoughts. Though, with his pants filling quickly he could almost imagine,
based on what he's said, plus the spectacle of the rising porn star, that
Alex was basing his erection on what he's said.

%

After the movie were over, a mere hour and twenty minutes, there followed a
reception in the same area as the pre-show get together. Only difference,
wall panels had been juggled around to respond to a theme of partying, the
addition of a DJ, strobe lights and more detailed food and
drink. Immediately guys flocked to the bars.

"Water!"

Troy and Olav gazed at each other, the sameness of their reply striking
Olav as, "I guess we both know what we want!"

Grabbing two tall glasses of bubbling spring water poured for them, the
bartender lends a cheery smile and, "Straight from Tai Tapu, you got it!"

"Where?" Troy asks Olav.

"Beats me," Olav replies.

Wading through the crowd they visit with mostly Olav's contacts, him
introducing Troy to all of the models he's known from the past, present
company included.

"You sure know a lot of hot guys... um, ever... you know?" Troy tries
hinting without saying.

"No, no-o-o. Like I said, I've been trying to lead a more celibate
lifestyle, that is until I meet up with some guy I really care about," Olav
replies.

Troy was trying to figure out if it might be him since Olav, since early
this afternoon has consistently latched onto his hand and to him, somebody
who has wanted to stay attached.... then it crossed his mind he was reading
too much into this.

"Uncle Lloyd?"

Placing his hand on Troy's chest, Troy's uncle gives a little push, saying,
"Here, you two stand right over there under the logo," he meant the Cayman
Karlyle's Stud Muffin Party sign, "and let me get a picture or two of you."

"Sorry," Troy apologizes to Olav, just in case he had any reservations.

"I think it's a cool idea," Olav replies.

And then Troy was getting the idea that possibly this was how gay friends
act, with Olav closing in from behind, running his hands in between his
arms and bod, caressing him from the rear and as his uncle started snapping
the lense like crazy, Olav stole the show, kissing him on the cheek, then
ducking under an arm, assuming the 'pals' stance, his arm over Olav's
shoulders.

"Now how about a nice 'closeness' shot?" Uncle Lloyd requests.

His jacket separating them from the back was one thing, but shirt to shirt,
Troy sensed something very different. Too, smooshed together, he was
feeling more than attached pecs!

As Uncle Lloyd is taking a field day, snapping up pictures of his one and
only nephew, the two take the liberty to talk it up.

"Um, I don't know if it's the Tap Tattoo water or something else, but I'm
feeling kind of strange, um, down there Olav?"

"OMG! You 'are' hard!" Olav mouths to Troy's facing him.

If he hadn't palled around all afternoon and evening with Olav, Troy
might've have felt differently, but coupled with the excitement of the
moment, too not wanting to show anything risque in front of Uncle Lloyd and
his camera lense, he didn't react too much, fighting the feeling of Olav
handling his zipper area.

"Um, Olav... can you like... not do that?"

"Do what?" he teased, his hand still drawing off the outline of Troy's
semi-erection.

"That?" he meant Olav teasing him in front of the camera.

"On one condition?" Olav puts it to Troy, still a few lingering fingers.

"What?" Troy questions.

"You let me take care of it?"

Right now, it would be the most embarrassing situation in his life if Uncle
Lloyd caught him with an erection, so Troy was ready to say anything.

Much later as they left the theater, breaking out into the cool freshness
of the summer evening air, Olav says, "I'm sorry for putting you on the
spot in there, Troy. It's cool if we don't follow up on what I suggested."

"It's okay," Troy replies, maybe a bit of a let down attached, "I mean
about what you said."

Nonchalantly, Olav tells, "Normally I don't go throwing around phrases like
that. It must've been the liveliness of the after-theater party."

Troy wasn't exactly getting it. First Olav seemed sincere, but now it was
like he was backing out. More the tenderfoot, he didn't feel he should put
the pressure on Olav, but something inside of him wanted to fight for the
moment, so instead of staying reserved and holding back, he blurted out,
"You shouldn't go saying things you don't mean, Olav!"

He surprised himself, but so was Olav caught off guard, him buckling up as
he says, "Damn, Troy, I'm really sorry." And while he was at it, "And I am
really sorry for feeling you up like that. Normally I'm not into grouping
guys at parties."

"Have you ever groped a guy at a party?"

"No," Olav replies.

"Have you ever groped a guy?"

"No. What is this? Gitmo?"

Troy then felt like a jerk for going on and on about it. He then says, "I
think I need to be water-boarded!"

Olav wondered what it meant, then seeing, yelled, "Are you crazy Troy?"

Maybe he was, but thought it was something he needed to do to help clear
the air, soemthing zany, like a nice jump in the pool. Spitting water out
of his mouth, he sticks out a hand and asks kindly, "Want to help me out?"

"You're crazy you know that? Jumping in the pool with your tux on!"

But doubly crazed was Troy, tugging instead of even making the effort to
lift his wet-clothed bod out of the water, instead having Olav join
him. Coming up coughing, Troy wondered if his prank were the wise thing to
do. Instead of a ladder, Troy helped him swim to the place where one could
gradually step into the big swimming pool.

"You don't know how to swim?"

"I can swim," Olav says, "a little."

"I learned when I was six months old. Uncle Lloyd taught me."

"Six months old?" Olav questioned. "All I did when I was six is sit around
and woof down baby food!"

Troy laughed, proceeding, "Uncle Lloyd's been good to me. You know he took
me on assignment plenty of times, trying to get me interested in
photography?"

"And you liked it right? Up until Cayman offered you a career in modeling?"

For a few short seconds Troy thought about it, replying, "Olav, you look
really good posing, especially without any clothes on, but for me, I don't
think I can spend my life showing my whole self off to everybody in the
world. I think I'm going to stick with photography, at least until I'm
through college."

Both drenched in the pool, sitting on the third step of the wade in area,
water mingling with their clothing, the tide running in and out of their
shirt buttons, Olav turns sweet on Troy, saying, "Hey baby, nobody's making
you do anything you don't want to do."

There it was again, Olav's hand on Troy's arm.

"Really? You support my decision?"

Going beyond the hand-to-arm touching, Olav's other hand snuck underwater
till it skimmed the surface of Troy's wet thigh, saying, "Till the end of
time."

Tossing it around a bit, 'till the end of time', Troy came up with, "End of
time? That would mean...."

"You know us models have it good. We share suites, but there's a nice cozy
fireplace to cuddle up in front of. What would you say to getting out of
these wet clothes and sharing a spot with me?"

Also, without further 'water-boarding', Olav confessed he was an expert
swimmer!

%

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.


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